Chapter Text

Lance wasn’t sure where, or how, everything went so wrong. Thinking back on it, he supposed he should have expected it. Everything had been going so well, and Murphy’s Law just couldn’t allow that, now could it?

Shiro got his bayard, finally. They formed their sword and stabbed Zarkon, or at least his Voltron-esque armor. Zarkon’s response had been to grab the head of Voltron, to grab the Black Lion, to grab Shiro… It was at this point that Lance’s memories go fuzzy. The rest of the battle blurred in his mind; a stomach twisting mixture of yelling, screaming, and flashes of light. He had the impression that Shiro used the bayard, because he had a vivid image of the Sword of Voltron going up in flames.

Then again, that could have been some sort of hallucination. In which case, Lance had to stop someone right there. He had enough crazy stuff going on in his life right now. Hallucinations were not needed, or wanted here. He didn’t want those Girl Scout Cookies. Nuh-uh. Nope. Nada.

Besides the possibly hallucinatory flaming Sword of Voltron, Lance thought there was an explosion of light and sound. It hurt to even think about it, although, it was hard to tell if the pain was actual or just remembered pain of being ripped away from the team. He knew they were forced to drop Voltron’s form. He couldn’t remember dropping the form, but he was feeling the aftershocks of it.

The best way Lance could describe the sensation was to imagine being a piece of paper being torn into five pieces. The edges are ragged, torn. It left Lance feeling raw, broken, and sore. Like it was his limbs being torn from his body.  And, as far as he could remember, they were torn apart at least twice during the battle.

Now, though, everything was dark and quiet. The steady presence in his mind told him that he was still near Blue, probably still in her. Which made sense, as he didn’t recall leaving her, but then again there was a lot that he didn’t remember right now.

The best thing for him to do was probably to stay where he was. That was like the Number One rule of a lot of disaster things like what to do when injured or lost. Speaking of injuries, Lance was pretty sure he was fine. His limbs were sore and numb, but he could still curl his fingers. Nothing broken then, right? The following sensation of pins and needles, or ants crawling over him was both annoying and a relief.

Man, he hated it when any of his limbs fell asleep. Those sensations were the worst… but, at least it meant he still had sensation there. He rolled his shoulders, and instantly regretted it. His neck hurt, but it wasn’t the dangerous kind of hurt. It felt more like the ‘I fell asleep sitting up in the car and my head fell at a weird angle and now I have a crick in my neck’ sort of hurt.

Static crackled in his head, like a ringing bell in an ear after swimming, or a song getting stuck on repeat in someone’s mind. Except, this is static, or maybe lightning. It crackled and popped, only noticeable in the quiet emptiness of the darkness around him.

Lance breathed in deep, regretting this action almost instantly, once again. The air caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. It passed in a second, and in the next, he curled inwards, arms wrapped around his chest as he coughed.

He felt dry. It felt like he thought it would be a grand idea to swallow some sand and then decided that perfect chase was some cotton. He’s familiar with swallowing sand. Anyone who’s spent as much time on the beach as Lance has would be. The second part was just speculation.

Lance took another deep shuddering breath, and ignored how once again it gets caught – this time in his chest. The coughing fit wasn’t as bad this time. Brightside, he didn’t taste blood, so, if he had any internal injuries, it wasn’t flooding his lungs with blood.

There was a flicker of something at that thought. “Blue?” He doesn’t need to call out to communicate with his Lion, but he’ll take the sound of his voice over the static silence any day. “You there, girl?”

A shudder ran through their bond in response before her steady presence swelled in his mind. Lance grinned, ignoring the sharp pain of a cracked lip from the action. “How’ya doin’, girl?”

Blue shuddered again, rising up to meet him before receding again. Light flickered in the darkness as the screens inside Blue slowly come back to life, giving Lance’s eyes time to adjust.

It was like watching a creeping vine slowly climb up a building. In his mind, he felt Blue’s lack of appreciation at the comparison, and he switched it up, comparing this more to how a river slowly carves it way out of rock. A quiet rumble tells him just how much Blue prefers this analogy over the last.

Everything isn’t all peachy keen, however. The default light blue of the screens was replaced with a shade of red so bright it looked like it belonged to the Red Lion. Reassuringly, there’s no alarms blaring; but perhaps alarms weren’t needed when the red light cast off from the screens was worryingly enough. Lance sucked on his teeth, studying the flashing Altean symbols on the screens. One of them – the communications screen – was continuously flickering. None of this promises anything good.

Alright, nevermind. The red light wasn’t the most concerning. No, Blue’s lack of response to his question was more pressing, especially since he could feel pain leaking through their bond; like a rain slipping through a hole in the roof, one tiny drop at a time. It won’t be long until the water damage worsened to the point they they’d have a hole in the roof and rain flooding in.

Blue purred in delight at the water analogy, although there was a definite twinge of discontent at the subject of the comparison. She’d rather be an inspiring ocean, mighty river, or glacier of ice instead of something as insignificant as rain.

“One drop raises the sea, darling.” Lance informed her quietly, distracted by the flashing Altean symbols, and his own attempts to reach through the bond to see if Blue was alright. It wasn’t like he needed much to respond the way he did, as much as he was subjected to ‘Dinotopia’ growing up, he’s pretty sure he could quote the entire script.

After a few minutes of trying to read the mess on the screens, Lance sighed and leaned back into his seat, running his hands over his face. His sigh turned into a groan, and he let his head tilt back until he was hitting the back of it against the chair. “Ugh.” He drew the sound out. “This sucks.”

Naturally, Blue agreed.

Lance’s Altean was limited. Not as limited as Pidge’s, who was limited to what she’d learned through that program. Lance had learned the old fashioned way, pressing buttons and things, and the age old method of asking someone who actually spoke the language, ie Allura and Coran. Regardless, his level of comprehension was well below the level required for these screens still, although, what he could make out on the screen wasn’t promising. At all. Most of these repairs would have to wait until they’re back at the castle.

Speaking of… the last time Lance remembered the castle, it was being hit with its own reflected attack. He’s about 99% sure he heard Coran, and possibly Slav, after the fact though, so it probably survived. It has to have survived. Lance didn’t even want to entertain the mere idea that it hadn’t.

He resisted the urge to bite his lip as he thought through options. He broke that habit years ago, and he doesn’t have any chapstick available to fix the additional damage that action would cause.

Oh chapstick, how he missed it so.

That and coffee. Quiznak, he could go for a nice hot cuppa mocha. Or a frozen frappe. Or a marbled macchiato. No, no, no. He could really go for the wonderfully delightful ‘Butterbeer’ off the Starbuck’s secret menu. It was diabetes in a cup with 12 pumps of syrup, but it tasted so good. Maybe he could convince Allura to let them stop by Earth and get some essential human needs.

Blue snorted at that, or at least, preforms the sentient alien robot cat version of a snort. She prodded at him, as if to say, ‘quit getting distracted’.

“Oh please, you enjoy my distractions.”

But, as she usually is, she’s right. So, he leaned forward again, and resumed trying to make sense of the words in front of him. He understood maybe every third word, but he’s always been good with context clues. He had this in the bag.

Blue would help, and to some degree she can. However, talking with Blue wasn’t really talking. Communicating with Blue was more than talking. There was really no other way to describe it other than saying that it was more.

Blue was feelings, thoughts, emotions, ideas. She was a gentle suggestion, a nudge in the right direction, or a tug away from danger. She didn’t speak so much as Lance just knew. It’d been this way since he first met Blue.

Sometimes, the other relate, but for the most part, they don’t understand. How could they when they didn’t talk to their lions like Lance did. The closest Paladin to a bond with their lion like Lance’s with Blue was Shiro and Black; and the only reason he knew that was because he could feel it whenever they formed Voltron.

Just like he could also feel the distance between himself and some of the others… but thoughts for another day.

Allura and Coran had their theories on why Lance was so quick to bond with Blue like this. Lance was well aware of them, and no matter how much he refused to think about those theories, Blue was always up for the topic. Even just thinking about it sent quivers of excitement through their bond. Blue wanted to explore the idea, the theory. She has since Coran and Allura first brought it up. Even now, she offered it as a distraction.

“Looks who’s distracting who now.” Lance remarked. “If you want to talk that badly, how about you tell me what’s wrong and how to fix it?”

Lance rolled his eyes at her silent response. Of course there’s no response from Blue. Brightside: she’s left the dark corner of his mind where he shoves things he doesn’t want to talk about alone now. He leaned back away from the console, heaving another sigh. It looked like most of the repairs would need to be done outside of Blue. Which would be great and all if he knew where he was. Maybe Blue would at least answer that question.

“Any clue where we are?”

Blue shrugged, or at least Lance was taking it to be a shrug. Finally, she let a little of information in through the bond. She wasn’t done scanning herself, and she was pretty sure her navigation is off. Where they were? She really couldn’t tell him.

Well, that was helpful. But maybe she could at least answer this question: “Will I die if I go outside?”

The impression she gave him was distinctly ‘probably not’.

“That’s helpful.”

Lance tapped his fingers against the armrests of the chair. The song he tapped out was soothing, something he’d been humming ever sense he was a child, although he didn’t know what the song was. His gaze roamed across the different screens, never settling on anything for too long before it fell on the flickering communications screen. The tapping stopped.

“Have you finished running scans on communications?”

If he can get that taken care of, it’ll be a whole lot of help. Magical self-repairing sentient robot lion or not, if he wants to get out of here, that needs to be the first thing he takes care of. If no one picks him up once he’s done with that… well… then he could worry about how he’s going to fix Blue with his lackluster engineering skills. He was certainly no Hunk.

Blue’s response to his question was an uncertain waver.

“You can answer the question or…” He let the threat hang in the air. The easiest way to see what was going on would be to… well, see what was going on. He’d have to sync with Blue. It couldn’t be forced, but… Blue wouldn’t leave him hanging if he pressed for that. Hopefully.

Blue’s response was instant. She slammed down some walls, her growl echoing around him. She didn’t want him in. He projected an image back at her of him standing, arms crossed, as he glared down at a small blue house cat.

“Bad kitty.”

Another growl reverberated across the cockpit. The look she mentally gave him was cold enough to kill. If looks could kill… if looks could kill. BUT… Blue loved him. She wouldn’t kill him. He’s her Paladin, and she loved him.

She returned instant denial, followed by a scattering of complaints. He’s annoying and obnoxious. He compared her to plants, tiny creatures, and insignificant things like raindrops. Doesn’t he know who she was? How dare he disrespect her so!

Lance made a face, settling in to his chair as he listened to her barrage of complaints against him. He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his arm to the same song he’d been tapping them to before. Honestly, he’d be offended from Blue’s words if it wasn’t for the fact he could feel her undercurrent of affection belulling her irritation.

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.” Lance didn’t know where the quotes from, but if anything fits this situation, it’s this quote. Blue fell quiet with an unhappy ‘hmph’.

“That’s better. So, let’s try this again.”

A warning might have been nice, but Blue did not feel like being nice. There was sudden twisting in his gut and then he was pulled, for lack of a better word. Syncing with Blue was usually… an experience, but he couldn’t recall the last time she did this to him.

She crashed into him, surrounded him, and drowned him in herself. This is just like the first time, except he wasn’t panicking this time. It was only experience that stopped him from clawing at the nonexistent water, from kicking away and up to a surface that didn’t exist.

Syncing with Blue like this was like being caught by a strong undertow. It was unexpected, and kind of terrifying until one learned not to fight against the current but to move with it. But, not every sync with Blue was like this. More commonly, it was like being dragged into an admittedly chilly deep-sea diving session. He could still breath. He wasn’t drowning.

This was not a diving session. This was Blue being irritated at him, and just shoving him where he’d been demanding to go.

Flashing alarms and lights passed by him, and he brushed against a strong current of pain and weakness. She steered him away from all that.

Opening his eyes wasn’t an actual act of opening his eyes. It was more than that. It was, as Allura was fond of saying, more than science could explain. It was the diving lesson from before, the whole ‘seeing through your lion’ that they’d all attempted to do so very long ago.

The first thing that Lance registered was that they were laying on their side, which wasn’t comfortable for poor Blue, for them, at all. It was actually quite painful and annoying. After all, laying on their side got dirt and dust in their joints and gears, and their face was being pressed into the ground. Said ground appeared to be a moon. Yay. Note the sarcasm.

They wanted to back on the castle ship. In their hanger. Where their pride could be easily reached, and they could all help each other through their repairs. Where the funny Altean man who helped service them along with the Yellow Paladin took care of them when they couldn’t do it themselves. They missed the warmth of Red, and the friendly protection of Yellow. They wanted to know what new mystery Green was interested in, and what her Paladin had installed into her now. They wanted the security of their pride leader.

Everything hurt. So much hurt. Why did everything have to hurt so much. Why had the pride been ripped apart? Why had Black allowed their pride to be hurt like this? Why…

It was hard to say which one of them disentangled themselves first. Which one pushed the other away first. Lance panted, a hand already pressed against his face, wincing at the sudden phantom pain of having it smashed against something hard and unforgiving. Another hand was at his side, pressing against the phantom wounds from the impact.

Sorrow and apologies washed up on Lance. Blue hadn’t meant for him to feel her pain like that. She hadn’t meant for them to join like that. She hadn’t meant it.

“It’s fine.” Lance bit out. “It’s fine.” He swallowed thickly; took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then released it. He blinked some tears out of his eyes, and stood. He triggered the face guard of the helmet, which sealed him up so he could go outside, and then headed for the emergency hatch.

While Blue wasn’t able to open her mouth for him, he was still able to shimmy out between her sharp teeth. The jarring impact of the crash probably did that, and while he was sure it hurt, at least it meant he could still get in and out that way.

He took some steps away before turning and surveying Blue. The crash looked… actually better than how it’d felt. That being said, She still looked bad.

Well… priorities. Blue was pretty much out of commission until she was done scanning – which she should have been by now. Which meant something was wrong with that system. So, he was back to what he’d originally assumed. He needed to get the communications back up and running.

“Don’t suppose you have any tools?” He rested his hands on his hips as he looked her over. She gave him a quick unsure negative. Lance sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

He sucked his teeth again, and looked up at the ‘sky’. “Let’s hope someone comes to get us soon.”

Chapter Text

Honestly, the last thing Lance expected was help. Well, let him rephrase that. The last thing Lance expected was help from a stranger. The universe wasn’t some friendly neighborhood. People didn’t just ‘help’ other people out. If he was staying with the whole neighborhood comparison, then the universe was a neighbor being controlled by a gang. This was Zarkon’s universe, and his experience, people didn’t try to help others.

That being said, Lance was actually expecting help… in the form of a gleaming white and blue castle-ship. Not in the form of a clunky old trader ship.

Just looking at it brought flashbacks of the last time he’d seen something like it. He’d already learned this lesson. People in junky trader ships were not to be trusted. They’d handcuff him and steal his lion; and out here he didn’t have a castle to call for help. No team to back him up and get Blue back.

So, yeah. His interest in being handcuffed again nonwithstanding, Lance was so not interested in repeating the lesson Nyma and Rolo had taught him. Back then he had the back up safety net of his friends, now he was on his own. He couldn’t afford to lose Blue again.

Then again, if she continued this slightly mom-ish nagging about the things he needed long term, he may revise that determination. He was well aware that he needed things like: water, food, tools, chapstick, coffee… and okay, so those last two weren’t actually on her wishlist of items, but whatever.

Regardless of her nagging, it didn’t stop him from glaring down the trader ship or the person who left it. Humanoid builds weren’t always promising. The Galra had a humanoid build, and so did Nyma and Rolo. The fact this alien did as well did nothing to reassure Lance like it might have once-upon-a-time.

He jumped off of where he’d been sitting on Blue. Sliding down off of her before landing in a crouch and standing. Lesson learned or not, if this was someone legitimately wanting to offer help, he wouldn’t turn it down. He adopted an easy post, resting his hand on his hip, while the other dangled close to the energy compartment where they all kept their bayards just in case.

“Can I help you?” Lance asked. Silence reigned for a second, two, three, and then, the other spoke.

“I feel it is I who should be asking you that.” The returning voice was distorted by the helmet they wore, although, if Lance was honest… the other sounded male. Then again, it could have just been an alien who sounded male even if female. It was hard to tell in space. It was also possible that this species of person doesn’t have genders. “I saw the crash,” the other continued, “from the Planet.” They nodded in the direction of the planet.

Lance didn’t bother looking at it. He knew the planet was there, and frankly, looking at it would give this person an opportunity for something. Instead, he waited patiently for the other to continue.

“I thought I’d stop by and check to see if you needed assistance before I continued on my route.”

Oh yes, Lance was sure. Stop by and see if Lance needed assistance. Definitely. Of course. But… then again… he couldn’t hear much due to the distortion, but this person did sound sincere. Then again, if this person wasn’t actually friendly, Lance was not looking forward to the chewing out Shiro would be giving him – again – about blindly trusting someone.

In the back of his mind, Blue growled and tugged at a memory to offer her two cents on the matter. The Memory she pulled up was of a conversation that Lance wasn’t supposed to have heard. He’d been looking for Shiro for a ‘talk’ and instead ended up listening to Allura talk to Shiro alone on the bridge.

“It is not Blue’s way to judge before.” Allura explained. “Blue has always given their trust easily. Red does not trust easily. Yellow will always chose based on the others and circumstances. Green often sides with yellow, but can be distracted by curiosity. It is Black’s job to decide in the end.”

It was true. Hunk was usually better at gauging who was actually good and who wasn’t. Meanwhile, Lance was trusting Nyma and Rolo, a mysterious mermaid queen and her people and almost causing Hunk to become brainwashed mermaid monster food, and spilling his life story and information about the team to the Yupper.

But, surely there were moments where Lance’s trust in people and things had been good. His trust in Blue, for starters. He’d trusted Allura and Coran. He’d trusted Keith and Shiro and the rest of the team. He hadn’t opposed the Blade of Marmora people. He could do this. He could try this. Trust.

Lance took a deep breath, and shifted his weight as he crossed his arms. The alien took a step back, as if expecting Lance to advance on him, but Lance stayed as he was. Nyma and Rolo’s unease echoed in his head, along with an imagine scolding from Shiro.

“I appreciate it, but I think I’m good.” Blue’s discontent was evident in the low rumble in the back of his mind. It gave him a mere second to mentally brace himself before he was hit was a flood of nitpicking and nagging.

Tools, she basically cried. Tools, we need tools. For a moment, Lance actually thought he heard her speak… but nah.  Not possible. Blue cannot talk. Not like that anyways.

“I get it.” The alien held his hands out. As it turned out the universal sign of peace and surrender was indeed universal. “If I had a ship like that, I wouldn’t want anyone else messing with it either.”

Lance continued to tap his fingers against his arm. Ugh. He wanted to trust this guy… and Blue was right. He did need tools… and supplies if the repair took too long. This was a one-time opportunity. Once this guy left, Lance was on his own until the others arrived. If the others arrived.

No. No. They’d never left him before. Last time they were separated like this, Pidge had found them within what… a day? There was no way he’d be left.

In any case, Lance could already imagine Shiro’s disappointed frown and the following lecture. That’s all he ever seems to do: disappoint people. Excluding Blue, because he can already feel her swell with protest.

“I just want to help.” Lance must have taken too long to respond because the alien continued. “This universe is hazardous enough, so I understand your caution.”

Blue has always given her trust easily, and so has Lance. He doesn’t want to trust this guy, but… “I can understand wanting to help.” He muttered, because he can.

Really, wanting to help was why he was a Paladin in the first place… if one ignored the fact that he’d been forced into the role once he’d stepped foot in Blue. And… Blue was right – of course she was—he did need help. And it didn’t look like he’d be getting it from the castle anytime soon… and besides, maybe he could make a friend and an ally.

Blue slyly pushed two considerations forward: chapstick, and coffee. This guy was a trader… he could probably find those things….

Lance sighed and his shoulders slumped. In the back of his mind, he heard the satisfied roar of Blue. She’d be the one dealing with the fallout from Black if this went south. Black and Shiro. Her response to that was grumbling acceptance, tainted by certainty that there would be no fallout from those two. Besides, she’s already won, so it was ‘whatever’ now.

“The name’s Lance… and if you’re offering assistance, I guess I wouldn’t mind some water or a couple tools.”

The alien took a step back and to the side, gesturing towards their ship. “Welcome aboard.” The alien offered.

Lance took a look at Blue, who immediately mentally nudged him in a silent version of ‘go on’. What was he? A kindergartener being pushed to go make friends by their mom? Blue nearly lit up on the idea. Okay, yeah, no. Lance was so not into that.

He turned away from her, stalking past the alien and into the alien’s ship. Behind him, he could feel Blue’s smugness radiating out.

He waited for the all-clear readings from his helmet to pull it off. Not all Aliens breathed the same air as human and the last thing Lance wanted was to die because he didn’t want to wear his helmet. He held t under his side before turning and… Quiznak. Lance’s hand flew back down to the energy compartment before he could even begin to speak.

“You’re a Galra?”

“Half, actually.” Now that the trader mentioned it… he wasn’t exactly… furry. It looked more like he just has purple skin… and purple and yellow glowing eyes. Which was actually really kind of cool. His long white hair is half up in a ponytail, presumably easier to manage with the helmet, although a couple loose strands fell in front of his face.

Half Galra, huh? Well, Lance already knew one of those, and while annoying, Keith wasn’t all that bad. Besides, there were good Galra out there… and he’d already committed to trusting this guy.

“That must be rough.” He smiled at the other, hoping to put him at ease. The alien… halffa?... stared at him for about a good minute before finally nodding and turning to get some water. It was a sign of trust in its own way that he was willing to turn his back on Lance.

“Most don’t seem to care whether I’m half or full.” The halffa responded as they turned back around to give Lance the water pack.

“Then they’re stupid.” Lance shrugged. “It doesn’t matter where you come from. What matters is what you do,” Lance advised. His hand brushed against the trader’s as he accepted the water. Of course, there wasn’t any skin to skin contact, as they were both wearing gloves, but it didn’t matter.

It’d been so long since he’s touched someone other than his teammates. Great. Now he wanted a hug, but probably not from this guy. As pretty as he is – and this guy is really pretty – Lance didn’t know him enough for a hug.

Speaking of how pretty this guy was… why were Galra halffas always so pretty when the Galra themselves weren’t? It just didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair. Perhaps halffa just always took more after the other species in the looks department? And why was purple a necessary thing? Keith’s eyes, this guy’s skin and iris color. Questions for later, but at least this guy was nicer than Keith.

“It sounds as if you speak from experience?”

“Not personally.” Lance was not going to get into his own experiences from Earth. Brightside about space: he didn’t have to hear ‘you don’t look Cuban’ or ‘McClain isn’t a Cuban sounding last name’ anymore. “But one of my teammates is part Galra.” Lance half shrugged as if to say ‘what can I say’. “I refuse to judge anyone on that alone.”

“That must be difficult for him. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

Keith. Lucky to have Lance? Oh man, the idea is almost laughable. Keith didn’t care about Lance, except to make sure that Lance knew that Keith was better than him in every way.

And Keith was better than Lance. He was the better pilot. The better fighter. He was Shiro’s favorite and possibly even more. Not that Lance was jealous or anything. It made sense for Shiro to favor Keith in all ways, after all Lance was…

Blue chirped, nudging him. She didn’t think Keith was better than Lance. She could have chosen Keith before in the cave, but she didn’t. She didn’t because Lance was her Paladin. Lance was better than Keith. At least in her eyes.

It was reassuring, Lance guessed, that at least Blue had his back. Even if it felt like the same kind of feel of ‘at least mom has my back’.

“So, you said you’d be interested in tools?” The trader’s hand is suddenly touching his shoulder, a steady weight which brought Lance out of his mind and back to the present. If he’s being honest, he was relieved at the change in conversation. The touching thing he wasn’t sure about, but, he wasn’t about to turn the guy helping him away. “By the way, I believe I never introduced myself. I’m Tyrac.”

Tyrac, huh? Well, Lance has a name for him now. Tyrac pulled himself away from Lance, heading deeper into the ship. “What kind of tools did you need?” Tyrac called out.

Lance floundered. He didn’t know what he needed, only that he needed something to help fix Blue’s communications array. “Uh, multipurpose?”

“What will you be working on? I’d suggest communications, if you don’t already have that up?” Tyrac’s voice floated back out to Lance.

“Yeah.” A few minutes passed before Tyrac returned, tools in hand.

“Alright. Here you go. I’ve only got one of this,” He held up a tool, “So I hope you don’t mind if I stick around until you’re done with it.”

Stick around? Uh, no. Lance wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Letting a stranger – or not so stranger since Lance knew his name and half his race now – watch him work on Blue.

“I won’t mess with your ship or get close.”

There was something about Tyrac that was oddly reassuring. Lance wasn’t sure what it was, but it was there. The guy’s smile was absolutely gorgeous, and the way he spoke was so… charming. Lance could see how this guy was a trader, after all, Nyma had the same alluring call to her.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Lance had been to a swap moon or space mall or whatever it was called and seen some of the traders in there, he’d almost assume that being pretty/handsome and charismatic would be a requirement. Maybe if the whole Paladin of Voltron thing didn’t pan out or once they were done, then he could become a shop keeper.

He could totally go back to the space mall and take over that Earth stuff store. And he was getting way off topic.

“If you’re going to be hanging around for a while, then I suppose I could introduce myself.”

“It would be nice to think of you as someone other than ‘the guy with the strange ship.’” Tyrac shrugged. “But it’s honestly your choice.”

“The name’s Lance, and I suppose your presence while I fix up B… my ship wouldn’t be too unwanted.”

“Just a little then,” Tyrac jokingly asked.

“Just a little.” Lance returned. “You’re kinda distracting, in all the best ways, I assure you. I bet that helps with sales.” Tyrac laughed, and Lance decided that it was one of his new favorite noises, even if he never heard it again after this encounter. No one’s laughter should sound so attractive. No one’s.

“I’ll try to keep distracting you to a minimum then.” No one’s smile should look like that either.

Ugh. Get it together, Lance. He spent time, daily, with a team of insanely attractive people. Between Shiro and Allura’s combined and separated gorgeousness and then Keith and Pidge’s cuteness and Hunk’s general well… his nickname wasn’t false. And it wasn’t fair that they all looked that way naturally, unlike his bottled beauty due to strict beauty regimes.

“I’m not sure how well you’ll succeed.”

“We’ll just have to find out, won’t we?” Tyrac returned.

Blue huffed, tugging at Lance to get his attention. He could flirt with the pretty alien later, after she was fixed.

Lance flushed dark enough that it might actually have been noticeable if he hadn’t chosen that moment to turn away and put his helmet back on in preparation to head back outside. Inside his mind, he screamed at Blue incoherently. He wasn’t flirting, and Tyrac wasn’t flirting back, and there was no flirting. None. NONE.

Skeptical Blue was skeptical.

Lance practically threw the word ‘no’ at her. If he was flirting, it would have been obvious. It would have been finger guns and winking and that one smile that made everyone laugh. His flirting was obvious, unless he was flirting with Keith, in which case he could make it as obvious as he wanted and it’d still probably fly over Keith’s head. Not that it mattered since Keith a) wasn’t interested in him, and b) probably most likely kinda sorta possibly already in a relationship. It was hard to tell with point B.

In any case, he wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t. Skeptical Blue was still skeptical, but more willing to let the subject change.

“I guess we will.” Lance replied, stepping past Tyrac and heading back outside. He glared at Blue as he approached, and finally came to stop a few steps away from here. He sighed, his glare softening as he looked her over. This was going to be anything but fun.

Chapter Text

The small meet and greet had helped some to ease Lance’s paranoia, but it hadn’t been enough to erase all of it. Out in space, Lance had learned that it paid to be suspicious. Just letting Tyrac be present while Lance worked on Blue made the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

Lance knew Tyrac was just sticking around to make sure he got his tools back, or just in case Lance needed help. Which he didn’t. Well, not more than he already received from this guy. He wouldn’t mind taking some help from Hunk, or Pidge, or Coran.

Any of them would have Blue back up and running in no time. But Lance wasn’t them, and he was stuck with a magical blue lion feeding him info, like an instruction booklet to a desk or something.

In any case, Lance could understand Tyrac sticking around. He only had one of the tool, and Tyrac didn’t know Lance. In a twisted universe ruled by an oppressive overload, chances weren’t something to be given freely, even if it was just lending someone some tools

The chances Lance had of someone coming to help were about equal to Pidge’s calculated chances of them hitting a planet if they were to be flung out into space. Which actually, upon review, meant the exact opposite of how Lance meant it considering Pidge’s calculations were either a) wrong, or b) the Voltron team was just lucky enough to always hit a planet when they were flung apart.

All this being said, it was super lucky for Lance that Tyrac decided to be a ‘Good Samaritan.’ It’s not like Lance prepared for anything like this, despite how often this seemed to happen lately. The only thing he was sorta sure he possibly could have was a first aid kit, but there was so much doubt in that possibly that it was more likely that he didn't.

Note to self: put supplies in Blue. Maybe even suggest that the others do the same to avoid this fate. Blue rumbled in agreement in the back of his mind, and then nudged him to move a crystal into alignment.

Another reason to appreciate this stranger: Lance’s lack of funds. It’s not like he had any form of currency and even if he had brought his wallet, Earth money was not going to do him any favors. And to top things off, it wasn’t like there was a fountain full of coins and currency that he could just take money from again.

On the other hand... Tyrac could have been sticking around for money. Being a paladin of Voltron, Lance doubted that there wasn’t a bounty on both the Paladins and the Lions. Both of which, there was one of right here. Sitting ducks. Perfect pickings for someone.

No, no. Maybe Lance wasn't the end-all-be-all of good judgment of character, but he liked to think the best of anyone. Allura has said that Blue didn’t usually judge before knowing someone, that they were a more trusting out of the other Paladins, but… he’d already messed up so many times by now. But, Tyrac didn’t seem dangerous. Neither had Nyma. Or the Mermaids.

Then again... Lance had Tyrac’s tools and… Blue growled, clearly tired of all the wishy-washy nonsense. Message received loud and clear, Blue.

He’d just talk to the guy, set his nerves at ease. Sure thing. He'd get right on that.

What a wonderful idea, in any case. Have him talk to Tyrac when he was supposed to be working on Blue. The only reason he knew what he was doing was because Blue was feeding him info. He wasn’t like Pidge, who downloaded schematics and things into the suit or computer. He couldn’t even enter Blue and check the screens periodically, like how everyone not Pidge did maintenance.

As far as he knew, the others didn't just sync with their lions and just know things. To some degree they did, like when Hunk knew to use his Bayard to form the Shoulder Cannon; but it wasn’t like how Lance and Blue were. He knew because when he brought it up, the others had looked at him like the ‘Sure, Jan,’ meme or, alternatively, like he was crazy.

What made that situation worse is that Coran overheard him and it was the whole 'talking with your lion' conversation all over again. Ugh. No. No Thank you.

Speaking of repairs and monitors, Lance really needed to check his; just to be sure he was doing this right. However, that would mean that Tyrac would know how to get in Blue and the last thing he needed was someone trying to mess with his lion.

Aw. There Blue went, reassuring him again that he was on track with a purr and a gentle nudge. That took some of the pressure off, sort of.

Well, now that he was sure he didn't need to debate going into the cockpit, he could revisit the 'talking with this random helpful stranger plan.' Which may have been Blue’s intent all along. He glanced up at her suspiciously, but she gave no indications either way.

Lance turned his head slightly to glance back at the other, just to confirm Tyrac was still looking at him. Which he was. He didn’t care if these were this guy’s tools; it was kinda creepy.

But what to say? What conversation to bring up? Conversation didn’t used to be this hard.

Maybe it was the pressure. He was a Paladin of Voltron. He was a defender of the Universe. A Diplomat of the people. He may not have made the best first impression, but that didn’t mean he could go ahead and slack off now. He was representing his peeps now.

"I can't imagine this is very interesting." Shiro would totally be giving him his proud space-dad smile right now. Not that Lance knew how that felt since Shiro only have it to him like… once. And then promptly scolded Lance about giving information away to the enemy; even if the enemy was a yupper.

"That would depend on your definition of interesting," Tyrac responded quickly, which told him how 'friendly' the guy was, like he was anticipating him, "I find it rather fascinating."

Lance furrowed his eyebrows and actually turned to look at Tyrac this time, despite the fact that neither of them could actually see each other's faces.

"That so?" His tone was partially suspicious and annoyed; and yet Lance was kind of eager, in some small way, to just talk in general. He was sorta curious as to what was so interesting about any of this.

"I've never encountered your species before."

Well, okay, fair enough. Lance could give the guy that. That even cleared some things up, like the avid staring. After all, people back home would be doing the same thing - after having about three heart attacks. Most back home didn't even believe in the possibility of aliens. Yet here he was, living that stupid space adventure he wished for when he was eight. What was next? The magic adventure he asked for when he was eleven?

Blue prodded at Lance. Slave driver. Did she want him to feel at ease or work? ...Work. Got it. Working now. Not that he could blame her, the faster he got things done, the faster her communication array was up and working, the faster Lance could give back the tools, say goodbye to Tyrac, and then hail the castle.

Still... it would be rude to just be silent after starting up a conversation. He gave a noncommittal acknowledging hum, which Tyrac took as an opening to continue.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lace could see the other take a few steps closer, but didn’t come much closer than half the distance between Lance and his ship. The alien sat down, settling himself, probably figuring this was going to take a while.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Tyrac’s closer position. His metaphorical hackles rose, but similar to how a frightened cat could be reassured by its owner, Blue soothed him with a brush and a prod to continue working. He shot a look in Tyrac’s direction and Blue assured him that she had it covered.

As much as he trusted Blue – and he did trust Blue – Lance was still loath to turn his back on Tyrac. Blue said she got it, which meant, she got it.

"Are all of them as expressive as you?" Tyrac asked, crossing his arms.

Lance never really considered himself expressive, but as he thought about it, compared to the rest of his team, he totally was.

Shiro was always so cool, calm, and collected. Unless Slav was around, but honestly, who could blame Shiro for getting annoyed? Even facing down a Galra fleet Shiro remained confident, staring them down without so much as a flinch.

Allura was similar, but so much more defined in her posture and expression. She looked, and behaved, every bit the princess that she was.

Stone-faced Pidge as she worked at her station, glaring equipment into submission in her mission to find her family and help-out team Voltron.

And then there was Keith. And then there was Keith. Keith, who was probably the most active out of them all, baring himself, if only because Keith only had two modes: brooding, and training. Both of which he did with as little human interaction as possible unless it came to Shiro. Probably because Keith was so much better than everyone else, except for Shiro. Or maybe it was due to Shiro and Keith’s relationship.

Maybe out of all of them, Hunk and Coran were the closest to being as expressive as him, and really, Coran was the closest. And he didn’t even count because he wasn’t human!

Not that he wanted to think about his similarities to Coran, or Allura, for that matter. No. He’s not going there. Nope. Nada. Not at all. Eagerly Blue nudged and he pushed her away. That topic was off limits.

Instead, he debated on whether he preferred silence or Tyrac talking to him.... No, the silence would kill him. He was used to the hustle and bustle of a busy tourist destination and his huge, obnoxious family, even the Galaxy Garrison was so full of people and noise. Unfortunately, most of the people he was typically around now weren't so social. Which meant, yes, talking would be preferred.

"I guess," Lance shrugged. "Humans can be expressive sometimes," his voice wavered, not that he could really help it with all the things that had been going on, all the thoughts he refused to think about... "But yeah, I guess my family was usually pretty expressive."

"It sounds like it has been quite some time since you've seen them." Tyrac wasn't so quick to respond this time.

Lance's motions slowed as he stared blankly at the panel in front of him. In his head, the buzz of Blue’s instructions even fell silent. Before Lance could even realize his own reaction, Tyrac was backpedaling.

"I apologize, that was-"

"No, no. It's fine... It's just… yeah, it's has been awhile," Lance managed to put a smile on his face - not that Tyrac could see it - and returned to work on Blue. Blue’s curious trill echoed in his head, concern ringing out with every note of the sound. He was fine. Really. He wasn’t sure either of them believed it, but she let the matter rest.

Speaking of a while, he needed to fully sync with Blue again, which would take his attention. While he ‘enjoyed’ the experience, it would leave him wide open for Tyrac to try something. If Tyrac would try anything. So far he hadn’t done anything to promote further paranoia.

He pursed his lips before looking back at Tyrac again. Well, the only way he’d know would be to try.

"One moment.” Lance needed to know he was on the right track and if there were some repairs o panels he needed to access somewhere else.

Although he generally liked the experience – when he wasn’t being dragged down – he wished syncing with Blue felt more like tropical warm shallows instead of the cold ocean depths and icy glaciers.

Uh oh.

She didn't like him thinking that. She could be so moody, but he did just call her frigid. He mentally reassured her that she was perfect the way she was, which helped lessen the bristle he was feeling from her. Did she also know he appreciated her looking out for him all the time? He could almost hear the responding purr.

Lance closed his eyes and let their connection wash over him, his body almost feeling numb from the sensation. He checked the schematics and compared them to what he had done so far, checking for other things he might have to do. Theoretically, he should be good unless he needed to go to some of the other panels. Hopefully that wouldn't be necessary. Together they pressed forward to try to firmly establish that connection and... nothing.

Blue consoled him, letting him know that he'll get it. He forced himself out of the link, wavering slightly at the dizziness that always came from returning to himself, the sudden disconnect disorienting him for a moment.

Every disconnect from Blue was different. The only real constant was that it was disorienting. Although, it tended to be less so if he lets himself drift out of the connection or if he’s in the cockpit. One thing he knew for certain, standing while syncing and disconnecting was a bitch to deal with.

"What's a... moment?"

Tyrac's voice helped pull him together. He didn't bother looking back at the other to answer, "90 seconds," He was pretty sure that would not answer Tyrac's question. Thing was, he didn't really care right now.

"Ah."

Ah, the simple joys in life. Who couldn’t not grin at that response?

That wasn't the 'ah' of understanding. No. It was the sort of 'ah' that meant something along the lines of 'I have no clue what you just said, but I'm going to pretend I do and hope you think I do.' Oh, how he wished he could have seen Tyrac's face just now. It was bound to be priceless.

He debated on continuing to tease Tyrac, but, there was no sense in being mean to the guy who was nice and lending him some tools.

"A second is shorter than a tick... but... I guess it would be like 90 ticks," more like 70 to 89 ticks since they were slightly longer than seconds, but why squabble over a few milliseconds?

"Ah," It was hard to keep his snigger quiet at Tyrac's response. At least that 'ah' was definitely the understanding 'ah' this time. "So, essentially, it's a tock."

Lance mouthed the new term, committing it to memory as he closed the current panel and moved to check another one, humming as he inspected it. At least this one would be a shorter repair. Blue agreed, which made him feel a bit better. He did not want to figure out how to get to the other side of Blue right now.

Tyrac allowed the silence for a bit, although it was Lance who broke it. Time to put the new vocab to work. “One tock.” He let Blue wash over him, and saved himself some time by testing the connection immediately.

Failure. Again. Ugh. Why did this have to be so stupidly complex? Blue huffed at him, and he sighed, giving a tired apology. No, he wasn’t calling Blue stupid. He was calling her stupidly complex. There was a difference, okay?

Blue didn’t care. She dumped him from the sync; and Lance sighed again – physically this time – and rested his helmeted head against Blue.

“That’s… not how tock is used.” It could have been Lance’s imagination, but he was pretty sure there was amusement in Tyrac’s voice. Tiredly, Lance lifted his head to look at the trader.

“What’cha mean?” All he’d said was ‘one tock’, which, yeah, sounded kinda weird. Felt weird to say too.

Tyrac flinched at Lance’s words, which was kind of interesting. Was it something Lance said? Speaking of, since they were working on Vocab here… how was Tyrac and Lance able to talk since Lance was pretty sure he didn’t have some communication device that worked that way. Were Translators a thing?

Oooooo! He hoped translators were a thing. No wait, they totally had to be a thing.

Translators made perfect sense! No Aliens ever seemed to have a problem communicating with Shiro, Allura, or Coran. He’d have to ask Pidge about those later.

“While Tock is a timeslice; it’s fallen out use. Most just use ‘in a few ticks’ or some close variant.” Tyrac explained.

Oh. Ah, well, that’s sort of what he gets for using a word and not properly knowing how it was used. Didn’t stop the embarrassment from turning his face red. Thankfully, he a) never showed blushes well and b) had a helmet to hide his face. Time to play it cool.

“Ah, well then… I’m just gonna keep using ‘moment’ then. You know what it means, I know what it means, so,” He dragged out the word as he said it. “I’m just gonna keep using it.”

It was rather amusing how Tyrac flinched each time Lance used a bit of slang. Although, it had grown less pronounced. Interesting. He’d have to ask... IDEA!

Lance grinned, ignoring Blue’s considerably less than gentle prod to get back to work. “Say, outta curiosity, have you ever heard of Twenty Questions?”

Chapter Text

Lance had to give Tyrac props. He almost fooled Lance. Key word there: almost.

Tyrac’s first guess at what 20 Questions was almost convincing enough for Lance to believe that 20 Questions was a universal game. Almost.

It wasn’t like Lance had expected Tyrac to know the game. As universal as some things seemed to be, he highly doubted that game was one of them. Besides, the rules were easily enough explained, and Tyrac caught the hang of it pretty quickly. It was a good way to the pass time, and exchange harmless information.

Obviously, somethings were off limits. For example, names of their home worlds weren’t shared, but the names of towns, cities, and places were acceptable. To some degree, family was off limits as well, although, some basic information was okay. Like, for instance, compared to Lance’s giant ever growing family, Tyrac was a single child with only a father left to call family.

Lance both pitied and envied the guy for that.

Additionally, Lance learned that being a trader wasn’t Tyrac’s family’s profession, although, if something were to happen to Tyrac’s father, then Tyrac was expected to pick up the family business. What said family business was Lance didn’t ask and Tyrac didn’t offer. Likewise, Tyrac didn’t pry into Lance’s ‘profession’, if being a Paladin of Voltron could be called that.

The questions ranged from the semi-personal to cultural, from both home and the places they’d visited. Lance didn’t even know what question number they were on anymore, but their current topic was languages.

“You mean to tell me that your home planet has over three thousand languages?” Tyrac asked as he leaned forward in interest. Lance hummed in response. Technically, he was pretty sure there were more, but he couldn’t recall the exact numbers from his high school classes. “That’s incredible!”

“You don’t have as many languages where you’re from?” Lance asked.

“If there are, I wouldn’t be able to tell. When we’re young we have a universal translator implanted which automatically dissolves most language barriers. Although it works best if both parties have one. I suppose your culture doesn’t offer such accommodations?”

A bark of laughter escaped Lance. As if! ‘Accommodations’, pft. That was funny. But, hey, he was right! There were translators involved.

Allura and Coran probably had some – although they were 10 thousand years old – because Alteans were diplomats and have to travel and meet many different species and races. Shiro, Matt, and Pidge’s dad probably had some implanted as well given their time with the Galra.

The castle and the suits probably helped filter some of it, but… oh man. If he could get Pidge to work on getting them translators, or get some from the Galra….

“Nope.” Lance popped the ‘p’. Tyrac flinched, although it was considerably subtler than the past couple times Lance had done something similar like that. “So, the translators, are they like, self-learning or something? Cuz, that’d be really cool if they were.”

Tyrac was silent following Lance’s question. Although he knew the other hadn’t moved – Blue was still keeping an eye on him and telling Lance every move the other made – he still checked over his shoulder to look at him.

“I’ll be honest. I didn’t quite catch what you said. Your speech varies dramatically and the translator is still trying to learn it.”

Lance shrugged, and turned his attention back to Blue. “Guess that answered my question.”

So, they were self-learning, but they did have hiccups. He supposed it’s hiccups was basically ‘slang’ – not that Lance considered the words as much – like ‘cuz’ or ‘gotcha’ or ‘gonna’. The words Tyrac usually flinched on.

“Basically, I was asking if it learned more as I spoke.” Lance further clarified.

“Ah.”

Maybe Pidge could fix that little hiccup. Or Hunk. But his money was on Pidge.

Hiccup or not, having translators would be super useful for the team. He wondered if they worked on written word or not. His Altean wasn’t too bad when it came to conversational written, but, if he could actually read the full warnings and things around the castle instead of only every third or so word, that’d be amazing.

He finished up with what he was doing. “Give me a few ticks?” Lance asked, although he didn’t bother waiting for a response to sync with Blue.

Like before Lance checked the schematics first. Blue’s response was a far cry from her earlier optimism. There was a current of glee at seeing her Paladin be sociable, but it was drowned out by her coastal shelf deep skepticism. What? So, he’d been somewhat distracted with Tyrac… he was still paying attention to what he was doing! Blue hummed, the type that mothers did when they didn’t believe their kids.

The array wasn’t wrong, but… the test still failed. Lance sighed, coming back to himself and resting his head against the side of Blue. Blue purred reassuringly.

“Where do you go?” Lance jumped, not expecting that question, and spun around to look at the other.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t believe that’s in the rules of the game.” He teased. “But, where do you go? You ask for a few ticks, but you don’t go anywhere, or do anything so…” Tyrac shrugged.

“Oh. Uh….” Lance trailed off. He glanced off to his side where Blue sat, and she rumbled in response, filling him with the cool certainty of her faith and trust in however he responded. “My ship has an AI program. I was jus’ talking with it.”

He flinched as Blue’s cool reassurance, faith, and trust turned icy for calling her an ‘it’. Mentally he soothed her over, trying to explain how he didn’t want Tyrac to know too much about her lest he get greedy like Nyma.

“Ah. It’s part of the helmet?”

“Look who’s breaking the rules now.” Lance teased, and waved his hand, as if to push the question away. He moved over to the last panel on this side to try to fix this. If this failed… he’d have to figure out how to get underneath Blue to access the panels there.

He might be able to access them from inside Blue but… Lance sighed. He’d cross that bridge when, no IF, he came to it.

“My sincerest apologies.”

“Oh, I’m sure. But it’s cool. I’ll answer anyways. It’s pretty much part of the helmet.” Lance’s response wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. The suits were tied, in some way, to either the lions or the castle. Although, given the lions connections to the castle, perhaps that was one in the same.

“I see.”

Well, Brightside: this panel had significantly less to fix. The not so Brightside? While this panel could access what he needed to get to, it wasn’t exactly designed for that purpose; and what he was trying to fix was just stupid in general. Stupid Alteans, and their stupid small panels, and their stupid crystal arrays and…

Lance took a deep breath, muttering ‘wusa’ under his breath. He pulled away from the panel, letting his eyes close as he took a couple breaths. There was absolutely no reason to get upset or annoyed. He just needed to take a moment before he retired his hand at the infuriating crystals.

Unlike Allura, he didn’t have friendly physic space mice to help keep small crystals in their proper arrays. He tapped out his usual song, trying to use it to calm himself back down before he reattempted to fix the crystal array.

“That song you keep tapping… where did you hear it?”

“Another question? You’re on a rule breaking streak.” Lance replied. “But, since I am so kind and benevolent, I’ll be generous and answer: no idea. I’ve been humming and tapping it for as long as I can remember.”

As a matter of fact, Lance had spent at least a year in music classes as they tried to see if he had some talent for creating music – spoiler: he didn’t. Then he’d spent several many hours scouring the web listening to songs to try to locate this particular one. Another spoiler: he never found it.

Lance’s fingers slowed, and he paused, turning to look back at Tyrac. Why was Tyrac curious about the song anyways? Perhaps Tyrac had heard it before? But no. That didn’t make sense. How would Lance, of all people, have heard a song from space?

Tyrac asking about it probably didn’t mean anything. After all, plenty of people on Earth had asked about the song. Where had he heard it? He had no clue. Where there any words? Yes, but he couldn’t remember them. And every time, Lance would ask them in return if they recognized it. ‘No, but’s it’s pretty’, was the response he usually received.

Blue nudged him, offering a suggestion. Maybe the trader heard it before. Maybe he hadn’t. Lance would never know unless he asked. And if the Trader did know it then maybe Coran and Allura….

Of course, that was why she was interested. Fine, he’d ask then just to prove her wrong.

“Why? Do… have you… I don’t know… heard it before?”

Perhaps the translator didn’t like what Lance had said, or perhaps Tyrac was just thinking about the answer to Lance’s question. Whatever the case was, for every tick of silence, Lance’s heart beat louder and louder in his ears.

Coran and Allura hadn’t recognized the song, but they also had been in cyropods for ten thousand years. Lance couldn’t think of anything from Human culture that had lasted from ten thousand years ago.

“It sounds familiar.” Tyrac responded after countless ticks. In his head, Blue roared victoriously as a ‘I told you so’. Similar, Lance reminded her. Similar did not mean the same. “But I can’t place it, or name it. My father was never fond of lullabies.”

A lullaby, huh. Well, that made sense. Lance would hum it to his younger family members when he was babysitting to help them get to sleep. Blue preened. But no. It was just coincidence. Like how Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and the English Alphabet were sung to the same tune. Those were different songs, but the same tune. The same thing could be happening here.

So. Anyways. He turned back to the panel and dove back in to fix the crystal arrays. He’d rather get frustrated with that then think about the implications of Tyrac recognizing a song that, so far, no one on Earth that Lance had met recognized.

He wasn’t sure if it was his new found single focus on the crystal array or what but somehow it seemed easier to take care of now. The crystal slid back into its proper place, and he barely wasted a second to sync with Blue and test the connection.

The connection was a success.

Lance almost didn’t believe it. As a matter of fact, he didn’t believe. Blue ran the test again and… success. He did it.

“Thank fuck!” He cried coming back to himself. He closed the panel. He was done with repairs. He could hail his friends and get picked up off this moon! As a matter of fact, Blue was already sending out a signal, trying to reach the Castle.

“I’m sorry?” Despite the distortion from the helmet, Tyrac’s confusion was obvious.

“Uhh… it’s nothing. Just.. yeah… Ignore it.” Lance spun back around and rubbed the back of his helmet.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, but seriously, thank you.” Lance walked towards Tyrac. “If you hadn’t come by and offered your help, who knows how long I woulda been stuck out here.” Lance reached the other and offered a hand to help him to his feet. “It’s good to know there’s some charitable people out here.”

“This wasn’t charity. You’ve paid for borrowing the tools already.”

Lance froze, and he could feel Blue likewise pause at the trader’s words. Neither of them thought that Tyrac would turn them in, even for their bounty, but… as if sensing the sudden tension, Tyrac continued.

“Your company was payment enough. Not to mention your little game. It was very enlightening and entertaining.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from Blue and Lance. Tyrac also relaxed, evidently deciding that Lance’s return to his relaxed posture was nothing but an omen of good signs.

“Well, if you’re good, then I suppose I should get going myself.” Tyrac added on as an afterthought.

Well, that was both a relief and kind of saddening, considering Lance had enjoyed the conversations between them. He was going to miss Tyrac.

Sure, Lance’s team was great and all, but he’d been stuck with the same six other people for a really long time now. Yeah, they met people while exploring and answering distress calls, like Shay on the Balmara or Reyner of the Olkari, but it wasn’t the same.

“Yeah, I… guess you should.” Lance faked a smile. Fake it till he made it, right? He handed over the multipurpose tool. Truth be told, Lance was kind of impressed that Tyrac was still respecting Lance’s desire for him to not be close to Blue.

Tyrac’s hand brushed over Lance’s as he took the tools back. Like before, it didn’t matter much since they were both wearing gloves, but… Helmets or not, Lance could see the smile curling up at the corner of Tyrac’s lips. Unless one considered ‘accidentally on purpose’ to actually be accidental… then the contact was definitely not accidental.

“Before I go, I’d feel better giving you some food and water in case it takes a bit for your friends to come.”

Lance resisted the urge to bite his lip. Blue nudged him, encouraging him to accept Tyrac’s offering. Neither of them knew when the others would get here, and it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, the saying was ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’.

“Are you sure? I don’t have any GAC to pay you back.”

Tyrac shrugged. “I figured as much when you didn’t ask to buy anything. Besides, I believe we already covered that your company was more than enough payment.”

This close, Lance could see more than just the smile – which hadn’t dropped – through the visor. He could also see the other’s eyes, and as such, he saw the exact moment when Tyrac gave him a very obvious look over.

Blue’s amusement flooded his veins as soon as he realized that Tyrac was flirting with him again. She couldn’t believe that Lance was only just now noticing, since as far as she could tell Tyrac had been interested in Lance from the beginning. As a matter of fact, she’d even pointed it out!

For all that Lance preened about how pretty he was, he’d never really ever gotten hit on. He was always hitting on other people – admittedly to make them smile more than any actual attempt to hook up.

TLDR: Lance a) hadn’t realized he was being hit on; and b) he wasn’t used to people hitting on him. Especially if those ‘people’ were unfairly handsome half-Galra men. Lions knew Keith was obvious as hell when it came to this.

Blue essentially sniggered at him, and nudged him in Tyrac’s direction. She wanted him to go enjoy his time with the trader before he left.

Lance’s face felt so heated, he was sure it was red. Thankfully, he had his visor to hide behind. A small mercy, but he’d take it. If it wasn’t for Tyrac’s presence, he’d be scolding Blue, but… Tyrac was still there, soo…

Instead of responding to his lion, he followed Tyrac into the ship. Tyrac went straight to work, putting the tool away and then coming back with a pack, presumably with the food and water as promised.

As he handed the pack over, his hands once again brushed against Lance. The heat in Lance’s face, which was only just faded, returned; mostly because he knew that the contact was definitely on purpose. It didn’t help that Tyrac didn’t immediately move back, but instead stayed closer that what was probably socially acceptable.

In the dim lighting of the ship Tyrac’s eyes seemed to glitter. Seriously, it wasn’t fair.

Keith had such pretty eyes which were like some weird mixture of lilac purple and storm gray depending on the lighting. Now here was Tyrac who’s eyes were remarkably similar to Keith’s just with yellow where the whites should be. Not only were half Galra guys pretty body and face structure wise, but they also had such pretty eyes, and it seriously wasn’t fair. All Lance had was boring blue.

Of course, his lamenting the fairness of this was a distraction, because really, his mind seemed to have stopped working the moment Tyrac smiled. The trader had removed his helmet when he entered the ship, so now Lance had a completely unfiltered view of Tyrac’s pretty smile and prettier eyes.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I included a communicator in with the supplies.”

Lance’s reply may have been a ‘uh’, or an ‘um’. Blue informed him, with no little amount of glee, that it was a squeak. Tyrac’s laugh, when it wasn’t being distorted by the helmet, was warm and if Lance were a goopy fanfiction writer, he’d describe it as sunshine and honey. Or velvet.

“In the event your friends don’t come, I can come back and give you a hand.” Tyrac explained.

Right. Right. Of course, that made sense. It wasn’t like Tyrac was giving him a communicator for any other purpose. Lance was just looking too far into this.

“Or, so you can talk to me anytime you want. Space is vast, and in my experience, when you find someone you enjoy talking to, you usually want to hold onto them.” Or Lance wasn’t looking too much into this, and he was pretty sure his brain short circuited.

This did not happen to him. Like, this just didn’t happen to him. He flirted to make people laugh and smile. People did not flirt with him. People were not interested in him. He never actually expected someone to flirt with him!

One of Tyrac’s hands let go of the pack to slide up to Lance’s upper arm. He held the touch for a moment before dropping it, and finally, finally, stepped back away from Lance.

“Give me a call sometime. I’d like it if we could keep in touch, especially given the dangers of your profession.”

There was a moment of ice panic which settled in his veins. Lance had purposely avoided any talk of his ‘profession’, although, anyone who knew anything about Voltron knew about the Lions and Paladins. It was stupid of him to assume that Tyrac hadn’t known. Lance was pretty sure he was still ‘safe’ though, given Tyrac’s reactions and the fact that Lance hadn’t been turned into the Empire.

“It’d help ease my worries.” Tyrac’s smile was small, gentle; and was reflected in his violet eyes. “Stay safe, alright?”

Contrary to belief, Lance recognized a dismissal when he saw one, or in this case, when he heard one. Except, Tyrac’s mouth and words are dismissing Lance, but his eyes were begging him to stay.

In the back of his mind, Blue trilled, still finding amusement in how Lance seemed to have broken, or in the fact Tyrac is flirting with Lance. Lance mentally screamed at her a bunch of gibberish nonsense, although, outwardly, he took a step back away and forced his face to smile again.

“Thank you for everything. I’ll be sure to keep in contact.” Allura’s diplomatic training kicked in, although, he hadn’t needed it. Lance made a friend. He made an alien friend all on his own. More than that, this friend knew he was part of Voltron and hadn’t turned him in. This friend could very well become an ally in time.

Lance’s smile broadened, and little bubbles of happiness in his stomach and chest exploded. He felt as if he could fly, and he knew Blue felt the same – despite the fact they were both firmly grounded until someone from the castle found them.

Swallowing down the giddy happiness was like drinking the bubbly champagne from his oldest sibling’s wedding. He took a breath to steady himself. Faintly, he registered that Tyrac smelled of… flowers. Space flowers. Ha. Cute.

Now if only Keith could smell nice, instead of smelling like sweat all the time from all the unneeded training he put himself though.

“I’ll stay safe.” Lance promised. It’s not as diplomatic, but he didn’t need diplomacy here. Not with Tyrac. Things didn’t need to be political between them when they were easily sharing smiles and touches like this.

Blue tugged at him, a gentle reminder that they were saying goodbyes. Lance needed to return to Blue, and Tyrac needed to get to where ever he was going before he decided to be a good Samaritan. He took another deep breath, and with another smile, left Tyrac.

“That just happened, right?” Lance asked Blue as he watched Tyrac leave. “Because I’m still not convinced that that actually happened.” Blue trilled her amusement. She’s amused and… sort of proud.

Lance shook his head, and rolled his eyes.

“Come on, girl. We’ve got a message to send out.”

Chapter Text

A day after the encounter, and Lance still couldn’t believe what had happened with Tyrac; just like he couldn’t believe that he’d been unable to contact the castle. Although, with the whole Tyrac thing, Blue was more than willing to help him believe it.

Blue had absolutely no qualms about reminding Lance exactly of what all had happened with Tyrac. She used everything in her arsenal, from replaying snippets of memories to forcing a sync and telling Lance exactly what she’d thought of the whole encounter.

There were times Lance didn’t mind syncing with Blue. He hadn’t minded during the repairs because it’d been necessary. During battle, it made things easier. It was times like this, however, that Lance did mind, mostly because he wanted some form of privacy, especially in his head.

Not to mention how disorienting the syncs could be. Each one felt like waves washing over him, sending him tumbling through water like Sora in that one Kingdom Hearts opening when he was trying to get to Riku in the water. Lance would try to break for the surface only for another wave to wash over him as Blue dragged him back down, drowning him with herself.

She was proud of her Paladin, and her preening was almost worse than Lance’s on a good day. Her Paladin was always the best looking, according to her, and she didn’t care how much Lance protested about Allura, Shiro, Keith, or any of the others being so much more attractive.

Allura was Allura. She was a princess. Duh. Shiro cheated. Hadn’t Lance ever noticed his eyeliner wings? Make up was cheating! And Keith… Blue trilled in laughter at the thought of Red’s Paladin being considered attractive. He should have been discounted instantly from his hair alone – an opinion Lance shared only when in public and out loud. Inwardly, however, well, Blue wasn’t as horrible as to out her paladin’s evident kink for people with longer hair.

Each time she did this, Lance had to drag himself back out, bit by little bit. It felt like he was trying to drag himself back up on the shore by grasping at the beach. His hands grasped the sand only for it to just drain out between his fingers.

By the time he escaped, he was shaking, trembling and just the tiniest bit traumatized.

Lance has lost count of how many times she’s dragged him under, and she’d been ignoring his cries for consent before she does this. She was too… too much over everything. She was excited that someone gave her Paladin some interest. She was irritated that he didn’t think he was worth it. She was… she was just like a mom, or an older sister, or a best friend.

It had gotten to a point that it was just easier to let it happen; to just lean back into the sync and drift through the water, letting the currents of their thoughts guide him. So, when Blue released him from the sync, it took him a moment to re-orient himself.

The disorientation took about a minute to clear, and when it did, Lance realized why Blue had released him from the sync.

“Lance? Lance are you there?” Allura’s voice was like hearing the bell to leave school after a really shitty day. It was relief. It was happiness. The only reason he wasn’t jumping up and down and cheering was because of the lasting effects of the sync.

His vision swam, the console spinning from the disorientation of basically being thrown back into his body. But, he didn’t need to do anything, just respond verbally.

“Allura? Yeah, I’m here!”

The words Allura responded with were decidedly not English. Probably something that wouldn’t translate over properly. Like Quiznak.

“Are you alone?” Allura sounded frazzled. Lance wondered if it was result of the shaky-at-best communications they had going on, or if there was something else.

“Yeah.” He said.

Static returned his ‘yeah’, and he resisted the urge to sigh. Or scream. Or just go crazy. He finally got a response, and now he got static.

Blue purred, a quiet comforting rumble which echoed in his chest. It was soothing, calming. Lance took another deep breath.

“If you are sure….” Allura trailed off. “It’ll be a tick or two before we can come get you.”

We. We? Who was we? Like, ‘we’ the team? Or ‘we’ as in herself, Coran, and Slav. He didn’t know.

“Is everyone else alright?” Lance asked.

Silence and static returned his question. It was only Blue’s comforting rumble that kept him from complaining.

The Lions could communicate amongst themselves. However, they’d been designed for close quarters. It was their whole purpose, since they formed Voltron. As such, their long range capabilities with communicating with the other lions was limited at best, non-existent at worst. They were better equipped to connect with the Castle, or evidently their Paladins, long range than they were each other.

That being said, Blue was just as much in the dark as Lance was on the status of their teammates. A fact both Lance and Blue shared hatred for. Unfortunately, the only one with answer was Allura, and she wasn’t sharing.

“Just a few more ticks, Lance.” Allura finally responded.

“It’s fine. I’ve got all the time in the universe.” Except, he kind of didn’t. He was limited on food and water. He had Tyrac’s supplies and assistance, but, that wasn’t going to last forever.

Lance wasn’t given a reply, not that he expected one. The connection turned back to static snow, and Lance gave up resisting the urge to sigh. He flopped back against the seat, and with a lazy flick of his hand, ‘tossed’ the communication screen – which Blue had rerouted to a new screen since the usual one was still broken – away.

“This sucks.”

Like before, Blue agreed. But… this gave them time to bond… and talk. Lance sat up, silently threatening to leave if she dragged him into another sync.

She trilled and then nudged the dark corner of his mind again. The corner where he kept his secrets and things he didn’t want to talk about. She pushed past the memories of Keith, and Lance’s messed up feelings for him, and instead dragged out a memory of Allura and Coran cornering him and… Nope.

Lance hit that memory so hard it spun, slamming it back into the darkest part of the corner. Blue snorted, and pawed at a memory of Keith. He could just imagine her raising her eyebrows, if Blue was human, and asking ‘so what about this topic then?’. Like she hadn’t just been terrorizing him about Tyrac.

“Can you not?” Lance muttered. He slid down in the seat, slumping as he held his hand to his face, massaging his temples.

It was bad enough already that he had a crush on a taken guy. He didn’t need her rubbing that in his face. He needed to get over Keith, which was why it was shoved over there, away from Lance’s thoughts.

Blue snorted, and once again pawed, although she pawed a different memory of Keith this time. Lance was allowed a moment of realized horror once the memory started playing, Keith’s words echoing in his head.

“We had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!”

Lance sat up, slamming his hands into the armrests. “Why are you like this?” He demanded. Blue shuddered, holding back the lion equivalent of laughter. “Seriously!? Not. Cool.”

She nudged him, poking the memory again. “Oh no. You put that back.” He demanded. There was the mental equivalent of her rolling her eyes, and then she slipped back, letting the memory slide back into its spot in the dark corner.

“Shoulda been warned how much of a nosy busybody you are.” Lance muttered, settling back into the seat.

“Lance, have you ever considered that you may….” Lance practically threw himself out of his chair with the speed in which he sat up once Allura’s imagined voice echoed in his head. He grabbed his helmet as he stood, putting it on.

“That’s it. I’m out of here.” Lance ignored Blue’s shudder of laughter, or how she tried to pick at him to come back as he slipped out the exit hatch. “Don’t care.” He replied to Blue’s concern about Allura trying to contact them again. “I just can’t with you right now, Blue. I just can’t.”

Missing a message from Allura was better than Blue shifting though sore memories. He didn’t want to talk about that stuff, and honestly, he didn’t care how much Blue did. He knew who he was. He knew where he was from. There was no need for any uncertainty from that. No. Need.

“Lance?” Lance froze, half way through the hatch. Blue sniggered. “Lance, can you hear me?”

“UGH!” He practically snarled as he pulled himself back up, pulling back up the communications. “Yeah?”

“Good. I thought we’d lost you for a moment.” Lance raised an eyebrow at her tone. She sounded like she was legitimately worried about that, which… okay? Paladins didn’t just… vanish. People didn’t do that.

“Yeah, I’m here.” On a moon, with a currently insufferable Lion. “Still.”

“Alright. We’ve finally managed to lock onto your signal. We’ll be there in a tick.” Her voice still sounded frazzled, but… there was definitely some of her old confident lit coming back through.

Awesome.

Space away from Blue was exactly what he needed – and he was so totally ignoring her irritation and pain at that thought. She’d still be able to connect to him in the castle, but it’d be easier for Lance to brush off her influence.

True to word, it was only a few seconds before Yellow greeted him and Blue. He knew because Blue withdrew from him to communicate with Yellow, and if he focused, he could feel Yellow too. Although, trying to feel Yellow through Blue felt… difficult. It was like the connection was blurry or something.

In any case, it wasn’t like Lance wanted to connect with any of the other lions. Blue was more than enough for him.

They all played a game of Telephone in which they were basically told that Yellow was going to be taking them back up to the castle. Which was honestly what Lance and Blue were expecting since the only lions larger than Blue was Yellow and Black. What was weird was the lack of communication and assistance from Black.

Neither Lance or Blue could understand why Black wasn’t either assisting or communicating with them, but it was possible that Black was more damaged than Blue and unable to do either.

Regardless, Yellow could handle Blue and within no time – although it would have been faster with Black’s assistance – Blue was in the castle. Lance climbed out of Blue once she was safely in her hanger, although, still laying on her side. He could feel her connect to the castle, and pull energy, or what Allura called Quintessence, help the self-repair systems kick in.

“Lance!” Hunk’s arms were suddenly around him, pulling him up and… okay, his feet were officially off the floor now. Congrats to Hunk. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Okay? Why wouldn’t he be okay? It wasn’t like they just battled the Emperor of the Known Universe, and won, and then were flung out among the stars in a hostile universe or anything. Except, oh wait, yeah that did happen.

It was reassuring, at least, that Hunk was so excited to see Lance. He laughed, patting his friend on the back. “Easy, buddy!”

“That’s one missing Paladin down.” Lance swiveled around, trying to locate Allura like looking at her would help her words make any more sense. He counted heads as he attempted to squirm out of Hunk’s hold. Let’s see, there was Allura and Pidge. Hunk was holding him.

“Miss-sing?” He asked, the second half of the word coming out in a mixture of a squeak and gasp as Hunk squeezed.

“Shiro’s gone.” Lance turned– to the best of his ability – to look for Keith at the sound of his voice. Well, that was everyone except for Coran and Shiro. And one of them was not a Paladin who could be missing. Which meant…

Quiznak.

“We were scattered by the explosion. You just ended up the farthest, congrats.” Pidge pipped up, looking up from her computer at Lance for a moment before returning to typing. “The Black Lion was the closest to the battle… except for maybe Keith here.”

“It wasn’t my fault I ended up in Zarkon’s ship!”

Ha! Keith ended up in Zarkon’s ship. That’s a riot. Although, he was lucky that the ship didn’t take off with Keith in it. That would have sucked for everyone.

Pidge didn’t even pause in her typing, although there was a decrease in the tip-tapping of the keys as she took a moment to flick off Keith.

“Hey!” Keith started.

“BUT.” Hunk interrupted before anything could come from that small exchange. “When we got Black into the castle, Shiro wasn’t there.”

Shiro wasn’t there. But then… where else could he be? People didn’t just vanish. Except, they did. After all, what were the people he left on Earth thinking about him? “People don’t just vanish.” Lance muttered as Hunk let him drop back to the floor.

“You don’t think we know that?” Pidge snapped at him.

“She’s trying to hack the systems in our suits to try to find him.” Hunk explained before dropping to a half whisper to continue with, “She’s not succeeding.”

“I can hear you.” Pidge’s tone was as flat as the look they shot in Hunk’s direction.

Okay, Lance could understand Pidge’s irritability. After all, Shiro meant a lot to Pidge. Shiro was a link to her missing brother and father. Losing Shiro, again, was probably losing another brother. Especially since as far as Lance could tell, Shiro had been a close friend of the Holts in general. This couldn’t be easy for Pidge.

As a matter of fact, while Pidge and Keith were probably being hit the hardest by Shiro’s disappearance, it had to be hitting everyone else fairly hard too. To all of them Shiro was their leader. For most of them, he was more. For Pidge, Shiro was a brother. For Keith…

For Keith… well, Keith had a few extra sets of Shiro’s clothes in his shack in the middle of the desert.

People didn’t just carry extra clothes for a presumed dead pilot in their hovel shack in the middle of nowhere. They just didn’t. Not to mention how close Shiro and Keith always seemed. Plus, all their shared likes and stuff, like training.

Lance really couldn’t imagine how Keith was feeling right now. How he was handling losing his boyfriend – because what else could they be? – twice now.

As for the others, Shiro was a friend, or more. Yeah, Shiro was Lance’s friend too, but it was different for him. Shiro was friendlier with the others. He talked to them more, despite Lance being the more social and outgoing one. Outside of the role of leader Lance didn’t know Shiro beyond the hero-worship Lance had done before this all started.

Out of everyone here, Lance was probably closest to Hunk and Coran. He never spent any time with Shiro, unless the other was reprimanding him or they were training/fighting. Pidge never cared about him, not even when they were at the Garrison. Allura didn’t really spend any time with him, which may have been his own fault with the flirting. Keith was… complicated.

“We had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!”

Lance eyed Blue, but she had nothing to do with it this time. He was the one thinking of those words. It didn’t matter. Keith was off the market, and Lance hated him anyways. No, he didn’t. They were rivals. Keith and Lance, neck and neck!

Blue mentally nuzzled him, offering her support with a low quiet mental trill. She couldn’t tell if he was sad because Shiro was missing, or because he didn’t care as much as the others, or because he cared more about how it was affecting the others rather than himself, or was it because… Was it because Lance would never get to have one of Shiro’s shining proud space-dad smiles directed at him for a second time?

He didn’t have an answer for her. She didn’t have an answer for him.

The whole hanger is silent, except for Pidge’s tip-tapping on the keyboard.

“I… best get back to the bridge.” Allura was the first to break it, and Lance spun back around to look at her. “The… I… the ship needs me since it’s still undergoing repairs.” She nodded to herself, and then spun around and marched out of the hanger.

The effect was ruined by the fact she was wearing her space uniform instead of the dress. But then again, it didn’t matter. What did matter was that she was the first to leave.

It seemed her words set off a domino effect with the others.

“The princess is right. Repairs need to be done, and with Slav’s hep, the work will go by twice as fast. The Castle won’t fix herself!” Coran was the first to leave after Allura, spinning around in typical Coran fashion and exiting out the same way as Allura.

Lance eyed Hunk, Pidge and Keith. Who was next? What reasoning would they be giving?

Pidge, as it turned out, was next. She grumbled unintelligibly under her breath as she shut her laptop, and climbed to her feet.

“I don’t understand!” She cried. “There should be something in the armor to track him.” She shook her head and tucked her laptop under her arm, heading for the door.

Hunk looked between Pidge and Lance, before giving Lance a pat on the shoulder and chasing after her.

“Maybe there’s something in his arm we can track? I mean,” Hunk’s voice was cut off as the door slid shut behind him.

And then there were two.

Except there wasn’t. Lance hadn’t noticed when it happened, but sometime after the ‘fight’ with Pidge, Keith had left the hangar. Who knew what for.

One moment Keith had been there, and then the next, gone. Just like Shiro.

Blue’s presence was a quiet rumble, a steady press against his mind. He would never be alone, so long as he had her.

Which is fine and dandy and all that, but… it isn’t the same.

In this situation, there’s not much he can do. Blue’s repairing herself. Hunk and Pidge are being Science Siblings together. Allura was on the bridge doing Altean stuff, while Coran and Slav try to fix the castle elsewhere.

And Shiro was… gone.

Even if Shiro wasn’t gone, what would that do for Lance? He’d be in the same predicament. Still stuck with nothing to do and no one to spend time with.

Seventh Wheel. He was the seventh wheel just like he told the Yupper.

Everyone had a purpose, except him. He couldn't pilot the Castle like Allura, or repair it like Coran and Slav. In terms of technological prowess, he was nowhere near the technological capabilities of Pidge, or even Hunk. He wasn't an awesome cook like Hunk. Allura and Shiro were leaders, not him. Lance was useless at combat compared to the others too, Keith especially.

Keith has far more reason and purpose than Lance. Keith who was part alien How cool was that?! and had connections to one of the resistance groups against Zarkon. If Shiro was captured by the Galra, one of the Blades of Marmora would hear and either get Shiro out or tell Keith.

Lance could do nothing. He had nothing. He might as well as been nothing.
What had started out as a low rumble grew louder and more insistent, as if Blue could sense Lance’s thoughts and was trying her best to tell him the opposite.

Honestly, Lance wasn’t sure if it was helping, or making things worse. After all, for all her purrs and rumbles, Blue is cold.

So much around Lance was cold. Space was cold. The mostly empty castle was cold. It was cold standing basically alone in a hanger. It was cold, realizing how useless he was.

Blue was no help. She was nothing but deep oceans and frozen glaciers. If there were three words to describe her, Lance would use: cool, chill, and cold. They all mean different things, yet are all the same at once.

“Same, but different.” He muttered.

Blue was confused. It flooded the bond as she attempted to reach out to him and figure out what he was thinking now.

“Focus on yourself, girl.” He told her. They’re already down one paladin, there was no need to make it two because Blue was still out of commission.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Lance did have a purpose.

It wasn’t the best of purposes, but it was a purpose. Like his history teacher used to tell the class: ‘someone needs to be the janitor.’ It was just that Lance never thought it’d be him.

Fortunately, Lance had plenty of experience with wrangling siblings, cousins, nieces, and nephews. Compared to them, his crazy teammates should be a piece of cake.

It wasn’t like he wanted to essentially babysit his fully-grown teammates. No one on this ship should have needed to be babysat. No one. Yet here Lance was, doing exactly that. But hey, if he didn’t then who would? If he didn’t do this, then who’d find Shiro? Not them, that was for sure, since they’d all be dead.

Lance brought them all food goo. Lance was the one making sure they all got at least some sleep. He was the one basically ensuring that all these perfectly functioning adults knew how to take care of themselves.

Okay, let him amend that previous statement. Lance knew for sure that at least Shiro, Keith, Hunk, and himself were legally adults. They had to be to a) get into the Garrison, and b) become pilots for the Garrison. Pidge was… questionable. She definitely wasn’t younger than 16, and honestly, Lance was willing to estimate her at 18 at the oldest.

Honestly, Lance had no clue about Coran and Allura. Coran had mentioned that his grandfather had helped build the Castle of Lions, but he also said that the castle of lions was built 10,600 years ago, and that he went on trips with his grandfather to places. Soo… who knew how Alteans aged.

Regardless. Point was the same: everyone was an adult and no one had an excuse – except for maybe Pidge. Except, even Pidge was old enough to know better. No excuses. None.

But, then again, they were all stressed, working themselves to the death to try to either a) get the ship in tip top shape, or b) find Shiro. But partaking in those activities didn’t excuse the team from not caring about themselves.

Lance helped, the best way he could. Beyond the babysitting, he had also taken over a good majority of Coran’s usual tasks/chores. Which, hey, okay, Lance was being helpful. And being helpful was better than being useless.

Lance had a purpose now, and it even came with the added benefit of allowing Coran to focus on fixing the ship along with Slav.

It didn’t mean Lance wasn’t tired. It was a bone deep tiredness, which persisted since that battle with Zarkon. He was tired, and he felt like he was running on empty air. Which made him feel worse, because it’s not like he was doing anything. Not anything important.

The lack of social interaction wasn’t helping his mood either. As a matter of fact, when he saw people, it was usually to take care of them. Speaking of….

The ticker in back pocket let out a few quiet chimes, letting him know that two vargas had passed. He’d last checked in on Allura and Coran, so now it was Keith’s turn. Pidge and Hunk were always last given how difficult Pidge could be.

Lance finished up the section of the castle he was moping before putting the supplies up and heading off to the training deck.

Nine out of ten times that was where Keith could be found, over-training himself to death. If he wasn’t there, then he was in the showers – which Lance had accidentally walked in on once – or down in the lions’ hangars; usually Red’s, but sometimes Black’s.  Lance wasn't sure what was going on there, and honestly, he didn't care to.  

Lance stopped at the door, and stared at it for a moment. Keith was probably training, and security protocols or not… he didn’t want to chance walking through that door and getting the gladiator’s attention. So instead, he turned and headed towards the observation deck. He leaned against the glass overlooking the training area, peering down at Keith.

It wasn’t a mystery to Lance why Keith spent so much time in the training room. Hell, if he was in Keith’s shoes, he might have done the same. After all, training had to be better than sleeping in an empty bed or whatever Shiro and Keith did in their free time. Or perhaps that was it. Training reminded him of Shiro, and he was over training to feel closer to his missing boyfriend.

Perhaps Lance wouldn’t be doing the same as Keith then. He wouldn’t be able to stand being constantly reminded of what he lost. It was bad enough he had feelings for Keith despite knowing the guy was taken. Those feelings were always fun to try to hide from the Voltron bond.

Man, his luck in feelings sucked. Allura was off limits just on the principal that she was a princess and not interested in him. Keith and Shiro were together and probably not interested in him. Hunk was attractive, but he just didn’t do anything for Lance. Nyma was… a mistake.

He watched Keith as he parried and attacked, moving as quickly as one would expect from the Paladin piloting the Red Lion.

There was something awe-inspiring about Keith’s fighting. It wasn’t traditionally graceful or beautiful, but, in its own way, it was. It was a special dance only Keith – and probably Shiro, who spared with him the most – knew.

Keith finished the gladiator, panting as he took a brief breather.

“Halt training sequence.” Lance called out before Keith could start another, or the AI could give Keith another gladiator to combat.

Keith looked up at the observation deck. Lance couldn’t see his eyes, but he could definitely see the frown.

Not to sound like a basic white fuck boy, but, man, Keith did look so much better with a smile. Then again, everyone did. Which was why he often strived to try to make the most amount of people smile whenever he could.

“Start-”

“Nope.” Lance used the intercom to interrupt.

“Training sequence 5,” Keith continued. The circle where the gladiator dropped out of lighting up, and…

“Halt training sequence.” Lance commanded again. The light died down, and nothing dropped down from the ceiling.

Keith’s frown probably deepened. Lance couldn’t see.

“Lance.”

“Keith.”

“We are not doing this.” Keith turned back up to the observation deck and crossed his arms, letting the bayard fall as he did so.

“Nope, we’re not.” Lance replied, watching the particles of the dropped bayard as they returned to the armor. He’d never understood the mechanics of them, but then again, he never figured he needed to. He could summon it when he needed it, and that was all he felt he needed to know.

Keith sighed, unfolding his arms to run a hand through his hair. It was a testament to how long it’d been since his last shower, seeing as his hair remained sticking up where his hand passed through it. Lance wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. Honestly, hadn’t Keith heard of hygiene? Then again… he’d been training a lot. Which did produce a lot of sweat. And sweaty hair did act like that, sometimes.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” Keith resumed his folded arm stance as he spoke. Lance was proud he didn’t flinch, although, his lack of a physical reaction didn’t make it hurt less.

“Nope. I’m all yours.” Lance purred. For at least a bit, anyways. And not in the way Lance would have preferred.

“Do you come with a receipt?" Keith replied.  "I want to return you.”

Ouch. Okay, that hurt a bit more. Although, hey, that was a pretty good comeback. Lance had to give him that.  Win for Keith.  Again

“Rude.” Lance instantly replied. Keith didn’t physically reply, but Lance was getting the feeling he was being glared at.  Keith's glare had a particular feel to it, and Lance had been on the receiving end enough times to recognize it.  

“You’ve been training since… since I last saw you, about…mmm, maybe ten hours ago.” Technically, ten vargas ago when Lance did his ‘morning’ checks; but it’s whatever. “You need a shower, a break, and some food. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Seriously?”

Lance shrugged. He didn’t make the rules. Except, oh wait, he kind of did now.

“When’s the last time you trained anyways?” Keith called up. Technically, the last time he trained was whenever the whole team last trained. Not that he was given much of a chance to respond before Keith continued.  “Probably not since the last team training.”

“Doesn’t change the fact you’re training yourself into an early grave.” Just because Keith was right didn’t make Lance’s point any less valid. Keith was going to train himself into an early grave, and then Shiro would come back to a dead red paladin, and Lance would be blamed.

“Fine. If you can beat me in a sparring match, then I’ll take a break.” Keith challenged.

Okay, now that was insulting. Like, that was honestly insulting. “What the quiznak, Keith?”

“What? Too scared I’ll still beat you, even when I so clearly need a break?” Okay, that was it. Lance huffed, marching to the door and down the ramp that led to the training area. “I’ll even go easy on you and not use my sword.”

Go easy on… Oh hell no.

Keith raised an eyebrow when Lance finally reached the training floor, giving him an unimpressed look over.

“You ready to eat your words, mullet?”

“Like you’ve got any chance against me.” Keith returned, body shifting into an aggressive position.

As it turned out. Lance did not, in fact, have a chance against Keith.

Lance found this out the painful way when not even a few minutes into the ‘spar’ found him pinned on his stomach against the cold metal floor.

“You’re horrible at combat.” Keith spat out. Lance tried to buck him off, but it was kind of hard to do when Keith was basically on top of him, twisting his arm, and pressing his face into the floor. Like his poor skin needed contact with that!

“Not all of us spend all day every day at the training deck overworking ourselves!” Lance spat back.

Keith finally let go of Lance. Lance climbed up to his hands and knees, already anticipating Keith’s next remark. It’d probably be something about why Keith still won – and that stung in and of itself – if he was ‘overworking’ himself.

“Maybe if you did, Shiro would still be here!”

….

Lance was not expecting that.

“What?”

“I said, maybe if you did, Shiro would still be here! Maybe if you did train harder, then we would have beaten Zarkon easier, and then Shiro would still be here!”

So, he wasn’t hearing things. Keith was honestly blaming him for Shiro’s disappearance. What the quiznak? Lance laughed, the sound high pitched and kind of hysterical even to his own ears.

“Are you seriously blaming me for Shiro’s disappearing act?” Lance asked. The words sounded even more ridiculous when said out loud.

“Maybe he wouldn’t have over exerted himself if you knew what you were doing out there! The least you could do is practice flying, cargo pilot. Pidge is a better pilot and she didn’t even train for it!”

Lance… wasn’t sure how to even respond to that.

It was like all the words escaped from his mind. Everything just… crumpled. Without even knowing, Keith managed to hit most of Lance’s own doubts and insecurities. His rank as a cargo pilot – and the fact he only moved up due to Keith washing out. His ability to pilot…

It hurt, more than Lance liked to admit. Worse, he was still reeling from the pure shock of this happening that he couldn’t even begin to think about defending himself. Not that he could.

Pidge was the better pilot. Both, Shiro and Keith were amazing. Even Hunk was better than him. And he was… he was just a lowly cargo pilot who somehow ended up lucky enough to end up as a fighter pilot. He was the class idiot who couldn’t even pass a simulation.

“If we hadn’t wasted so much time trying to find you, then we might’ve been able to put that time to searching the battlefield for him!” Keith continued, like he didn’t see that he’d already won, in more ways than one.

Lance’s head dropped at the onslaught of words, until he realized the implication. His head shot up, as he stood up and turned on Keith.

“That isn’t fair!” The words spilled out before Lance had even fully thought them. Because it wasn’t. It wasn’t his fault that his Lion had crashed the furthest away from the battle. It wasn’t his fault that the others had hoped that somehow Shiro was with him. “That’s not my fault.”

Not to mention the implication that it was a waste of time trying to find Lance. Not trying to find Blue, but trying to find Lance. Way to make Lance feel needed on the team.  Go Keith.

“Oh yeah? If you could have piloted Blue better, then maybe you wouldn’t have ended up so far away!”

“You are the worst pilot, ever.” Keith's words from the very beginning echoed in Lance's head.  He wouldn't admit it out loud, but those words had hurt then, and they certainly hurt now.  After all they'd been through, he couldn't believe that Keith still believed that.  

Especially since it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t. They were all flung away from the battle, except for Black, and Keith, who shouldn’t count because he was stopped because he was flung into Zarkon’s ship.

Lance was so angry that his hands were shaking. His whole body was shaking. He could feel sweat dripping down his back, sliding along his spine. His hair felt damp, and he knew he was a mess. He’d never dealt with anger well.

“That’s not fair!” He repeated, because that seemed to be all that he could say. All other words were getting stuck in his throat. They were getting tumbled around and mixed up. Forming a knot so thick he could barely breath.

“This is war, Lance. Not much is.” Keith’s eyes narrowed he replied. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some training to get back to.”

Lance pursed his lips, but he didn’t respond. Not verbally at least. Words were still getting stuck in his throat, and there was no point in arguing with Keith. Lance never won against Keith.

Even in fights that Shiro had to break up, Lance never won. Shiro always sided with Keith. Always. There was no point in even trying. Before, Shiro would break up the fights, although, Shiro always sided with Keith. Especially with Keith acting like this.

He spun on his heel, refusing to look back at Keith, and walked to the door.

“Start training sequence five.” Keith called to the AI in the room. Lance didn’t even bother to stop him.

Chapter Text

The Castle of Lions was huge. Like huge couldn’t even begin to properly describe the Castle. It was plenty large enough to house all five Lions of Voltron, which was ridiculous because each of the lions alone were at least a couple stories high. Keeping in mind that the Lion’s hangars only took up a small fraction of the bottom half of the castle, there really wasn’t any other way to say that the castle was huge.

That said, despite the size of the castle, there were surprisingly few places that Lance could turn to.

There were the basic places. The places that were ‘designated’ for Lance. His ‘room’, if one could call it that, was one such place. Except, it wasn’t his room.

His room was painted cream with a baby light blue accent wall. His room had blue glow-in-the-dark stars plastered up on the ceiling in real constellation formations. His room had posters all along the walls, and shelves with knickknacks and souvenirs. Lance’s room was always colorfully lit with a string of old Christmas lights, and almost always playing some sort of music out of his old beat up stereo.

This room in the castle wasn’t Lance’s room, except in the sense that it was the room Lance stayed in. Nothing more than a small rectangular space, barely the size of a king-size mattress, with a twin size inset into the wall. It was cold, impersonal, and exactly the same as everyone else’s – except perhaps for Coran or Allura.

The room was cold, which wasn’t helped by Blue’s natural chill. Said chill seemed to perpetually seep through the bond into and around Lance; and tended to linger in the room.

Lance shivered as he tried, and failed, to curl up into a smaller ball than he already was. His arms were wrapped around his legs, holding them up to his chest.

Blue’s concern was overwhelming, barreling into him like storm waves batting a tiny toy ship on the ocean around. She was more than just concerned. She was upset, irritated, and angry; although, not at Lance. She wanted to know who had caused her Paladin this much pain. She wanted to console him.

The ticker that Lance been using earlier laid in broken shards of holographic glass at the base of the wall across the room, where they’d fallen after Lance had thrown the device earlier. Later, when he cleaned it up, he would probably regret that. Especially since he’d need to either go to Pidge or Coran about getting a new one.

Despite being weakened by distance, Blue was still able to poke and prod at him through the bond, imploring him to tell her what was the matter, and what Paladin she needed to utterly destroy.

It was because of that last part that Lance remained silent.

He just needed, he didn’t know. A distraction, maybe. Something else to think about instead of what had happened.

Blue’s insistent coddling fell quiet, and then almost like a small whisper, she reminded Lance of his desire to stock her with essentials in case they were to crash again. Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes. Oh yes, sure, go inside Blue, where she could force a sync and find out exactly what had happened. That was a perfect idea.

He didn’t need a bond with Blue to sense her offense at that.

No. No, there was no need to take his frustrations out on Blue. The only good thing about this place when she had done nothing wrong.

He stood, using the wall for support. While he didn’t know how long he’d sat curled up there, the ants dancing up and down his legs told him it’d been for far too long. He made his way down to the hangars, and looked up at Blue.

“Sorry, beautiful.” He offered her a half smile. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Blue seemed to survey him for a moment before letting out the equivalent of a ‘hmph’ through the bond, and then lowering her head to allow Lance access.

Inside of Blue, it was harder to ignore her persistent chill. He crossed his arms, and pulled his jacket tighter; but he was thankful for even smallest amount of relief against the cold. None of the others, to his knowledge, had this problem.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

Inside Blue, there was a bit more than just the cockpit, but it was there that Lance headed. His fingers trailed against the walls of Blue, and she let out a low rumble of appreciation at his attention. Just inside the cockpit, he paused, noting a pack stashed away to the side.

What was…?

Blue flashed him an image of Tyrac, and he silently cursed her for choosing a memory where he smiled.

But she was right. The pack was from him. Lance remembered now. He knelt, and pulled it out, systematically going through it.

The pack was full of some food which Lance was sure that Hunk would appreciate, if Hunk could get free of Pidge long enough to cook, that was. The poor guy hadn’t been able to cook since Pidge ‘dragged’ him off. Water, which was unnecessary at this point, but useful to keep in Blue – provided she didn’t freeze it over. And…

He paused, pulling out a small device. The communication device.

Blue purred, nudging at Lance. If he would not talk to her, then perhaps he could talk to another?

“I’m not using Tyrac as a therapist.”

Tyrac was a friend, of sorts. He wasn’t some confident for Lance to talk to whenever he had problems. Tragic backstory had not been unlocked yet. Their friend level wasn’t high enough.

But… no one else knew about him. In the wake of finding out about Shiro, and then the way everyone else was acting, it just hadn’t occurred to Lance to even mention Tyrac. As a matter of fact, as ashamed as Lance was to admit it, Tyrac had slipped Lance’s mind completely.

Regardless, no one else knew about Tyrac. And it wasn’t like Tyrac could tell anyone what Lance said about them.

The corners of Lance’s lips slowly twitched upwards as she shifted his position so that he was sitting criss-cross, and looking down at the device. His fingers brushed over it as he examined it from every angle.

There were no secrets between Paladins, or so Coran had always said. But, Zarkon had been a paladin, and had somehow kept his ambitions a secret.

…

Okay, not the best example. But he was sure there were other examples. The others could keep secrets. Would it be so bad for Lance to have a secret friend? Someone who he could confide in about the others?

Blue rumbled, caught on the fence between wanting to encourage her Paladin and to change opinions and side with Coran in the whole ‘no secrets between Paladins’ aspect.

This wasn’t quite what she’d meant to have happen when she asked Lance to come to her, when she’d suggest that Lance spoke to Tyrac though the device.

Lance paused, his fingers drumming along the device to his song. He pursed his lips as he debated with himself before he muttered a quiet “fuck it” and stood.

“Sorry, Blue.” He called out to her, as he headed towards to the exit.

If he spoke to Tyrac now, then Blue would hear the story and then… Blue flailed, as much as could mentally. She didn’t understand why it was so important that she didn’t know. She’d find out eventually, through the other lions. Besides, Lance may have decided to keep secrets from the others, but that didn’t mean he could start keeping secrets between them!

“Like you don’t keep secrets from me.” He muttered.

Blue’s presence recoiled as if struck by the comment Lance had made. She didn’t argue against it though.

She remained sequestered away from Lance even as he exited, and then headed back to his room. It seemed that she was accepting his decision to keep things to himself.

With the everyone in the castle so busy – except for Lance, of course – he ran into no one on the way to his room. And once there, he stared down at the device.

Was he making the right choice? Blue had just meant for him to talk to someone. She hadn’t meant for him to keep secrets from his teammates. But, he needed someone to talk to. Someone who wasn’t busy trying to find Shiro, or work on the ship, or… anything.

Lance nodded to himself. He made a choice, he needed to commit to it. He sat down at the end of his bed, playing with the device in his hands.

Besides, Tyrac was probably worried since he hadn’t heard from Lance in a while. A while being what… a couple space days? Enough time for everyone to drive themselves insane looking for Shiro/fixing the ship.

Lance sighed, before looking at the wall and trying to think of what to say. He started to tap out his song on the device, not that it gave him any comfort. Since that conversation with Tyrac, the song just hadn’t been as comforting as it once seemed.

But it gave his hands something to do while he thought. And he was thinking. After all, what to say? How to say it? It’d been so long since he spoke with Tyrac. Would it be weird to just randomly contact him?

“Ugh…” Lance groaned, dropping his head and closing his eyes. “I can’t just start a conversation with ‘My Life Sucks. I feel like I’m running a space kindergarten, and I just got the equivalent of a toddler kicking me in the shins today.’”

“That sounds like a wonderful and interesting way to start any conversation, really.” Lance jumped, his eyes opening so he could stare down at the communication device in mute horror. The communication device which now had lights flashing, and was very clearly on.

Quiznak.

He must have done it while he was playing with it. Or when he was tapping his song out on it. Man, what had he been thinking?!

Tyrac laughed, his voice rich even through the device. “I take you didn’t mean to call me just quite yet?” He teased. “But I’d be interested in hearing about this ‘space kindergarten’ anyways.”

Lance blinked down at the device. “… You would?”

“Of course. It’ll be an interesting distraction to the drama I seem to have found myself in.”

“How about a trade then. You tell me your drama, and I tell you mine?” Lance suggested. Tyrac chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. Definitely warmer and more welcoming than anyone in the castle right now.

“Sounds fair, but I expect to hear of this ‘space kindergarten’ afterwards.” Lance smiled at Tyrac’s words, the action feeling foreign after all the frowning he’d been doing since hearing of Shiro’s disappearance.

“Naturally. So, what’s happened to you?”

“I received news that my father’s been injured, and I needed to return home after only just leaving it.”

Lance gasped at Tyrac’s words. Immediately following the trader’s words with: “Oh no! What happened?”

“He was attacked by armed assailants. Five against one, how fair is that?” Tyrac finished the question with a bark of laughter, considerably less warm and welcoming than his last laugh. No, this was cold, and dry… almost sardonic.

“Five against one?” Lance repeated. “That’s… quiznak… that’s not fair at all.”

Tyrac was quiet for a moment. “It isn’t, is it? But, I’m sure they’ll get what’s coming to them.”

“On my planet, we call that ‘karma’.” Lance shook his head, despite the fact that Tyrac wouldn’t be able to see him. “Is your father going to be alright?”

“My father’s oldest and closest friend is a doctor of sorts. If anyone can restore him back to health, it is her.”

“That’s good.”

Tyrac hummed an agreement. “So, karma, huh? Well, perhaps this ‘toddler’ who ‘kicked you in the shins’ will be visited by karma as well.”

Lance laughed. “Oh, if only. I wish. He’s not that much younger than me, but, I swear, he’s so immature.” Lance dragged out the syllables in ‘so’ as he spoke, and rolled his eyes.

“Is this one of your ‘teammates’ you mentioned before… or did someone else end up picking you up?”

“Oh… oh yeah! No. I was picked up by my team.” Lance placed the device on the retractable table by the bed and allowed himself to fall back onto the bed. “And yeah, it is one of my teammates.”

“Well, what happened?”

“So… my team is all down in the dumps because we’re missing the guy who’s basically our space dad, right? Although, he’s not really our dad. He’s too young to be a dad and he’s not related to any of us, and I think he might be with, like with, someone on the team; but he’s the guy who makes sure that we don’t all kill each other, and tells us what to do.”

Even without an actual audience, Lance moved his hands around as he spoke. He couldn’t help being this expressive when he spoke, especially when he was worked up.

“Anyways!” Lance continued. “So, he’s missing so there’s no one else here to kind of take care of us. Not that I need taking care of. I mean, I’m the one stepping up to take care of them!”

Tyrac hummed, making the ‘go on’ noise.

“So, Ke… my teammate is all about training. I swear, he’s going to over train himself into an early grave. And I tried to get him to stop and take a break because like I just said, he’s going to train himself into an early grave.”

“Well, that’s stupid of him.” Tyrac interrupted. “It’s important to take breaks, everyone knows this.”

“I know, right? So, I tried to get him to stop, and he was all like ‘I’ll stop if you can beat me’, except, like, I can never beat him. He beats me at literally everything! So, he beats me at this, because I suck at hand to hand, and then, you know what he does?”

“What did he do?” Tyrac’s near instantaneous response informed Lance of just how well Tyrac was listening to him. By this point, he was pretty sure that most people – his team included – would have zoned him out.

“He blames me for our space dad being missing!” Lance exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air as if to nonverbally say ‘what the quiznak!?’.

Tyrac gasped. “He didn’t!”

Lance nodded, not caring that Tyrac couldn’t actually see him. “He did!”

“How dare he!” It warmed Lance’s heart to hear of how offended Tyrac was getting on his behalf. It felt like Tyrac actually cared. “You couldn’t have had anything to do with that!”

“I know, right?”

“Some teammate! Do they all treat you like this?”

“I mean, kind of?” Lance paused, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought Tyrac’s question over. “I mean, not really, sort of, yeah no?”

“That tells me nothing.” Tyrac sighed. “Except that they probably are. I mean, you did say you were running a ‘space kindergarten’ which sounds like it implies there’s more than one youngling on your team.”

“Well, I mean there’s Pi…… P. There’s P. They’re kind of like a toddler, or a youngling as you said.”

“So Ke and P are the younglings who aren’t actually younglings?” Tyrac clarified.

“Yeah, but I’m having to basically take care of everyone. Everyone’s so focused on getting Space Dad back that they aren’t even bothering to take care of themselves.” Lance shook his head. “I even have to bring them their food, ugh.”

“Atrocious! What does P do?”

“P’s constantly on their computer. And I swear, the last time I tried to get them to sleep, they nearly bit me.”

“They didn’t.” Once again, Tyrac gasped.

“They did.” Lance confirmed.

“…I believe you may have it worse than me. All I have is my injured father. It sounds like you’re stuck with incompetence.”

Incompetence was one way to put it. Honestly. Lance wasn’t sure why his team just couldn’t pull themselves together.

Like, he understood, he really did. They lost Shiro. And the Black Lion was unresponsive. And no one could find Shiro.

And yes, it sucked. Lance knew. He understood. He agreed, it was super important to get him back, but if things kept going at the rate they were, then they’d only hinder themselves. Shiro would never be found. Zarkon would win. Boom, universe ends.

Plus, Lance was pretty sure Shiro wouldn’t be too happy when he came back to see that they’d all ran themselves into the dirt.

“Tell me about it. Ugh.” Lance sighed.

“Well, you have a ‘Space Dad’, what about a ‘Space Mom’ who could take over?” Tyrac asked.

Lance hummed as he thought. As ashamed as he was to admit it, at the words ‘Space Mom’ the first person to come to his head was Allura. And that had mostly been because Shiro was totally Space Dad, and while he knew Shiro and Keith were a thing, it was hard not to think of Allura and Shiro as some sort of leadership power couple.

But the more he thought about it, It seemed, he didn’t know… demeaning to just say she was ‘space mom’ just because of that. Especially since Allura didn’t really feel like a mom. As a matter of fact, Hunk was the ‘mom-friend’ of the group.

“I mean, we’ve got another leader, but she’s busy too.” Lance shrugged. “But I don’t blame her. She’s got a lot to do, ya know? And I mean, if I can help by taking care of everyone, then well, at least I’m helping.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.” Lance popped the ‘p’ as he said the word.

Lance rolled over and twisted around in the bed so he was looking at the communicator. This kind of felt familiar, like when he’d spend hours on the phone talking to his friends. It was a relief, having someone he could complain about the team to, and to know that the team wouldn’t find out.

“So, tell me about ‘I’m too busy, Space Mom’ and why she can’t take care of things.”

“Well… I wouldn’t really call her ‘space mom’. She’s more than that, ya know?” Lance started. “I mean, mom’s are awesome, don’t get me wrong, but… I don’t know. It just seems wrong to just throw that title on her. If anyone’s the mom here, it’s H. He’s what we call a ‘mom friend’.”

“Mom-friend?” Tyrac repeated. Lance laughed, smiling as he launched into an explanation. Blue was right, he needed this.

Chapter Text

Lance let his head fall back, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. In his back pocket, the ticker let out another set of chimes.

“This is for the team.” He reminded himself. In the back of his mind, Blue rumbled in agreement. And then slyly nudged his nearly nightly conversations with Tyrac at him. “Those are for me.” Lance clarified. “And quit digging around. I’m still not telling you what happened.”

Blue gave him the equivalent of a ‘we’ll see about that’.

Honestly, he knew that she already had a pretty good idea of what had happened, but she was waiting for Lance to come to her about it.

The ticker went off again, and Lance pulled the device out, swiping across the screen to shush it.

He put up his cleaning supplies, not bothering to rush before making his way to the kitchen. It wasn’t like anyone would be waiting for him. After a week or so of Shiro being missing, one would think that the others would have learned to take care of themselves by now. But no. Of course not.

It didn’t help that Lance was an enabler.

Honestly, he wouldn’t have cared so much if it was just Coran and Slav needing this. After all, they were often in the middle of important repairs and updates. He didn’t blame them for being unable to come to dinner.

Alas, it wasn’t just Coran and Slav who needed their food delivered. Although, if Mr. Overtraining-Mullet wanted to starve, Lance was more than happy to let him.

Okay.

So that was harsh. And not entirely true. Lance did care if Keith starved, even despite what the other had said.

What Keith said was inexcusable. Like, seriously. If this was how Keith had acted the first time Shiro went missing, then no wonder the Garrison kicked him out. BUT… Lance had said worse things to his family when under stress.

It didn’t change the fact that Keith was out of bounds, an opinion that Tyrac shared. Although, Tyrac had been sure to add on that Lance didn’t deserve such treatment. Tyrac was also convinced that karma would come around and bite Keith in the ass.

Lance wasn’t so sure.

Regardless, that was three of the six people – excluding lance – in the castle. Surely the other three didn’t need to have their food brought to them? Wrong.

Trying to drag Pidge and Hunk away from the computers and the various… things… around their workspace? Lance would rather take Zarkon on, one to one. Lance had expected this from Pidge. Shiro was like their big brother, besides their actual brother. However, any ally Lance thought he’d have in Hunk didn’t exist. Most of the time, Hunk was with Pidge, although, occasionally he helped Lance manage them.

Hunk and Pidge made five. Five plates of food that he had to deliver. That left the best for last: the princess. Surely Allura wouldn’t over work herself and would come to the ‘team’ meal times. After all, she was their other leader. She was the most invested in the team. So, of course she’d come to get food.

Or, maybe she wouldn’t, since five members of the team already didn’t show up, and she never cared to spend much time with Lance alone. Oh wait, did Lance say five members wouldn’t show up? His bad, he meant six. Six members of the team wouldn’t show up. That was all of them.

So, Lance needed to not only make, but also deliver six plates of food to various people across the castle. And the castle was huge.

Tyrac had suggested not delivering any food at all to see if after some time they’d get hungry and come to eat. Lance lasted two days before he was tired of waiting for them to show up in the kitchen. If they found food, it wasn’t from the kitchen.

Quiznak. Toddlers knew how to take better care of themselves than this!

Needless to say, Tyrac and Lance were both flabbergasted.

So, between cleaning the castle, getting stuff for Coran, Slav, Pidge and Hunk, Lance was also making and delivering them meals.

And don’t even get Lance started on trying to get any one of them to take a break either. None of them would listen to reason. Not that Lance tried with Keith anymore. Quiznak Keith. It was mostly Pidge who was his biggest adversary lately.

After hitting up the kitchen, Lance stopped by Allura first. She always received the first plate, which he usually placed on the console near her. Never Shiro’s empty workstation, however. That’d just be rude.

Thankfully, unlike some people, she didn’t require babysitting to eat. Sometimes, though, if he was lucky, she’d tear her eyes away from the star charts long enough to give him a watery smile that never quite reached her eyes and ask how the team was. Never how he’d been. Always about the team.

Which, he supposed, he was part of the team. He was included in that, right?

Not that it mattered. He always grinned, and informed her that the team was going just great. There was no need to add more stress to her shoulders.

“Thank you, Lance.” She muttered distantly as he placed the food down. She reached forward, ignoring the plate, and instead touching something Lance couldn’t see, and shifted the star charts around.

Today was not one of those days, evidently. Oh well.

“No problem.” He replied, shaking his head as he exited the bridge.

Next on his ‘food trip’ was his favorite ‘Space Uncle’ and pet lemur-caterpillar-scientist thing. Lately, Coran had been too busy with the updates and repairs to spend time with Lance, and that was okay. Really. Lance understood, he did.

Lance’s favorite real uncle was almost always too busy for Lance before he left Earth, so it wasn’t like Lance wasn’t used to be ignored by his favorites. It was like a requirement, actually. HE was ignored by his favorite real uncle, space uncle, and even his hero.

Tyrac thought it was a travesty that no one paid enough attention to Lance here or there, but once again, Lance was used to it.

Now then, about Coran’s current companion: Slav. Lance wasn’t quite sure what to make of the guy.

Ever since Shiro went missing, the little guy had been acting weird. Like, super weird. His big bug eyes were already creepy enough without him staring up at Lance all the quiznaking time. Although, out of everyone on the ship – excluding the Lance and the Lions – Slav seemed to the sanest.

Which… Hello!? Did no one see a problem with that?

Slav seemed to the sanest. Which screamed problematic because Lance was about 99% certain that Slav was missing a couple screws. Shiro could barely stand Slav, and Shiro used to be the sanest person on the ship! What did it mean that Slav had taken Shiro’s role as the living embodiment of sanity on this ship? Not including Lance, of course.

Slav was waiting for the food, or perhaps just waiting for Lance. The alien’s big eyes stared up at Lance as he accepted the offered plates of goo.

Maybe if he wasn’t always staring at Lance, the guy might have actually been kinda cute. In the pet sorta way. Kinda like how a Lemur or a Caterpillar was cute, both of which Slav looked like the lovechild of.

“You know… if you ever need to talk to someone, I am here for you.”

Lance was lucky that Slav already had a hold on the plates, as he almost dropped them in shock. The alien’s accent reminded Lance of stereotypical Indians that are on racist white people shows, usually working IT, but... even then, the accent wasn’t so strong Lance couldn’t understand it. Then again, it wasn’t the accent that shocked Lance.

Slav was offering… counseling? This nutjob? Like, no offense, but Slav was more likely to drive Lance further into the City of Insanity, not out of it!

“Uhh… Thanks? I think.” Lance blinked down at the guy.

Well, he could bring this up to Tyrac later, and they could laugh at it together. They both needed the laugh. Last Lance heard, Tyrac’s father’s condition hadn’t changed, although, he was stable. Which, Lance supposed was something. At least he wasn’t getting worse, knock on wood.

When Lance had asked about him, Tyrac had laughed, and said that Lance’s concern was touching. A sort of strange remark, but hey, maybe Tyrac didn’t have the best relationship with his dad.

Slav blinked up at Lance for a moment. Lance wasn’t a lemur-caterpillar-scientist expert, but he thought Slav’s expression may have fallen at Lance’s rejection of the offer.

“Oh.” Slav muttered. “Oh... this is one of those realities.”

Lance rolled his eyes. And Slav was back to being crazy. Great. Now Lance was alone on the sanity boat, while everyone else swam in the sea of insanity. Perfect. Just what Lance always wanted. He gave Slav a tight smile. No need to let the poor dude know how Looney Tuney Lance thought he was.

“Alright, then.”

“Thank you.” Slav’s thanks was unexpected, but appreciated. That was twice that Lance had been thanked so far on this food run. Not bad, not bad. Lance gave him a wave of appreciation as he left.

“Crazy little guy.” Lance muttered once he was well out Slav’s sight, and, hopefully, hearing.

Unfortunately, due to reasons, Keith was next.

Fortunately, Lance didn’t bother with him anymore. He dropped the plate off on the floor in front of the training room, not even bothering to check to see if it was in use. He’d noticed that the security lights had been off more often, which usually meant Keith wasn’t there, but Lance didn’t really care.

It didn’t help that Blue had informed Lance that Keith had come to see her, and had been looking for Lance. Lance wasn’t ready to face Keith yet, or deal with whatever he had to say.

If the food wasn’t gone by the time Lance came around to pick up plates, then Keith could starve. Or find his own way to the goo dispenser. He knew where it was.

Lance’s last stop was also his most difficult: Pidge and Hunk. Aka, the ones that Lance needed to babysit when it came to food.

Before all of this started, Pidge already didn’t eat much. She was much too interested in other things, namely finding her family, and upgrading things. Shiro was usually the one to drag her away from whatever project she’d started.

That wasn’t to say that Pidge didn’t eat at all. She just… didn’t eat much. Even less so now that Shiro was missing.

And with Hunk out of the kitchen so much lately, it wasn’t like their meals were as nutritious as they were before. Plus, if Hunk couldn’t stress bake/cook, then he tended to stress eat. It wasn’t that he meant to, it was just something that happened.

Lance had to watch over them when they ate. Pidge wouldn’t eat otherwise, and Hunk would distractedly accidentally eat the food she never touched.

“Pidge, break time.” Lance called out as the doors opened.

Pidge didn’t even bother looking away from the screen. Some part of him wondered if she heard him, or if she was just ignoring him.

Hunk definitely heard Lance, as evidenced by him looking up and taking his plate from Lance with a smile.

“Thanks, man.”

“No prob.” Lance shrugged, and turned back to the tiny gremlin who he was 90% sure was ignoring him. “Pidge?” Lance called out to her again. He held in the sigh, because he knew Hunk would notice it, and then Hunk would try to help him, and then Pidge would get upset and…

“Just leave it on the table. I’ll get to it later.” Yeah, that’s about what Lance expected. Except, it wouldn’t be Pidge getting to it later. He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah no. Nice try. It’s break time.” He walked up to her desk, and put the food down. If only so he could put his hands on the desk and look her down.

He was already mentally preparing himself for the usual fight. It was the same fight that he’s had with her countless times by now. She’ll say:

“Fuck off, Lance.”

And he’d reply: “You need to eat, Pidge.”

Once upon a time, aka: the beginning of the week, he told her to mind her language. So, naturally, she offered more profane language in return; and told Lance that he was in no way, shape, or form her brother, mother, father or Shiro. She didn’t need to listen to him. So, he quit caring. Now, she’d usually counter:

“I think I know what I do and don’t need, Lance.”

Of course, Pidge didn’t know what they needed or not, because if she wasn’t feeding herself, then she wasn’t going to bed, and she certainly wasn’t taking care of herself.

Thankfully, Hunk took care of dragging her sleepy ass to bed when she started snoring on the keyboard. Unless Hunk fell asleep too, and then the only thing Lance could do was give Hunk a pillow and a blanket, and carry Pidge off to her room.

That’s how he knew that everyone’s room was the same. Honestly, he could put Pidge in his room, and he didn’t think she’d even notice.

“Sure, you do.” Lance replied, dragging out the ‘sure’. “And I’m supplying it. You can’t think if you don’t eat.”

If there was anything Lance had learned about Pidge, it was that he had to phrase things just right. He needed to make her want to eat

Despite how the team is acting, Lance knew they weren’t actual toddlers. Although actual toddlers may have been easier to take care of. In any case, Lance drew the line at spoon feeding these guys.

Once again, he understood the need to get Shiro back. But that didn’t mean the team needed to self-destruct to get him back. Ugh, and just thinking about the team without Lance right now was enough to make Lance shudder. Like, Lance was useless except for playing babysitter and janitor, but evidently, those roles were more unimportant than he’d originally assumed.

“I think I’m just fine.” Pidge finally looked at him, and ouch: if looks could kill.

It was a shame that Lance was evidently a mirror, because her glare was killing herself instead of him. She looked like death with those heavy black bags under her eyes. She might want to get those checked out. He didn’t think she could fly with bags that heavy: most airlines had a restriction of 50 pounds per bag.

“Pidge, eat the food. The faster you do it, the faster I go away.” If all else failed, bargaining usually worked.

“Look. Just because you don’t care about where Shiro is doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t care.” Lance’s jaw dropped open. Where the quiznak had that come from? Was she talking with Keith?! But… Blue had said that Keith wanted to talk, whatever that meant. Not he wasn’t going to think about that, not with Pidge chewing him out. “Stop distracting me. I’m trying to work. Go be useless elsewhere.”

Go be useless elsewhere.

…

There was a part of Lance that recognized that she didn’t mean to say those words. The bags under her eyes tell a story of supreme lack of sleep, which he could only imagine when added to the stress she was under to find Shiro made for a dangerously deadly cocktail of emotions.

But… Like with Keith, that was an explanation, not an excuse. There was no excuse for this anymore than there was for Keith. Especially since Pidge knew.

She’d been there, on that mission, and he knew she heard what he said to the Yupper because Shiro talked to him about it… so she knew that was a sore spot for him. And tired and stressed or not, there was just no justifiable excuse.

The sound of Hunk’s spork hitting his plate echoed in the silence following Pidge’s statement.

Lance wasn’t sure how to feel. He supposed he felt numb. He was angry. That was a thing. But, for the most part, he just felt numb. After what happened with Keith, this just felt like a slap in his face. It felt like the universe was laughing at him.

Part of him couldn’t believe what he’d heard, but Hunk’s reaction was proof that he’d heard correctly.

“Pidge.” Hunk’s voice broke the silence, his voice low and quiet. “We spoke about this.”

Lance’s gaze darted over to Hunk, taking in his guilty stance: the way he was hunching his shoulders, and the wide-eyed look he was giving to both Pidge and Lance.

Ah.

This didn’t just come out of the blue then. This was something that clearly they’d both discussed.

Honestly, Lance wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that Pidge and Hunk had discussed his uselessness, the fact that they feel he’s distracting, or the fact that they too consider him useless.

Even with Shiro gone, Lance was still the Seventh Wheel.

“Lance.” Lance hadn’t realized he’d taken a step back until Hunk said his name. He was slowly shaking his head. He just couldn’t believe this. Out of everyone on this ship, Hunk was literally the last person he thought would betray him like this.

“Don’t bother, Hunk.” Pidge cut in. “For as much as he wants to play Leader, he can’t replace Shiro.” She shook her head. “It’s embarrassing that he tried. All he’s done is distract us from finding him!”

Lance didn’t even wait for her to finish before he was back pedaling away. He wanted to be away. This wasn’t… they weren’t Keith. He couldn’t fight them. He still couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

The roar in his ears might have been the rush of blood, the noise one heard when freaking out. Or it could have been Blue, who surged through their bond and was howling for the other paladin’s blood, or at least apologies.

“Lance!” Hunk stepped forward, putting the plate down on a table as he passed it. “It’s not… she’s doesn’t…”

Lance didn’t give him a chance to finish before he was spinning around, and heading out the door. He’d heard enough.

It wouldn’t matter if Hunk tried to chase after Lance. The only people faster than him were well, everyone but Hunk. Besides, after so much time on his own, the only person – not including the Alteans – who could rival his knowledge of the castle was Pidge. Who based off her words would not be chasing after him.

If this was an ordinary day, then Lance would have returned to the kitchen to eat his meal alone. Then he would have gone around and picked up the dishes in the same order he dropped them off. He would have taken said dishes to the kitchen and cleaned them before moving on to complete more of Coran’s chores.

Compared to what everyone else on the ship was doing, his routine seemed so insignificant.

He considered fleeing to his room, but, if Hunk bothered to chase after him, then that’d be one of the places Hunk would check first. Blue tugged on him, a sharp steady pull asking him to come to her. She wouldn’t allow anyone to cross her barrier without Lance’s approval. With her, Lance could find sanctuary.

It wasn’t a bad idea. At least Blue could talk to him. But…

But, Blue wasn’t a reason person. She was a machine, no matter how smart her AI may be. She wouldn’t understand, not completely. And besides, Lance didn’t think her chill would help the numbness he could feel spreading out through body. Lance was tired of the cold anyways.

He missed the typical beaches of Cuba. The hot sun on his skin and the warm breeze through his hair. He missed his family, who loved him despite how useless he was. He missed that how stupid and naïve he used to be, especially towards space. He used to love space.

Lance hated space. He hated this castle. He hated this team.

In his head, Blue let out a noise of dismay, but did nothing further. She didn’t – couldn’t – blame him.

His vision blurred until he couldn’t see anything anymore. His chest and eyes hurt from pressure building up. There were noises escaping from him, and already snot started to run from his nose. He sniffled it up as best he can, but then he was just constantly sniffling. And that was annoying and only managed to work him up more. He came to a stop, going to a wall and sliding down it. His hands were shaking, or was it his whole body? He couldn’t tell.

He didn’t even care that he was breaking down in the middle of the castle because it wasn’t like anyone would see him. He was alone.

Who knew where Keith was, although Lance’s non-existent money was on the training room or the Lion hangars. Pidge was in a lab area which she had set up. Hunk might have been with her, or he could have been searching the halls, or at Lance’s room. Who knew? Allura was on the bridge. Coran and Slav were in the teludav.

Blue was… Blue was washing over him. Comforting, sweet, and so fucking cold. She apologized, and tried to sooth him despite the harsh words and feelings he’d thrown at her. She tried to push through all that, to inform him and apologize.

Her Paladins were always emotional, and she heightened it, and… Lance didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to be cold. He didn’t want to be in space. He didn’t want to be in the castle, and he most certainly didn’t want to be in this castle with people who hate him.

Like the last time, Blue reared back at the last thought. Shock and anger leaked through the bond, and Lance didn’t just feel and hear her roar mentally, but physically too.

Her roar wasn’t loud enough to drown out the echo of Pidge’s voice in his head.

Those words echoed in his mind, bouncing around his skull. It wouldn’t be all that bad, really… if it wasn’t for Keith’s similar words at the beginning of the week. Once was an incident, an event. Twice was… twice was pattern. What were the chances, after all, that two of his teammates would come to similar conclusions without talking to each other?

And he was pretty sure that they weren’t talking to each other, given that Keith was evidently asking Blue about talking to Lance, and there were only so many things that Keith would want to talk to Lance about. Especially since Keith had already made his feelings quite clear.

Blue hadn’t left Lance, and through their bond, he could feel irritation seeping in. Not at him, no, but at his teammates, at how they’ve been treating Lance. She understood why Lance hadn’t brought this up to her, but, understanding doesn’t make it any more acceptable.

Lance closed his eyes, and hoped that Blue would keep this to herself. The other Lions didn’t need to know about this, no matter how much Blue thought that they did.

Besides, it wouldn’t change much. The others could talk to their lions, but not like he could. He was alone in this regard. Just like he was alone in being useless. Just like he was alone in so many other things, and none of them good.

He felt sick. And, the more he cried, the sicker he felt. Part of him wondered if he’d feel better if he just threw up already. No. No, it wouldn’t. It’d just make it worse since then he’d have another mess to clean up. And if one of the others did come through, prompted by Blue’s roars, then they’d smell it and know. It’d just add onto the list of how fucking useless Lance was.

Even now, he wondered if they’d notice. Would they notice if he didn’t come around and pick up the plates? Would they notice when Lance didn’t bring them any other food? They hadn’t noticed before when Lance stopped feeding them for two whole days. What would change now?

Pidge would probably be happy. No more distractions.

Out of the six-other people on this ship…. Slav had noticed. That was why Slav had asked if Lance wanted to talk.

Slav was the one who smiled at him when Lance started delivering food again, and told him it was good to see Lance again. He’d tried to ignore what Slav had meant when he said that there’d been a two percent chance of Lance returning to deliver food. He’d tried to spin it in a positive light. Maybe in 98 percent of other universes, the others come and grab their food and get their shit together. Or maybe Slav knew this breakdown was always going to eventually happen.

It explained the bug-stare looks Slav had always given Lance, and his general silence and reluctance to speak to Lance. Slav knew this was coming, and didn’t want any part of it.

Lance wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. Worst part was, at this point, he didn’t care.

It could have been a few minutes, or a couple hours until Lance had fully calmed down. His body ached from being curled up, his face felt sticky from dried tears, his throat hurt, his nose was all runny, and his head was killing him. Despite this all, he blinked his eyes opened, sniffled, and pulled himself into an even tighter ball.

He should move out of the hallway. Perhaps into the ‘comfort’ of his room. The bed would be better than the floor for of the castle. Besides, the communicator Tyrac gave him was in there, although Lance wasn’t sure that he wanted to chat with Tyrac tonight, especially with how much of a mess Lance was sure he sounded.

Blue nudged him, reinforcing his idea to return to his room. She agreed that the floor couldn’t have been more comfortable than the bed.

Lance didn’t bother to hold his broken laughter in. No one was around to hear him anyways. Out of the people on the ship, how was it that a sentient blue robotic lion was the only thing on this castle that seemed to care about him?

Oh wow.

If he could go back in time, and meet his younger self… the things he’d say. For starters, he’d warn himself not to go to the Galaxy Garrison.

“I don’t care how hard the stars pull at you, don’t go.” Talking to oneself was a sign that someone was going crazy, right? If so, then Lance didn’t care. He went crazy the moment he found a giant sentient robotic lion ship out in the desert.

And besides, who was going to hear him? Who was going to care? Besides Blue, that was.

“Stay home with mama, and the family. Go into politics like Daniel, or… something.” He informed his imaginary younger self. “Trust me. Going to space is a Bad idea, with a capital ‘b’.” Okay, so Blue was getting a little concerned. It leaked out through tiny cracks between each rumble of her mental purrs.

Fine. He’d leave the talking to himself in his head. Not that that was any better. Besides, he didn’t really see the difference between talking out loud to her, and talking out loud to himself. Either way, people would peg him as crazy if they heard it.

Lance pulled himself to his feet, groaning at the effort. He debated continuing his routine like he hadn’t been offset by an undetermined amount of time, but… he wasn’t really feeling all that into it. Blue encouraged him to. She thought it’d help. Ha. What did she know?

He’d rather head to his room and wallow in his own self misery.

He’d go to the Holodeck if it wasn’t for Allura sometimes going there to check stuff. If everyone else could self-destruct themselves, then why couldn’t Lance? If they wanted to starve to death, or work themselves to death, or die of sleep deprivation, then who was Lance to try to deny them?

“If you can’t beat them, join them.” He muttered.

The moment he entered his room, he flopped down onto the bed. In the semi-darkness of the room, he noted the flashing glow of the communication. Great. He’d missed a call.

He sighed, and face-planted into the bed. He’d worry about that later.

Chapter Text

To Lance’s surprise, no one investigated the reason for Blue roaring. Or, if they did, then Lance didn’t know about it. Then again, perhaps her roar had been in his mind. Regardless, it’d been a few days since the second ‘incident’.

He allowed himself exactly one day of moping before he forced himself out of his room and back to his routine. If he allowed himself too much moping, then he’d just get stuck in a never-ending loop of self-pity, depression, and self-deprivation.

Why sit around and torture himself when he could have his teammates do it for him?

Tyrac couldn’t understand why Lance was putting himself through all this. Surely his teammates weren’t worth this pain. He’d offered to take Lance away from the team, to take him to someplace Lance would be appreciated; but Lance declined the offer.

No matter how they acted, the team was all Lance had, and unless something truly horrible happened, he wasn’t going to give them up. They might not have wanted him, but… Lance wanted them.

However, because of certain events, there were a few changes that Lance made to the routine. The wounds caused by certain people – not that he’d name names – were too deep and painful for him to ignore. Their actions were still too recent for him to even think of entering their presence.

Out of the six people on this ship, he was now set to avoid three of them. Not that it was difficult with a castle this large and the people he needed to avoid seldom moved from their ‘domains’. Except perhaps Keith, who’d become increasingly more active around the ship – to Lance’s disdain.

Giving up what little interaction he had with Hunk hurt, but, Hunk’s betrayal had hurt a whole lot more. To some degree, he had expected what happened with Keith. But what happened with Hunk and Pidge? There was no way he could have been prepared for that.

Besides, when his interactions with Hunk were already so small, was he really giving anything up?

The answer, as Lance came to find out, was no. Especially since Lance found that while he lost Hunk, he gained interaction with another: Coran.

“Correlation is not causation,” Tyrac reminded him when Lance halfheartedly complained during their ‘nightly’ talks. It wasn’t that Lance was complaining, except he totally was. But it was human nature to complain about change; no matter what the change was.

Then again, while Coran was floating around the ship more, he wasn’t always mentally present. A lot of the time Coran was absorbed in some little device, muttering to himself, so Lance tended to try to stay out his way.

That didn’t mean Lance didn’t get any interaction out of Coran. Oh no, the moment Coran noticed Lance, the poor guy was subjected to Coran’s nonstop rambles about everything. It wasn’t bad and Lance was used to people rambling at him… but it was kind of a shock to his system, especially after all the solitude he’d been subjected to lately.

Perhaps Slav put Coran up to it.

Keith was also floating around the castle more, although whether he was still looking for Lance or not was anybody’s guess. Lance never allowed the opportunity to find out.

Lance knew he couldn’t avoid people forever. However, that didn’t mean he was prepared to enter the ‘common’ area and find it, for once, full of people; including all the ones he was trying his hardest to avoid.

“Lance! I-” Keith stood up from where he was sitting the moment his eyes fell on Lance. He would have said more if Coran hadn’t turned around and interrupted.

“Ah, Lance! Glad you came, saves me the trouble of calling you!” At least Lance could count on Coran to save him from a conversation he didn’t want to have, unless of course, the conversation was with Coran. “Sit, sit.” He gestured to the couch. “Team meeting!”

What team meeting? There hadn’t been a team since Shiro disappeared. He glanced at the couch, suppressing a grimace before choosing a spot as far from the other three as he could possibly manage, and then turned his attention towards Coran and Allura.

He couldn’t see Keith, but he heard him sigh and retake his seat. If Lance wasn’t mistaken, he swore he could feel Keith looking at him, but that may have been his imagination.

If Coran and Allura noticed the tension between the Paladins, neither Altean spoke of it.

“Alright then!” Coran cheered. “Now that we’re all here, there’s something very important we need to talk about!”

Perhaps it was Coran’s tone, but both Keith and Pidge seemed to jump up at the same time to ask the same question: “Is it about Shiro?”

Not everything revolved around Shiro. Except, evidently, things did. Since the whole team literally fell apart without him.

“Afraid not, Paladins.” Coran shook his head, and then snapped to attention. “This is a bit more worrying.”

Uh-oh. Coran had said something was more important than Shiro. That couldn’t be good… WAIT! Maybe Allura and Coran had finally noticed how un-team-like they were all being lately! Maybe, they were going to fix it?!

At that thought, Lance sat up a bit straighter.

“Excuse me?” Pidge spoke up, indignation clear in her tone.

“You’re excused Number Five,” Coran replied. “So, I’ll turn over to the Princess to explain why we’ve called you all here today.”

“Thank you, Coran.” Allura stepped forward as Coran took a step back. “Paladins.” She looked over them. “I know the loss of Shiro has hit us all, but we can’t forget that we are still the Paladin’s of Voltron, and as such we have a duty to the Universe.”

Okay, okay. So far so good. Lance was liking how this was going. There might actually be a chance that this team meeting was about how everyone was acting! Awesome!

“Since our scrimmage with Zarkon, we’ve noticed that something has been transmitting data out of the ship. It was due to our efforts to locate Shiro that we have noticed this.” Allura continued, not even noticing that she’d dashed Lance’s hopes and dreams.

This wasn’t about how they were acting, but instead about something transmitting data. Who cared? Idly, Lance tapped his song against the side of the couch, keeping to himself as the conversation continued.

“Do you think it could be related to Shiro’s disappearance?” Pidge asked.

“It’s possible.” Coran answered with a shrug.

“Regardless, the device, or stow away, must be found. We can’t risk sensitive data falling into enemy hands. If we fall, so does the Universe’s last defense against the Galra Empire.” Allura elaborated.

“But, we beat Zarkon.” Hunk shook his head. “I thought if we beat Zarkon, then we’d be done.”

“Far from it, Number Two! The universe has been under Zarkon’s control for 10,000 years. There’s still a lot to do!” Coran replied. “In any case, we can’t do much until that device is found. I’ve been looking for it myself, but I haven’t had much luck yet. I was hoping you Paladins could keep an eye out, and tell me if you spot anything suspicious.”

Like the others would notice anything suspicious. They never left their areas. Well, Keith might. Speaking of…

“Is it possible that it was left by the Marmorites?” Lance asked. “Like Keith. Didn’t he think Zarkon was tracking him or something?”

Lance couldn’t see Keith, but he could see Allura turn to frown at Lance.

“That wasn’t a pleasant thing to say about your fellow Paladin, Lance.” She pursed her lips for a moment and then continued. “I wasn’t aware that you had a problem with Keith’s lineage.”

Lance couldn’t believe that. She was accusing him of racism?! Him?! He’d been the most supportive of Keith – minus Shiro – when it’d been revealed. If anything, she’d been the racist one when she wouldn’t even acknowledge Keith’s presence.

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but Allura cut him off before he could even speak.

“This is a time where we need unity, Paladins. If it isn’t an apology that you’re about to say, Lance, then perhaps it is something best not heard.”

What. The. Quiznak?!

Then again, Lance should have expected that. After all, he spoke badly of perfect Keith. Keith who was the perfect student at the Garrison – before he was kicked out, at least. Keith, who was the perfect pilot. Keith, who was the perfect Paladin. Perfect Keith, who beat Lance in everything.

Perfect Keith, who’d never look at Lance the way Lance looked at him.

Lance bowed his head. There was no point in trying to fight this. Just like there hadn’t been any point with Keith, or with Pidge and Hunk.

“I don’t think Lance meant it like that.” Keith spoke up.

What? Did Lance hear that correctly?

Lance’s head snapped up and he swiveled around to look at the three that he’d been avoiding. Keith met his gaze, and offered a small smile, although Lance did not return it. Keith’s eyes which had brightened when he smiled dimmed slightly, the smile falling at Lance’s lack of response.

“I think he was just meaning like… maybe the… Marmorites left behind something for communication purposes.” Hunk added. Like Keith, he too was smiling at Lance. Lance didn’t return his smile any more than he had Keith’s.

“Yeah.” Keith agreed, his voice quiet. He was still staring at Lance.

“Could a communication device be the cause?” Pidge questioned. She wasn’t looking at Lance, but at Allura.

Lance wasn’t sure how to feel. All this time they’d been complete crap to him, and now they were finally reacting. Now, they were showing him some support? Some part of him was overjoyed. This was them, acting like a team, supporting each other, again.

But a darker part of his mind cried that it wouldn’t last. Good things seldom did around here.

It seemed that was correct as just a moment later Lance froze, repeating Pidge’s words in his mind.

Communication device?

Oh no.

Quiznak. Quiznak. Quiznak.

Okay, so, it was cool that the three rude AF people were actually standing up for and helping Lance out. But, that question just opened a whole new can of worms, which Lance wasn’t sure he was ready for yet. Quiznak. Could it be a communication device? Why hadn’t he thought of that?!

Allura pursed her lips, and exhaled sharply through her nose.

“We won’t know until we find whatever it is that’s transmitting the data; that is why it is imperative that we locate it.”

“Then I guess we should stop yaking, and get to working, right?” Lance asked, his voice pitched a bit higher than normal. He jumped over the couch, and headed for the door. “Good talk!” He called out, and then was gone.

Blue was concerned, as she was so often lately. However, Lance wasn’t giving her any attention. His mind was a whirlpool of activity: thinking about what Coran and Allura had said, and then what Pidge had suggested, and then also about Tyrac.

Tyrac was his secret. Tyrac was his escape, both figurately and literally should Lance decide to accept his offers. Tyrac was his friend, and given how everyone was acting lately, well, Lance wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to take him away. Lance wasn’t ready for that. Not yet, anyways.

One moment of support did not make up for all that they’d put him through lately. On ‘Atta boy’ did not erase a thousand ‘awh shits’.

Of course, it was possible that whatever was transmitting data could have been something left over from the Blades of Marmora. Or, a much less likely idea: it could have been from a Druid. Or, it could have been related to Shiro’s disappearing act.

Blue interjected with a healthy dose of skeptically. She nudged Lance to talk to Coran, but.. he didn’t want to let Tyrac go. He just didn’t. If he gave up Tyrac, then what else would he have?

Of course, he’d have Blue. She reassured him that he’d always have her.

Despite that, it wasn’t enough. He was used to crowds of people: family, friends, strangers… it didn’t matter. Being isolated like this with only one magically sentient lion to turn to? He couldn’t do it. He was barely managing having one magically sentient robot lion and a communicator.

He wasn’t a loner like Keith. He couldn’t spend hours alone in front of a computer like Pidge. Hunk was his best bet, besides Coran or Allura, for attention, but he was with Pidge most of the time and Lance still wasn’t over his betrayal. Even if they had helped defend Lance from Allura earlier.

Allura and Coran were out simply on principle. Besides being too busy for him, Lance had an idea of what they’d want to talk about; and given the topic of discussion, he’d prefer them to stay busy. That wasn’t something Lance was interested in discussing anytime soon. Especially since that topic was something that Lance knew Blue really wanted to explore.

She’d bring it up at random times, giving a questioning trill about whether it’d really be that bad if Allura and Coran were right. Of course, it’d be that bad. It’d mean that everything he’d known in his life was a lie. That he was a lie. That he was living a lie.

Yes, the idea Allura and Coran had offered would explain a lot of things, like his bond with Blue, or how quickly he was picking up on reading the Altean language and a few of their spoken language quirks. It also provided more questions than it did explanations. Questions Lance didn’t want to think about, ever. He was happy with how things were.

Well, more accurately, he was happy with how things were before Shiro went missing. Before he found Blue. Before any of this happened.

So, of his seven possible conversation options: one – Hunk – was taken by Pidge and crossed off the list by betrayal; two were off because Lance hated them right now – even if one of them wanted to talk; and the other two wanted to talk about things Lance would rather avoid.

That left Tyrac and Slav. And of those two, well… If he was honest, Slav was one of the reasons he wasn’t keen on giving up that communication device. Actually, he just thought about it a bit more and… Nope. It wasn’t gonna happen.

It was not going to happen without damn good reason.

Lance retreated to his room, and ‘locked’ the door. Coran or Allura could override it. If Pidge wanted, she could probably override it too. But, it made Lance feel more secure.

He went over to where he had the device hidden under his mattress, and picked it up, looking it over.

There was just no way that this small device was causing issues. There just wasn’t any way. Tyrac was trustworthy. He was Lance’s friend. Lance liked him.

He sighed, and put the device down on the bed. If he turned it into Coran, then he’d lose Tyrac. And what if it wasn’t sending out the data? He supposed Coran may give it back. But what if he didn’t?

Lance didn’t know. He just didn’t.

Maybe he could, he didn’t know, try to experiment some. He’d try not communicating with Tyrac for a while and see if that stopped whatever Coran had picked up. If it did, then he’d know that his nightly talks with Tyrac was the cause. And if that was the case, then he’d let Coran know.

And if nothing changed despite Lance not talking to Tyrac, then obviously, there wasn’t a problem with Tyrac, and Lance could continue as things were.

He took a deep breath and nodded to himself. That sounded good. That sounded reasonable.

Everything was going to be alright.

Chapter Text

Only a day after the meeting, and everything was going wrong. First, the food goo machines had been acting up, then he couldn’t find Coran to give him his meal, and then Lance had spilled the mop water all over himself. The cherry on top, so far, was when Lance returned to his room to change and found Coran.

It was hard to describe how Lance felt when the door slid open to reveal Coran, sitting on Lance’s bed, looking like he belonged there. Except he didn’t.

The room and the objects may have been Lance’s in name alone, but they were still his.

Coran’s eyebrows were furrowed from how heavily he was frowning down at the small communication device in his hands. Or at least, he had been looking at the communication device, now he was looking over at Lance. Coran patted the space beside him on Lance’s bed.

Lance tried not to bristle, after all, it was just Coran trying to be polite and offer him a seat.

That didn’t change the fact that Coran had gone into Lance’s room, through his stuff, and was now acting like… like…

…Like a disappointed father. Like how when Lance was ten and his father found Benji’s broken toy in Lance’s room and wanted to quietly confront Lance about it. There were other similarities to that time to now as well, like the twist of guilt and shame.

Unlike then, however, there was a twist of anger and irritation.

First off, hadn’t he been through enough lately, what with what happened with Keith, Pidge, Hunk, and Allura? And also with how everyone ignored him despite him working his ass off to keep everyone alive? And now Coran had the audacity to come into Lance’s temporary room, go through his stuff, and act like his father?!

He had no right.

If there was one thing that Lance prided himself on, it was his acting skills. He was hurt, annoyed, irritated, and now, a bit offended; but he could put that all aside. Provided this conversation went well, everything would be fine. Lance was the king of ‘fake it till you make it’, and if that meant plastering on a smile and sauntering into the room like he owned it, then that was what he’d do. After all, after so many times of telling a lie to oneself, they begin to believe it, right?

“What’s up, Coran?”

He didn’t take a seat where Coran offered, although he tried his best to keep his body language open and friendly. He tucked his hands in his pockets, and kept his shoulders slouched. Reacting how he felt right now would only cause issues.

“Where did you get this?” Coran held up the communication device for clarification, and Lance’s gaze slid to it for a moment before it returned back to Coran.

It still didn’t sit well with Lance that Coran would just go through his stuff. That was Oppressive Parent bullshit right there, and Lance didn’t ‘do’ that shit. His parents never did that shit, beyond what they had to. Siblings didn’t really do it much anymore either.

Lance understood and ‘got’ a lot of things lately, and this was just one more thing to add to the growing list.

This was Allura’s castle ship, and that kind of made it partially Coran’s too; since he was the one who repaired it and stuff. It’s not like the room actually belonged to Lance or anything. But still, hadn’t the Alteans ever heard of ‘boundaries’? It just wasn’t cool to go through someone’s stuff.

“Does it matter?” Lance asked.

As he spoke, he could hear some of the irritation bleed into his tone. He should dial it back. He knew that. Especially since he respected Coran, for the most part – although Coran just lost his stockpile of brownie points with this stunt. Coran was usually a pretty cool guy, and he hadn’t contributed to everything that’d been happening lately.

But, it was precisely because of everything that had been happening lately that Lance was at one of his limits. He could take a lot; he had to have tough skin growing up with as many people as he did. But with everyone taking their frustrations out on him, it was just too much.

He felt bad, because Coran didn’t deserve this attitude, but, then again, Coran kind of asked for it by going through Lance’s stuff and interrogating him about it.

Lance’s hands slid out of their pockets so he could cross his arms. Sometimes he did this and it didn’t mean much, but other times he did it, and it meant exactly what it was supposed to. It was a closed off position: guarded and meant for defense.

Defense in the sense of talking, anyways. This wouldn’t do anything against Keith. Or anyone else who decided to rush Lance. Not that anyone would here… except for training.

Coran didn’t seem to know how to respond to Lance’s responding question; although Lance wasn’t sure if it was due to the question itself, the tone it was asked in, or the change in Lance’s body language. Perhaps it was a combination of the three.

Lance counted the silence in his head. He’d already thought of how to respond to whatever Coran said.

The Altean dropped his gaze from Lance back down to the device. He tapped his finger against it, and Lance resisted the urge to tell him to leave it alone. But, it was thanks to this that Lance noticed the difference.

There no lights on it at all anymore.

Which meant not only had Coran gone through his stuff, but Coran has also messed with it too. Coming into his room without permission was one thing; going through his stuff was another… but messing with it too? That was a completely different ball park.

What if Coran broke it? What if Lance couldn’t talk to Tyrac anymore. What if he did something to it?

Given his younger relatives, Lance was used to, by some degree, people messing with his stuff. But Coran was not a younger family member. Coran should know better than to go through someone else’s stuff and mess with it.

“You won’t get in trouble, Lance.”

Oh. He. Did. Not. Just. Lance couldn’t even. He just couldn’t.

That sounded so much like a thing a parent would say before grounding their kids. That sounded like a trap; a ‘tell me and I won’t punish you, ha, just joking, you’re grounded’ sort of thing.

It didn’t matter if Coran was acting like his dad, or acting like Lance was a kid. Hell, if everyone else was allowed to act like a kid, why couldn’t Lance? Either way, it was seriously getting under Lance’s skin.

Blue was trying to soothe him. She didn’t understand why Lance was getting so worked up in the first place. And that was fair. How could Lance expect a giant sentient cat machine to understand? It was for that reason that he brushed her off. She didn’t understand.

“I just want to know where you got it.” Coran’s voice was irritatingly calm.

“And I want to know why it matters.” Lance felt like he had to move. He didn’t like Coran pressuring him like this, and he felt like he was being cornered, despite the door being right behind him. “It’s just something I picked up.”

Coran’s eyes seemed to lighten for a moment. Lance’s stomach twisted unpleasantly. It was easy to tell himself that he’d done nothing wrong, mostly because he didn’t think he had, besides the lie he just spoke.

Sure, he probably should have told Coran about the device but… Keith could have his Blade of Marmora contacts. Why couldn’t Lance have Tyrac? It just wasn’t fair.

Keith got everything. The contacts, the skills, the popularity, the good looks, the handsome men. What did Lance ever get? Keith’s crumbs. The leftovers that Keith left behind for him.

Tyrac was something that was Lance’s. And had only ever been Lance’s.

“Picked up or was given to you?” Coran’s question hit home, and it was hard for Lance to repress his wince. He didn’t think he succeeded because Coran’s eyes narrowed and then he was pressing further on the matter. “Lance. Was this given to you, or did you find it?”

He wasn’t sure if it was the tone or Coran pressing the issue. He wasn’t sure if it was just a build of stress. He wasn’t sure what it is, but it felt like something snapped inside of Lance.

“Does it matter?” He repeated his question from the beginning.

Did it matter? Really, Lance would like to know. All he was doing was talking with a friend, something he seemed to be lacking on this castle ship. He wasn’t giving away their location, or talking about their weakness, or giving away anything of particular value.

There were no secrets between Paladins, right? Yeah, no.

Yet Keith could keep quiet about his suspicions about his Galra heritage. Keith was allowed to keep Shiro’s desire for Keith to take over quiet. What about Shiro not sharing that he wants Keith to take over. What about Shiro leaving them?!

If everyone else could have their secrets, then why couldn’t Lance? Why couldn’t Lance have his secret friend? It wasn’t like he was in some sort of cult where he wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone outside of it.

“Does it matter?” Lance asked again, because Coran has yet to respond. He was curious to see how Coran liked being pressured into answering.

Blue’s presence increased in his mind, flowing full of concern with how things were going. Things didn’t have to be like this, and she didn’t understand why Lance was being so difficult.

There in which laid the root of the problem. Blue didn’t understand. Not like Tyrac did. Tyrac understood. He sympathized with Lance. He was different. And Coran was going to take him away.

Behind Lance, the door slid open, seemingly, of its own violation. Lance didn’t open it. Coran couldn’t have without going past Lance. Neither of them had moved. Doors didn’t open on their own. Which meant someone else had to open it.

Lance bristled at the new intrusion. He hadn’t turned around to look at them yet, but he was already running through the possibilities in his head.

Slav wouldn’t have a reason to come in, unless he too had discovered the item in Coran’s hands. No one else would have a reason to come in, so he was pulling up blanks.

Except… Coran’s gaze went to behind Lance; and Lance could see the thought of ‘uh-oh’ passing through the Altean’s eyes. It was with a sinking heart that Lance realized that whoever just entered the room wasn’t going to make anything any better.

Lance was proven correct just a moment later when Allura’s voice cut through the silence of the room.

“Lance!” Allura’s voice was almost shrill, and slowly Lance spun around to look at her without turning his back on Coran. “What is the meaning of this?”

The meaning of what? She never liked him, she hadn’t since the very beginning when he flirted with her and she insulted his ears. Now, she was more than happy to subject him to her ire and irritation, and jump to conclusions.

She probably wasn’t even going to wait for the full story before she started verbally attacking. No point in hoping that she would.

“The meaning of what, Princess?” He snapped back. Lance was so done with her blaming him when she should be looking at someone else. Like how at the meeting she’d not only accused Lance of being racist, but also at disrupting the team. Talking all that bullshit about unity.

Well, maybe she wasn’t wrong. The rest of the team was certainly unified in being Anti-Lance. And like she took side opposite Lance then, she was probably going to do the same with Coran.

Not that he’d blame her. Coran was her advisor and oldest friend. But still, it’d be nice if she took Lance’s side every so often.

“You should be asking Coran, he’s the one who came into my room and messed with my stuff!” As Lance spoke, he threw a hand out in Coran’s direction.

Allura pursed her lips, and looked at Coran. Lance watched her look him over, and then saw the exact moment that where she noticed the device. She locked up, gaze stuck on it for a moment before shooting back over to Lance.

“Where did you get that?” She demanded. Unlike Coran, she didn’t stay where she was. As she questioned him, she advanced on him, pushing him further into the room.

“Princess, I…” Coran started. Allura swiveled and turned immediately on him.

“You should have informed me of this at once, Coran.” There was war in her eyes. The same war that Lance saw when she talked about the Galra. The same war he saw when she looked at Keith after he confessed to his heritage. The war in her eyes now was not meant for Coran, but for the device and Lance.

Well, when opportunity came a knocking, one opened the door. So, naturally, Lance saw her brief distraction as just that: an opportunity. Lance ducked around her, and out the door. It was feeling way to small in that tiny room with the three of them. With both Allura and Coran demanding answers of Lance, it had felt even smaller in the room.

He didn’t get very far. The door didn’t even close before Allura was out it, following him. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. He allowed the movement, using the momentum against her to spin and throw her grip off.

“You don’t get to leave this conversation, Lance.” She hissed, and held up the device. When had she grabbed it from Coran? “Where-”

“What conversation? This is an interrogation.” Lance interrupted.

He wanted to just swipe the device away from Allura, but Lance knew better. This was Allura, warrior magic space elf princess. Xena, Warrior Princess, had nothing on her. Plus, Coran would always side with Allura, like he had with the food goo fight so very long ago. Two against one in close quarters was not Lance’s forte.

Close quarters in general was not Lance’s forte.

“For a good reason!” She opened her mouth to say more, but Lance interrupted her again.

“Oh of course. Forgive me, Princess. I forgot that you never do anything without good reason.” She frowned at his snark.

Lance’s mind noted the echoed sound of the doors opening, but he was too preoccupied watching Coran exit Lance’s from behind Allura. The sorrow and pity in his eyes had no place here.

Normally, Lance would accept Coran’s sorrow and pity, but not today. Not now. Not when Coran was the cause of this mess.

Why the quiznak was Allura in Lance’s room anyways? The only thing Lance could think of was that Allura was looking for Coran. Who was in Lance’s room. If he hadn’t been where he wasn’t wanted, then none of this would be happening.

“Lance, that’s-”

“That’s what, Coran? Not how I should talk to the Princess?” Lance interrupted Coran this time.

“What’s going on?” Keith’s voice cut through them all like a blade, rising above their own shouting.

Lance fell silent, as did Allura and Coran. In his peripheral vision, Lance saw Pidge and Hunk come around the corner, and come to a stop.

Great. Everyone was here now.

“Lance was in possession-”

“A simple misunderstanding-”

“They invaded my room, went through my stuff-”

They all started talking at the same time. Although, Lance wasn’t even sure why he was even trying to defend himself. Keith wouldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t listen to him. After all, according to him, Lance was the reason Shiro was missing.

Perhaps it was just a desire to defend himself. Perhaps it was because he was hoping that this once Keith would take his side.

“Enough! One at a time!” Once again, silence fell at Keith’s outburst.

“You may be acting head of Voltron, but you do not speak to me in that manner.” Allura’s lip was literally curling as she turned on Keith. Keith took a half step back, but that’s all Allura needed to prove her dominance.

Unlike last time, Allura refused to give Lance the opportunity as she immediately turned back to him, holding up the device.

Lance took a few steps back. Now he could see Hunk and Pidge better, although they had approached the group. Pidge seemed focused on the device, and he watched in dismay as understanding seemed to wash over her.

Three against one now. Great.

Hunk opened his mouth to speak, but Pidge elbowed him and shook her head. Likewise, Coran stepped forward to speak, but he wasn’t able to before Allura continued.

“You were in possession of a rouge communications device, I demand to know where you got it.”

Silence followed her demand. Silence as each of them took in the implications of her words. Lance jutted his chin up. If he was going to own this, then he was going to do it with confidence, and, if it came to it, on his own terms.

“So. What?” He responded. “Why does it matter?”

“Because that’s what’s been giving out signals all this time.” Pidge responded before Allura could. Pidge tore their gaze away from the device to look at Lance. “How could you?”

“How could I what?” Lance replied. He shrugged, half throwing up his hands and shaking them.

He knew what they were all implying. That he’d been giving away information. It didn’t matter what he said, they weren’t going to listen to him. None of them had been listening to him since this all started. He was just comic relief, or a punching bag for when someone needed to take frustrations out.

“You know what you’ve done.” Allura spat out. “We trusted you, and this is how you repay us?”

Oh yes. They trusted him. That totally explained their behavior as of late. Calling him useless, and blaming him for Shiro’s disappearance, and claiming he didn’t care about Shiro.

“You’ve been giving away information since Shiro disappeared according to the ship’s sensors.” Pidge accused. “I’ve even tried helping Coran locate that last night. Now I know why it was so hard to find… you were harboring it.”

“Guys, guys,” Hunk tried to intervene. “Maybe we should-” As per the habit lately, Allura interrupted.

“Pidge, we need to know where he got it. And what information he’s shared.” Allura handed Pidge the device. Lance didn’t know if it recorded his talks with Tyrac. It probably hadn’t, but at this point, Lance didn’t care. He could understand Allura’s point, but this was all the wrong way of going about it.

Those conversations were private. They were Lance’s rants. They were Lances moments of sunshine and happiness in this cold forsaken castle. They were his thoughts and feelings, especially of these past few days on the ship. His privacy was already invaded, and honestly, he didn’t want it violated further.

He was already acting before he could even finish his thought to do what he was going to do.

His actions only lasted a few seconds, but they felt like they occurred over the span of a year. It was almost like everyone was hit with sudden slow motion. Lance lunged forward, arm reached out, hand stretching. He felt the device his hand, and he mourned its existence even as he slapped it to the ground, and then stepped on it.

Abruptly, time seemed to return to normal as there were various shouts of dismay and alarm. In an attempt to stop him, Keith had lunged forward towards Lance, but had been too late. Now, Lance spun away from Keith, and danced back a couple of steps.

Well. Would he look at that? He managed to avoid Keith. Go him! Now, if only he could do this when they weren’t in this tense situation.

Hunk pulled Pidge away, the same way Coran did for Allura. Keith was between Lance and the others. Allura and Pidge were both staring at where the device used to be before their gaze slowly traveled down to the broken remains of it.

“I’ve had my privacy invaded enough, today, thank you.”

Silence reigned for maybe about five seconds. Everyone was stunned, but it was Pidge who broke the silence first.

“It wasn’t enough for you to just be useless in finding Shiro, was it? You had to make things worse.”

“Pidge!” Hunk and Coran chided her at the same time, but the words have already been spoken. Just like they came out before. Too little, too late, guys.

Useless. The word rattled around in Lance’s brain, knocking against his skull and echoing in his ears. Useless. He was so tired of that word.

“Fine.” Lance’s voice was hard as he spoke. He didn’t deserve this. If he was so useless, then they could manage without him. He didn’t need this crap.

He didn’t notice he was running until Keith grabbed his arm similar to how Allura did not too much earlier.

Lance dispatched Keith the same way he did with Allura. Leaving them both standing off in the hallway. Their chests were heaving. Lance opened his mouth to talk, but all he could do was pant. His chest hurt, but he didn’t want to stop and think of why.

“Don’t.” Keith was only able to get a word out before he swallowed thickly and tried again.

Something was swimming in Keith’s eyes. Any normal time, Lance would be trying to figure it out. But, this was not any normal time. Lance could care less. Not when Keith could be held accountable to some of this. Not when Keith had attributed to this. Not when he currently hated Keith.

Fuck the crush he once had on the other. He should have given it up at the Garrison when Keith first gave him the cold shoulder. He should have given it up when he realized Keith and Shiro were a thing. It shouldn’t have taken things getting this far before Lance decided Keith wasn’t worth this pain.

“Don’t what, wonderboy?” Lance sneered. The words still came out in pants, but that was okay. They had the reaction Lance hoped for. “Don’t you see I’m not wanted here?”

Keith reared back. It’s hard to say what just stunned Keith, but Lance wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hello, Opportunity knocking. Lance bolted.

He didn’t realize he was at Blue’s hangar until he locked the doors behind him.

“Quiznak!” Keith’s voice was muffled, but the curse could still be clearly heard through the crashing noise of Keith hitting the door. But, that wasn’t important. What was important was that Blue’s bay doors were already open, and she was leaning down, ready for him. “Lance! Open the door!”

“Good girl, opening the door for me.” He murmured.

The bond was stronger here in the Hangar, but Lance knew the moment he stepped past the threshold into her, it’d be considerably stronger. He knew that she wasn’t sure about this. But, he could feel her trust, and, more than that, he could feel her agreement that the others were out of line.

He hesitated at the threshold. Once he stepped over, he wouldn’t be able to brush her off as easy as he had been. But perhaps that was for the better. He may not like the cold, but it was useful for numbing painful emotions, like the ones he was feeling.

There was a loud grating noise, and he turned to see Keith’s Marmora blade between the doors. Keith was trying to pry them open. Good luck to him.

Good luck to himself. Lance had no gear, no armor, no bayard. He had nothing. Blue brushed against him, a gentle reminder that he had her. He couldn’t help to grin grimly at that. He looked back to the door, and then up at Blue and made his choice.

The moment he stepped in, he felt her attempt a sync. He fought it off, and launched instead. Blue washed over him. She supported him, but she didn’t think this was the right choice of action. Perhaps they should wait and talk this over with the rest of the team. Then again, she hit that catch-22. The rest of the team was being rather unreasonable right now.

“If you support me, then understand I can’t stay here right now.” Lance pleaded. Blue hesitated, and then she gave up, allowing him some peace.

It took a moment, but when she next tried to sync, he could feel through her the bonds of the other lions. It was a weaker bond than what they’d have if they were Voltron, and Lance couldn’t remember the last time it felt this weak. Regardless, it informed him that the others were in their lions.

Last to join was the Red Lion. Presumably because Keith had to go from Blue’s hangar to his own.

The communication window popped up and blinked. Normally the transition would just go through, but Blue was offering him the option to accept it. He felt how much she hoped he would.

He denied it.

She was no more happier about this whole situation than Lance was, but she wanted to work through it. She still thought they could be a team. She thought they still wanted Lance.

“Fat chance, beautiful.”

She had a mixed response at his words. Part of her was chiding him because she knew better, and she knew that he knew that he was still wanted. But, at the same time, she couldn’t help but to preen at being referred to as beautiful. Like him, she had a bit of vanity in her core, and loved compliments.

Another communication attempt came through. And another, and another, and another. After Lance denied the first few, she finally took over and started to auto deny them. She still disagreed, but she wasn’t arguing against him anymore. At least she was on his side.

She warned him as soon as she noticed, but even then, it was too late for Lance to avoid it.

It being the Red Lion slamming into Blue, sending them both spinning into an asteroid field. Blue hit against one, and static overtook the screens for a second before clearing. When they did, another communication attempt was waiting on the screen.

A private communication from Red, evidently.

Lance’s hand hovered over ‘accept’, and Blue pushed at him to push it, but at the last moment Lance shifted his hand to deny it.

He had to give it to Keith, though. He was persistent. Too persistent, if anyone asked Lance. Then again, maybe Keith just wanted to be the one to attack and take Lance down. Maybe Keith was after some sort of revenge for Shiro, for his delusions about Lance causing Shiro’s disappearance.

Or maybe he wasn’t. Lance wasn’t interested in finding out.

Lance was ready for the next slam from Red. The moment she moved, Lance rolled under her, turned on Keith, and – against Blue’s recommendation – fired an ice ray at Red. He knew he wouldn’t be able to outrun Red, but if he could slow her down, then maybe there’d be a chance for escape.

It wasn’t even that he wasn’t to escape forever. He just wanted… away. For just a bit. Just to think, and cool his head. To allow the others to cool their heads.

Surprisingly, Red took the hit.

For a brief moment, Lance felt bad; but then overwhelming shock and excitement flooded Lance. He couldn’t believe that he’d managed to hit Keith. The chances of it happening had been slim to none, especially given Lance’s luck as of late.

Yet, he managed to hit Keith. But, he couldn’t allow himself a moment to crow in victory. If he gave a moment, then that’d be all Red would need to take back control of the situation. He used Red as a launching pad, bouncing off of her. It had the effect of sending Lance away and the added bonus of pushing Keith further back.

As Voltron, they all felt the strange mind meld thing that allowed them to ‘become one’ to form Voltron. In their lions, the bonds were technically, still there. It just wasn’t as noticeable. Lance supposed that he was more susceptible to the ‘Voltron’ bond due to his bond with Blue; although things from the ‘Voltron’ bond while not in Voltron form seemed to filter through Blue first, leaving the sensations dull.

Lance was able to get some distance away from them all before there was a disturbance through that bond. Distress rippled through the bond, and Blue identified it as coming from Green.

Blue came to a halt by accord of both Blue and Lance’s desires. Behind them, Keith had already turned around and was headed back to where the Castle was. More communication attempts popped up before a wave of alarm washed through the bond.

Yellow this time.

As angry as he felt towards all of them, he couldn’t in good conscious just leave them. Especially since they were already down Shiro. They’d never trust him again if he just continued on his way. If he just took this opportunity to escape into the stars.

And then what? These people were all Lance had. Blue rumbled, adding in her sentiment. The other lions were her Pride, her family, her everything. She didn’t want to leave them anymore than Lance truly wanted to leave the other Paladins.

“Quiznak.”

He’d probably regret this choice later. Lance turned Blue around and headed back to the castle.

He’d barely managed to leave the asteroid field when he discovered the cause. No doubt later the team would blame the Robeast on Lance, but Lance couldn’t just sit around and watch the remaining three Paladins try to fight this monster off.

It looked considerably smaller than the Robeasts they had been fighting. Which, Lance considered, may have been for the better considering their current team situation.

Regardless, without Shiro, it’d probably be for the best if they just distracted the monster long enough for Allura to make a wormhole with the castle, and then have the Lions follow behind. If that was the plan or not, Lance couldn’t tell. Mostly because he was still denying any and all communication attempts.

Against a Robeast, he probably should be talking to his teammates. But, if he talked to them, he was afraid that they’d just push him into wanting to leave them.

“Continue denying communication attempts, Blue.”

Blue wasn’t keen on the idea, but, she wasn’t going to force anything. Besides, they all could manage some form of connection to their Lions, no matter how they denied it. They could communicate through those bonds, no matter how weak they were.

Maybe if he proved himself in the fight, then Lance wouldn’t have to leave. Maybe they’d all cool off and get off his back. Wishful thinking, he knew.

Lance took a deep breath, and then pushed Blue forward into the fray.

Like all battles before, this one blurred in his mind. There was so much to keep track of, and without communications, it was difficult. Most warnings he received from the others came belated after being translated and filtered through Blue.

“Feels like the others don’t trust you either.” He muttered. Blue’s sorrowful whimper confirmed that, and rage once again burned in Lance. It wasn’t bad enough for them to treat him badly, now they had to discriminate against his lion too?

Keith seemed to be the only one who tried to try to keep sending Lance communication attempts. Private, general, open… if it was a communication attempt, then Keith had attempted it. Lance denied them all.

He was still denying those requests when he noticed the Robeast making a move for Red. Despite Red’s speed, there was no way that Lance could see her avoiding the hit. Ideally, Yellow would be best to take the hit for Red, but Hunk was too slow and too far away. Lance was the closest the Keith.

Lance didn’t have time to think about his choice before he already made it. Before he could even think about his actions, Lance synced up with Blue, sinking into her waters. For one moment, he could clearly see the bonds between them all like a multicolored twisted spiderweb.

Black was barely present, sleeping away in the hangar and not hearing the cries of the others. Yellow was panicked and rife with anxiety. Green was scared. And Red… Horror seeped from Red like blood from a cut.

As one unit, Blue and Lance moved.

All concern felt was immediately overtaken by the pain that ripped through them.

“Lance!” Lance could hear Keith calling his name, while at the same time, he could hear Red’s roar echo around him. His ears were ringing, and his eyes hurt against the bright red that Blue’s display had become.

Funny, Lance didn’t recall accepting any communication attempts.

There was a loud crashing noise as something slammed into Blue again, sending another wave of pain through their bond. Blue’s flickering displays was the last thing Lance saw before there was yet another hit, and then, nothing as the darkness at the edges of his vision took over.

Chapter Text

“We still need to find the Blue Lion,” Allura announced.

Her gaze was on the star map before her. She showed no signs of fatigue or tiredness, which, Keith knew, she must have. After all, two Paladins and one Lion were missing now, and she’d been working tirelessly to try to locate them all.

It took all of Keith’s willpower not to sarcastically respond ‘no, you think?’ to her statement. If Lance were still here, he’d probably be the one to say it.

But Lance wasn’t here, and therefore, the silence where Lance would have commented hung like a noose, reminding all of his absence.

Lance may have talked more than not, but Keith never realized just how much the team needed Lance for exactly that. He said the things that no one else could, or would, say.

It was because of Lance that Keith silently disagreed with Allura’s last statement. He could agree that they did need to find the Blue Lion, however, it wasn’t just the Lion that they needed to recover. They needed to find Lance too.

A Lion was of little use without a Paladin, as shown, quite plainly, by Black and Shiro.

In the space between his head and his body, he could feel the rumble of the Red Lion as she agreed with his thoughts. Her reactions, thoughts, and emotions weren’t quite mental, but they weren’t purely physical either.

Heat followed the phantom vibrations of her agreement, which he swore he could feel in his chest. He closed his eyes to brace himself as the heat filled his lungs, causing his breath to catch. A moment later he was able to breath easily as he adjusted to Red’s heat.

Although, with Red like this, each breath of air felt like he was breathing in the dry arid desert air. His mouth felt dry, and every swallow of saliva threatened to make him cough.

It was all in head. He just needed to remember that. All in his head.

Faintly he could hear the other Paladins having a conversation. They were talking about the Robeast, and if it had anything to do with Lance or the communication device. Hunk asked something about why Coran was in Lance’s room, and Coran was saying something about him tracing the signal back to there.

But what did it matter when Lance was missing? Didn’t he deserve to be part of this conversation too? He had a right to defend himself!

Red rumbled, and Keith nearly swooned from the heat of her agreement.

“Keith? You sure you’re fine?” Pidge asked, but Keith didn’t hear her, too caught up in his thoughts.

Honestly, since the battle… since Lance sacrificed himself for Keith, Keith had been feeling sick.
At first, he’d thought it was physical.

He felt hot. He felt clammy, but oddly dry. His balance seemed to be off, and he was about 90% sure it was because his head felt like it was in a fishbowl. The cause of that, he was pretty sure was the heat that seared against his skin, inside his skin.

Thankfully, he knew how to use the Cryopods and the Medical bay well enough to look himself over. Except, he had no fever, no sickness, nothing.

But now he knew it wasn’t that he was physically ill. He was sick of how they were treating Lance currently, especially since Lance wasn’t here to defend himself. He was sick from Red’s influence, which burned into him.

Although, he was pretty sure Red was more of a contributing factor than the injustices thrown in Lance’s direction.

Contrary to what some people (Lance) believed, Keith wasn’t an idiot.

They’d all been told that they were going to ‘bond’ with their lions. What they’d been told was nothing like what it actually ended up being. A proper heads up would have been nice. But then again, there wasn’t any real proper way to explain it, and since neither Coran or Allura had been Paladins, Keith supposed that they really might not have known.

Although, that explanation didn’t make anything better, to be honest.

He’d expected the bond with Red to be similar to the mind meld between Paladins during that one horrendous training day. The one training exercise that they’d all agreed to never return to. He’d expected the bond to be a sharing of thoughts, experiences, and ideas.

Which, in a way, he supposed it was. Keith just hadn’t expected the phantom sensations and the practically constant heat.

Good grief that heat. He could live without it. Really.

Keith had lived, for the better part of a year, in a hovel shack, in the middle of a quiznaking desert with no air conditioning, while wearing a jacket. Keith could handle heat.

He didn’t think he could handle this.

Seriously. A warning would have been nice! Then again, he’d been given a warning, in a way, through Lance. Lance, who’d described ‘talking’ with Blue. Right from the get go, he’d said that he wasn’t really talking with Blue, it was like she was feeding ideas into him, or something like that.

That felt like a more accurate description then whatever the heck Allura and Coran had said.

And Keith knew that Lance had a better idea of the whole ‘bond’ with the Lions thing because he’d felt it when he brushed – for lack of better word – against Lance in the battle. In that battle with the Robeast, the monster had tried to hit Keith, and then… and then everything changed.

Like a record, the memory seemed to start playing in his mind without his permission. It started at the moment he realized he was going to be hit; the moment he realized that he couldn’t do anything about it.

And then there was Lance.

He’d physically reached out for Lance, despite knowing that he couldn’t actually touch him. Despite knowing that he couldn’t catch him as he fell.

Yet, he could recall, in crystal clarity the icy cold water trickling between his fingers, the streams growing larger until his arm was numb from the chill and the force of the current. The force of the Robeast’s hit slammed Blue into Red; and they slammed into Keith and Red like a tsunami, washing over them with their feelings, doubts, and insecurities.

It was like they were wearing those stupid Mind Meld devices, but it was more than that. It was stronger than that. It was like they were forming Voltron; but different, because it was just the two of them.

What was worse, was that now that Keith was aware of it, he couldn’t not be anymore. He could feel the jagged edges of where he’d meet with the others, where there’d be more with them too. Even worse than that was the hollow emptiness where Blue should have been.

He’d felt Blue there, and now, it was gone.

He could deal with the emptiness caused by the others, since he’d never properly felt them, but… he’d felt Blue. He’d felt Lance.

He’d felt them both, and suddenly stuff was starting to make sense. Like why Lance was always wearing his jacket, and why sometimes he’d shiver and pull his jacket closer when he thought no one else was looking. Which was ridiculous, because it was Lance, and who wouldn’t be looking at him?

Just the brush from Lance during the battle still had Keith shivering from just the memory. If just brushing against Lance had felt like that… then what would it feel when everyone was bonded? When they were all connected?

Between Pidge and Hunk, considering their ‘elements’, Keith was willing to bet that one of them would be suffocating, and Keith was so not looking forward to experiencing that.

Yet, for all of his fear of connecting with Lance like that again, Keith was excited. That connection had been everything and nothing at once. Keith needed to experience it again. They all needed to experience it. Besides, perhaps Keith could provide Lance some warmth and in exchange, Lance could offer some icy coldness to help combat the heat.

Perhaps that what the bonds of Voltron were all about. The give and take of each other, merging together, being one. It was a shame they all hadn’t experienced it.

“Keith?” A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, looking up to see Hunk gazing down at him, concern evident in his dark brown eyes.

“I’m fine.” Keith replied, already figuring what the question was.

But the truth was, Keith wasn’t fine. He hadn’t been fine in a long time. Shiro was gone. He couldn’t do as Shiro asked and be the leader the team needed. He couldn’t get Black to wake up. He couldn’t find Shiro. And now Lance was gone, and the team was fractured.

“I just need some time to think.” Keith continued. He smiled up at Hunk, and then headed for the doors. Some part of him wanted to go the training room, but he knew he couldn’t. Memories of what he said and did to Lance haunted him there.

He hadn’t meant to take his frustrations out on Lance, and it wasn’t until later that he realized that he shouldn’t have said what he said. Keith had tried to apologize to Lance, but it was a bit difficult to talk to him when he was actively avoiding Keith. If he’d known this was going to happen, he would have tried a whole lot harder.

Keith was never quite sure what to think of Lance. On some days, Lance was annoying. He never took anything seriously, like everything was a joke. He laughed too much and his voice was too loud. He was nothing but bad jokes, puns, and pick up lines.

Even Allura couldn’t stand Lance most days, and Shiro only seemed to tolerate him. The only ones who seemed to spend large amounts of time with Lance were Coran, Hunk, and occasionally, Pidge.

Honestly, Keith had never thought much of Lance. Keith had thought of Lance as… shallow. He was a pretty face, but there wasn’t much more to him.

Except there was.

Sometimes, Lance was more. He was everything that was needed. Those moments were rare, but Keith would never forget walking into the common room to see Lance comforting Pidge whenever she got upset and disheartened about being unable to find her family so far. Or how he’d distract Hunk whenever Hunk’s anxiety seemed to spike up. Or the effort he went through at the Mall to get Pidge that video game that she’d wanted.

…

Or all the movie references and modern jokes that Lance would take the time to explain for Keith.

Lance was a silent companion to listen to one’s woes. He was a shoulder to cry on, or a body to hug. He was a non-judging comfort. More than that, he was so self-sacrificing. He sacrificed himself for Coran in the beginning, and for Keith now.

Not to mention his smile, when it was genuine, was beautiful. Lance smiled not only with his mouth, but with his whole body. His smile showed his in eyes, in his hands, in his stance. It was refreshing to see someone who wore their emotions so very openly, especially in a group of people who didn’t.

But it was a problem too, because Lance didn’t just show his happiness, but all his other emotions too. Lance’s reaction to Shiro being missing was about the same as Lance’s reaction to Keith being part Galra: indifference. For all that Lance had appeared to care, it seemed like he just didn’t care about Shiro. Or at least, if he did, he didn’t let it show.

For being so… shallow, it turned out there were hidden depths to Lance.

Keith knew this now, but then… then he hadn’t. Then he’d been confused, and frustrated at various other things, and then he’d gotten angry at Lance, and… well… Keith regretted what he said.

It didn’t stop Red from tormenting him by replaying the memory over and over in his mind. He could practically hear her say ‘this isn’t how you treat your teammates.’

He’d never be able to apologize to Lance if Lance wasn’t found. And for all they knew, perhaps Lance didn’t want to be found. After all, he’d been trying to leave before they’d been attacked by the Robeast.

As if thinking the word summoned the memory of the battle, it played out in his head again. Red’s response in the memory mirrored her response in the present. Heat flickered up through Keith’s body, burning him from the inside, choking his lungs with dry air and smoke. Clouding his eyes with tears as her overwhelming anguish and mourning burned through him.

Keith had to stop and use the cool wall of the castle as a support as he waited out Red’s firestorm of emotions.

That was another thing he could have been warned about. He’d been told that the Red Lion was temperamental. No one said anything about her being emotional too.

Slowly, the fires of her emotion died back down to low embers of heat, and Keith was able to continue once more. Although, he wasn’t surprised that in his wanderings, he’d found himself at Red’s hangar.

He looked up at Red, and contemplated their new ‘bond’. He’d always been able to feel her, to locate her, to call her in his time of need. But now he could feel everything: her grief, her sorrow, her worry and concerns. There was anger too. Anger at him, at Black, at Blue, at Lance, at the world in general.

Like he said, temperamental and emotional.

She was furious at Keith, in particular. He could feel her anger simmering under the surface. He took a deep breath, and let himself fall into Red.

Red welcomed him with fire. She embraced him, surrounded him. She burned through him until there wasn’t anything to burn anymore and he wasn’t Keith, and she wasn’t Red, and neither existed in the singular sense anymore. Keith and Red were no longer Keith and Red; they were just them.

They were upset. They were scared. They were angry. They were angry at themselves.

They’d waited so long to reach this point of communication, and now, now, finally, they reached it, but at what cost? For what reason? Their combined interest in Blue? Blue, the only thing to sooth the flames of their existence, to quench the thirst of their heat.

It didn’t matter, Blue was missing. All of Blue was missing, and all that remained of Black was the container. Perhaps Black remained, but he was unresponsive to the cries and needs of the pride.

The pride was broken, and they helped break it.

No, not them. The Red Paladin helped break it. And not just Red, but Green, Yellow, and yes, even the Black and Blue Paladins. If the Blue Paladin had let them apologize! If the Black Paladin hadn’t vanished!

Anger surged, although the only one who felt it was Keith, who came back to himself and fell to his knees, unable to stand under the duress of the sync.

“I get it!” Keith told her, looking up at her. “I get it. I messed up, and I’m sorry!”

For all intents and purposes, she sniffled and turned her nose up at him. In reality, she was still and dark.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked. “Do you want to go out and try to find them?” A pointless endeavor considering Allura would be best to do that. Besides, then they’d be breaking the pride up even more.

“What do you feel you should do?” Keith whirled around at the voice and glared at the one who’d spoken.

“What are you doing here?” Keith hissed out. “What do you want?”

“A happy ending, if it’s possible.” Slav shrugged. “One where I live would be most preferable.”

Keith scoffed and shook his head. Why was he even asking Slav anything? Everyone knew that he was a total nut job, supposedly a genius or not.

“She’s about instincts, right? Follow those.” Easy enough advice for Slav to give.

However, following that advice was more difficult than it sounded. His instincts were at war. He was conflicted over so much. What he felt. How Lance felt. What he’d heard, and what he remembered.

It wasn’t so easy to just ‘follow his instincts’.

He wanted to believe Lance, he really did, but at the same time… Lance had felt guilty. Keith had felt it. More than that, Keith had felt… more anger than he thought Lance possessed. There’d been more, but in the few seconds that they’d been… connected, Keith hadn’t been able to process it all.

He wondered if Lance had ‘felt’ Keith too? Had Blue and Lance both felt what Keith and Red were feeling at the time? Or had the connection been a one-way street? Too many questions, not enough answers.

Lance and Blue hadn’t lasted long after the initial hit. He’d felt them both… dull, for lack of better word. He supposed that ‘dull’ was probably the best term for it. They’d dulled. Their vibrant blue faded to grey, and then they’d been batted aside, tossed away like trash.

Anger flared up at the thought, and with it, fire. He burned with Red, meeting her anger for the situation with his own until she settled down, her fire dimming to a low simmer in his heart.

“Paladins,” Allura’s voice comes over the castle’s speakers, “Please report back to the Bridge. I’ve located the Blue Lion.”

Keith expected elation at the declaration, but Red responded with trepidation and worry. Red didn’t trust easily. She was temperamental, judgmental, emotional, and kind of rude. Blue on the other hand… Keith remembered Blue.

She was cold, there was no mistaking that, but… Allura had said that Blue was the most accepting of new Paladins, and Keith could understand that now. Although she was cold, she was trusting. Although, that was only because that trust, once lost, was hard to gain back. Similarly to how once gained, Red’s trust was nearly unshakable.

Perhaps that was another trait that manifested in the Paladins. After all, Keith had tried to so hard to talk to Lance, even before the battle. And then, after the fight, Keith had chased after Lance to get his story. He’d even bombarded him with communication attempts.

And perhaps, Lance would have talked… had Keith not needlessly blamed Lance that day in the training room.

“Don’t worry, Red, we’ll figure this out.”

Red’s heat simmered inside him, flickering almost peacefully with the rumbles of a sudden reassuring purr. Keith’s hand rose to his heart, unconsciously trying to grab and hold onto that warmth.

“If anyone can give me the happy ending I’m looking for, it’s you.” Keith turned back to Slav, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked over the alien. “You should head up to the bridge. Your chances at finding the Blue Paladin dwindle with each second you spend here.”

Slav didn’t even need to finish the sentence before Keith was racing back to the Bridge. After all, he needed to find Lance. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be much longer until they could resolve this all.

Hopefully.

Chapter Text

Sometimes Lance didn’t dream so much as remember.

He didn’t get to choose what he remembered. His mind took moments and replayed them out on repeat, allowing him to go back through and change things at his leisure. He remembered watching ‘Groundhog Day’ and being terrified that he’d get stuck in a never-ending loop, but now… now he was happy for this.

It hurt sometimes. It hurt to go to sleep at night and relive his happier days with his family, or the exciting first days at the Garrison.

Sometimes he’d remember his first meeting with Keith, and how things could have gone so much better. That memory hurt too, mostly because no matter what he said or did, the dream always ended with Lance’s heart hurting, and feeling abandoned and lost.

Recently, it seemed like if Keith was in a dream, then Lance would mess up somehow in some way. It wasn’t just Keith where things were evidently set in stone. Lance would always: mess up things with Keith; disappoint Shiro; and annoy Allura.

Facts of life, he supposed.

It was tiring and annoying; and days where he had those dreams were the days he felt like he didn’t sleep at all.

But then there were days where he was reliving a day trip to the beach with his siblings, baking and cooking with his mother in the kitchen, or helping his dad out at the small store he owned. Those were the best dreams, the ones where Lance didn’t touch anything at all because everything was perfect as it was.

This felt like one of those. Although, he couldn’t quite place when or where it’d happened.

He was sitting on the beach, watching the sun set into the ocean. The sky was painted in brilliant warm red, golds, oranges, and yellows. The colors smeared and blurred like paint on a palette. The clouds looked like waterdrops on watercolor, with bright white golden halos thinly circling around them. The sun was half dipped in the ocean, and each little wave of the ocean shined in the light, like someone dropped glitter over the surface of the water.

It was a postcard picture. The perfect view.

And despite the distant sound of traffic and cars behind him, it was peaceful and calm.

His feet were half submerged in the waves that washed up, burying his feet under cool sand before the tide took it all way when the wave washed back out to sea. His hands were under still sun warmed sand. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair.

Lance closed his eyes, and let himself sink into the serenity of the moment. He knew when the sun fully set by the cool darkness when washed over him. The water was rising, going from his ankles to his calves, to his knees, and then to his thighs.

If he didn’t move soon, it was very possible that the waves would just wash over him. There was a pull he felt to the sea, to the sky, and to the stars. He’d always felt it, for as long as he could remember, but now that he knew what it was, he was content to ignore it.

If only it was content enough to let him.

A wave washed over him, and he without warning the ground dropped out from under him. He was left suspended in a moment of time, submerged in water. He was lost in that moment, not knowing which way was up or down and not actually caring either way.

He felt Blue before anything else.

She hit him like a current of icy water, and dragged him down deeper into the depths of the ocean. Or was she dragging him back up to the surface? Blue’s roar echoed in his ears, as loud as the crash of the tide.

Her worry ran through him, along with her comfort that everything would be okay. It sounded like she was trying to comfort herself just as much as him.

He broke the surface, and the stars were spread out in a dazzling spread above him. The water glinted off the moon’s light and reflected the stars. For all intents and purposes, he was swimming in a sea of stars.

Amidst the roar of the surf, a fog horn from a lighthouse bellowed in the distance, echoed by the quieter returning cries of a ship. Except, no, that wasn’t a fog horn. It was… It was just an alarm. His ears were ringing as the noise became louder and louder. Blue was pulling at him, asking him to wake up and…

Lance opened his eyes to flashing red lights. He blinked, the vision before him blurring, the brilliant red color burning his eyes. Lance closed his eyes again, but he could still see the red flashing light from behind his eyelids.

Relief, potent and thick, settled deep into his chest and made his heart heavy. It took him a moment to realize that it was not his own that he was feeling, but Blue’s.

All at once the noise stopped, the cockpit went dark. Blue fell silent, becoming a small quiet presence in the back of his mind. He could hear water splash against her body, and she gently rocked at the motion.

Well, that told him a couple of different things, some of which were good, and some… not so much.

Lance was surrounded by water. The sound and motions probably helped cause that weird dream. Also, Blue didn’t float. So, where ever he was, he was on a beach or a sandbar. The waves were strong enough to rock Blue, so hello, strong waves that Lance wasn’t even going to attempt to mess with. The fact he felt Blue rocking told him that her inertial dampeners were probably out. Which meant no space travel for him, at least while inside of Blue.

Failed inertial dampeners never meant anything good. Depending on whether the inertial dampeners failed during or after the crash, then Lance may have some pretty extensive bruising.

Awh, who was he kidding? He was gonna have some pretty bad bruising regardless of when they failed. Although, if they’d failed during the crash, he’s pretty sure he would have been thrown out of the pilot’s chair.

Which, ouch, just thinking about it sucks. Especially since he would have been thrown into the display. Oh well, he had other things to worry about. Like… Blue.

Trying to stand was difficult. It felt like his whole body was numb and weighed down. There was that strange tingling feeling of limbs coming back to life, and he was almost afraid to move and risk hurting himself. He half collapsed against the center console – which didn’t flair up to life—when his leg buckled out from under him.

“This sucks.”

Why did he ever want to be a pilot again? Crashes really sucked.

Blue let out a quiet wounded purr of agreement. Communication was down again, but she’d been damaged enough to activate her emergency beacon. Allura would, hopefully, find that and pick them up.

“Ha.” Lance laughed dryly.

As if Allura wanted to pick him up. He’d bet his non-existent money that Allura wouldn’t allow him back on the castle. He tried to stand again as feeling returned to his legs.

“Allura doesn’t want me on the Castle.” He muttered.

He got the vague impression that Blue disagreed, but was staying silent just to avoid an argument. The console flickered briefly, but never stayed on long enough for Lance to do anything. Her presence was growing smaller. She was tired, and injured, and well, Lance couldn’t fault her for wanting rest. Almost as if waiting for those exact thoughts, the console quit flickering, and then just like that, she was gone.

If he needed her, he was sure that he’d be able to wake her back up. But for now, he could let her rest.

“It shouldn’t take Allura that long to pick us back up.” He muttered himself. Yet he couldn’t help but remember the anger in her eyes, and the sharpness of her tone as she yelled at him. But he had to stay hopeful for Blue’s sake.

Last time he was stranded, and the time before that, it’d taken Allura about a day to find him. They shouldn’t have to wait long, and if they did… well, Lance had left some of the food from Tyrac in here, along with all the water.

The ticks passed by slowly. Especially with Blue out of commission.

When she did wake, her presence was always fleeting, and pain always leaked through to Lance. It was so much worse than last time, and she knew that Lance wouldn’t be able to help her. The waves were too strong, and the damage was too bad.

To keep himself from going crazy, he ransacked Blue’s inner compartments. When that failed, he listened to the waves, counting them out to the beat of his song. He was timing them, in case Allura didn’t come and the rations he had ran out.

It was hard to do here, since the tides were weird. But based on how they hit, he’s more confident in his assessment that Blue was at least half submerged on a sandbar or beach.

A day passed.

Lance slept in the small bunk provided in the back of Blue. It’s meant exactly for this. Well, this, diplomatic overnight stays, or multiple day missions where he’d need to camp out in his lion. He’d thought he’d find sleep easier with the sound of the waves hitting up against Blue. He thought wrong.

He spent most of the night doing exactly what he’d been doing before: timing the waves and learning the tides.

By the third day, Lance accepted that Allura isn’t going to come for them. This was the longest it’d ever taken her to come, and the only reason Lance could think of was because he was there. Like he told Blue, Allura doesn’t want him. He wasn’t fit to be a Paladin. Not since he was evidently a ‘spy’.

Speaking of that, Lance would have killed for the communication device. Silence and solitude was something Lance wasn’t equipped to handle. He needed people, communication, noise. He needed life.

He would have cried to hear someone’s voice other than his own.

If he thought that the castle was cold and lonely, then he knew nothing. This was so much worse. Here, he truly was alone, in a small, cold, dark place.

Tyrac was probably worried about him. This was the longest Lance had gone without speaking to him, not that he could with the device left broken at the castle.

His family was probably worried too. Quiznak, Lance would sell his soul to see his family again, even for a moment.

The team, on the other hand… they probably weren’t worried about him. If they were truly worried, then they would have found him by now. They wouldn’t have left him out here.

But he was stuck out here because he took a hit for Keith. That was what Keith wanted anyways, wasn’t it? That was what the whole thing with Shiro was about. Sorta.

Except, Lance had done exactly what he’d done last time: blacked out and ended up who-knew-where.

Maybe he wasn’t cut out for being a Paladin. Like he told Coran: he just wanted to go home. Except, he couldn’t. He didn’t have any way to get home, and even if he did, Earth was so far away.

Going back home was a pipe dream. It was never going to happen, and it as much as it hurt, it was the truth. He was going to die out in space, having never really said a proper goodbye to his family and friends. He was going to die alone, cold and miserable in the vastness of space.

Lance only had one thing left: Blue. And Allura and the others were going to take her away from him. If he didn’t leave, then Blue was never going to be picked up, and then she’d never get repaired. And even if he stayed with Blue and Allura and the others showed up, the chances that they’d take him back were so slim, he was sure he’d end up being left here without Blue.

The only option he saw to best protect himself was to let go of Blue himself. It’d hurt less. And who knew, maybe by his leaving, Allura would come and find Blue.

It took Lance five days to make up his mind, and on the morning of the sixth, Lance left Blue.

It was oddly relieving to know that he’d been right about something. Blue was half buried in glittering blue sand, and being pelted by the churning purple waves which crashed against her with enough force to almost throw Lance off Blue.

The fact he hadn’t realized the waves were that strong was promising that the inertial dampeners weren’t too terribly damaged. Not that it mattered to Lance anymore.

Blue was stuck in a sandbar of sorts, although, thankfully, this one wasn’t too far from the beach proper. There was a couple of feet of shallow water between Blue and the beach, which Lance was sure wouldn’t take long for him to transverse.

That was, if he was correct about it being shallow.

Based on how high the water came up on Blue, plus the fact he knew she was at least partially buried, he could roughly estimate that it was shallow water. But, the blue sand blended in with the purple waves a bit too well, and honestly, visually, Lance wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t going to just jump into some water of indeterminable depths.

It was just his luck that Blue was awake on the day he chose to leave, too.

Already, she was chiding him, reminding him that if he’d been wearing his armor – which he hadn’t thought or wanted to grab on his flight from the castle – then this wouldn’t be a problem. Besides which, she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to be alone, not again, not after all those years waiting for Lance to show up.

Lance pursed his lips, and inhaled sharply through his nose. The salt in the air was familiar to home and stung his lungs. It was a bittersweet pain.

“Calm down, beautiful.”

Another wave hit against Blue and he hid his stumble by sliding down so he was sitting on top of her, his legs dangling down on the side facing the beach. Patronizingly, he patted her a few times.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” The words tasted sour and salty in his mouth, although it may have just been the sea air that he was tasting. “It’s just a supply run.”

She whined, audibly; the noise a call out on his bullshit and an attempt to tug on his heart strings. They both knew she wasn’t dumb. In a way, she was a part of him. Even if she hadn’t been privy to his thoughts of leaving, she could still feel the echoes through their bond.

Didn’t mean Lance was going to admit it.

“I left my jacket in you. You know I’d never leave that behind.” He tried to reassure her. He’d left it in her for that reason, and also because it wouldn’t survive well if he had to go in water. And, also because he was sort of hoping that maybe one of the others would keep it to remember him by.

The breeze ruffled his hair, bringing with it the spray of the ocean as another wave hit against Blue. He tilted his head back, closed eyes looking up into the sky and letting the warmth of the sun beat down upon his face. He was lucky this was a world that didn’t require his helmet.

Man, he missed the sun. This was a pale comparison, but, it was something.

Blue was not reassured, which was fair. She was a mind reading sentient war machine, and Lance could respect that. She bristled. If he respected that, then he wouldn’t be lying to her.

“Fair enough,” He muttered, and ran a hand through his hair.

Some part of him debated giving Allura some more time. He felt better now that he wasn’t cooped up in Blue. But there was still an itch that he couldn’t scratch, a thought floating in the back of his mind: Allura wouldn’t come for Blue; not while he was there.

Lance looked back down at the churning purple water. It sparkled in the sunlight, or maybe he was seeing the glitter of the sand… or the reflection of the light blue sky? Ugh. Lance would complain about all the cool colors, but he didn’t want to offend Blue more than he already had.

This was supposed to be a goodbye after all. He ignored Blue’s rumble at the admission.

Lance hated goodbyes, but Blue already called him out on his lie, and really, Blue deserved better. She deserved so much more. She deserved a better paladin, pilot, and friend. She deserved someone who was as skilled at being a pilot as Keith, calm and diplomatic as Shiro, smart as Pidge, or as useful as Hunk. She deserved someone smarter, more likable… someone useful and better and not Lance.

“Look, Blue. I don’t want to leave you,” He started, pausing for a sigh. “But this is something I gotta do.” He took a deep breath and pushed himself off Blue, sliding down her and landing in the water with a splash.

The shock of hitting the cold water helped hide Blue’s reaction to his words. She was adamantly protesting against this.

The water was deeper than originally estimated, coming up to Lance’s chest. It was cold too, but nowhere near as cold as Blue. Lance was pretty sure that there wasn’t much as cold as Blue. And, after so much time with her, he was used to the cold, and how it sunk through his flesh and into his bones. He could handle this.

This was cakewalk compared to Blue.

Lance turned back around to give Blue another pat, wincing as he heard her whine again.

“Allura won’t come if I’m here.” He pursued his lips again, and watched her shudder, this time not with the force of a wave but from the strain of trying to move. “Y… you’re hurt.” He cleared his voice half way through the sentence, and had to look away as he saw her shudder again. “You’re hurt and… and… if I leave, Allura will come get you.”

“I can’t help you, Blue. This... this is the… this is for the best of everyone.”

Blue was reaching out for him now, desperate and scared. He felt her emotions echoed in himself, in the pain in his chest and the sudden difficulty in breathing. His hand was shaking when he pulled back away from Blue, and he took a few steps backwards, stumbling under sand that gave away too easily under his shoes.

Blue shuddered again. Her eyes lit up yellow as she attempted a roar. A wave crashed into her, and she fell silent, the light from her eyes fading.

Lance turned his back to her, wiping away at the water on his face, and told himself it was just the sea water that’d been splashed upon his face.

The waves, while broken from Blue, still crashed into him, sending him spinning forward a couple times, but it was always in the direction he needed. He wasn’t sure how much time he spent wading through the strange purple water until he hit the beach, but it couldn’t have been too long.

The tiny blue crystals that make up the sand stuck to his shoes and clothes, kicked up by his dragging feet, and sticking due to the dampness of his clothes. He was pretty sure there was sand in his hair too, from the few times he took a tumble in the water.

Physically, Blue remained silent. In the back of his mind, however, he felt her. She was a constant presence trying to coerce him into turning around and returning. She’d already more Paladins leave then she wanted to, she didn’t want to see another.

Lance wasn’t giving her much of a choice in that regard.

The others didn’t want him. They didn’t trust him, and they didn’t want him on the castle. And that was fair. He didn’t want to be there anymore than they wanted him.

He didn’t look back at Blue as he walked up the beach. He didn’t look back at her when the sand turned to bluish green stone and dirt. He didn’t turn back when his clothes dried, and some of the sand fell off of him with every step, catching the light of the sun like jewels as they fell. He didn’t turn back as the sky darkened and he approached a settlement with what looked like outgoing traffic going up to a… space mall moon.

How convenient for him. Finally, something seemed to be looking out for him.

The locals were strange creatures, with large bug eyes and no mouths that he could see. Their heads were mostly taken up by horns; and they remind Lance of larger, taller versions of the Arusians. Thankfully, they had translators, and Lance was able to convey to them that he wanted to go to the swap moon.

The further he was from Blue, as much as it hurt, the better.

Thankfully, money didn’t seem to matter for these guys. They took one look at Lance before they swarmed him, and when he expressed that he wanted to go to the Swap moon/Space mall place, they’d been more than happy to help him get there.

Maybe they really liked him enough to want to help him. Or perhaps, they just want Lance off their planet. He was the stranger here, after all.

The trip up was uncomfortable, and Lance revised his thoughts of them trying to get rid of him.

Those on the shuttle seemed to be taken with him. They all wanted to touch him: his hair, his arms, his legs, his clothes… but mostly his hair. Thankfully, once at the trader moon, they all dispersed to the destinations, leaving Lance standing alone in the lobby. For once, Lance wasn’t going to complain about being alone.

Lance sat down on a bench, letting out a sigh and tipping his head back to look up at the fractal glass ceiling.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, or even if he was making the right choice. Part of him heavily debated turning back around and going to Blue. But, no. He’d left her; hopefully so Allura could find her and take care of her. Maybe even find her a new Paladin.

So where did that leave Lance? He could try to find a way back to Earth? And possibly lead the Galra back there? Ha. Nope. Lance didn’t think so.

Living in a Space Mall wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. He’d contemplated living in a mall when he was younger. Dreaming up zombie invasions and what he’d do and where he’d go. He was past those days. Time to dream bigger, and what was bigger than a mall that was literally an entire moon?

That still left him with the question of ‘what now’.

Did he stay here and become a space mall hobo? Should he live out the rest of his days as a Space Pirate? With what ship and what crew? Settle down and become an obedient member of the Galra Empire society? Ha! He’d rather die.

That was probably the fate awaiting him, anyways.

He was a strange creature, on a strange planet – well, moon now – far, far away from his home. …Maybe he’d get lucky and get a cushy life in a zoo or something. He could see it now. He’d make a fabulous exhibit. He could even do tricks for decent food that wasn’t space goo.

Thanks to his past experiences with aliens, like the ones who helped him get up here. Maybe alien creatures found him as pretty as he found long haired half Galras or Alteans, or… fuck it, he could find beauty in quite a few alien races. So maybe they could find beauty in him?

Wait.

Tyrac! Tyrac was a trader! It was possible that no one had heard of him here, but, this was a Trade Moon… soooooo… It was a long shot, but maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought. All he needed to do was find a store keeper or a shopper or someone who knew Tyrac, and ask if they could get a message out to him.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!

Even better, Tyrac knew all about Lance’s troubles with his previous team, and so far, had been judgement free for Lance. Why was Lance only just now thinking about this?! He should have asked Tyrac for assistance ages ago, back when he was still on the Castle of Lions and miserable.

In the meantime, though, Lance needed to figure out some short-term stuff. Like, what he was going to do until he found Tyrac or someone who knew him. Lance could always go get some GAC from a fountain, like he and Pidge did when they visited the other space mall… or he could do what Hunk did and find some work.

Honestly, he’d rather do what he did with Pidge, but, like so many things, the memory hurt to think of. Besides, he didn’t want security attacking him again. As funny as it was then, he didn’t have the option to escape easily this time.

Besides, if he did some work, then he’d see and meet more people, which meant more opportunities to ask about Tyrac. And, if he could get some GAC to his name, that’d just be a bonus.

Alright, he had a plan now… now it was just a matter of making it happen.

Chapter Text

Getting a job at the Space Mall was surprisingly easier than Lance had first suspected. Or perhaps it wasn’t too surprising, considering that Hunk managed it in the other Space Mall in less than in a varga; although for him it’d been a very short lived indentured servant/slave kind of deal.

Which Lance made sure not to end up in, thank you very much.

Lance’s new job was a whole lot less stress inducing than being a Defender of the Universe, although, that wasn’t to say it didn’t come with its own different stresses. Retail was retail, no matter where in the universe it was, evidently.

Customers weren’t too bad, although they had a horrible habit of gawking at Lance like they’d never seen a human before. Which Lance knew wasn’t true since a good majority of the Exotic Goods shop that he worked at sold human items.

In Alien terms, ‘exotic goods’ meant items from pre-warp planets, and Earth was evidently produced the most popular ‘exotic’ items.

Ugh. Lance hated being called exotic.

BUT, it was because Lance was ‘exotic’ that Lita gave him a job at her shop. It wasn’t like Lance had to do anything really difficult. He just needed to look pretty, sell some stuff, sometimes explain what something was, and try not to murder the customers because the translators didn’t want to work properly with him.

In exchange for those services, Lita gave him a place to stay via her couch, food, and occasionally some lunch money he could spend at some of his favorite food places.

Sure, it sucked being surrounded by things that reminded him of home all the time, but there were plenty of distractions available. Lita often encouraged, and enforced, breaks, and during those times, Lance was free to wander the mall as he saw fit. And the mall was nothing if not full of distractions.

Lance had met more aliens through this mall than he’d ever met during all his travels as a Paladin of Voltron. So far, he’d met Unilu, Galra, Olkari, and so many others.

The Galra mostly worked security – and were heavily avoided – but some were shop owners, traders, or customers. The Unilu owned most of the shops. He’d ran into some Olkari, some sloth-people, bird-people, and some blob like androgynous people. Honestly, he’s seen too many different species to list them all off, just like he’d seen so many different wares: from Human video games to Olkari goods, or even Balmerian Crystal Jewelry.

Allura and Coran may have known a lot about different species and cultures, but their information was 10,000 years out of date. All of Lance’s new-found information was 90% up to date, and recent.

For example, for as much as Coran was all like ‘Unilu = bad’, the Unilu here were pretty chill. Most of the ones he interacted with were around his age, like Lita, Rueben, or Anita. And they weren’t much different from how humans acted around this age.

It was a bit disheartening that despite everyone he’d met, not a single one of them knew of Tyrac. It wasn’t like he’d expected instant success, but he’d hoped to have some sort of progress to the future. He couldn’t be a space mall hobo forever after all.

Ignoring his failure in finding out about Tyrac, Lance felt he was learning a lot. He was learning about different species, learning about different cultures, and also, unfortunately, learning about politics.

The last part couldn’t be helped seeing as Reuben’s Snack and Sandwich bar wasn’t far from one of the lobby areas; the most prominent features of which were the large televisions which proudly displayed mall information, commercials, and current Galra propaganda.

And oh, was the propaganda strong in this mall, especially compared to the last one he’d been in.

Perhaps it had something to do with this Prince Lotor guy taking over as Emperor while his father recovered from some injuries, the cause of which had not been officially covered. Then again, considering the content of the propaganda, perhaps it was just normal for this mall.

Although, a good deal of the propaganda seemed to be targeted towards children. Which, in a sick twisted way, made sense. After all, children were the voice of the future.

There was some cartoon, Battle for the Stars, that told the story of Zarkon’s win against the Alteans ten thousand years ago. There were a couple of places which aired the episodes, most of them children play areas or food areas.

The playgrounds were designed to look like the giant battle cruisers in Zarkon’s fleet. Kid’s meals came with toy versions of the blasters that the sentries used. Lance’s favorite cookie shop sold Empire Emblem shaped cookies, which were fan-quiznaking-tastic if Lance did say so himself.

Nothing was better than taking a huge bite of the Galra emblem and getting purple sprinkles everywhere.

Toy stores for kids were full of action figures of Zarkon, his well-known generals, and some of the more popular gladiator champions – Shiro included. There were even little Druid dolls too.

There was even a Trading Card Game which focused on the Gladiator matches, and reminded Lance a bit of Magic: The Gathering. Evidently, getting the Foil Shiro Card was basically the equivalent of getting the Blue Eyes White Dragon in the Yugi-oh Anime. He’d already seen one legitimate fight break out over that card.

Propaganda wasn’t just for kids. There were also some very adult stores which featured very interesting adult toys. Lance was no stranger to that side of adult fun, but #sorrynotsorry, he just wasn’t interested in a ‘replica’ squirting Zarkon toy.

No thanks.

There were posters of Zarkon for all ages, some of which even enforced the idea of joining Zarkon’s military force. Enlistment centers were at every third or so intersection.

So far, Lance had yet to see any merchandise for this Prince guy, but Lance figured it was only a matter of time. Evidently, the Prince preferred being out of the limelight of the people, and was said to prefer severing the people of the empire out of public view. Or so the grapevine said.

Lance honestly didn’t really know because he tended to avoid the TVs like a plague. Already they had influenced his dreams to include echoes of ‘Vrepit Sa!’ and the stupid jingle for the Slice Capades shop commercial.

Speaking of the Slice Capades shop commercial… a week into staying at the Swap Moon and that commercial had already become Lance’s most hated thing from the TVs. Lance was convinced that if he had to hear that stupid jingle one more time then he was going to scream. Earth commercials had nothing on this.

Besides, people were the real sources of information. Not the TVs. People around here tended to talk like they didn’t think anyone was listening.

Just listening onto a couple conversations informed him about the ongoing Civil War on Pollux, which was started over a scandal with the Royal Family. Demos recently joined the Galra Empire peacefully, although there was some scandal about their princess trying to force a relationship between herself and the prince.

Speaking of the Prince, besides not wanting to be in the lime light… he also evidently was a half-breed with questionable maternal heritage. Lance personally hoped that the Prince got his looks from his mother. He wouldn’t wish the curse of Zarkon’s ugliness on anyone.

Although, based off some things Lance wished he had mind bleach for… some people did.

In any case, the populous were understandably worried about this prince guy, but there were also quite a few people with high hopes for him. There was a good chunk of people who thought that a change in leadership was needed after so long under Zarkon’s rule. But, people didn’t like change generally on principal, so there were still quite a few who were apprehensive about this all.

Not all whispers among the people were about the Empire. There were some, although not many, about Voltron.

Voltron was a tricky subject for the people.

It was featured in Battle for the Stars as a weapon that Zarkon used, and then was used to seal away the Alteans after defeating the horrible evil King Alfor of Altea. After ten thousand years of peace, however, Voltron was discovered, and that broke the seal, releasing the horrible witch princess Allura.

Longtime fans thought this new villain was rather lack luster, and it was a current fan theory that King Alfor would return to guide his daughter. After all, if she could be around after ten thousand years, perhaps the king was still around too.

Anyways, so, in the season premiere, Allura bewitched the people who found Voltron into becoming her loyal minions and piloting the lions. She cast a spell upon the Champion to make him think that he loved her – Blegh – and she was manipulating him into piloting the Black Lion for Evil.

…

So yeah, the kid’s show was pretty quiznaked up, but hey, it killed about two hours of Lance’s time every day. They were doing a marathon to celebrate the premiere of the newest season.

Anyways, with that to go off of, the population was pretty… weird about Voltron.

In some ways, the cartoon was good. It provided a decent cover for people who wanted to talk about Voltron… the real Voltron. Lance already had heard theories that it was Voltron that had injured Zarkon. There were whispers of Voltron’s exploits, and stories that Lance knew were true because he’d lived them.

The Unilu were willing to pay a decent price for any information. Especially in regard to the Blue or Black Lions, since evidently, they were missing.

Lance was hot news. Cool. Too bad he’d never rat out his former teammates. Even if he really wanted the GAC that the Unilu were offering for that info.

It wasn’t like Lance was trying to listen and find out about his team. Really, he wasn’t. He was content watching the stupid – so very stupid – cartoon, and ignoring everything wrong with it.

Not meaning to listen about it though didn’t change the fact that he still heard information.

Lance was thankful he was already sitting. His hands shook as he continued to listen to some kids talking about Voltron, and playing voice recordings of his team’s voices. Evidently, some of their communications had been over General communication lines, and people had tapped into that to record them.

That wasn’t what was important to Lance though. No, what was important was that Blue had a new pilot. She must have, because Lance was her pilot and he was here. And if Lance was here, and she was elsewhere, then there had to be a new Paladin.

Right?

His heart sunk as it was confirmed by the kids. They were complaining about the quality of voice in the General Communications recordings, but even through the garbled static, he could recognize Coran’s voice.

Looked like Coran finally got his wish of piloting a lion. Blue was always most accepting of new Paladins.

“Shame, I really liked the previous Blue Paladin’s voice.” Rueben commented.

The look he gave Lance was almost knowing. Almost. But there was no way Reuben could have known. Even if he’d heard all the recordings, they were usually too garbled to properly hear someone’s voice. And there were no visuals on what the Paladins looked like. Unless one counted the cartoon.

And no. Just, no. The only ones who looked how they should was Shiro and Zarkon.

Anyways, Lance had, against his better judgement, heard all the recordings, even those with his voice on them. There was no way Reuben could have matched Lance’s voice to the recordings. Then again, Lance successfully matched Coran to the recording, and that recording was one of the worst quality ones he’d heard yet. But, he knew Coran.

“The new one sounds like they just took their mechanic and strapped him into the lion.” Anita, Reuben’s cousin, chimed in. “Although, they really shouldn’t be playing that in public.” She huffed and shook her head.

“They probably did.” Lance finally responded. He still hadn’t pulled his gaze up from the table, but he saw the arm Rueben was resting on the table jolt, like he hadn’t expected Lance to speak.

“What?”

“About the mechanic, stupid.” Anita replied to Reuben. “Makes me wonder how short staffed they are.”

“Makes me wonder what’s needed to be a ‘paladin’.” Reuben countered. He leaned over grabbed one of Anita’s finished sandwiches – ignoring her noise of protest – and placed it in front of Lance. “I thought more was needed than just being a convenient body.”

“Guess not.” Lance shrugged and picked up the sandwich to look through its layers. He knew Reuben wouldn’t feed him anything bad, but… it gave him something else to do than focus on the fact that he’d been replaced.

Quiznak. He still wasn’t ready for that. Like, he’d expected it. He’d even go as far as to say that he’d wanted it. But… it didn’t change the fact that it hurt.

Rueben tapped his fingers against the bar. “It’s not going to kill you.”

Lance rolled his eyes, finally raising his gaze to look up at Rueben. Rueben rolled his eyes back at him, and made a face when Lance smirked and took a big bite out of the sandwich. Beside Rueben, Anita huffed and crossed all of her arms.

“Quit your flirting,” She snapped at Lance, narrowing her eyes when he stuck his tongue out at her. “And you,” She turned on Ruben, uncrossing her arms to jab at him with her finger, “get back to work, and stop giving the stray free food. We’ll never get rid of him at this rate.”

“Awh! Anita, baby, I thought you loved me!” Lance pouted. “You wound me with your cruel words.”

Anita rolled her eyes, although when Rueben turned away, she gave him a wink and a snack. Lance pocketed it for later, and waggled his eyebrows at her. She arched an eyebrow back, and returned to her own work with a fond smile.

Of course, now that his distractions were distracted, it was hard for his thoughts to not stray back to his replacement.

He knew they’d replace him. He’d knew they’d replace him instead of Shiro. After all, he was the seventh wheel. He wasn’t important like Shiro, or the others. Lance was replaceable, and Blue was always the most accepting of new Paladins.

This confirmed what Lance already knew. Allura had been putting off getting Blue back because of him. They picked up Blue not long after Lance left, probably.

There wasn’t much that could make Lance’s day worse, so he finished up his sandwich and decided to head back to Lita’s shop. After all, he had two jobs to do: help Lita, and find Tyrac.

“Heading out?” Reuben asked.

“Yeah, gotta make my keep someway, ya know?” Lance shrugged.

“I hear ya. Well, don’t be a stranger!”

“Rue! Don’t invite him back! That’s how we get strays!” Anita smacked Rueben, and Lance laughed, turning away and heading out with a wave of his hand. Behind him, he could hear their bickering continued until the noise of the mall swallowed it up.

The fastest way back to Lita’s shop involved him passing through that Lobby area. Hopefully, if he was lucky, he’d manage without hearing the stupid Slice Capades jingle.

The largest TV gave out a loud news jingle, prompting Lance to mentally groan and drag his feet. While it wasn’t anywhere near as annoying as the Slice Capades shop commercial, Lance wasn’t in the mood to hear political nonsense. Usually he timed his departure from Rueben’s to avoid both, but it appeared his timing was off today.

Normally, he couldn’t hear the TV inside of Rueben’s bar. He’d gotten ‘lucky’ – if one could say that – and every time he’d passed by the TVs before, they’d been playing various commercials and the Slice Capades jingle. Why couldn’t they play the cartoon’s theme song? That was at least catchy.

Today was not Lance’s day, he thought. Clearly the Universe wanted to enact Murphey’s law upon him as just when he thought his day couldn’t get any worse, it did.

As he approached the lobby, he heard, for the first time, Prince Lotor’s first public Announcement to the Empire.

Now, this announcement had been playing on the news for like a week now, but Lance hadn’t given it any mind. Most of what he’d heard about Prince Lotor was from the grapevine or verbatim from the news.

A couple people had quoted the speech. Something about Lotor’s father building the Empire on the Bones of his Enemies, or something. Lance really hadn’t been listening then, but he was listening now.

He raised his gaze to the screen, hoping that he was hearing wrong – praying that he was hearing wrong. He hadn’t.

He thought his day couldn’t get any worse, but that was before he watched Tyrac smile reassuringly to the Galra Empire and finish his speech off with the words of the empire: “Vrepit Sa!”

Chapter Text

Words could not explain how Keith felt upon seeing the Blue Lion. Relief might have been prominent, were he not looking at a half buried, half submerged Lion that he was 90% sure was empty. Any attempts at communication with the Lion failed, and her eyes were dull.

Somber was probably the more accurate word to describe how Keith felt.

Guilty was another word. If he’d been faster, if he’d been better… if he’d been everything that he’d blamed Lance for not being, then perhaps none of this would have happened.

He knew that Pidge and Hunk both still believed Lance to be inside the Blue Lion. But, Keith knew better. Lance had probably left like he’d been trying to do in the first place. Or perhaps he’d left to go try to find assistance.

It didn’t matter. All that Keith knew was that the moment that he and Red had looked at Blue they knew.

Perhaps Red and Blue were able to communicate, or perhaps it was just the instincts that came with being the Red Paladin, but… somehow, they both knew that the Blue Paladin would not be found with his Lion.

Yellow spent nearly a day trying to dig enough of Blue out of the sand so that she could be lifted. Keith had watched from the shoreline waiting for Hunk to give them the go head to help get Blue back up to the Castle.

Pidge had gone off to explore around this place, in case Lance was nearby, not that Keith thought that he was. She’d returned shortly before Yellow had finished, informing them all that the locals were of no help as they couldn’t even seem to remember her after she’d just spoken to them.

However, her worst complaint was with how obsessed over her hair they’d been. Given how well Lance took care of his hair, Keith was sure they would have remembered him if he’d stopped by. Perhaps who ever Lance had been talking to had picked him up.

Because, surely if Lance was in Blue then he would have come out. He would have reached out to them, sent a message or anything. There would have been something other than the radio silence they were getting.

Keith couldn’t even get a response through the bonds that they shared with their lions. He tried to connect like he’d someone managed to do during the battle. There was nothing, which did little to quell his fears or his guilt.

Once they did manage to get the Blue Lion up to the Castle, Allura had been quiet, staring at the Lion’s slumped form. Pidge and Coran were trying to get the Lion to open up, while Hunk stood quietly off to the side, fidgeting nervously.

Allura might have been trying to communicate with Blue, the way she tried with Black sometimes.

It was by this point that Keith knew that they’d all figured it out. They’d all finally admitted, to some degree, what he’d already realized. None were brave enough to confront it however, so it fell to Keith to do it for them.

In the end, it was Keith who brushed past Pidge and Coran, and wormed his way past Blue’s teeth and into her inner chambers.

The moment he took his first step in Blue, he realized he didn’t belong there. First, he stood out like a sour thumb with his red armor in a blue interior. Second, there was this pressure which pressed at him from all sides.

It was similar to the feeling one tended to get when they walked through a haunted house or a graveyard at night. He was an intruder. He was unwelcome. There was a definite sense of ‘wrongness’ here.

The feeling persisted as he explored Blue. Lance’s bunk was clearly slept in, and there was a small stack of food and water, some used and some not.

Guilt once again burned through Keith’s body. Lance hadn’t left immediately. He’d stayed, presumably waiting for them. If they’d been faster to find Blue, to find Lance… Keith shook his head. Nothing made sense. As broken as Blue was right now, her emergency signal should have gone off.

Why hadn’t they found Blue sooner? Why hadn’t the castled picked up on the signal?

Keith stared at the mess Lance had left behind, and imagined him huddled here in the dark, trying to reassure himself that someone would be coming for him. His hands tightened into fists, and he looked away, entering into the cockpit with hopes that Lance would be there, or that there’d be a note or something.

The sense of wrongness that had been plaguing him increased ten-fold.

He’d been in Black since Shiro had vanished, and not once had he felt like this. He felt like he was intruding. Like at any moment Lance, or his ghost, was going to pop up out of nowhere. Which honestly didn’t make any sense because there was no blood, no body, no sign of any struggle besides the usual struggle of life.

Beyond the mess, Lance might as well as just have vanished like Shiro had. Except, this was worse than Shiro’s disappearance in the aspect that Lance’s was all Keith’s fault.

If he’d been a better leader… Been the leader that Shiro wanted him to be, then maybe he could have prevented all this. Perhaps then Blue wouldn’t have broken screens and be missing a Paladin.

Keith rounded the chair, and paused, looking down at it. It was impossible to miss the last sign that Lance had been there. Just as it was impossible to not recognize the object’s meaning.

Folding up on the seat was Lance’s jacket.

Lance never went anywhere without his jacket. It was his last remaining true link to his home, to his family. There was no way that he would have left it willingly like this unless it was a message. A piece of him that he’d left behind for memories.

A goodbye.

Keith reached down, his fingertips barely grazing the stiff material.

The floor beneath him shook, a rumble echoing in his ears. Keith stumbled, his hand flying to the back of the chair to steady himself. The lights in the cockpit flickered on, flaring a red bright enough for Keith to shield his eyes.

Outside, he could hear his teammates’ shocked and worried cries.

The floor beneath Keith’s feet seemed to drop, along with his stomach. It didn’t even take Keith a second to realize what was happening. He didn’t think as he grabbed Lance’s jacket, and then was essentially spit out, tumbling down out of Blue’s mouth into the hangar.

Keith scrambled back up to his feet, ignoring the mental roar of Red’s indignation. She didn’t appreciate her Paladin being treated like that. She must have said something to Blue, because he could feel her roar in his bones.

Part of him wanted to cover his ears from the sheer volume of the roar, but something in his gut screamed at him that to do so would be death. Instead, he spun around with wide eyes, ignoring the ringing in his ears. He watched with quiet mute horror as the Blue Lion attempted to stand, and failed, falling back down and then roaring, again, in Keith’s face.

He couldn’t understand her, but he thought the message might have been for him to give the jacket back. The hand holding it clutched it tighter. Alternatively, she could have been screaming in response to Red, who’d fallen quiet.

From somewhere behind him, Keith heard Allura gasp. That was his only warning as Blue’s paw swiped out at him. Someone’s hand grabbed his collar, and he was yanked back before Blue’s attack could hit.

The ringing in Keith’s ears finally quieted to hear his savior.

“Quiznak.” Coran muttered, and then patted Keith’s back, smoothing out where he’d grabbed. “That was a close one, eh?” He was talking to Keith, but his eyes were on Blue.

Blue shuddered, and then came to stop. Her eyes dulled some, but they weren’t the dead eyes that Keith had seen on the beach.

Where Red’s anger had once burned had been replaced with pity. She felt sorry for her fellow Lion. She felt guilt. Keith’s stomach turned. He felt like he was going to be sick. This was Shiro all over again.

“Keith?” Hunk touched his shoulder. “Is that…?”

Keith looked down at the jacket, opening it up to look it over. Everyone fell silent, looking at the jacket. The fact Keith had the jacket, and the missing presence of the one who usually wore it was proof enough for them.

The silence didn’t last long. Keith turned on Coran, the jacket falling to his side, his hand still tightly grasping it.

He knew before he spoke that his words would be misspoken in anger. He knew that he should keep his silence. Lashing out at the undeserving had been what had started this whole mess with Lance. Yet the fire of his anger burned in his chest, and he needed to release it.

“Why didn’t we find them earlier?!” Keith demanded. His questions from earlier needed to be answered. It was too late for Lance, but what about the others? Keith would not allow this to happen again. “Her inside lights were red, and she’s clearly trashed, Coran. Why didn’t the Emergency Signals work?”

Coran was supposed to fix the castle, not go about snooping in people’s rooms, and forcing Lance into a corner the way he had. If Coran had been fixing the castle, like he was supposed to, then maybe they would have found Blue sooner. Maybe they’d have Lance with them now.

Maybe then Keith could apologize.

But, no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything, except hold Lance’s jacket, the physical proof of Keith’s failure to him.

“I don’t know.” Coran replied, looking down in sorrow.

Keith didn’t realize he was moving forward until Pidge shouted, and Hunk’s hands appeared on his shoulders, holding him back.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Keith didn’t know how Hunk had the capacity to even attempt to smooth the situation over right now. Hunk’s best friend was missing. Gone. Vanished. And if the castle or the lions were working properly, then he wouldn’t be!

“Keith!” Pidge shouted. “This wasn’t Coran’s fault!”

Hunk’s hold on Keith loosened. “Are you saying it’s Lance’s?” Hunk asked, incredulously.

“No, of course not!” Pidge replied. “But it’s not Coran’s!”

Chaos descended upon them all, although, miraculously no physical attacks were dealt. Hunk and Pidge were fighting over whose fault it was, and Keith was silent, glaring at Coran. Coran, for his part, had nothing to say; no answers to give.

“Paladins!” Allura shouted. Everything stopped. Allura looked at each person sternly. “This is not the time, nor the place. We shall see if we can recover Lance. If not, then I’m afraid we will need to find a new Blue Paladin.”

The room exploded into further chaos.

Chapter Text

Lance could handle this. He could totally handle this. He was so chill, he could have been Blue. Ha ha. Yeah right. But no, seriously, he could handle this. He just needed… time. He just needed to adapt.

It was totally common for one’s friend to turn out to be the prince of the enemy empire, right? Right?

So Tyrac was Prince Lotor. Tyrac, the friendly good Samaritan who helped Lance out. Tyrac who’d been Lance’s confidant. Tyrac, Lance’s Friend. That Tyrac. His Tyrac. The Tyrac he’d literally fought his friends over.

…

…

Quiznak.

Lance needed to sit down, or find the nearest bathroom. He was caught, torn in the middle between his stomach’s sudden upheaval and his legs sudden inability to hold him up.

He sunk down onto a nearby bench, nearly collapsing onto it. He couldn’t do this right now. He just couldn’t.

Quiznak. What he would have given for Blue right now. Someone who understood what he was going through. Someone who knew everything, who knew the whole story.

Man, he never thought that he’d want Blue's numbing chill, but he did.

This was almost as bad as the time he was told that he was adopted. He’d overheard his parents talking about it one night, and it’d shattered him. Now felt a lot like that, except 100 times worse because… oh Quiznak… because… his friends had been right.

He had been betraying them. He’d been betraying them all along, without even knowing it! The Galra probably knew where to send that Robeast because he’d been talking with the Quiznaking Prince!

If there was anything that Lance had learned from his time with the Unilu, it was that information pays.

Information pays, and he’d given Ty-no, Lotor, a proverbial goldmine of information about the paladins, Voltron, and the castle. He’d complained about Coran always having to work on the teludav. He’d talked about Keith and his heritage. He’d even brought up how Shiro was missing, and the effect it was having on the team! All of his complaints were inadvertently giving Lotor all the information he needed.

“What have I done?” He muttered to himself, shaking his head as he dropped it into his hands.

Mentally, he was reviewing every conversation he had with Ty-Lotor. He’d talked about Pidge’s inventions, and Hunk’s recipes. He’d brought up how Hunk was stressed, and hadn’t been able to do any stress baking recently.

He’d brought up Allura and her mice, and how they could communicate. He’d talked about how much he hated Cyropods, and the healing pods. He’d mentioned Slav, and how much of a genius he was, and what he could do.

And that was all just what Lance could remember. What about what he couldn’t? What about… what about Earth?! Earth, which he spoke so fondly of. He’d told Lotor that all the Paladins were from the same planet! Surely he’d would know it was Earth!

His friends were right not to trust Lance. They were right. So very, very right.

Quiznak. This was… this was horrible.

He was worse than useless now. He was… he’d been… he didn’t… He couldn’t even think the words, no matter how true they were.

Coran had noticed the device transmitting data, although, Lance had no idea if it’d been constant or not. Had it only been transmitting while Lance was talking to Lotor? Or had it always been transmitting? What other information had Lotor managed to get? In what other ways had Lance helped spy for the Galra.

And worse yet, here Lance was, in a Space Mall, looking around for Lotor for help. How much worse could Lance get?

Man, he really had fucked up this time, hadn’t he?

Shiro was right to yell at him for trusting as easily as he did. Shiro was right, and the team was right, and Lance was so very wrong.

This wasn’t the place to have a breakdown. The middle of the mall was the worst place for him to do this. He could be seen by the Mall security – and that’s an experience he never wanted to experience again.

He ran a hand through his hair and took a couple deep breaths. He counted to ten and back. After a few moments of that, he felt like he had a more stable hold on his emotions. He stood up, and headed back to the store, although, he wasn’t sure what he was going to be doing now.

He couldn’t continue to ask for Tyrac. That was asking for trouble. That much was for certain. If that was an alias that Prince Lotor tended to operate on, then it was only a matter of time before the wrong sort of people heard about him, and when they did… well, that was trouble. Trouble that Lance definitely didn’t want right now. He didn’t have weapons, or any form of defense, or anything. No Blue, nothing.

“Lance?” Lita called out as he entered the store. Thankfully, for once, the store wasn’t crowded with customers. There was a guy in the back, looking through the human art pieces.

“Yeah.” Lance replied, heading to the counter where Lita was.

“You back from your break already?” She asked. She leaned against the counter, and then paused, tilting her head as she looked Lance over. “…Everything alright? You don’t look too well.”

“I don’t feel too well.” Lance replied.

“Might have been something you ate.” Lita mused, resting her lower hands on her hips. “I heard that before he was lost in transfer, the Champion needed special dietary needs. Humans are picky.” She shrugged. “Take the rest of the day off, feel better.”

“Thanks, Lita. I owe you one.” Lance smiled softly at her and then headed towards the backroom which would lead to the ‘inner’ part of the mall and Lita’s apartment. Lita’s laughter followed him out.

Lance was almost to her apartment when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him off to a ‘side alley’.

“Hey!” Lance cried out as he was thrown against a wall, his cheek pressed against it as something clicked around his wrists. “What’s the meaning of-”

Lance was spun around, and cut himself off at the muzzle of the blaster pointed at his face. His gaze trailed up the blaster, to the Sentry holding said blaster.

“Silence.” The Sentry holding the blaster spoke.

“This the guy?” Another sentry was standing further back in the alley, barely out of Lance’s sight.

“Yeah, that’s him.” The response was so quiet, Lance could barely make out of the words. Whoever it was speaking, Lance didn’t think that he knew them.

“You gonna go quietly? Or are you gonna kick up a fuss?” The sentry asked Lance.

Well, that was nice of it. Probably meant that it didn’t know who Lance was, not really. He didn’t know what had caused this to happen, or what that person had said about Lance, but it didn’t matter. He was caught.

Besides, if he fought, he’d only cause trouble for himself, and whatever poor innocents would get involved. Lance nodded.

“Good.” He wasn’t even given a warning as the sentry swung his blaster at Lance’s head. “Best not to take chances though.” Lance heard as his vision faded to black.

Waking was not easy. He came and went as he woke, sometimes when he was being dragged, other times when he was being presumably handcuffed to something.

When he woke, it in a small little prison cell. Gone were the clothes that he’d bartered for while at the Swap Moon, instead, they’d been replaced by the black suit and gray rags worn by prisoners of the Empire.

“You’re awake.” The alien next to him smiled grimly. Lance turned his head to view the alien. It was one of the long lanky thin ones with the large bug eyes. One of them had been one of the prisoners on Sendak’s ship.

“Wh-where are we?” Lance’s voice caught, his throat was too dry, and he ended up coughing out his words. The alien offered him a hand to sit up, and then a small bowl.

Lance glanced down at the liquid in the bowl, but it was so dark in the cells it was hard to see anything. There might have been a faint glow, but he couldn’t quite tell. He wrinkled his nose, and put the bowl down.

He had no desire to try that just yet.

“Where none wish to be.” The alien replied grimly. As if to accent the alien’s words, there were the sounds of distant screams.

Great.

“That’s… encouraging.” Lance muttered.

“The only encouraging thing here is death.” The alien sighed. He leaned over and picked up the bowl and handed it to Lance again. “You should drink up. It hurts less later if you do.”

Well… well, that was even more encouraging. Thanks man, it was exactly what Lance really wanted to hear.

Lance accepted the bowl again, wrinkling his nose as he did so. He sighed, looking once more at the liquid. It hadn’t even been…

“How long have I been here?” Lance asked.

“Not long.”

… That was helpful.

Well, anyways, it hadn’t even been that long since he was at the space mall, but already he missed Lita’s home cooking, or Rueben’s subs, or the Empire Emblem cookies. Lance put the bowl back aside, and instead opted to curl up into a ball, resting his head on his knees.

He could feel the judging eyes of the Alien on him, but he didn’t care.

Everything about this situation sucked. First, he found out that Tyrac was the Prince of the empire. Then he was attacked by some sentries, and now he was stuck in a prisoner cell. Man, he couldn’t imagine what poor Lita was thinking. Probably that Lance just bailed on her. Great.

The screams in the distance died down, not that that was any more reassuring. Oh Quiznak. He was probably going to get tortured here, wasn’t he? At least he’d be able to relate to Shiro now, if he ever saw Shiro again.

He probably wouldn’t.

He’d probably never see the other Paladins ever again. He’d never see the castle. He’d never see Blue. He’d never see Earth. He’d never see his home.

This was his life now. He just had to accept that.

“So, what?” Lance asked. “We’re going to the Gladiator matches?” Well, Brightside, if he did well enough, he’d get an awesome action figure. Maybe he’d even be able to get up to Shiro’s level and get a cool trading card.

“If only we were so lucky.” Or not.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” Lance muttered.

If the Alien responded, Lance didn’t hear it. Not that it really mattered. The alien didn’t seem keen to actually answer any of Lance’s questions in a way that helped him. Or perhaps the alien didn’t know anymore than Lance.

After some time of Lance not drinking the bowl, the alien sighed and took back the bowl, drinking it all in one go. “You will regret not drinking that later.”

Oh yeah, Lance was sure. But, pardon him for not wanting to drink weird unknown things.

He passed the time by listening to the rhythmic sound of the sentries’ footsteps, although it wasn’t long until they stopped in front of Lance’s cell.

Lance looked up, and immediately regretted it.

He’d heard stories about the Druids of the Galra empire. He’d heard tales from prisoners that they’d saved, heard rumors from the dark corners of the mall about their experimentations. Keith had talked about Druids, and how they could move faster than one could think, and shoot out purple pink lightning with a thought.

Shiro, Lance knew, had some interactions with them. His arm was Druid-made after all. Although, if Shiro had talked about them, Lance hadn’t been privy to those conversations.

The creature standing before Lance’s cell was terrifying. The creature’s form was covered and hidden by a shapeless hood and cloak. The only real identifying feature was the blank white mask, with the yellow glowing eye slits. At least, Lance thought it was a mask.

Regardless, there was little to no doubt in Lance’s mind that this creature was a Druid, and that yes, the alien was correct: this was a place none wished to be.

The Druid nodded, and the sentries flanking him moved forward, the door sliding open at their approach. Lance sprung to his feet, and moved forward. There was a flash of bright pinkish purple, and then pain as Lance was thrown against the wall.

He fell to the floor, blinking away hot violet specks in his vision. The sentries paid him no mind, stepping past him to his alien cellmate.

Said cellmate curled himself into the corner of the cell, but did not resist physically when the sentries dragged him out.

“No, please!” Verbally, however, was a different story. “I’ll do anything, please!” Lance’s cellmate cried out.

Lance couldn’t just let this happen. He shook away the spots in his vision, and once more, Lance surged forward. Again, purplish pink filled his vision as he was hit by the same burning energy as before. His head cracked as he hit against the wall again. Darkness took his vision as he watched the sentries drag his cellmate away.

Lance woke only a few moments later, although it was already too late for his cell mate. He curled up in a ball in the corner of the cell. If that was the fate that awaited him, then yeah, that alien was right about another thing: the only encouraging thing here was death.

Perhaps it was what he deserved. After all, he’d betrayed his friends, and then abandoned them to go live on a space mall while he searched for the person that he’d betrayed his friends to.

Okay, so that was a bit melodramatic. No one deserved to be a Druid experiment. No one deserved to be an experiment in general. Maybe they were all just over thinking this all. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as they were all thinking.

The screams didn’t really help sell that idea, but, it was worth a shot. His cellmate would probably be returning perfectly fine any moment now.

Lance’s cell mate never returned. Although, some sentries stopped by to push a bowl of the same strange liquid as before under the door. Lance eyed it warily, not sure if it was a good idea to take it or not.

It was possible that it was drugged. As a matter of fact, that was more than likely considering it ‘made it hurt less later’ according to his cellmate. Getting drugged was not on Lance’s priority to-do list. But, Lance wasn’t too keen experience the pain later, and if this helped dull the pain, then perhaps he should take it.

But why would the Druids even offer this? It helped the prisoners by dulling the pain. Why would they do that, unless it was for some other sinister purpose.

Lance poured the bowl out, deciding not to take whatever crap it was. He liked not being drugged, thank you very much.

It took some time before the sentries came for Lance. When they did, he didn’t bother to fight. There was no way he’d be able to overpower the Druid. He’d already learned that.

Besides, even if he did fight, what would it accomplish beyond his pain and possible death? He was one man against unknown amounts of Druids and Galra. One man against an army without even a weapon. At least Shiro had inside help when he escaped.

He walked willingly between the sentries, the Druid following behind to ensure his cooperation. They took him to a room, where another Druid waited and shackled him with energy shackles to what was essentially a standing gurney.

“Answer our questions, human, and all will be fine.” The Druid who’d walked him to the room spoke. For some odd inexplicable reason, Lance doubted what it was saying; but it didn’t seem like a good idea to express as such to his captors.

“Sure thing.” Lance smiled and shrugged. He wasn’t planning on telling them anything. He was done betraying his friends. But, maybe if the Druids thought he was going to be helpful then they’d be nicer to him? Unlikely, but worth trying. “What’cha wanna hear?”

The Druids looked at each other, and Lance got the definite impression that they were smiling at each other. His mind attempted to conjure faces beneath the masks, and Lance cringed at the sharp teeth and long tongues that his mind created. Ugh. No thank you.

Lance blinked, and suddenly his vision was completely obscured by a Druid. It leaned towards him until their faces were literally face to face.

Or well, Mask to Face.

The Druid’s hand reached up to touch Lance’s face. Its sharp nails skimmed against his cheek as the creature stroked the side of his face, cupping his cheek in a way that for anyone else might have been comforting.

“You will tell us everything.” The Druid promised.

Chapter Text

There was something to be said about torture: it sucked.

No… no, saying it sucked was like saying vampires suck; that was such a no brainer. Honestly, Lance didn’t really have anything to describe torture to, which all in all meant that he’d probably lived a good life.

Like most ignorant people in the world, Lance had stupidly joked about torture before. It was a luxury of the privileged: to complain that XYZ was torture, even if XYZ was something as simple as doing some homework or as complicated as giving a cat a bath – Lance made that mistake ONCE, and he would never attempt that again, thank you very much.

But this. This. This right now, what he was experiencing. This was torture. Clear cut, plain and simple.

The first thing he learned was that time did not exist here. He’d thought that Shiro was exaggerating when he’d said that he had no clue how long he’d been missing. But now, Lance could relate; although, he wished he couldn’t.

Lance couldn’t tell how long it’d been since he was taken from his cell and strapped to this table. His hands, waist, and ankles were already numb with the buzzing dark energy of the restraints. ‘Days, months, years;’ indeed, Shiro. Lance understood it now, he really did.

He had to give Shiro some props for surviving as long as he did, if Lance ever saw Shiro again; after all, Lance now knew that the Druids didn’t mess around.

He didn’t know how long the Druids had been in the room. They came and left at their leisure. He tried timing them once. However, they realized he was focusing on that, and well, they gave him something a bit more concerning to focus on.

Major Payne style.

It hurt, and when he said ‘it hurt’, Lance meant everything hurt. It felt like he’d been hit with that Druid weapon from before – the Kumar – except this was so much worse because it wasn’t targeting five Paladins and their protective lions, but just him.

Except, unlike the Kumar, this wasn’t draining him of energy. This was more like he was being packed with too much. So an opposite Kumar, whatever that would be.

It felt like there was a pressure building inside of him, making him spasm as energy surged through his body. He felt like he was going to explode, or melt, or spontaneously combust. Actually, any of those options would be significantly less painful than what he was experiencing now.

Man. He wished he’d taken the offered drugs earlier. Sinister plots be damned, he’d kill for some painkillers right now. Stupid past Lance being paranoid, didn’t he know that current Lance needed it?!

A hand clasped his cheek, claws biting into his soft flesh there as the Druid lifted his head.

“There’s no point in keeping your silence anymore.” The Druid cooed. “We know who you are.”

Lance attempted to spit at the Druid, but the way that the Druid was holding his face made it difficult. His attempt dribbled down his chin.

“Poor, poor Paladin.” The Druid ‘soothed’. “Except you’re not anymore, are you? Abandoned by your team, replaced, and forgotten.” The other Druid, the one in the back of the room, laughed, while the one that had spoken tsked.

Great. Even his enemies were laughing at him now.

“Tell us all about it.” The Druid in front of him purred.

Lance shook his head.

“So much knowledge, locked up in your head.” The Druid from the back of the room sighed. “If only we had the key.” The Druid in front of Lance nodded at the other, and then stepped back. Lance closed his eyes, already anticipating what was going to happen. “Oh wait, we do.”

The Druid hit something, and electricity arced through Lance, causing spots to dance in the place between his eye and his eyelid. His body spasmed, although it was held down by the restraints, which added their own electric burn to the sensations.

The energy within him spiked, rising up to a crescendo. The dots of white splatter across his vision grew in size until it was all he could see.

He felt close, he didn’t know what he was close to, but he knew he was close. It was like he was at an edge of a cliff, and he didn’t know what was below it; but anything had to be better than this. He’d willingly step off if he could, if it’d stop this pain.

Except, he was yanked back. His air choked off for a moment, despite his lungs burning for oxygen. He was drowning without any water, and the Druids graciously allowed him a moment to relearn how to breath. His throat was sore from his screaming. He could feel sweat and tears running down the side of his face.

“Hmm, a little longer, I think.” The Druid mused.

Lance didn’t care how much longer, he wasn’t planning on cracking. He’d die before he told them anything more about the Paladins, Voltron, or the castle. Besides, even if he wanted to tell the Druids something, he couldn’t.

He didn’t know anything new, anything important. He was as useless to the Galra now as he was to the team. Man, for once, Lance loved that he was useless.

“Fuck off.” Spit literally flew from his mouth as he snarled the words. He’d tried flirting and joking earlier, whenever that had been. That hadn’t gotten him any favors. None at all.

Laughter and jokes had been stripped from him, leaving him more defenseless than he’d felt in a long time. Humor had been such a personal shield for such a long time, paired with his obnoxious skill with annoying people. Now, he had neither, and he was left bare boned, showing off the most basic of human defenses: brute vulgarity.

He wanted to curl up in a ball. He wanted to wipe the tears, sweat, and snot off his face. He wanted his family. He wanted to be home.

It didn’t matter what he wanted. What mattered was what he had, and he had two Druids who were more than willing to torture him a bit more.

The electric energy coursed back through his body. He didn’t know if he was screaming. He didn’t know if he was breathing.

He barely felt his body as it convulsed; bruised wrists thrashing against the energy restraints as he tried to arch away from the pain, away from the energy. He didn’t feel it when his head crashed against the board for the umpteenth time in the misguided belief that maybe, just maybe, he could knock himself out.

All he could feel was the energy twisting inside of him, squeezing him and pushing against limits and blocks he hadn’t known existed before. The pressure kept building. More and more and more. He could feel it rising, faster than before, bolstered by previous progress. It pushed against those newly discovered boundaries, like a shaken soda pressing against the cap of a bottle.

There was a morbid bit of curiosity lingering in his mind. The type that wondered what would happen to him when he died. Would anybody miss him? Would anybody care? Would he just be another missing person, another unsolved case? What about his family?

He was pretty sure that Voltron team wouldn’t care. After all, they’d replaced him. They didn’t care. But his family? He was sure they cared still.

The curiosity was also the type that questioned what would happen when those boundaries inside him finally gave. Would he find new limits and blocks… would there be anything left of him to find new limits and blocks? Would he be left as just as empty useless shell? What was at the bottom of the cliff that Lance was so desperate to take a free fall off of?

He could almost imagine the cliff.

He could see it’s outline in the growing white spots in his vision. When white was all he could see, color started to fill in. It looked like the cliffs where they all found Blue, where their adventure started. It was fitting he should see the beginning in his own end.

He heard the roar of the wind in the crackle of energy that surged through and around him. He heard the Druid say something, but their words were lost on him, and the energy did not cease. If anything, it grew.

Good. At this point, he didn’t want it to cease. He wanted this, whatever it is. It sung to him, in the static wind. A familiar song. His song. It called out to him, familiar and safe.

He felt the wind and heat of the sun in the trembles of his body. He was so close. He felt like if he could just take one more step, then he’d be flying. Just one more step, just one more push. He felt calmer than he thought he should, given the situation. Yet, he felt bolstered by his own smooth confidence.

Lance plastered a smile to his face, and with a swagger in his step, moved forward.

When someone walked up the stairs in the dark, it didn’t matter how familiar that person was with the stairs, they almost always expect there to be one more step than there was. Lance’s foot met no resistance. There was no extra step at the top of the stairs, and he fell.

There was a moment. A freeze frame moment of his life, looking out at the cliffs where he found Blue.

The sun was high in the sky, and there wasn’t a single cloud visible, showcasing the brilliant blue sky. The wind whistled in his ears, singing to the tune of the song in his heart. It was a beautiful day. The moment ended.

The wind whistling in his ears grew louder and louder until he thought his ears were going to pop. The noise was rising higher and higher like a rising Shepard Tone. Never stopping, always going.

He saw the ground, but it wasn’t the ground anymore. Instead, it was an ocean; choppy waves breaking the water’s surface tension for him and hitting up against the cliff. He hit the water and dissolved into static.

Time didn’t exist here either.

He wasn’t even sure he existed here. He was the static around him just as much as the static was him.

Was this death? This endless expanse of self and static. This plane in reality where nothing existed, but in that nothingness, everything existed. Was this all there was?

The Druids had pushed him past his limits, and this was it. He’d broken his limits the moment he’d stepped off that cliff. Were those limits the limits of his life? Was he really that close to death all that time, or was this something else? Something more?

Was his body still alive? Like the lights were on, but no one was home. Could the Druids use that to their advantage, or would he be tossed away like space trash?

He wasn’t sure he liked the answers to those questions, and yet, he wasn’t sure he cared. It was hard to care about anything in static. Static was unforgiving, unmoving, and yet, forever changing. It was rather apathetic, but soothing. Irritating, yet able to calm the nerves it set on fire.

Memories had no meaning here. So, he could say that the static was white noise, but he couldn’t know for sure. But, he’d like to say that he knew the sound of white noise, and the static was not it. The frequency was all wrong. Static was static, except when it wasn’t.

He didn’t know how long he drifted, but sensation came back in small ripples.

First came touch. He could feel the warm buzzing energy of the restraints against him. He could feel the heat of his skin where he’d rubbed against the restraints, pulled against them. He could feel his body, complete with the tiny ice pinpricks where the electricity had fried his nerves.

There were hands against his skin, cool and hot, clammy and moist. They were touching him, his chest, his ears, his face.

Worse than that, Lance’s whole body ached. It wasn’t painful, parse, but more like the ache following a series of stretches, or after yoga with his sisters, or a thrilling dance session. It was the burn of muscles, and how they jumped after a long workout or run. Yet, it went deeper than that. Deeper than bones. Further than physically possible, into his being.

His whole existence hurt like he’d over stretched, like he’d worked out whatever he was made of – his entire state of being.

Audio came next. In broken shattered fragments, he heard the rush of voices, not that he could comprehend what they were saying. Noise faded in and out like bad phone reception. There were snippets of words, half started and half finished.

“…-ean… Tha-… -sib-... ..-ear…is. …-gar.”

The two Druids who Lance had spent such a lovely time with had two completely different voices. Yet now they seemed to blend and blur until they were the same.

Some of the hands on him disappeared. Nothing made sense anymore, and Lance wasn’t sure he wanted it to. Things making sense meant he was alive, and honestly, given how things were... he wasn’t sure he wanted that.

No.

No. No. Of course, he wanted to be alive.

He wanted to see his mom again. Not just his mom, but his grandmother, father, and all of his siblings. He wanted to see everyone, and he wanted to see them smiling, free from the Galra. If he died now, he’d never get that. Never.

He didn’t get a change to further regain himself. The hands on his face touched something which set off sparks inside of him.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t want it, whatever it is. He recoiled the only way he could, and with barely a thought, he was lost to static again.

Once again, he lost track how much time passed. How could he keep track when time didn’t exist there at all? Regardless, he felt like he came back quicker than before. Or maybe it only felt like that and he’d actually been out for much longer.

Like before, sensation was the first thing he regained.

Someone was holding his chin, and he felt their breath on his face. Something sharp pressed against his cheek bones, and he felt his body spasm. That foreign feeling from before creeped through him until it was draped over his senses for a moment. When the sharpness was removed, so was that strange foreign creeping feeling.

Curiosity, his mind supplied. He wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything.

Sensation was followed by sound. There was a new voice, a feminine one. It grated against his ears, and made him shudder. His brain was too scrambled to make out words, but he didn’t like the tone in which the voice spoke.

He knew she was asking him questions, and he felt his mouth move, heard his voice talking… but he couldn’t make out what he said. Hopefully it was just babbles, and nothing important.

He got the feeling it was, since the lady’s tone became nastier and nastier, like she was upset at him. Good. Let her be angry at him. He didn’t care anymore.

He blinked his eyes, and his vision returned slowly.

Perhaps in her earlier years, the lady before him might have been considered attractive, although now she just seemed like an elderly cranky woman. Her purplish-blue skin screamed ‘Galra’, but the lack of fur, scales or anything else screamed differently.

Then again, not all Galra were furry and scaly. Kolivan wasn’t either, was he? Or Tyra… no, Lotor.

Lance was wrong in his earlier assumption. Although the lady was facing and touching him, she wasn’t actually talking to Lance. In his earlier delirious state, Lance hadn’t noticed. She was snarling something to someone out of Lance’s field of vision. And then she turned her attention to Lance, and oh quiznak, he wasn’t prepared for that.

“It looks like you’re crying blood.” Lance winced at the sound of his voice. It was scratchy and slurred, like he was both drunk and had been screaming a lot. His voice cracked halfway through the thought – which he hadn’t meant to say out loud, but evidently his brain to mouth filter was shot.

Although, his accidently spoken thought was true.

Paired with the yellow glare of her eyes and the purple lighting of the room, it looked like the red marks on this lady’s face were trails of blood which dripped down from her eyes and past her mouth.

“Enough of that nonsense,” She hissed. Pinpricks of pain against his cheek appeared again as she squeezed.

Understanding her did not make her voice sound any better. At all.

She sounded like she was fighting off some horrible lung infection, or like she’d smoked one too many cigarettes in her lifetime. The dull blondish gray hair did nothing to help establish her as a young lady, more of an older lady… probably a cat person.

Ha! Crazy old cat lady, who’s crying blood! Maybe he was still delirious. Maybe it was a return of his humor. He wasn’t sure, but he smiled as best he could with her squeezing his cheeks.

“Who needs cats when they have Galra?” After all, the Galra were pretty cat like. Didn’t one of them have a tail? “Fuzzy fluffy ears, and long tails. Giant purple space Cats.” He laughed again. It hurt to laugh, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Some part of him was screaming at him to not antagonize her. He didn’t know who she was, or where the scary masked Druids of before disappeared off to. He didn’t know a lot of things, but somehow, instinctually, he knew this was a lady he didn’t want to piss off.

Her nose scrunched up as she snarled, violently twisting his head as she let go of his cheeks.

“Be that way. We’ll see how long you can keep your laughter.”

At her words, a spark of alarm formed in the pit of his stomach. It felt like he’d swallowed a rock, or a few dozen, and it was suddenly very hard to breath.

He wasn’t given a chance to respond or even fully process the words before that damn energy from before was sparking through him. The pain lasted only a moment before he returned back to the static. The witch’s screeching voice echoed along with his own screams as he faded away.

The next time he woke it was to nothing. He hadn’t been moved, as far as he could tell. He was still vertically strapped.

But, there was something new when audio finally filtered back in. The lady from before was arguing with a new voice, which sounded almost familiar. It tickled the edge of Lance’s mind. Although Lance couldn’t make out the words, he hoped the ‘new’ voice won the argument.

The new voice sounded soothing, and… kind of dreamy. It was heavy and thick, like syrup, molasses, honey, or something along those lines. It was warm, like velvet. Lance wanted to make the voice into a blanket and wrap himself up in it. It was comforting, and familiar, and it made his chest feel strange.

It wasn’t not pain, but it wasn’t something he could recognize in his current state. Regardless, he wanted to feel it more.

The woman broke off the argument before Lance could make out words, and by the time he could see, the new voice was gone, or at least, out of his range of vision. When this occurred again, he still was unable to see this person, even though he knew they remained in the room.

They hid in the back. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

His time awake blurred into one big mess, mixing with his time in the static. Sometime he woke and wasn’t restrained, although he always slid back into the static before he could do anything.

Time still didn’t exist. Lance didn’t exist, except in stolen snatched moments away from the static and the waking world. Sometimes, he thought he could hear a familiar roar in his ears, and the sound of rushing water and bubbles.

He knew that the Lady would sometimes ask him about Blue. That she wanted him to do something… to connect with Blue most likely. But he couldn’t. There was a warm curtain of static which kept him contained.

He woke once to warm broad hands touching his face. Fingers which gently stroked his face, smoothly gliding down to cup his cheeks. He heard the lady’s voice, and then he felt the other pull away, and when he could see again, it was just the lady.

Sometimes when he came back to himself, the lady asked him questions. Sometimes she asked about things Lance doesn’t mind talking about, like the static.

Other times, she brought up taboo topics like his birthparents – he doesn’t know them, he was adopted – or about his time on Earth. Occasionally, she brought up the Voltron team, and asked if he could tell her anything about them. Ha. As if he would. As if he could.

Most commonly, however, the lady talked to him. She whispered things to him which were lost to the static he inevitably fell into. She crooned to him. He knew she promised him things. Power. Freedom. Attention. But, he didn’t even remember what she wanted in return.

Occasionally, Lance was able to hear pieces of the conversations the lady had with the familiar voice. They argued a lot, but it was their conversations that were the most interesting. The lady talked about ‘refined quintessence’ whatever that was, and about someone’s progress.

Once she talked about Lance hurting himself, although he had no memory of the occasion that she spoke of. She’d been touching his face when she’d been speaking, and her words faded in and out of the static. She’d said that he’d tried to claw something off but he didn’t know what it was.

In the end, he didn’t think it mattered. He only heard the conversation once before it was never spoken of again.

Another time she was talking about how his mother must have forced him to hold a shift, whatever that meant.

To be honest, Lance didn’t care. His life felt as nonexistent as his place on Team Voltron. Which wasn’t helped by the fact that his life right now only existed in stolen snapshot moments when he was leaving the static.

Unfortunately, nothing he heard from those snapshot moments ever helped Lance place that familiar voice.

Sometimes, although it was rare, Lance was left alone with the voice. It was never for long, but Lance had come to treasure every moment with the voice instead of the lady.

“So lovely.” The voice whispered, a hand caressing his cheek.

The voice liked to touch him. Although, unlike the lady, each one of this person’s touches were gentle, like Lance was thin fine glass that would break if even just slightly mishandled.

“How could anyone discard you?” The voice continued. “So valuable. So precious.” Long strands of hair brushed against Lance’s face, tickling his nose, as the owner of the voice embraced him. He pulled away, and Lance whined. The voice leaving him meant that the lady would be returning. A chuckle echoed through the room.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. All you have to do is just… let us help you.” A hand brushed against his face. “Will you do that for me?” The voice asked.

Lance nodded. Frantic for the nice voice to stay. Although, things had been changing for the better already.

The electric treatments seemed to have stopped, or, maybe they were continuing at a lesser degree. It may have been his imagination, but he swore could still feel currents of energy running freely through him, unhindered by blocks or limits.

The energy seemed different too. It was less destructive, and felt more like a gentle steady hum of electricity. Sure, it was still enough to make him numb, but it was nowhere near as jarring or painful as it once was.

Nothing changed the fact that everything was still disorienting. Especially since Lance still couldn’t tell the proper passage of time. He didn’t see or hear from the other Druids, and he wasn’t exactly sure if that was a good or a bad thing. He only ever saw the lady.

The lady was irritating.

She’d update him with news about Voltron. News he didn’t want to believe were true, and couldn’t believe were true. She’d talk about how they were able to form Voltron, and how they didn’t need him.

“If your team truly cared for you, then why haven’t they come for you yet?” She asked once, and Lance had to admit that he had no definitive answer. “They aren’t concerned with finding you.”

“Such a shame. They don’t know the jewel they lost.” The voice Lance preferred purred from somewhere out of Lance’s range of sight. “You could help us. Help the universe. All we want is peace, Lance. Doesn’t that sound nice?” The voice continued.

Lance dropped his head. He couldn’t do this anymore. Everything hurt. His head hurt.

He was with the Galra, right? So what were they talking about? Why would… they want peace? He didn’t want to listen anymore. Nothing made sense.

The voice continued to talk as Lance returned to the static. The words slid through his mind and head like a hot knife through butter; and like liquid butter, the words slipped through the cracks in his fractured mind. If he was asked, he didn’t even think he could repeat the words even directly after hearing them.

It didn’t take long for their voices to invade the safety of his static.

Their voices echoed in the static, repeating words he couldn’t remember, offering promises he didn’t know the price of. At the edge of the static, he could hear the sounds of waves and a worried whine.

He wanted to go and comfort the whiner, but he could never reach them. What had once been a curtain had changed. The static turned to tar whenever he tried, and was too thick and sticky for him to get through. It took too much energy to even try, so eventually, he just gave up.

The next time he woke, it was to warmth curling around him. There was numbness in the warmth and the pleasant tingle of energy which sparked across his skin.

He sighed into the sensation, slumping down into it. He wasn’t restrained as he once was, and part of him considered trying to make a break for it… but a stronger part of him whispered about how warm and content he was.

Besides, where would he go? Voltron had replaced him. His time at the Swap Moon led him here. This is where he was now, and to be honest… it wasn’t as bad now as it once had. The static was safe, and the pain had ceased. He was just so very done.

Lance opened his eyes, and his gaze was immediately drawn to the swirls of purplish pink which floated in the air. A hand touched his face, and he looked to see the lady.

She smiled at him. It was not a kind smile, but it was not unkind either. She stroked his cheek, almost like how a mother would their child, and when sound filtered in, she was humming a song. His song.

“I was told you liked this song.” She murmured to him. “Your mother used to hum it as she worked.”

He wasn’t sure what she was talking about. It was his song. The song he knew, and no one else did. He’s certain his mother never hummed it. Or maybe the lady was talking about…

“You’re doing so well.” She stroked his cheek again, and he shuddered at the sudden strange sensations that washed over him for a moment before fading away. “You’re almost ready.”

Part of him wanted to know what he was almost ready for, but honestly, his capacity to care had disappeared. It wasn't worth it, and he'd ran out of fucks to give. So instead of fighting her or asking her questions, Lance closed his eyes and remained limp and plaint.

The lady lowered him back into the warmth, and he let himself sink.

Chapter Text

Lotor’s life had been a non-stop turn of events that no one could have expected. In fact, it’d come to the point that Lotor expected the unexpected. As a young child, Lotor had been exiled for not being... well enough.

He wasn’t Galra enough. He didn’t look Galra enough. He didn’t take after his mother enough. He didn’t look or act like his father enough. He wasn’t fearsome enough. He just wasn’t enough.

He’d tried over the years to be better, to prove his worth to his father, to his father's people, to everyone.  He’d taken down countless rebellions, captured thousands of planets, and destroyed hundreds of systems.

It was never enough for his father. For his father’s Empire. For anything really. The public, as easy as it was to manipulate, never cared for Lotor.

But that was fine. Over the years, he’d grown to not care about what they said, or how they felt. He wasn’t Galra enough, but he could use that to infiltrate resistances, or bypass Anti-Galra sentiments. He didn’t look or act like his father enough… well, who would want to? He wasn’t fearsome enough, but who needed fear when he could inspire loyalty?

Loyalty, Lotor had learned early on, was far more powerful than Fear ever could be. Loyalty quelled uprisings, rebellions, and resistances. All he needed was one person to become loyal to him, and he could bring a resistance, a planet, a culture down to its knees.

He was not his father. He never would be, and that was fine.

That was fine because he had his four Generals, who’s loyalty had been given, tempered, and tested. He had the loyalty of the planets that he’d conquered in the name of Galra, who owed him for allowing them to keep their cultures and people.

He may not have been enough for his father’s empire, or for his father, but he was more than enough for what he’d built for himself.

However, for as much as Lotor had come to expect the unexpected, nothing could have prepared him for Lance.

He’d been on a nearby planet, where he’d been undercover tying to flush out yet another resistance when he’d seen the Blue Lion crash.

As a child, he’d grown up hearing his father talk of Voltron. Now, he’d heard the rumors and whispers. He’d heard of his father’s difficulties with beating them. As a matter of fact, Lotor had looked into them himself for a short while before deciding to let them battle it out with his father.

If they defeated his father, then he became Emperor Pro Tem, and he won. If his father defeated them, then nothing would change. To put it simply, they didn’t mean enough for Lotor to care.

Yet, his curiosity wouldn’t settle for his logical thinking. He’d looked up recordings and records. He’d studied the paladins from reports. He knew that if he truly wanted to know the Paladins capabilities, then he’d need to test them himself. However, that hadn’t stopped him from pouring over the information anyways.

Ironically, Lotor had determined that out of all the Paladins that he could use as a way into Voltron, the last Paladin Lotor had expected was the Blue one.

The Blue Paladin was the heart of the team. He kept things from getting too serious, but was more than capable of being serious when it was needed. He was able to motivate the others when they needed it, and was the star of redirecting them to their best uses.

The Red and Black paladins both had tied back to the Galra empire that Lotor could exploit. According to Acxa, his lead General, the Red Paladin was at least part Galra. Which interested him because there was only a few things he liked more than those who were part Galra.

Although, in his examination of the Paladins, Lotor had come to the clear conclusion that while he could use the Black or Red Paladins, either the Yellow or the Green Paladins were his actual ticket in the door.

Yellow was a pacifist at heart, and based on his performance thus far, Lotor didn’t think he even wanted to be in the war. It wouldn’t be hard for Lotor to 'save' a Balmera, earn some trust, and then turn it to loyalty. And once that was done, then he could offer a way out of the war ‘peacefully’.

As for the Green Paladin… she’d been hacking into ships and terminals. It’d taken a while to find what she was looking for, but evidently the Galra empire once held her family. She was looking for them, how sweet. And Lotor knew exactly where her father was. Their ‘freedom’ for her cooperation would be a fair trade.

Despite his theories and assumptions, he hadn’t been able to keep his curiosity contained when he’d seen the Blue Lion crash. That lapse in self-control would end up being one of the most unexpected things to ever happen to him.

The Blue Paladin’s name was Lance, and he was more delightful than Lotor could have ever imagined.

When he first arrived to see the downed Lion and the Paladin, his first thought had been to take advantage of their vulnerability. But he didn’t know Lance’s capabilities. The risk was too great, as was the potential.

He’d given his fake name because he hadn’t known if Lance knew who he was or not, and so he started to try to earn the Paladin’s trust.

He was not ashamed to say that he’d been wrong. He’d been so very wrong. Because the best way into Voltron was through Lance.

Lance who was more expressive and alive than anything Lotor had ever seen before, besides maybe Ezor. Lance was certainly livelier than the other Paladins. It didn’t hurt that Lance was beautiful as well. Lance was so expressive, so alive, so much everything.

It had taken only that one day on the moon with Lance for Lotor to realize that he could use Lance.

It had taken only a few days after talking with Lance through the communicator to realize that he wanted Lance. He had Lance’s trust now, but what he wanted was more.

After all, Lance would understand. Lance was never enough. Not for the Voltron Team. Not for his family on the primitive world the Champion was from. Lance wasn’t even enough for himself. And Lotor could relate to all that. After all, he’d never been enough, either.

Until he was. Until he’d found his place with his four generals, and listening to Lance, Lotor realized that with him, Lance could be enough.

Besides which, Lotor had grown fond of Lance as they’d talked, and somewhere along the lines, Lotor’s plans shifted. It wasn’t enough to have Lance’s trust… he wanted his loyalty.

Of course, he didn’t realize that until Lance had stopped contacting him all together. Furthermore, the nearly endless stream of data that he’d been receiving from the device had ceased.

Prince Lotor did not worry, but he did feel something at his loss of Lance. What a wasted opportunity. What wasted potential. It was a shame. Just a bit longer, and he might have been able to finally get Lance to agree to leave with him. He hoped that Lance would not be treated too badly since he’d been found out.

That was all he could assume had happened anyways.

It truly was a shame. He had actually been looking forward to seeing Lance on his side. Now, that would never happen.

He’d given up on the ideas and plans he’d had for Lance by the time Ezor had practically bounced up to him with some ‘interesting news’. Evidently, a suspect believed to be the Blue Paladin had turned into an Altean during an interrogation. Haggar, herself, had been called from his father’s bedside to investigate.

It was only proper for Lotor to investigate and see what could have possibly distracted her from his father, right?

Words could not have begun to explain how pleased he was that he had.

If he had thought Lance to be beautiful before, then surely he knew nothing of beauty.

There was no beauty in the Druid interrogation chambers. There was no beauty in how they strung the prisoner up. There was no beauty in how they were treating him, in the glowing purple wounds scattered across his body, and the static of quintessence energy which arced off him occasionally.

But he could see where Lance’s beauty could be. Being Altean had not ruined Lance’s beauty, but had compounded upon it, for Lance’s beauty had been more than just appearance. It’d been in his energy, in his life, in him.

But now, Lotor could just imagine how beautiful Lance’s eyes would look once they were no longer glassy and dead. The soft swoops of the scales under Lance’s eyes were more delicate than any other Lotor had seen. And while Lance’s ears had been cute before, Lotor could only imagine the jewels he’d put there.

Neither the Druids nor Haggar were present, but even if they were, Lotor wouldn’t have acted any differently. He walked right up to Lance and touched his face, stroking the space where the delicate scales had appeared.

Despite being half Altean himself, Lotor had been born without scales, which, he supposed considering what they could do, was probably for the better. They were better used for decoration now than their actual purpose.

“What are you doing here?” Haggar demanded as she entered the room. Lotor smiled, patting Lance’s cheek in a silent promise to return to him. He turned to Haggar.

“I was just curious as to what could have possibly been more important than tending to my father.” Lotor drawled, he paused and gestured to Lance. “I trust you were going to inform me of this?”

Haggar’s silence was telling, informing him of what he’d already known. She hadn’t planned to tell him.

Good thing then for that transmission. He’d have to thank both Acxa and Ezor for their combined skills, after all, if Ezor hadn’t prompted Acxa into trying to find hidden transmissions, then Lotor would have never known.

Lotor would have lost this opportunity to Haggar forever. Based off his own childhood, he could only imagine the horrors she would have inflicted onto his fragile Blue Paladin. His fragile, broken Lance.

It was as if fate itself had intervened to bring him back to Lance.

“What do you plan to do with him?” Lotor asked.

“What do you want?” Haggar replied. Lotor’s responding grin was all teeth.

“I want him.” Lotor replied. “I want him to side with the Galra.” Lotor circled slowly around Lance, although his gaze remained on his father’s witch. Already so many thoughts and possibilities were floating around in his head.

Lotor could use Lance’s newfound heritage.

“I can’t imagine it’ll be hard to do. Just look at how his team has treated him. He’s been in our care for some time now and they’ve yet to rescue him.”

“We’ll talk about this later.” Haggar growled. “He’ll wake soon.” Lotor hummed, and stopped in front of Lance.

He turned his attention back to him, and smiled softly. “I’ll be back for you.” Lotor promised quietly. He was not going to let an opportunity like this go.

Being the current leader of Galra meant he didn’t have much time, but he spared what he could to visit Lance. He knew his generals were curious, but so far, they’d been mostly content to leave him be. Zethrid, in particular, was annoyed with his constant returning from the battlefield, and Ezor was just curious as to what had captured his attention.

He had no doubt that Ezor would eventually begin to snoop. She never lasted long before resulting to that.

He’d fought with Haggar a few times over Lance. She wanted the secrets of Voltron from him. She wanted to try to continue her work on projects she’d started with the Champion on him. She wanted him. It was just too bad for her that he was acting emperor, and therefore, she had little choice but to agree to his wishes.

And what he wished for was Lance.

The ideas he’d had when he discovered Lance’s Altean heritage had grown. Lotor might not have been able to use quintessence magic, but the chances were high that Lance would be able to. After all, according to Haggar’s research, both of Lance’s birth parents had been Druids of the Empire.

Not as reassuring, however, was the fact that they’d both become traitors to the Empire. But what Lance didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

If Lance could use magic, and if he could become a Druid… then Lance could eventually take over as the lead Druid for the Empire. Lance would be what Haggar was to his father for Lotor.

No. Lotor was not his father. He’d be better than his father, just as Lance would be better than Haggar.

And, on the off chance that Lance couldn’t use quintessence magic, then Lotor was more than willing to accept someone as lovely as Lance into his harem. His newest piece, Princess Corral from Planet Demos, might have a problem with the new addition, but she could deal.

She didn’t interest Lotor like she once had. Dreams where she’d once starred had been replaced. Where he’d once seen her lovely amber eyes, he was seeing twin sapphires. Accents of gold were swapped out for swaths of sparking ocean blue.

Lance was the new star of Lotor’s dreams, and had been since before he’d discovered his Altean heritage.

Although, Lotor was sure that Lance wouldn’t have to be just a lowly harem member. Call it intuition, but Lotor just knew that Lance would be more, and it was for that reason that Lotor needed Lance to be loyal to him.

No. He needed more than loyalty from Lance. He needed Lance to need him. He needed Lance to want him. He needed Lance to be tied to him in every way possible until Lance belonged to no body but Lotor.

He wanted Lance, and he knew that Lance would want him in return.

The feelings were already there, or so said Haggar. Or at least, the very potent potential for the feelings. Although, she said that they were clouded over by doubt and guilt.

She’d grumbled at his demand to ‘fix that’. “Blue quintessence doesn’t work that way.”

“Then make it.” Lotor replied.

Her suggestions had been most pleasing. In his current state, Lance was susceptible. She recommended touching him, talking to him, promising him the things he’d get once he was done with Haggar’s conditioning.

All those things were completely acceptable things that Lotor wanted to do, and so he did.

While she had agreed to his demands, Haggar was still trying for her own plans. Lotor would watch in mute amusement as she’d try to get him to connect to the Blue Lion. So far, Lance seemed to be unable, leading both of them to believe that the connection had truly been severed.

Poor thing. Lotor really ought to thank the Voltron team for delivering him Lance like this. After all, he could very easily take something broken, and build it back up. As a matter of fact, he preferred it that way. There was no better way to inspire loyalty.

He’d thank the Voltron Team after he tore them apart piece by piece. Preferably with Lance by his side.

He’d already decided that he’d give Lance the Red Paladin. By the time they were done with Lance, he’d appreciate that treat.

Haggar’s attempts to instill loyalty to the Galra empire were useless. Lance would be loyal to Lotor. So long as Lance loved Lotor – and make his words, Lance would love Lotor – then there would be no problem.

When he’d expressed those thoughts, Haggar’s expression had soured. “Your obsessions will be the end of you both.” She muttered.

There was no doubt of who else she was talking about.

“I am not my father.” Lotor growled in response.

He was not his father. He would not allow folly obsessions to bring about his downfall. He was stronger than that, better than that… Smarter than that. He would not allow his obsessions to control him, like his father had allowed his to.

Lotor knew when to step back. He knew when to retreat from a fight. He knew his limits and his boundaries. He was not the fool his father was.

Besides, Lance would not be Lotor’s downfall. Lance would be one of his greatest assets, paralleling Lotor’s generals.

Although, Lotor didn’t mind when Haggar antagonized Lance. It pleased Lotor to know that Lance was quickly soothed by his presence. He could calm him back down, and lull him back into pliancy with the sound of his voice alone. Haggar always said he behaved better when Lotor was near.

Sweet thing didn’t seem to want to be a hassle for Lotor. He appreciated it.

Neither he, nor Haggar, thought it was a good idea for Lance to see him. She was worried it’d cause him to panic and undo their progress. And that was unacceptable.

Lance was his beautiful jewel. His shining star. His lovely Lance.

He couldn’t wait for the quintant that Haggar would announce that Lance could be taken home. That he’d finished this part of his conditioning.

There were setbacks, such as the time Lance tried to claw his beautiful scales off – which should have been illegal. Why would Lance want to ruin such beauty?! But, for the most part, everything had been smooth sailing.

Soon, all that would be left would be to further cement the bonds between them and help Lance grow as a Druid. It was a slow plan, but Lotor was used to those. He preferred to think in the long-term.

He’d started to imagine team Voltron’s reactions when he showed them what they’d helped him to create out of their former teammate. Lance would grow with Lotor. Lance would become powerful. Lance would finally be enough.

Needless to say, when Haggar finally announced that Lance was done, Lotor couldn’t have been happier.

Haggar would be returning back to his father’s ship, so that’d be one less thing in his hair. Not that it really mattered as he was sure that the Druids on his ship still reported his actions to Haggar. She never was able to keep her hands off of Lotor’s affairs.

But that was okay. He’d have Lance soon, and Lance would fix all of this in time. Eventually, Haggar would be a thing of the past, alongside his father. Relics of an old era.

He’d be happy to be rid of them both, and her annoying cronies that she’d send after him to babysit him. He wished she’d leave him in peace. The only time he was given peace was on his personal cruiser, and even then peace was debatable considering his Generals.

But how could he stay annoyed when he finally had Lance? The solution to a question that had plagued Lotor for years: who to succeed Haggar? Who to serve as Haggar for him?

Lotor insisted on carrying Lance himself. He would have taken Lance aboard the cruiser, but, there were no Druids there to train Lance, or to ‘fix’ him should he lapse. So, he’d taken him to the next best place: his personal chambers.

He was unable to resist the urge to put Lance on his bed. He needed to see how lovely Lance would look there, against his sheets. He needed to see if it was as perfect as his dreams would suggest.

No, his dreams were wrong.

They paled in comparison to the reality of Lance being in his bed. His dreams had been a mockery of perfection, but this…. This was true perfection. Lotor always admired pretty things, especially if he was the one to put them back together again.

Now, he just needed Lance to wake. It was time for the next phase of Lotor’s plan to begin.

Chapter Text

The next time Lance woke, it was in the same order as every time before.

Unlike those times, however, there were different sensations. For starters, he wasn’t being held up. Instead, he was laying on something soft; something so soft, in fact, that his body was half sunken into it.

He would almost describe it as a cloud if he didn’t know better. Then again, perhaps he’d finally died and it was a cloud. But somehow, he didn’t think that was the case, considering the other sensations he was feeling, like the hands that were touching him.

He recognized them from the way they gently ran their fingers against his skin. They caressed him, tracing along the side of his face with one hand while the other carded through Lance’s hair.

It sorta of reminded him of the hazy days when he’d get sick.

It wasn’t often that Lance was sick, but when he was, he got really sick. His mother would watch over him, run her hands through his hair, and wipe the sweat away with a cool damp cloth. Thinking of her only reminded Lance of how much he missed her and his family, and the fact that he would probably never see them again.

He almost didn’t notice when his hearing returned. Where ever the Druids kept him, he was used to the almost constant static, the crackle of the electric bands holding him, and the noises of the Druids. Here, it was quiet. The only familiar thing was the low steady hum which he’d come to associate with crystal energy and being on a ship.

For a moment, he thought he was still on the castle ship and that the past unknown amount of time was just a fever nightmare.

The fight never happened, he never left Blue, and he never lived on a Swap Moon. It was a stupid hope, especially since he knew that all of that did happen. No amount of hoping, wishing, or dreaming was going to change that.

The beds on the castle were never this comfortable. He could tell without opening his eyes that it was darker where ever he was than the castle usually was. Although, the most telling thing was the absence in his mind where Blue should have been. A sticky wall of static that Lance couldn’t quite pass separated him from where he should have felt her.

Just thinking about static sent icepick pains through his head. It was more than enough incentive to leave those thoughts alone.

He laid in the bed, his eyes closed. He was too scared to open them. If he opened them, then he’d know where he was. He’d know if he was safe or not. If he was still with the Galra, or with the Voltron crew, or some third party.

One look was all he needed. After all, Alteans favored whites and blues over the Galra’s favorites of darker shades, reds and purples. All he needed to do was open his eyes.

But, what if he was wrong? What if this was all a dream? A static dream, and he was still in the ‘gentle’ care of the Druids? What if that was why he couldn’t feel Blue? And if he wasn’t with the Druids… then where was he? He didn’t know.

Faintly, he could smell something floral. That was new. Normally, he fell back into the static before he could come to his sense of smell.

The scent somewhat reminded him of… lilacs and sunflowers. Lilacs, which usually made him think of Keith, and Keith’s eyes. But no one he knew smelled like that combination. Even further proof that he wasn’t among his team.

But perhaps that was a good thing. Yeah, it meant he was still with the Galra, or with a third unknown party… but, his team had left him. They abandoned him, even after he risked his and Blue’s lives to protect the Golden Boy, Keith.

They mistreated him, abandoned him, and worse yet, they replaced him with Coran.

A familiar chuckle broke the silence, and the hand that was stroking his face glided over, grazing the space below his eyes. Static crackled in his mind, but it wasn’t enough for Lance to sink into, to grab, to do anything with. It was just floating there, in the sudden wave of warmth and something foreign which flushed through him.

He only knew that he whimpered because he heard it. The hand on his face jolted, and then slid down away from his face until it was gone. The strange flood of feelings and the crackle of static faded as the hand left him.

What was going on? What had the Druids done to him?! He’d seen what they had done to Shiro’s pretty face – although the scar was pretty badass. Hell, he’d seen what they’d done to Shiro in general. Lance didn’t want a prosthetic, no offense to Shiro or anyone who had one!

Not to mention whatever it was, it was on his face. They’d taken literally the last thing Lance had, his beauty. He didn’t have a home, his family, Blue, allies… nothing. But he had himself, and his looks.

“My apologies. I forget, sometimes, how sensitive those could be.” The familiar voice was a quiet rumble, but it wasn’t enough to distract Lance from what he’d said. How sensitive what could be?! What had happened to him?! “Did you sleep well?”

Once again, Lance was reminded of sticky sweet honey when the voice spoke. Honey and velvet. It was… still oddly soothing. Which helped, some, to keep the panic at a minimum. Although it wasn’t entirely effective.

Now that he was more awake, he could pinpoint other things that felt different. His entire body felt foreign. He both did and didn’t feel like himself. In some ways, it felt like he was… more, somehow.

He didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with this right now. He was Crona, or Krona, or however it was spelled from Soul Eater. He didn’t think he could handle this right now. But he didn’t have a choice. The static in his mind still danced out of his grasp, and when he could grab it, it was never enough for him to sink into.

He had no choice but to face whatever waited for him – the familiar honey-velvet voice with now familiar hands.

Lance opened his eyes, half expecting to see the cold dark walls of the interrogation room and find out that everything was a dream after all. He half expected to see the Lady’s glowing yellow eyes in his face, or the haunting masks of the Druids.

He was given nothing like that. Instead, he saw what looked a lot like the ceiling in someone important’s room. Like the ceiling in Allura’s bedroom, except, the colors were – as he feared – reds and purples.

Well, he saw that, and the identity of the familiar voice.

Some part of him, he suspected, had always known who the voice was. Although, he’d wanted to deny it so much that he’d forced himself not to recognize it. But, he always had. It was why the voice was so familiar. It was why he liked it so much.

After all, one couldn’t spend hours of time talking with someone and not to some degree recognize their voice. Quiznak, he should have known.

He should have recognized Lotor.

“Lotor,” Lance’s voice was hoarse, probably from a horrible combination of screaming, nonstop talking, and not speaking at all.

Lotor’s lips quirked up at the corners, and Lance watched as the grin grew until the alien was showing off his pearly whites. The skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkled with little crow’s feet. Conflicting feelings collided in Lance’s chest, making him feel like his heart was being squeezed, trapped in a cage of his rib bones.

There was the sharp sting of betrayal. Because when he looked at Lotor, he still saw Tyrac – his friend. But Tyrac didn’t exist, not really.

He didn’t see, nor did he want to see, Lotor – the Prince of the Galra Empire… and Lance’s enemy. He felt used, since Lotor had befriended Lance and used him to get information. But, he also felt… happy? Relieved?

Lotor may have used him, but… if he was here now, then that meant that he’d stopped the Druids. He’d saved Lance, right? Lance had only been saved because of the fact that he knew Lotor.

He didn’t know how Lotor had found out about Lance being in the Druid’s tender loving care. Perhaps he’d known from the beginning. Perhaps he hadn’t. But what mattered now was that Lance wasn’t in their care anymore.

And Lotor was probably the reason that Lance had been spared from further time with the Druids. Which explained the relief and Lance’s happiness. But it didn’t explain why Lotor was happy.

After all, he’d used Lance. But at least Lance had been useful to him, unlike the Voltron Team. Lance wasn’t useful to Lotor anymore. He wasn’t with the Voltron team. He didn’t have any secrets, any knowledge that Lotor didn’t already know.

So why was Lotor happy?

Surely it couldn’t have been because of Lance. No one was ever happy to see Lance.

Everyone was always ‘be serious, Lance’, or groaning whenever he entered a room, or insulting him by calling him ‘dumb’ or an ‘idiot’. No one that knew him liked him for long. Not unless they were Family, and therefor obligated to love him.

Perhaps it was because Lance recognized Lotor, and called him by name?

It couldn’t have been due to Lance himself. It just couldn’t. Then again, he could very faintly recall Lotor arguing with the Lady, hadn’t he? He’d talked to Lance too, right?

If he focused, then Lance could weakly recall the purr of Lotor’s voice. The gentle caresses. But, the more Lance tried to recall, the harder it became to remember. Lance’s memories of his time in the static were slipping away like water through open hands.

Ugh. This was just so confusing. Nothing was making sense. Nothing felt right. And he still didn’t know what the Druids had done to him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Ignorance was bliss, right?

“I should have expected you to learn my proper name.” Huh, so Lance had been right. Lotor was happy that Lance called him by his name.

As irrational as it was, Lance was actually kind of irritated that Lotor’s voice was still as soothing as it was. After turning Lance’s world inside out, what right did Lotor have to sound like that? But… at the same time, Lance wanted to cling to the warmth offered. It was cold in space. Cold and alone, just like the Castle and Blue. Was it wrong of Lance to miss warmth?

Yes, it was wrong.

Space was cold, that was a fact he’d come to accept. Everything up here was cold, so why was Lotor warm? Why would Lotor be giving him this warmth? Lance was… once… a Paladin of Voltron, Lotor’s enemy. Why would he be treated this way? Why was he in this lavish room, alone with Lotor? Why had Lotor… saved him from the Druids?

That was where Lance had been, right? With the Druids. He’d been in the space mall, and then he’d… somehow gotten to the warm static. It’d been due to the Druids. Lance was sure of it.

The icepicks in his head stabbed again, and Lance winced, his eyes watering at the short sharp pain. It hurt to think about that. He didn’t want to think about that. He just… wanted this all to be over.

“I don’t unders-” Lotor’s hand slid back against his skin until a finger was pressed against Lance’s lips, cutting him off.

“Don’t tax yourself, Lance.”

He’d heard Lotor say his name before, during their conversations, but there was something different about the way Lotor said his name now.

Lance’s name just seemed to roll of Lotor’s tongue, making it sound like Lance’s name was some sort of delicacy that Lotor couldn’t wait to eat. His tone was all sugar sweet, reminding Lance of Hansel and Gretel, and how the witch lured them in with sweets.

Lance wasn’t sure how he felt about any of this. The way Lotor said his name, the finger at his lips, the soft bed which he was sure belonged to Lotor.

His chest still felt tight. Too tight, and tightening. Tightening and tightening until it was almost so tight he couldn’t breathe. But he needed to breath. He needed to breath or else he’d be panicking – he already was – and that wouldn’t be doing him any good.

He went over the facts he knew. He’d been taken by the Galra… or had he given himself over? There was an itch at the back of his mind about innocents and not bothering to fight. Oh what did it matter? He was with the Galra, and then he spent time with the… Druids… and there was another sharp stab of pain.

Quiznak, this wasn’t helping.

He could remember the static, but he couldn’t. He knew there was important information in that static, but he couldn’t find it. Thinking back on the static made things fuzzy, like a TV losing signal and going to white noise and static.

And even if he could remember what was so important in the static, that didn’t change the fact that he was pretty sure it wouldn’t explain things. There was no explanation for Lotor, or why Lance was no longer in the Druid’s care – or the care of the creepy Lady for that matter.

What had happened? What had Lance agreed to? He had to have agreed to something to be ‘free’. Or perhaps it’d been Lotor who ‘saved’ Lance. But then again, for what price?

There were so many questions bouncing around in his head. What happened? How did he get here? When was he moved? Who changed his clothes? How long had it been? Why was Lotor being so nice to him?

All the thoughts in his head were cycling, like a never-ending circle and stream of thoughts that all tumbled over each other. He felt disorganized, disoriented. He felt sick. His chest was still too tight. He needed… space. He needed air. He needed….

Lance moved away from Lotor’s hand. He needed to not be touched. He curled up in a sitting upright position near the top of the bed. With every move he made, Lance could feel the prince’s gaze on him, making chills run along Lance’s skin.

He didn’t like any part of this situation.

Not at all. Free from the Prince, momentarily, he opened his mouth to speak… and Lotor was already leaning forward to touch him again. Quiznak! What was with aliens and wanting to touch him!?

Lotor raised his hand to cup Lance’s cheek, and his fingertip brushed against something under his eye. A sweeping wave of vertigo and nausea rushed over Lance, along with those foreign feelings that he could maybe decipher as emotions if they could settle long enough. But as it was, Lance didn’t think he could manage to maintain contact for that long. Like before, the sensations faded when Lotor moved his hand away.

Okay. So, whatever the Druids did… it affected his face. That was basically confirmed. Like, he’d already suspected, but now it was like... BAM, hitting him in the face.

He’d… he’d deal with that whenever he was given access to a mirror. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be anything… bad. Like Shiro’s entire arm was missing but for all intents and purposes, Shiro didn’t even notice because the prosthetic was that awesome and…

He was recycling thoughts again. He was still running around in loops and cycles. Stuck on a track, crashing into the same thoughts over and over.

“It was a shame that such beauty was hidden away.” Lotor’s voice was quieter as he spoke, but, it was as warm and steady as usual. It didn’t stop Lance from flinching at his voice.

Once again, Lotor brushed against that spot below Lance’s eyes. Each jolt of that strange feeling only worsened the conflicted feelings in his chest, and only tightened the squeezing of his heart. He wished Lotor would stop that.

He didn’t want to be reminded that the Druids had done something to him. He didn’t want to be here. He’d almost prefer to go back to the Druids, if this was how Lotor was planning on torturing him.

The next time Lotor touched him, Lance was able to place one of the possible emotions. It still felt foreign, but he thought he could place it as… affection.

It wasn’t making him feel affectionate; no, not by any means. If anything, it just made the nauseous feelings from before worse. Especially since Lotor couldn’t decide if he wanted to keep touching Lance or not. Perhaps if he had time to become accustomed to the feelings invading him, then he’d be fine.

Pft. As if. Like Lance would ever be fine with whatever had been done to him.

“Oh, Lance.” Lotor’s voice was still the quiet warm honey it was before, and Lance hated it. He hated it as much as he hated that he could feel warm sticky wetness on his cheek. He hated it as much as he could feel Lotor brush away the tears. “I’ve got you now. You’re safe with me.”

Lance didn’t feel safe.

He was still with the Galra. The Druids had done something to him. What, he didn’t know. Someone he had thought was a friend was really the Prince of the empire he’d once fought. How could he possibly ever feel safe, especially with Lotor?

“How can I see your beautiful eyes if they’re clouded with tears?” Lotor tsk’ed and shook his head. “I suppose it cannot be helped though. After all, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now after being abandoned by those you once called friends,” Lotor sighed. “Simply dreadful.”

Lotor’s hand dropped. He looked Lance over before returning his gaze on Lance’s face, and once again shook his head.

“I don’t understand how they could let cast a jewel like you away. Even in your prior form you were lovely, although, I can’t imagine why you’d ever want to change such gorgeous features as your scales. But I suppose it wasn’t your choice, was it?”

At first, Lance thought he might have misheard, but he knew that was just hopeful wishing. He knew what he heard, and he knew he heard correctly.

Scales. Lotor said ‘scales’.

No, no, no. Humans didn’t have scales; and Lance was human.

He was raised with a human mom, dad, and siblings. He’d looked human all his life. He’d taken human medications, and gone to human doctors… and... he was pretty damn sure that if he wasn’t human then someone should have… would have found out by now.

Scales.

Like what the Alteans had? Because Lance didn’t care about Allura’s thoughts, or Coran’s theories. No. No. No. Was ‘no’ an emotion? Because Lance was really feeling it if it was.

It wasn’t that Lance didn’t believe Lotor but… he didn’t want to believe Lotor.

He didn’t even realize he was touching his face until his fingertips registered something smooth and cool under them, just below his eyes. They were smooth, kind of flimsy, and felt like some of those semi-thick jewel stickers. Like the sticker earrings his niece loved to stick on things.

They almost felt like Lance just needed to find the edge or seam, and then could just… pull them off. Except there was no edge that he could pull up on.

What had they done to him?! He had scales. Scales?!

Quiznak. What had the Druids done to him!?

Lance’s hands were shaking, not that he noticed until Lotor’s hands grasped Lance’s and held them. Lotor prevented Lance from continuing to scratch at the ‘seams’. No. No. No. Lance needed them off. He wanted them gone.

He didn’t want scales. He didn’t want this. Quiznak his wishes to be ‘different’ or ‘special’ or to have his ‘own thing’. If it meant this… if it meant having scales, then Lance didn’t want to be special.

He just wanted to be back home. He Just wanted to be back on Earth. He just wanted to be ‘that boy from Cuba’ again. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be in space, or be an alien, or some weird experiment from the Druids.

Lotor’s eyebrows knitted together, and he pressed his lips together, slowly shaking his head. “I thought we were past this, Lance.” The pity in Lotor’s eyes were neither wanted nor needed. “Haggar said you were doing so well.”

Haggar. Lance felt like he should recognize the name. Maybe he heard his other teamma- maybe he heard one of the others saying her name.

He was about 75% sure that Haggar was the name of her freaky space witch who kept sending those Robeast monstrosities after him. He was about 70% sure that Haggar was the one who did a nasty number on Shiro a few times. And if both of those Haggars were the same and did all that, then he was pretty positive that she was the one who attacked them with the Kumar.

More terrifying, Lotor said that Haggar said something about him doing well. Which meant that same Haggar had done something to Lance, or at the very least, had been around Lance. The lady in the static flashed in his mind for a moment.

“You’re doing so well.” Her voice crooned to him in a memory.

Funny. He tried to think of the static, and the memories slipped away. But if memories were triggered, then he could recall them.

Lotor’s thumbs were rubbing circles into the back of Lance’s hands, and when Lance blinked and refocused on him, he could still see pity in the prince’s gaze. Lotor pulled Lance’s hands away from his face, until they were down in Lance’s lap.

“Terrible,” Lotor murmured, and Lance stiffened at the words. “I can’t imagine the torment you must have gone through, if even the thought of being so special and different makes you react like this.”

He released one of Lance’s hands, and lifted his own to cup one of Lance’s cheeks again. Lance didn’t know what Lotor’s obsession is with his… with his … -- he couldn’t think it. He didn’t want to accept it – face. Thankfully, Lotor was just stroking Lance’s cheek, and wasn’t touching there.

“Then again, I’m not surprised…. I heard how your own teammates treated you. It’s not farfetched to believe your home planet to be as equally unforgiving and barbaric.”

There was a brief moment of panic. There was a moment where Lance’s breath was stuck in his lungs, like the air was made of sticky glue. He couldn’t breathe before, but now it was worse. Everything was still catching up to him, and he wished Lotor would just leave him along so he could freak out and panic to his heart’s desire.

He wanted to be sick. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw things and kick things. He wanted to curl up in a ball. He wanted to cry. He wanted his mother’s hugs. He wanted to forget everything that had happened.

After he’d discovered what had been done to his face, he’d completely forgotten who he was talking to… or more accurately, what Lotor knew.

Lotor knew almost everything. He knew about Shiro being missing. He knew about the team dynamics. He knew how the team had been treating Lance. Lotor had heard it all. Lance had complained to him about it. There wasn’t much that Lotor didn’t know, especially about him. About how he felt.

Not to mention, some of the things Lotor had said earlier… and the brief memory of the witch… How much more did Lotor know now? What all had Lance said in the spaces of his memory that he couldn’t recall?

There was another moment of panic, although Lotor either had impeccable timing or had sensed Lance’s panic.

Lotor was taller and broader than Lance, and when Lotor hugged him, it felt like the prince was encompassing him. Like a Hunk-hug, but different. Whereas Hunk-hugs felt comforting, Lotor’s hug felt more like walls around Lance, trapping him in a nightmare.

Lance’s whole body shook like a leaf in a hurricane. Pressure had been building inside of him, and at Lotor’s hug, it was like a storm surge breaking past a seawall. He sobbed, curling into Lotor’s hug, not because he wanted to, but because it was the only comfort he was going to get here.

His tears wouldn’t stop, even as he buried his face into Lotor’s chest.

Everything was so fucked up. This whole situation was all sorts of fucked up. Like, this was the type of ‘fucked up’ that everyone always believed would happen to someone else. This was the type of ‘fucked up’ that had to be true because it was just too fucked up to be made up.

Lotor held him closely, occasionally running a hand through Lance’s hair or down his back in an attempt to soothe him. He was humming Lance’s song while he did so, intermediately pausing to quietly shush Lance.

Lance swore if Lotor said the words ‘it’ll be alright’, he was going to scream.

Clearly, this was all some hallucination. He’d gone crazy. The Druids pushed him past the brink of his sanity, and now he was just imagining that Lotor came, rescued him, and was comforting him and hugging him because honestly, nothing else made sense.

Lance was officially Looney Tuney.

Although, why his brain chose Lotor to come rescue him instead of his friends… yeah, that was a mystery. And why his brain decided to go ahead and make Lance… not-entirely human… was another mystery.

Or maybe those weren’t mysteries.

Who had he turned to in his times of need recently? Tyrac. Tyrac, who was really Lotor. He hadn’t turned to his team. He’d turned to the prince of the enemy empire. The enemy empire which had captured him. So, that mystery was solved.

As for the whole… not-entirely-human thing, well… it was his brain giving him a ‘thing’. Like how he used to imagine he was superhero or a merman when he was little. He wanted to be special, to have a use. Now he did… sort of.

Okay, now that he’d established that he was crazy, maybe he could handle this all a bit easier now? After all, this was all in his head, right?

Except, nothing felt like it was all in his head. Everything felt so… real. From the pressure and warmth of Lotor’s hands on his back –still rubbing slow circles – to the breath against his head, to the heart beat in Lotor’s chest.

Okay, so maybe this wasn’t all in his head. He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know.

“I’ve got you now, Lance,” Lotor repeated his words from what felt like vargas ago. “Tell me, what can I do to make things better for you?”

“I want to go home.”

The words spilled out like water out of a bucket with holes in it. Lance didn’t mean to say the words, but they were said none-the-less; and words, once spoken, could not usually be taken back. The hands on his back stilled for a second, and then resumed.

“If that is so, then I will make it happen.” There was this calm confident lit to Lotor’s voice, and for a moment, Lance actually believed him. His tears slowed at the promise, a small spark of hope lighting in his chest at the idea of going home.

After the moment passed, however, Lance was terrified. He didn’t want to introduce the Galra to Earth. He didn’t want the Galra there, but…

“You’re allowed to be selfish. If going home is what you desire, then I’ll destroy Galaxies for it to happen for you.” Lotor assured him, pulling away just enough for him to lean down and press his forehead against Lance’s.

Lance’s stomach flipped at the movement, and the close proximity to his face. This close, he could see flecks of darker purple in Lotor’s irises, which again reminded him of Keith’s eyes. The color, however, was the only thing they held in common, and it was only noticeable at close range.

The conflicted feelings inside of Lance swelled, bolstered by Lotor’s actions and words.

Lance didn’t think he could handle this right now. Any of this. Wasn’t Lotor supposed to be torturing him? Lance was a Paladin of Voltron – except he wasn’t anymore, was he? What was Lotor’s motive here?

“In the meantime, why don’t you enjoy all that the Empire has to offer you?” Lotor offered, pulling away from the hug to look at Lance.

The offer sounded an awful lot like a deal with the devil. Lotor was attractive enough to be one, and the words that slipped out of his mouth were practically dripping in silver. A deal with the devil was always away too good to be true.

And, if something seemed too good to be true, then it probably was.

“I don’t think there’s much for it to offer me.” Lance sniffled and shook his head. Lotor made a noise of acknowledgement and leaned back, to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at Lance. “I’m a Paladin of Voltron.” Lance continued.

Except Lance wasn’t. Not anymore. It seemed they both knew that as Lotor responded with a short bark of incredulous laughter.

“Are you?” Lotor asked. “From where I stand, it appears that they’ve left you, haven’t they? After all, it was I who took you from the Druids, not them; and it is I who offered you to return home, to leave this war, to be with your family.”

He didn’t want to think it, but, Lotor was right. In all counts. Except it’d been Lance who had left. But he’d returned… and he’d taken a hit for Keith and still been abandoned.

“You’d be amazed at what the empire could offer you, Lance.” There was a gleam in Lotor’s eyes when he spoke, and the sharpness of his smile was more than just teeth.

As much as he hated to admit it, Lance could see the appeal in what Lotor was saying. Lotor was offering something to Lance, and as far as Lance could tell, Lotor wasn’t asking for anything in return. Not that Lance had anything to give. He was penniless, defenseless, and friendless. He was alone. He’d officially hit rock bottom.

Yet, here was Lotor; offering Lance everything.

“I don’t have much other choice, do I?” Lance’s voice sounded painfully small. He was used to his voice filling a room, usually with laughter and happiness. But now, he sounded small and trapped. Sad and lonely. He hated it.

“You always have a choice.” Lotor assured Lance.

Except Lance didn’t.

He didn’t know where he was, except that he was in enemy territory. He was alone, but surrounded by people. He had no armor or defense, except Lotor’s word as Prince of the Empire to protect him. He had no weapons to fight his way out.

Furthermore, he’d been experimented on by the Druids, and while he knew he had… scales now, he didn’t know what else they’d done. Besides which, he was super doubtful that Lotor would actually let him go free.

The only way he could see an escape would be if Lotor was true to his word and returned Lance to Earth; or if Lance bartered a way out… but the only thing he had to barter with was his body. He had respect for people who could and would do that, but Lance was not one of them.

As it stood, Lance was a song bird in a gilded cage, both literally and figuratively. He had no doubt that he was in Lotor’s personal room. Everything was too… too much... for it to be a simple bedroom, and Lance was not delusional enough to believe this to be a prisoner’s cell.

Although it was in a way. This was his cell, as far as he knew.

The price of knowing a Prince, he supposed.

His heart was fluttering in his chest, except it wasn’t the almost-could-be flutter of anxiety and nerves from when Keith smiled at him, or laughed at one of his jokes. It wasn’t the confident but nervous fluttering from when Shiro gave him his first real Space Dad Smile. It was more akin to the sad broken feeling he got when he thought of home, except, this didn’t hurt like that.

Lance sucked on his bottom lip in thought. The skin was chapped, and he could feel indents where he’d bitten his lip during his time with the Druids. He could still taste blood. He’d never been one to believe in omens before, but perhaps this was one. Perhaps not.

It wasn’t like he had the choice to take that into effect. He could, at the very least, listen to what the empire could ‘offer’ Lance. After all, it’d give Lance time to think, to decide, and maybe…

Maybe Lotor could make the Druids fix him. Maybe he could go back to being human. Lance sniffled, and pulled away his hand to wipe at his face. He must look like such a mess, but Lotor didn’t seem to care.

He didn’t seem to care that Lance had cried into his chest either. As a matter of fact, it seemed that Lotor did actually care for Lance. He’d rescued him from the Druids, and had comforted him, and had offered to take him home, and… maybe Lotor could help him.

Lance sniffled again, and took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. Lotor would help him… Lance just needed to ask for it.

“What would the empire offer me?” The question tasted like betrayal, but, then again, it was the Voltron team who betrayed him first.

Chapter Text

Lotor’s personal bathroom was both everything and nothing like what Lance expected it to be. Given the bedroom just outside, he’d expected the bathroom to match the luxurious décor. He wasn’t wrong either. The bathroom honestly felt like a rich hotel’s bathroom. Like the type of hotel that charged more than a thousand a night.

He’d avoided looking into any of the vanities’ mirrors when he first entered the bathroom, and had explored everything he could first. But now he had no choice but to face reality. He kept his gaze downcast as he walked to the vanity closest to the door.

The metal of the counter felt cold beneath Lance’s hands, but it helped steady him. He could manage cold. It was in his veins and soul, and was a comfort more than a discomfort now, even if it reminded him of Blue.

He took a deep breath and looked up. At first glance, Lance could maybe pretend that nothing had changed.

There were little things that he expected, like his hair being limp from lack of proper care, or the fact that his skin was paler than usual from lack of sunlight. He was the same height, although, perhaps he’d lost some weight since he last looked in a mirror. His hair was a bit longer, almost to mullet lengths.

Ugh. He’d have to fix that later.

But, despite how different he felt… how wrong he felt…. There weren’t many actual changes to his appearance. He removed a hand from the counter, and he watched his reflection as it matched his movements. It was him in the mirror, no matter how different, or not so different, he looked.

There were differences, however, that he couldn’t look over and ignore. The scales weren’t the only things that had changed.

His ears were longer and pointed at the top. When he ran his fingers over them, he felt nothing but smooth skin and flexible ear cartilage. His ear was soft and warm against his fingers, and when he pinched them, there was pain. They were his, and yet, they weren’t.

He lowered his hand back down to the counter, and then shifted his weight to his arms and hands as he pitched forward, leaning until his nose was nearly touching the smooth glossy surface of the mirror.

This close, he could really see the changes to his eyes. In a fantasy elf kind of way, his eyes were kind of pretty. The new orange color of his pupils contrasted – he was pretty sure that was the right term – rather nicely against the now brighter blue of his iris. They didn’t look bad, even though they weren’t as complimentary as Allura’s blue and pink, or Coran’s turquoise and purple.

Everything said and done, he still preferred his boring blue human eyes over these fantasy elf eyes.

He’d always mentally considered Allura and Coran as magic Space-Elves. He never thought he’d have to include himself in that classification. He sighed, and allowed himself to slide back down until he was resting with his feet flat against the ground again.

He’d been avoiding really looking at them, but there was no way he could not notice them. The brilliant blue crescent moon scales under his eyes.

Objectively, they were pretty. If they weren’t on him, he may have loved them. His fingers twitched with the need to touch them, to prove their existence. The only reason he resisted that need was because he knew that if he gave in, then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from picking at them.

The idea of not having scales anymore was appealing. However, the thought of the pain he’d be in to remove them, and the mental image of blood streaming down his face was a good enough deterrent.

Plus, then he’d have scars. And honestly? Lance preferred the pretty scales over scars. Not to say that scars weren’t pretty, because Shiro rocked his but… Lance wasn’t Shiro.

Maybe, if the scales were less permanent then Lance would like them more. If they were something as simple as removable stickers, or shiny little stick on jewels or something. But they weren’t. They were permanent, as far as Lance knew. Unless, of course, Lance learned how to do that camouflage thing that Allura once did.

The camouflage thing that he’d evidently been doing his entire life. His head was still spinning with the story that Lotor had told him. How his birth parents were Druids who’d been on a ship when it was attacked by rebels. His mother must have landed on Earth, and had used quintessence manipulation to ‘force’ Lance to keep his human shift.

It seemed too… crazy to believe. He’d almost rather believe that he’d been experimented on. But, it explained the song that Lance knew… and he was adopted…. But adopted or not, he was still Lance. He was still raised by his human parents, and he still identified as human.

Although, it was hard to deny the proof that he was… Altean…. When he was looking right at it.

He wasn’t sure how to take this information. It wasn’t like he ever read a brochure saying ‘So, You Found Out You’re A Member Of An Endangered Alien Species Of Magic Space Elves’ while at the Garrison. He couldn’t just go over to the local library and check out ‘Being a Magic Space Elf for Dummies’ book. The closest equivalent to that here would be accepting Lotor’s offer.

Quiznak, and wasn’t that a hoot?

He pressed his lips together, and adverted his gaze away from the mirror, looking at the door back out to the bedroom. Lotor was probably still waiting for him. Lance had been promised time to think about things, like whether he wanted to take the ‘benefits’ of the Empire or not.

Lance had choices, but they were defined by Lotor and the empire.

The freedom offered to Lance was limited. He could roam free through Lotor’s personal rooms at his leisure. That was the one basic freedom he was granted. He was half tempted to trash the rooms, but honestly, he was too scared of the retribution to actually do it. Keith was the impulsive one, not him.

If he wanted to leave these rooms… Well, that required making a deal with the devil. That was, if the devil was a half Galra Prince of the Empire.

Oh sure, Lotor made it all sound nice, and had put a nice spin on it to appeal to Lance’s request to go home. A request he now realized was completely stupid. He realized it before, but, it didn’t really hit him until he was given time to think.

No matter how much he missed home, he knew he couldn’t return. Not now. He refused to bring any part of this clusterfuck back to them. Everything he loved and held dear would be destroyed, his home would be conquered, and worse of all: he’d be the one responsible. Uh, hell no, not today, Satan.

Even if he entertained the idea of the Galra not conquering Earth – HA! Fat Chance – then he still couldn’t return. He couldn’t bear the thought of his family rejecting him, or worse, thinking he was an imposture. Of course, that was assuming that the government didn’t capture him and do whatever they were going to do to Shiro to him.

Logically, he knew he couldn’t return home.

Yet, the idea of being wrapped up in one of his mom’s hugs really appealed to him, especially now. He wanted to be under a kid dogpile; comprised of his younger siblings, nieces, and nephews. He wanted to be teased by Daniel about when he was finally going to bring a girl – or a boy, Lance wasn’t picky – home to the family. He missed all the noise and commotion, and how it was nearly impossible to actually sleep in because of it.

He was delusional to think Lotor would take him home and leave. If anything, Lotor wanted to know so he could use it against the others. Capture Earth and hold it hostage against the Paladins.

His options were simple.
1. He continued this delusion that Lotor would take him home.
2. He took back his request, and remained stuck here in Lotor’s rooms.
3. He took back his request, and he accepted what Lotor’s offered.

The first option was clearly out. He couldn’t take that. He couldn’t do that. He refused to be the cause of his family, and everyone else on Earth, suffering. He refused to help the Galra enslave and conquer the Earth. He just wouldn’t allow it.

That left him with two options, and he wasn’t sure which was worst.

The rooms were nice, from what he could see. He knew they continued on past what the second door in the bedroom, although he didn’t know what was past that point. The rooms were lavish and luxurious.

Hell, Lotor’s bathtub alone could fit his entire bathroom from home. The bed was soft and comfortable. It wouldn’t be so bad living here… except he knew himself, and he knew he’d go crazy within just a few days. He’d never been able to stand being cooped up for long.

Which left the last choice. But could he really do it?

Lotor had given him some clothes to change into if he agreed to the offer. When he’d entered the bathroom, Lance had tossed them aside, but now, he turned and picked them up.

The coarse outer material of the robe half spilled out of his hands, pooling on the ground. The robes felt heavy in his hands, the weight both physical and not. The choices he made here were everything, and he knew this. He took a deep breath, and then another.

Lance was still conflicted on whether he betrayed his friends, or they betrayed him. Yes, he left them, but he came back for them. He took a hit for them. They left him. So, they’d betrayed him, right? But then again, he’d been giving information to the enemy. So, he betrayed them.

If he put this robe on for survival, would it be considered another betrayal?

He rubbed the material of the robe between his fingers, worrying it as he thought. Lotor said he’d give him a few quintants to think about this, which if Lance recalled correctly, meant a few days. A few days to think about this, and boy, did he have a lot to think about.

After all, the very people now offering to help him were the same people who’d tortured him. At least, he was pretty sure they had.

Like Shiro’s memories were fuzzy, so were Lance’s. Probably a product of the mind trying to protect itself. Or a result of the Druids messing with him. He wasn’t sure.

Lotor offered his protection, and Lance at least trusted that no one would hurt him without incurring the Prince’s anger but… could he really trust the Druids? After everything they did, he wasn’t sure.

He let the material slide though his fingers and pool on the cool floor of the bathroom. It wasn’t long until he slid down to join it, burying his head into his hands as he curled up into a ball.

He just… didn’t know what to do anymore.

It wasn’t long before Lotor came to check up on him. Which made sense, since Lance didn’t know how long he’d been in the bathroom, let alone curled up in a ball on the floor. He was hit with a thought, one so familiar that he trembled at the implication of it.

Time did not exist here.

It was a familiar thought, tinged with pain. But, he didn’t want to remember that. For as much as he wanted to remember his time in the static, he didn’t want to remember the pain. He didn’t want to remember at all.

He curled up tighter as he heard the door slide open. There was silence as Lance imagined Lotor looking at him. A sigh cut through the silence, followed by quiet footsteps. Lanced jumped when a hand touched him. The hand slid over the thin tight black suit he’d been given by the Druids – he assumed that anyways – until Lotor’s arm was wrapped around Lance. The prince pulled him close.

This was the second time in less than a quintant that he’d been hugged by Lotor. That he’d been comforted by the prince.

But it wasn’t the same as his family. If he was like this with them, then… this would be different. They’d be trying to cheer him up, telling jokes and laughing in hopes of making him feel better. But, he wasn’t with them. Instead, he was alone with Lotor.

But he’d take the comfort he could get, even if it was quiet soothing comfort from the Prince. Besides, he had to get used it. This was his life now, after all.

After about a varga, Lotor pulled away, and ran a hand through Lance’s hair. He smiled down at Lance, and then wiped away the tear tracks on Lance’s face.

“How about we get your hair cut?” Lotor suggested quietly. “I’ve heard that after a traumatic experience, having the option to do something yourself can help.” He paused, as if he was gauging for a reaction. “And I know how you feel about your appearance.”

Oh yes, because that made Lance feel any better. Bringing back up how much Lotor knew Lance, and how little Lance knew of him. He had no way of knowing if the things Tyrac had told him were true or not.

But… he was right. Lance had been just thinking about his hair not too long ago, and it would probably make him feel better.

“You said you used to… ‘braid’ your younger relatives’ hair when you were stressed, right?” It was actually kind of… comforting how uncomfortable Lotor sounded trying to comfort Lance. Even if every reminder of how well Lotor knew him was like an arrow to the knee.

“I… don’t usually allow this, but if you’d like to do this… ‘braiding’ of my hair, then I would not be opposed.”

“You’d make yourself uncomfortable to comfort me?” Lance needed clarification, just to make sure he was hearing that correctly. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, before looking back at Lotor.

His hair was super long, and braiding was something Lance had always enjoyed, that was true.

“If it’ll make you smile again.” Lotor replied. “You’re beautiful when you smile.”

Lance sniffled again. “But what if I give you a crazy hair style?”

Lotor seemed to chew his response over. After a long moment, he sighed quietly. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

Lance half smiled and weakly laughed at that. “I’m braiding your hair, not cutting it.”

“There’s that smile.” Lotor grinned. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and fed.” He stood, and offered his hand to Lance to help pull him up. “And then you can braid my hair.”

Lance accepted the help. “Sorry. You haven’t really seen me at my best lately.”

Lotor shrugged. “I didn’t expect to. You’ve been through something traumatic. First you were abandoned by your friends, and then everything else.” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s only natural for you to be upset. After all, you have a lot of changes to adjust to. Just know that I’m here for you.”

Lotor rested his hand on Lance’s shoulder. His gaze was soft and kind, and Lance appreciated that.

“Thanks.” Lance replied, ducking his head.

“It’s no problem. Take as much time as you need, Lance, and when you’re ready… just let me know.”

Lotor’s words were vague, but they were probably meant to be. Lotor probably meant it as telling Lance that he could take as much time as he needed for just about anything; whether that was time to grieve over the friends he never had to begin with, or to adjust to the changes, or to decide on his options.

It was nice, however, that Lotor wasn’t forcing anything on him. He was allowing Lance time. He was comforting him. He wasn’t bothered by Lance’s messy appearance, or his red watery eyes, or the sniffling.

Lotor seemed to care about Lance, and right now, that was all Lance could have asked for.

Chapter Text

In the world of being Lotor’s ‘song bird’ there were a few small mercies: being allowed alone in the room except for one guard unless Lotor was with him, sleeping on a soft comfortable couch, taking varga long bubble baths in an awesome tub, and exploring Lotor’s library.

“You ate what?”

Watching Lotor’s facial expressions when he learned about Space Goo, however, was just a pleasant bonus.

Lance raised a hand to his mouth, biting down on his finger to help prevent himself from bursting into laughter. Lotor looked so distressed. Like, Lance didn’t think it was possible for the Prince to look this flustered. His nose was scrunched up, eyebrows furrowing. There was honest disgust in his eyes. Even his perfect hair was messed up and that just made this all just so quiznaking perfect.

“I fail to understand how you didn’t bring that up.” Lotor continued, like he didn’t notice Lance dying from trying not to laugh. Which Lance knew wasn’t true because Lotor was like always super attentive towards him.

“That is disgusting.” Lotor shook his head.

“I’m the one who actually ate it.” Lance was amazed he managed to hold back his laughter long enough to speak.

Lance lost his cool as he watched Lotor process Lance’s words. One tick passed, and then another and then it happened. Realization dawned and oh man. The look Lance was given was one of pure horror, and Lance couldn’t hold it in anymore. Laughter spilled out of him in waves, leaving him gasping for air.

“This… This isn’t funny, Lance! Who knows how long that… goo… has been sitting around in that castle! I can’t believe…” Lotor trailed off as he shook his head, still not believing what Lance said about the Space Goo.

Lance’s laughter bubbled back up at Lotor’s protests. He flopped down onto the couch, his hands resting on his stomach. He was making a valiant effort to stop laughing, if only because he knew that if he didn’t then he’d get sick. Laughing this much after eating should be illegal. It really should.

“Relax. I’ve had worse.” It’s a shame Lance wasn’t able to watch Lotor anymore because he was sure that that comment was going to get a reaction. Lance counted the ticks that passed. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“You’ve what?!” There was a faint hysterical tone to Lotor’s voice.

Lance wasn’t sure if his next bout of laughter was triggered by the face that he was imagining that Lotor was making, or the very audible response.

“Tell me you’re joking.”

Lance shook his head, mostly because he was still laughing too hard to respond and he knew Lotor would see the movement.

It’d been too long since Lance laughed like this, and it felt good. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he laughed this hard. It was sort of relieving to know that even now, in the presence of the enemy and feeling completely wrong and foreign in his own body, Lance could still laugh.

Lotor entered his field of vision, frowning down at Lance so hard his eyebrows were knitting together.

“You’re… pulling my leg.”

Poor Lotor, who tried oh so very hard to copy human customs and speech for Lance. Lance could appreciate that the Prince was trying. It was pretty touching. But, Lotor’s words sent Lance into another fit, and it took a few more ticks before Lance was able to respond.

“Nope.” Lance popped the ‘p’ as he sung the word out. “My sister made me some soup once, and nuh-uh. Never again. Not gonna happen. Tasted like she threw together hotdog water with some sand and salt water with rubbery bits of chicken in it.”

Lotor let out an honest to goodness whimper; and Lance was gone, lost to his laughter.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t often that Lance was left alone.

Technically, considering there was a guard in the room anytime Lotor wasn’t, Lance was never alone. But the guard never did anything besides just stand there, unmoving and unchanging. At this point, Lance was used to ignoring the Galra. It wasn’t like he could do anything to them anyways.

Hand-to-hand was always Keith and Shiro’s thing. Lance was never magical with electronics, not like Pidge was, so, he couldn’t use electronics to distract the guard. Hunk could probably take them down no problem. But he was just Lance. He couldn’t do any of that stuff. He was weaponless and defenseless.

Even if he entertained the idea that he could escape, where would he go? What would he do?

Returning to Earth wasn’t an option. The chance that the Galra would follow him was too high. Besides, he doesn’t know how to get there. Not to mention his ‘new’ appearance. It might fly okay out here, but down on Earth...? Yeah, no thanks, Lance didn’t want to take any chances with the Earth Government.

It’s not like he knew where his old team was either. Not that he wanted to go back to them. He already tried being a Space Mall Hobo, and look where that got him.

He could – probably – escape the Galra, but he couldn’t escape his life. And Life, evidently, had it out for him.

It wasn’t bad enough that he was useless, lost in space, and captured by his enemies. Oh no, Life had to add a bit more and so he also ended up being part of the endangered magic space elves.

Considering how Life was going for Lance lately, it was only natural that when the alarms started sounding and the dim lights in the room changed to brilliant flashing red, Lance figured this was just Life, smacking him in the face again.

To quote Castlevania the Anime: God shat in his dinner again.

If he’d been actively thinking of escape, he might have thought that this was the perfect chance. But, Lance wasn’t.

Instead, he was too busy trying to decide if the Galra Guard would use this as a chance to kill him, which totally wasn’t a fear born from his own bored paranoia and the fact he knew Lotor was off the ship attending some princely duty elsewhere.

…

Anyways! If it was a sign that he should try to escape, then he was pretty sure that him staying put would be better. Screw life and it’s lemons. He didn’t want any lemonade today, or ever.

So, instead of trying to escape, he sat up from where he’d been flopped over on the couch and stared at the guard. The guard stared back.

Lance thought his options over, like he hadn’t already thought of them when he was bored out of his mind the last time Lotor wasn’t here. He had an advantage with the couch. If the Guard moved to shoot him, he could use it as cover.

“I’m not going to shoot you.”

If asked, even years from now, if he shrieked like a banshee and nearly died from a heart attack, Lance would deny it. However, it should be known that this is exactly what Lance did, complete with flailing his hands and arms around. He didn’t expect the guard to speak to him. They hadn’t before now!

“Was that really needed?” The Guard huffed.

“Well, you haven’t spoken to me before. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“You have never spoken to me either.” The guard countered.

Lance quirked an eyebrow, and leaned forward, letting himself fall against the back of the cough and propping himself up on it. The guard had a point, but Lance wasn’t ready to concede that yet.

“Yet here we are. In this room. With screaming sirens, and blinking red lights. Talking. Fancy that.”

The guard said something that could be interrupted as ‘I don’t know what the Prince sees in you’, but Lance couldn’t be sure. There were screaming sirens in his ears after all. There was a moment of silence, or at least as much of silence as they could manage with the sirens.

The guard seemed to be waiting for something, and Lance didn’t want to know what it was. He really didn’t. He had enough on his plate, as it stood, and he didn’t want anymore. He didn’t want this nonsense, Life. Couldn’t he just take a page out of Cave Johnson’s book and just… tell Life to take the damn lemons back? Once again, he didn’t want to make lemonade.

The door to the room slid open and a masked figure entered.

Ugh. Masks. Lance was so done with masks.

Well, whoever this person was, they weren’t a Druid. Yay. But, they also weren’t a Blade of Marmora member. And honestly, that was about as far as his knowledge of masked aliens went. If he was asked, Lance would say that the outfit looked like something out of Dragon Ball Z mixed with super hero capes, and ninja shoes and gloves.

“’Sup. Welcome to Hell, current population of now three.” Lance was proud that his voice made him sound more relaxed than he actually felt.

The new masked figure froze, staring at Lance like he was crazy. Which, okay, Lance was used to this.

Aliens didn’t seem to understand most Human or Earth things. After maybe three days with Lotor, he was used to the weird looks from the Prince, who didn’t hesitate to complain that Lance having a translator didn’t make things better.

Evidently the Druids had been nice enough to give him a translator during his time with them. How nice of them.

Lance was already preparing to explain what he said when the most wondrous and surprising thing happened.

“… the ceiling.” The voice was distorted from the mask but there was no mistaking what was said. Even if the words sounded like they were dragged out and drenched in disbelief. Lance didn’t blame them, not when he was working through his own explosions in his head.

There was another staring match, this time between Lance and the new masked person. Part of Lance was tempted to just ask ‘what’ and get clarification. Like, did this person seriously just respond ‘the ceiling’ to his ‘sup’?! Was that for real? What was this sorcery!? Normalness, in this place?! It’s not more common than he’d believe.

“Really?” The guard interrupted their staring contest, as both Lance and the masked figure turned to look at them. “We don’t have all quintant for this. Lives are on the line here.”

“Right, sorry…. Just…” The figure removed their mask, and Holy shit. Holy Shit.

Lance hadn’t thought that his team would come for him. And some part of him still didn’t think that they would. After all… if that was really Pidge in front of him, then the voice would have been different. She wouldn’t have been wearing that weird outfit. And most telling, she wouldn’t be staring at him.

Of course, hindsight was 20/20. Lance noticed all that, but he didn’t register it. He was swept up in the hope and belief that it was his former teammate in front of him. He could ignore the transgressions they’d done against him. He was willing to let bygones be bygones if they came for him now.

“PIDGE!” He shouted, nearly throwing himself over the back of the couch, and flinging himself at Pidge. “You’ve gotten so tall since I last saw you, you little gremlin!”

“I told you he was crazy!” The guard growled out. “Anyone who spent as much time with Druids as he did would be!” The guard moved to intercept Lance, but he danced around them and threw himself at Pidge.

“Uh…” All the Not-Pidge needed to do was speak without the helmet for it to really hit that this wasn’t Pidge. “I am not the Pidge you are looking for.” Their words even confirmed what Lance had already sorta of known.

Lance could appreciate a good meme, he wasn’t sure how to manage this memeing, taller, not-Pidge; especially when all he really wanted was for this person to be his teammate.

Lance reared back like he’d been slapped. If this wasn’t Pidge, then… there was only one person that he knew who looked this much like Pidge: Pidge’s brother, Matt.

The realization that his team wasn’t there hit him like a train. It hurt. It really did. But, to be honest, he hadn’t expected them to come for him anyways. How would they know he was in Galra hands? Would they even care? Questions for later, or perhaps, questions for a day after never.

“Sounds like something the Pidge I am looking for would say.” Lance plastered a smile on his face and took a couple steps back away from… Matt.

“Matt, we don’t have time.” The Guard interrupted; and hello, yes, thank you Guard for confirming identities. Lance needed that.

Matt rolled his eyes. Now that Lance had accepted that this wasn’t Pidge, he could see the differences. They were subtle and small, but they were there none the less. There was the obvious difference, which was the change in height. Beyond that, it was minute differences in their facial structure, hair color and style.

It felt like he was looking at Pidge, but he wasn’t. Like how when he looked in the mirror – which he still avoided like the plague – he felt like he’s looking at himself but at the same time, like he wasn’t. It was a strange uncertain feeling, which Lance had grown uncomfortably accustomed to feeling.

“Chill, Sonali, I’ve got this. I was chosen because everyone thought I’d relate to him best.” Matt made a ‘chill’ gesture with his hands, and then turned to Lance, giving him a smile. “So, I’m Matt. That’s Sonali. We’re with the resistance, and we have a proposition for you.”

Matt offered his hand as a hand shake, and Lance looked down at it for a tick before counter-offering his fist for a bump. Matt’s smile turned into a grin, and returned the fist bump with vigor.

“Name’s Lance. What can I do you for?” For extra measure, Lance waggled his eyebrows. There were alarms going off in his head, echoing the alarms still blaring in the room.

He was talking with Pidge’s brother. He was talking with Pidge’s brother. He was talking to Pidge’s brother.

…

Yeah, no. Repeating it didn’t make it seem any more real. Quiznak.

He was talking to Pidge’s brother. The guy that Pidge had been going insane trying to find. The guy Shiro went through hell to protect. The myth, the legend, the man: Matthew Holt.

“I think you meant ‘what can I do for you’.” Matt laughed.

“That too.” Lance shrugged and winked.

“Matt!” Sonali growled, and Matt turned to them and made the ‘chill’ gesture again.

“This is all part of it, Sonali. Chill.” Matt repeated, although Lance can see that Sonali didn’t buy it. Matt turned back to Lance. “In all seriousness, do me a solid?”

“Depends on what it is.” Lance’s response was automatic, the result of too many siblings having asked him that exact question before.

“Matt.”

“Kay.” Matt didn’t even bother turning to Sonali this time, keeping his focus on Lance. “TLDR; we want you to become a Druid to help out the Resistance by telling us what the Druids are up to.”

The noise Sonali let out sounded like a high-pitched balloon slowly deflating through a small hole. The Guard was staring at Matt like they couldn’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth.

“You can’t… You just… no. Matt, no.” They finally managed to get out.

Lance ignored Sonali in favor of arching an eyebrow and resting his hand on his hip. Matt met his gaze head on, no hesitation. Lance could respect this.

Let’s see. This wasn’t something he could ask time to think about over – like Lotor’s offer… which oddly enough corresponded rather well with this request. Sure, he could just see if he could pass his response along through Sonali, but, he didn’t think that was an option. If he was the resistance, he wouldn’t allow that to be an option.

Part of Lotor’s offer had been taking classes with the Druids to help control his new Altean abilities. It wouldn’t be hard to tell Lotor that he wanted more. As a matter of fact, this might help him find a reason to not want to return to Earth anymore, since he didn’t think Lotor would accept any of his real reasons.

As an added bonus, Lance would be able to find Shiro if the Black Paladin had been caught by the Empire. Lance would know if any of his previous friends were caught by the empire. While it was up to debate if they deserved Lance’s assistance or not… if it’d sabotage the empire, then Lance wouldn’t be opposed to helping them.

Okay, Life. He’d bite. He’d drink the stupid lemonade. So long as he didn’t drink the Kool-Aid, right?

He’d take this bait, although he wasn’t sure where it’d take him. If he was caught, at least he’d die helping some form of resistance against the Galra. Besides, Lance wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t curious. He wanted to know more about the resistance, he wanted to know more about the Druids, and most importantly: he wanted out of these damn rooms.

At least this way he could get out these rooms and NOT have to switch sides to the Galra. He just needed to make them think he had, and Lance’s acting skills had always been good.

“I take it that Sonali, here, would be my contact to pass info off to?” Lance’s question was answered with a nod from Matt, but before he could respond, Sonali cut him off.

“You don’t have the excuse of being human.” Sonali deadpanned, shaking their head. “I don’t understand!”

“I was raised human.” Lance replied. “And I identify as human, thank you very much.”

“…AND, we don’t have time for this, Sonali.” Matt’s add on was perfect, but Lance knew how to make it even better.

“So, shut your quiznak.” Lance finished.

Matt couldn’t take it, and dissolved into laughter, repeating the line and shaking his head. Sonali was staring at the two of them like they didn’t believe what was happening.

“Take a picture, honey, it lasts longer.” Sonali didn’t seem to know how to take that statement either, but that was okay. Lance felt that the poor guard had been broken enough for now

“You, my friend, are beautiful.” Matt sighed, and shook his head. “I needed this. Okay, but serious now. You’ll help us out?”

“Yeah, I got this. I was looking for a way to get out of these rooms without like… actually helping the Galra, so this is perfect.”

Matt nodded, like he’d been in Lance’s situation before and understood; although Lance doubted this. What Lance didn’t doubt was that Matt was enjoying this as much as Lance was.

It’d been far too long since Lance had been able to sit back and relax like this. Sure, he’d been able to relax around the others, but that was before everything had become so stressful and tense. Before Shiro went missing. Not to mention the stress of the space mall and trying to find Tyrac, and then the time with the Druids – which he could still only barely recall. So yeah, Lance enjoyed being able to just talk and chill with Matt like this.

10 out of 10, would talk again. Even if there had to be blaring alarms and flashing red lights.

“Cool. Cool. So, you join the Druids, and give us any info you find out. If you get caught, we may not be able to help you. Additionally, those that have tried to be Druids, usually end up flipping on us. You still cool with this?”

As far Lance was concerned, he’d already committed. Besides, even if he did say that he wasn’t cool, he doubted Matt would let him ‘leave’ knowing Sonali’s true allegiance. As cool as they were now, this was war, and he was an acceptable loss.

Team Voltron taught him that.

“I’ve got one condition.” Matt stiffened, waiting for Lance to continue. “If I do end up flipping like that, and you guys can’t stop or save me, you’ll put me out of my misery.”

Matt pressed his lips together, his eyebrows furrowing as he considered Lance’s request. Realization dawned upon him, and Lance found comfort in the expression that washed over Matt’s face. It was partially sympathy, partially empathy, and completely understanding.

“I give you my word.” Matt stepped forward and clasped Lance’s shoulder. A beep sounded from Matt’s wrist, and he sighed. “That’s my que to go. The others should be almost done. We’ll keep in touch through Sonali.”

Matt backed up a few steps, then spun around, grabbing his mask and putting it back on with a flourish. He was gone in a blink, exiting before the door could finish sliding open.

It dawned on Lance after the fact that he probably should have told Matt about Pidge, but… oh well. Maybe the next time he ran into Matt he’d tell him. Maybe. Jury was still out on that. He wasn’t happy with Pidge. He wasn’t happy with any of the Voltron team, but that was a break down for later.

“So, are you always my guard, or do I have to guess when it’s you?” Lance turned back to Sonali, who’d been quiet since Lance and Matt broke them last, but this was something Lance kind of needed to know.

“I… have been your guard all this time, yes.”

“Cool, and what are we gonna do when I become a Druid?”

“I will remain your guard. Prince Lotor wants someone with you at all times, even in the event you were to join him.”

“Cool. Cool.” Lance was quiet for a moment, and so was Sonali. “What I said—”

“What you said—”

They both started speaking at the same time, and cut each other off. Lance looked away and motioned for Sonali to speak first.

“I… If your sentiment is true, I… I’ll… put you out of your… misery. If you would like.” Lance’s gaze jerked back to Sonali, and he blinked in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that, but he could appreciate it.

“Thanks,” He felt his expression melting into a small smile, and he let out a quiet sigh and ran his hand through his hair. Ugh, he hadn’t cut it yet. Note to self: get that done. Perhaps he could ask Lotor for one, or perhaps he could change it with the Druid training. “I appreciate it.”

The alarms cut off, leaving them in sudden silence. The red lights continued to flash.

Part of Lance was curious about what all happened, but he’d already pressed his curiosity too much today. He didn’t want to push it anymore and have everything snap back on himself. If anything, Lance would just bother Lotor about it later. Actually, it’d be better if he did bother Lotor later. It’d be less suspicious that way.

For the rest of their time together, Lance and Sonali didn’t speak. Although, they did offer Lance a nod when they departed after Lotor arrived a couple vargas later, complaining about the incompetence of some of the technicians and them setting off alarms accidently.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Sonali?” Lance called out to the guard. He was laying down on the couch, so he couldn’t see Sonali, but since Lotor wasn’t there, he knew they were around here somewhere.

Lotor was off to wherever he disappeared to when he wasn’t with Lance. Probably off doing Princely things. He’d heard Lotor grumbling about ‘purist’ standards earlier, and something about a person named Ezor.

Which based off what Lance had heard at the Swap Moon regarding Lotor’s ‘hybrid’ status, he could understand why Lotor was having issues with ‘purist’ standards. As for Ezor, Lance had no clue, but evidently, they were being sent away for something or another.

Honestly, Lance probably would have cared more if he wasn’t more curious about the resistance that he’d ‘joined’, or at the very least, agreed to spy for.

He figured that he wouldn’t get much information out of Sonali, but hey, a guy could try, right? He already knew that Matt was a part of them, which was kind of cool. The guy seemed nice. A bit like Pidge but… more down to earth? More memey? Nicer?

…Definitely nicer. Although not nice. None of the Holts were nice. They were probably born as lean, mean meme-ing machines.

At the doorway, Sonali heaved a loud heavy sigh. “Yes?” They grounded out.

Lance raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on their tone. They were probably stressed. He would be too. Especially since they were his only guard… which… didn’t… make… sense? Like, how was this ONE person his only guard?

“You’re my only guard, right?” Lance questioned to make sure.

“Yes.” Sonali ground out again.

Lance furrowed his eyebrows and hummed. So, there was confirmation, but that didn’t make sense.

“How come?” Silence responded him, and Lance frowned.

It wasn’t like he was asking some big secret or something. He just wanted to know why he only had one guard. Like, that had to suck. When did Sonali take breaks? When did they sleep? Were they only free when Lotor was there?

No, that didn’t make sense. Lotor didn’t always leave at the same time, and yet Sonali was always there the moment that Lotor left.

“Technically, during the nights someone else takes over, but you will only have me during the day.” Sonali explained.

Ah. Okay, so that made Lance feel a bit better. Now he wouldn’t have to go to Galra HR and complain on Sonali’s behalf for the lack of breaks or anything. Did the Galra have an HR? Or did they unionize? Lance didn’t think Empires unionized. Hmmm.

“Prince Lotor correctly believed that you’d eventually want to talk to your guard, and so it was decided that you’d only have one so that you could have your guard’s full attention.” Sonali continued to explain.

Lance hummed and nodded. That made quite a bit of sense actually. And it was touching that Lotor had been thinking of Lance when he’d done that. It sucked for Sonali, but Lance supposed in the end it worked out perfectly.

And, it also helped show the differences between Lotor and his father. There was no way Lance could see Zarkon being this nice.

“And you were chosen because?” Lance asked after a few moments. Sonali sighed again. They’d likely believed Lance’s questions to be over. Well, #sorrynorsorry to disappoint, but he still had a few. “It couldn’t be your stunning personality.”

“To quote you, ‘Rude’.” Sonali replied. “And I was chosen because I needed to be. I am the only resistance member on this ship, and we needed to get that proposition to you.”

“I’m hurt.” Lance replied, his hands going to his chest as if their words had actually stabbed him. He sat up and looked over the back of the couch, crossing his arms on it and resting his head on his arms. “So, what can you tell me about the resistance?”

Sonali didn’t respond, which, frankly, Lance hadn’t expected them to. “C’mon, can’t you tell me anything?”

“Not really. If you turn on us, the less you know the better.”

Okay, well, that made sense too, and Lance had expected that response. He wasn’t born yesterday, geez. But still, they could tell him something at least.

“Ouch. Okay. I see how it is.” Lance rolled his eyes. “Okay, then… why me?”

If he couldn’t be told about the resistance, then maybe he could at least be told why they’d chosen him. Was it for his dashing good looks? His charismatic charm? His new-found connections to the prince?

“If anyone could withstand the Druid’s influence, it’d be a Paladin of Voltron.”

…

Well, to be honest, Lance had expected that as well. Of course, the only reason the resistance had reached out to him was because of Voltron. It wasn’t like it was from any merit of Lance’s own. Oh no. Stupid Voltron.

Well, best to nip that in the bud. He wasn’t with them anymore. They didn’t want him, and frankly, he didn’t want them either.

“Ex.” Lance corrected. “I’m an ex-Paladin of Voltron.” He paused. “How do you know I won’t betray the resistance?”

“I don’t. As a matter of fact, I don’t expect you to last long at all. But Matt seems to think you’ll succeed here.” Sonali paused. “I don’t see what he sees in you.”

Well, that was an excellent vote of confidence. It really made Lance feel better.

So much for the ‘love’ Sonali had shown him when they promised to put him out of his misery. It was a shame that Lance was all out of fucks to give when it came to trying to prove himself to someone. He’d been burned by the Galaxy Garrison and the Voltron team for trying to prove himself.

He was done with that.

Although, it was good to know that Matt believed in him. Probably because Matt was totally unlike his sister in the aspect of the fact that Matt was awesome. Pidge was not. Clear, cut, and simple.

“Good to know.” Lance replied. He sighed, and flopped back down onto the couch.

Man, Lance loved this couch. It was a life saver.

Lance’s options in the room were the couch or the bed to sleep, and Lotor was pretty clear on the fact that he would not be sleeping on the couch. So, Lance had to sleep on the couch unless he wanted to sleep with the prince, which he highkey didn’t want to do. Lowkey, Lance could have maybe once upon a time been persuaded into it if the Prince played his cards right.

“Okay, so you were chosen because why? Because Lotor thought that you’d be a great conversation partner for me?”

If that was the case, then damn, Lotor dropped the ball on this. But then again, Sonali probably did everything within their power to make sure that they got the job. After all, they said that they had to get it.

“Something like that.” Sonali replied. Yep. That basically confirmed that.

“You said you’re the only resistance member here?” Lance fished.

“Yes.” Sonali’s reply was tart.

Huh. Lance was willing to bet that was a lie. There was probably at least a handful more of resistance members, plus a Blade of Marmora member floating onboard somewhere. However, he could understand why Sonali wouldn’t tell him that.

“How come?” He could understand as much as he wanted, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give Sonali a hard time. After all, they were his only guard for the purpose of communication.

Sonali inhaled deeply and sharply. Good to know Lance was capable of getting under their skin.

“Prince Lotor and his generals are extremely adept at flushing out traitors in their midst. Something you should probably be wary of.” Lance sat up again, spinning to look at Sonali.

“How come?” Lance repeated.

“You cannot be serious.” Sonali muttered under their breath. Lance stared at them expectantly. “Or you can be…. Fine.” Sonali crossed their arms, and if it wasn’t for the mask, he’d be sure they were frowning.

“Prince Lotor is known for flushing out resistances. It’s what he does. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he’s kind of charismatic, and he knows how to use that to his advantage. He makes someone trust him and then he tears the resistance apart from the inside.” Sonali finally explained.

Well… that sounded terrifyingly familiar. Had Lotor been planning that for Lance? He’d gotten Lance to trust him, and then Lance had brought that communication device on board… So, what had stopped him? Why didn’t Lotor tear team Voltron apart when he had the chance?

Or maybe, Lotor had just been too amused to hear and see how Team Voltron was tearing itself apart for him.

Sonali shook their head, and sighed. “It’s what makes him more dangerous than even his father.”

“I could see that.” Lance admitted quietly.

“Not to mention his Generals are a real piece of work. I’ve heard rumors.” Sonali continued. Presumably, they had realized that Lance wasn’t going to be leaving them alone anytime soon.

“His generals?” Lance asked, perking up. He’d heard a brief mention of them while at the Swap Moon, but he’d take any information he could get. “What rumors?”

“We’ll, they’re all Galra ‘half-breeds’, that’s a known fact. The rumor is that they have talents from their other races. Like, supposedly, Ezor can teleport and fly. Narti is blind, but can somehow see things normal people can’t.”

Lance blinked, and then blinked again. “Hold up, I’m sorry, could you repeat those names?”

“Ezor and Narti?” Sonali repeated.

The first name Lance recognized from earlier. The second name however… Lance snorted.

“Yeah, no, I’m still hearing ‘Naughty’.” Lance replied after a moment of trying to contain his laughter. “Okay. So Lotor has like four generals, right? Who’re the others?”

“Acxa is Lotor’s second in command. There’s also Zethrid… who you should probably avoid. She’s known to be a bit of a wildcard, and she doesn’t really care much about people other than Lotor.” Sonali ticked off the names as she spoke them.

Lance nodded. Alien names were weird, not that he could talk when ‘Lance’ was just an acronym. “Good to know, good to know.” He muttered.

So. He had to watch out for Lotor’s charisma. Well, he failed that already. And some teleporting flying person and a blind person. He needed to find out more about Acxa chick, and definitely avoid the wildcard.

Wait.

“Are all of Lotor’s generals female?” Lance asked.

“Is that a problem?” Sonali replied hotly. “Do you have a problem with females?”

“Uh, no? That’s quiznak-ing awesome! Like, go Lotor. You drink some respecting women juice.” Lance cheered.

Seriously, his respect for Lotor just went way up. He had a blind general; and they were all ‘hybrids’, and they were all female. Like, seriously, that was some pretty ballsy choices considering Zarkon’s military was like… the exact opposite.

Come to think of it, Lance couldn’t think of ever seeing a female Galra solider. Huh, Zarkon must have been racist and sexist. Great Combo… not.

Sonali snorted, and shook their head. “Lotor believes in having the right people in the right job. Unlike his father, he doesn’t rely on brute force alone.”

“Good to know.” Lance muttered. “Well, thanks for the tips.”

“You’ll need them if you want to survive.” Sonali replied. “But Lotor is the one you’ll need to worry about the most. He won’t interduce you to this Generals unless he feels you’re up for it, which shouldn’t be for a while yet.”

Well, that was encouraging. Lance sighed, and flopped back onto the couch.

All he needed to worry about was Lotor. Lance could do that. He’d be fine. He’d survive this, no problem. He was pretty sure Lotor wouldn’t be a problem anyways… he’d allowed Lance to braid his hair. Lance practically had him eating out of his hand.

This would be cake walk.

Chapter Text

Lotor loved the alien equivalent of classical music, a fact that Lance was irritated that he knew.

He knew this because Lotor almost always played it whenever he was looking over reports or reading. By all accounts, Lance shouldn’t know this information, but he did. As a matter of fact, Lance shouldn’t even be in his current situation, but he was.

There were many things, actually, that Lance ‘should not’. His whole life since he left the Garrison to look at the ship Shiro returned with had been one giant clusterfuck of ‘should not’. From getting into the Blue Lion, antagonizing Keith and Pidge, to talking to Tyrac, leaving Blue, and trying to live as a space mall hobo.

He used to wonder when he life became such a spiral of ‘should not’, but his time in the gilded cage that was Lotor’s personal rooms had given him plenty of opportunities to think that over.

Now, he was left wondering when agreeing to be a Druid spy for Matt’s unnamed resistance would become another ‘should not’.

Since leaving Earth, his life had become a Black ‘Cards against Humanity’ Card, aptly titled ‘Lance Shouldn’t have ______’, and honestly, at this point, Lance was sick of it.

He heaved a heavy sigh, tilting his head back against the armrest of the couch as he draped his arm over his forehead.

“That was a rather dramatic sigh.” Lotor commented. “Was there something you wanted to speak about?”

Since he was on the topic of ‘should not’s and how they defined Lance’s life currently…. How attractive Lance still found Lotor’s voice to be was another ‘should not’. As a matter of fact, he shouldn’t find Lotor to be as attractive at all.

Curse hybrid Galras and looking so pretty. Ugh.

He was tempted not to respond, but he knew how annoyed Lotor could get if he perceived Lance to be ‘ignoring’ him. Ugh. He turned his head to side to look over at Lotor, who despite having spoken, still had yet to look up from his tablet. Lance frowned, and looked back away, huffing quietly to himself.

“Nuthin’.”

Actually, there was quite a bit that he needed to talk to Lotor about. He just wasn’t sure how to breach it. That and the fact that he still wasn’t entirely onboard with the whole ‘join the Druids’ thing. But, he’d already committed, and it was like the only option open to him.

At his response, Lance heard the tell-tale sounds of Lotor putting the tablet down, and the nearly silent hiss of the chair as it was moved. The corners of Lance’s mouth twitched upwards against his will, and he hated how warm he felt at the fact that Lotor was stopping what he was doing to pay more attention to Lance.

Everyone else would have just let him be at that response. Keith would have continued training, Hunk wouldn’t have stopped cooking, and Pidge couldn’t have been bothered to quit her tasks. Lotor was stopping for Lance.

… It sucked that his enemy paid more attention to Lance than his own team.

“If you are sighing so dramatically, then I doubt it is nothing.”

The annoying thing about Lotor was that it was hard to hate him. Unlike other people, Lotor never ignored Lance or gave a half-assed response. The amount of attention Lotor showered Lance with was foreign. Even when focusing on something else, the prince made sure to always devote a percentage of his attention to Lance.

Lance knew this because he’d tested it. He knew almost exactly how long it’d take to get Lotor’s full attention, and Lance was unfortunately pleased to say that the longest had been a dobosh.

As much as he hated to admit it, Lance loved the attention. Coming from a large family, Lance was used to sharing attention. He was used to being loud and obnoxious to gather attention. He was used to being ignored and forgotten. Even among the Voltron team, he was never given the type of attention that Lotor gave him now.

As a matter of fact, Lance knew that if he were to look over, he’d see Lotor watching him. He had Lotor’s full attention now, and he hated how pleased that made him feel.

He hated that he hated a lot of things lately.

“Your silence does not dissuade me.” Lance shrugged at the Prince’s comment. “Or, did you just want my attention?” Lotor continued, his tone taking a tease lit to it towards the end.

Lance snorted, rolling his eyes despite the fact he knew Lotor couldn’t see it.

“Share with me what has you so troubled. Perhaps I could ease the burdens of your mind?”

Lance didn’t catch when Lotor moved, but suddenly the prince was in his sight, the back of his hand stroking Lance’s cheek. It was actions like this that also made it hard for Lance to hate Lotor. He was always so tender and careful with Lance. It made his heart feel tight, and Lance wished that he could control the beating of his heart so he could slow it back down to normal speeds.

“Back home, we’d just offer ‘a penny for your thoughts’,” Lance informed him quietly. Like every other time Lance mentioned something from Earth, Lotor’s brow furrowed as he tried to understand the saying. “A penny is a form of currency.”

“Ah.” Lotor’s smile was small, soft, gentle.

It took a moment for it to register, but Lance realized that Lotor was kneeling at the couch, offering this comfort to Lance. Quiznak. He really needed Lotor to stop doing things like this. His heart couldn’t take it. Not now that he knew who Lotor was.

“A penny for your thoughts, then.”

Lance was almost tempted to ask for the penny. The only thing that stopped him was that he knew Lotor lacked a penny, and who knew what Lotor would offer instead. He was too scared to think of it; or more accurately, he was too scared of his own reactions.

Instead of teasing or replying, Lance looked away, pulling on his bottom lip with his teeth. Lotor chuckled, and the hand on his cheek changed positions to hold Lance’s cheek and gently make him look back at Lotor.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, Lance. Your troubles are mine.” Lotor had a particular way of saying Lance’s name which should have been illegal. He could have been saying the most unsexy thing ever, and Lance was convinced that his heart would still be going crazy.

Funny. While he’d had a crush on Tyrac before – not that he’d admit that out loud – it’d never felt quite this strong. Perhaps it was because he was physically spending more time with Lotor instead of just on a communicator? Or perhaps the Druids had done something?

Nah, that was stupid. Why would the Druids do something like that? Did they even have that power? He was just being paranoid, that was all.

“I know.” Lance started. He couldn’t physically move his head away, but he could still advert his gaze. Even if this didn’t feel like a performance, Lance had to sell one. Matt’s unnamed resistance depended on him. “I just don’t want to be a burden.”

It was only after speaking that Lance realized how close to home the words hit. But, he grew up hearing that every act, every lie, every falsehood, and moment of pretend was based on some grain of truth. If he wanted to sell that he was interested in joining the Galra Empire and becoming a Druid, then this was the grain of truth to use.

“Nothing that you could desire would be a burden to me.” Something about the way Lotor said that made a tingle go up Lance’s spine. His grandmother would have said that someone was walking over Lance’s grave.

Lance’s response was nothing more than a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement.

“If it’s within my power, anything you wish, I will provide.” Lance’s gaze jerked back to Lotor at the Prince’s proclamation. There was power in those words; a dangerous sort of power. The type of power that was too sticky and liable to drown Lance.

If it was within Lotor’s power, anything Lance wished, he would provide. Man, oh man. What did that mean? What was within Lotor’s power? Would asking him to put an end to the Empire fall within Lotor’s power?

… Probably.

More importantly, what did Lance have to give up to receive this power? He wasn’t stupid. Power, especially this type, had a cost.

He gave up his home, family, and life for the power of being a Paladin of Voltron. What would he have to give up now? Or perhaps, him leaving Voltron was the cost for this. Thoughts for later.

“How do you know I want something?” Lance asked.

It was unfair how nice Lotor’s smile looked. His teeth weren’t crooked, or dirty. His smile was bright enough to belong in a dentist or toothpaste commercial. Besides, it was nice that Lotor would smile with his teeth, despite uncomfortable it made the prince. The only reason he did so was because he knew it was a comfort to Lance.

Every time Lotor smiled, warmth blossomed inside of Lance. No one usually sacrificed their own comfort for Lance. No one usually sacrificed anything for Lance. While he didn’t always want someone to sacrifice themselves for him, it was nice that someone was willing to. Now, if only that someone wasn’t the prince of the enemy.

“I’d like to think that we know each other pretty well by now.”

There was a moment where Lance’s stomach dropped. It was hard to miss the implication behind Lotor’s words. Just like how it was hard to miss the brief darkening of his eyes, and the flicker of his gaze. They did know each other pretty well by now, Lance would agree. But…

But, Lotor wouldn’t be opposed to getting to know each other a bit more.

Just the idea of it made Lance feel physically ill. He was already having a hard-enough time deciphering what was real and what was pretend. There was no need to add that level of intimacy into the mix. Not to mention the difficulty Lance was having in wrangling in his emotions.

Did he like Lotor, did he not? He was torn on this, stuck on how he felt, as his emotions conflicted and collided with one another. He had a crush, but he couldn’t have. Shouldn’t have. Thoughts and emotions were clashing in his head and in his heart, and it hurt to try to analyze how he was feeling, and what he wanted.

Thankfully, Lotor was a gentleman. He didn’t press. He hadn’t asked Lance for anything yet, and until he did, Lance was determined to ignore everything.

“Alright, yeah. You got me there.” Lance conceded defeat. “It’s just…” He paused for dramatic effect, pursing his lips together and exhaling sharply through his nose. “No, it’s stupid.”

“Nothing that bothers you is stupid.” Lotor was quick to respond.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“All the more reason for you to tell me.”

Lance rolled his eyes and half laughed. “Oh yeah, sure.”

“I mean it, Lance.”

“Fine.” Lance dragged out the word. “I’m bored.” Lotor’s silence lasted a few ticks before Lance continued. “See, I told you it was stu-”

“And I told you that nothing that bothered you was stupid.” Lotor interrupted. Lotor shook his head and laughed quietly to himself. “You’re bored.”

Lance nodded, making a quiet ‘mmhmm’ noise.

“Well, I could think of a few things to ease that.”

Lotor’s voice was usually all honey and velvet. It was sweet, warm, and soothing. But the low purr that Lotor just used was nothing like usual, and Lance would be lying if he said it didn’t do things for him. A shiver literally ran down Lance’s spine at the pure amount of suggestion in those words, and the gaze Lotor was giving him was definitely a bit more heated than usual.

Fuck. Uh… wrong choice of word there.

Well, thank the stars that he took after his dad with tanned skin that tended to hide most blushes. It wasn’t easy to make Lance blush, but props to Lotor for succeeding. More power to him. … wrong word choices again.

Okay! Okay, okay, okay. Lance had this. He could manage. He was good. Lance was so chill right now.

He opened his mouth to speak, and nothing but air and the mortifyingly embarrassing sound of ‘uh’ escaped. Lotor’s smile was sharp before, but it suddenly looked about 100 times sharper.

“My apologies.” Lotor didn’t sound very sorry. “That was a bit forward, but, I couldn’t help it. You are very pleasing on the eyes, although, I could think of a few other places where you would look even more pleasing.”

…

…

…

Was this how deer felt when headlights fell upon them? Lance never thought he could relate to a deer before, but here he was. What was his life? Besides a clusterfuck of ‘should not’? He hoped that he wasn’t blushing hard enough for it to be noticeable, especially in this light, but he had the sinking feeling that he was.

He couldn’t even think of the last time he’d been so… flattered. Like, damn. He knew Tyrac, and by extension, Lotor liked him. But, he hadn’t expected this.

He couldn’t say when it hit him, but Lance suddenly had a very strong urge to hide. He wanted to hide away from his feelings, away from Lotor, and most importantly, away from the world.

Thankfully, it seemed a response from Lance was not really needed. A lucky thing as it seemed that all Lance could do was make embarrassing little squeaks.

“Good to know I can render you speechless.” Lotor laughed.

Where had… when had everything been derailed so completely? This wasn’t what he planned. This wasn’t what he expected.

Lance tried to talk again, but failed. Even if he could find his voice, he didn’t know what he’d say. In all his years of flirting, almost no one had ever returned the favor, and never as strongly as Lotor was.

“Relax Lance. I won’t do anything to you that you won’t enjoy.”

Okay. That was… a bit creepy. Okay, a lot creepy, but it was probably just a translator problem or something. Maybe Lotor didn’t recognize how creepy that was. Either way, he was the only thing keeping Lance alive now; and Lance kinda needed Lotor’s assistance to become a Druid and spy for the resistance.

“But, as much as I think we’d both enjoy my idea, I get the feeling that wasn’t the solution you were thinking of.” Lotor stroked Lance’s cheek. “It’s alright; I’m nothing if not patient. I can wait for you.”

Lotor’s fingers brushed against the scale under Lance’s eye, and he felt a wave of foreign emotions wash over him from the brief contact. Warmth surged through him, although, it wasn’t right. Over the past few days – quintants – he’d noticed that the warmth that Lotor bestowed upon him whenever he touched the scales was slowly changing.

Perhaps Lance was just projecting his own thoughts and feelings, but the warmth almost felt… slimy. It reminded him of the static, but it was a different mental texture. Both were warm, but where one was sticky, the other was slimy.

Possibly projecting or not, he didn’t care for the sensation, and he was pleased anytime Lotor didn’t make prolong his contact with the scales. The less he had to feel it, the better.

“So, I have to ask, what was your solution then?”

Lanced sucked on his bottom lip again, trying his hardest to pretend that he didn’t notice the way Lotor’s gaze dropped down at the movement. Evidently, the prince had decided that subtlety wasn’t getting him what he wanted and that he needed to be more obvious. Lance wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Things to think about later, he supposed.

Lance hated feeling so defenseless against Lotor, but, he supposed, in that defenseless-ness, there was power. After all Lance had already been told that Lotor would give him anything he wanted. Besides, he needed Lotor to think of him as defenseless.

He needed Lotor to trust him, to want him. The resistance needed Lotor to want Lance. So, despite his desire to move, Lance stayed where he was.

“Well, I was thinking…” Lance paused, and then restarted again. “I was wondering if….”

“If?” Lotor prompted. The Prince’s voice was level, but Lance saw how his eyes almost literally brightened with excitement.

“Well, I was wondering if,” Lance repeated, “…if that offer from before…was, well, you know, still… open?”

“I get the feeling you aren’t referring to the one I just made you.” Lotor jokingly teased. “But, to verify, which offer are you speaking of? I’ve made quite a few.”

Of the few that Lotor was referring to, the one Lance needed was the offer to join the Empire and become a Druid. But, if he accepted that offer too quickly, it’d be suspicious. So, he went with the very first offer Lotor had given.

“The one that lets me leave this room, and teaches me how to… fix… this,” Lance gestured to his face.

“I don’t see anything that needs to be fixed, Lance. You’re perfect as you are now.”

Perfect as he was now, huh. Wasn’t Lotor saying earlier that he knew of some places where Lance would look ‘more pleasing’?

Whatever.

“For here, yes, but not for my home world.” It was hard to talk about Earth when Lance had accepted that he’d probably never return. But, he needed to keep pressing the idea of returning until it wouldn’t be suspicious for him to suddenly want to stay and be a Druid.

All Lance needed to do was get his foot in the door. Once he started taking lessons with the Druids he could try to convince Lotor that he enjoyed it and wanted to stay.

“If your home world would not accept your perfection, then perhaps they do not deserve it.” Oh wow. Laying it on a little thick, wasn’t he? “But if you insist, then I suppose you would need those lessons.” Lotor sighed. “Although, it’s a shame. Your Altean features are too lovely to be hidden.”

Oh yeah, Lance was sure.

If Lance had to guess, he’d say that Lotor’s favorite ‘features’ were Lance’s new magic space elf eyes, and the scales under them.

None of which were as pretty as say, Allura’s, but Lance supposed they weren’t bad looking. Then again, Allura and Coran’s were pretty much the same, and were somewhat different than Lance’s. Perhaps it was because they were 10,000 year old Alteans, and Lance was a ‘modern’ one?

“So, you’ll be teaching me?” Lance asked.

“As flattered as I am that you’d trust me to teach you, no.” Lotor laughed. “My mother may have been Altean, but I did not inherit her shifting capabilities. You’d be in more capable hands with the Druids.”

“The Druids… right.” Lance scrunched his nose some.

He still couldn’t quite recall what had happened, only that they were involved in his torture. He wasn’t keen on seeing them again, but, he had to; especially since he was going to be joining them.

Ugh. But at least he’d be getting some cool skills out of all this.

“Trust me when I say that no harm will come to you from them. Anything you remember or know of them is all in the past, when you were on the wrong side of the fight.”

“I’m not in any fight, now.” Lance narrowed his eyes at Lotor. He was choosing to focus on that part of Lotor’s comment rather than the ‘no harm’ part. No harm his butt. Was that referring to physical, mental, emotional, or all the above? Lance wanted clarification, dammit.

Not that he could ask it without probably insulting Lotor. Ugh.

He was also opting to ignore the whole ‘wrong side of the fight’ nonsense. Then again, if Lotor was raised on the cartoons and propaganda that they shoved down the youth of the Empire, then perhaps Lotor truly believed that.

Lance’s complaints about the rest of the team had probably only reinforced those beliefs too. Damn.

“Of course.” Lotor’s tone was just ever so slightly patronizing. “That’s exactly why you’ll be safe. They tend not to antagonize neutral parties.”

Mmmmhmm. Sure. Lance totally believed that. They totally wouldn’t hurt Lance because he was a ‘neutral party’. It didn’t have anything to do with Lotor liking him, or that Lotor wanted Lance on his side, probably as a Druid. Which… hmm… Lance had had to think on that.

Goals that shouldn’t have been lining up were, and that was mildly concerning. The key question was why. Why did Lotor want Lance to be a Druid? There had to be more reason than just the fact that Lotor liked him.

Then again, Matt said that most of the people they attempted to have become spies had ended up flipping on the Resistance. Perhaps Lotor was counting on that happening for Lance. But to what end? For what reason?

It couldn’t have had anything to do with Voltron. Voltron had been formed without him! …Wait. Voltron had been formed without him, then had Shiro returned? Or had they replaced Shiro like they’d replaced him?

….

Questions for later.

“Alright. I trust you.” Surprisingly, Lance did trust Lotor. Although, perhaps not in the way Lotor wanted him to, but, hey, trust was trust. Lance could trust Lotor to be Lotor. He could trust Lotor to try to do what was ‘best’ for the Empire. What he didn’t trust, was for Lotor to do what was best for the universe.

Regardless of how Lance meant the statement, and his own feelings towards it, Lotor’s eyes, once again, literally lit up, and his smile curled up into a smug smirk.

“Allow me some time to convene with the Druids. I’ll set up your lessons as soon as possible.”

“Thank you!” Lance beamed, and returned the smile. He sat up to throw his arms around Lotor, nearly throwing himself at the prince. There was an ‘oomph’ of air escaping and Lance felt the prince sway from the force of the hug. Lotor’s laughter was a low dark chuckle as he returned the gesture.

“Of course. Anything for you.”

Chapter Text

The next time Lance found himself staring at the mirror, he was wearing the Druid-esque clothes Lotor provided. Technically, Lotor had provided these clothes from the beginning, but, Lance hadn’t wanted to wear them then. He still didn’t want to wear them now. However, he had a job to do.

It may have been a blessing, but he still didn’t remember the Druids.

Not really, anyways. So, he could only speculate if what he’d been given was truly what the Druids wore. The robe was far from form fitting, and despite its coarse material, it rippled and pooled around him.

He felt like he had wrapped himself up in an oversized snuggy. He just wanted to curl up and hide away from the world. Given how the cloak dwarfed him and pooled around him, Lance had the feeling that it was done on purpose.

Leaning against the doorframe, Lotor watched him with mild interest. The light from the bathroom – which was brighter than the light in the room – contoured his face, and Lance hastily reminded himself not to be caught staring. Lotor hadn’t made anymore advances towards Lance, and while he was certain that more would come, Lance didn’t want to invite them.

Lotor’s affection was a two-sided sword. On one hand, he gave Lance all sorts of fancy treatment, and wasn’t throwing him to the gladiator rings like Shiro was. Even if Lance didn’t know what to do with all the attention, he still liked it.

On the other hand, eventually Lotor would be looking for something in return, and given certain things, Lance wasn’t sure he could return the sentiments.

Hopefully, the robe would help negate some advances. After all, the robe was the farthest thing from being ‘sexy’ or ‘appealing’. It was formless, and coarse. Frankly, Lance wouldn’t tap anyone wearing one of these. The black under armor? Maybe.

Furthermore, he felt like he was betraying people by simply putting them on. However, wearing them was a necessary evil. Regardless of his feelings on the robes, he had to get used to them. This was his attire for the next long while. Perhaps even his last attire.

Besides, if wearing these robes was needed to keep the Galra away from Earth, away from his friends and family, then Lance would gladly wear them. Like he said: necessary evil.

He spun around, the robe flaring out and twirling around him. Okay. So, bright-side, the robe didn’t restrict movement. Also, Lance totally understood why girls twirled around with their dresses now. That was actually pretty fun. Lance spun around again.

At the door, Lotor snorted.

“What?” Lance twisted to look over at him, narrowing his eyes and resting his hands on his hips.

“Nothing.” Lotor threw his hands up, palms facing Lance. “Nothing at all.” There was an amused lit to Lotor’s voice, which caused Lance to further narrow his eyes and stare down Lotor for a few ticks.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Lance purposefully spun back around to the mirror. “Whatever.” Lotor bounced off the door frame, and Lance watched the prince’s movements in the mirror. Lotor came to stand behind Lance, and wrapped his arms around him, leaning down to rest his chin on Lance’s shoulder.

“I was just thinking that you seemed to be having fun.” Lotor’s breath tickled against his neck, and Lance shivered. Whether it was due to Lotor’s close proximity or what, he couldn’t tell.

He didn’t like Lotor that way. Except he did. But he shouldn’t. Besides, he hadn’t discovered why he felt that slimy warmth whenever Lotor touched his scales. Although, Lotor hadn’t touched his scales since Lance requested the lessons about a quintant ago.

“Dancing isn’t a valued skill in the Galra empire, but I do know a few from other cultures.” Lotor took a step back and spun Lance around. “I could teach you a few, if you’d like?”

Oh, Lance was sure he could. And on that list was probably the horizontal tango. No thanks.

“Mmm,” Lance hummed. “Let’s see if I survive my current lessons.”

“Like I said, no harm will come to you from them. You’re safe here, with me.”

“I know, but…”

“Relax.” Lotor’s hands moved to rest on Lance’s shoulders. “You’ll be fine, now, come on, we’ve kept Xana waiting long enough.”

Lance nodded his head, took another deep breath and released it. He got this. He was fine. It wasn’t like he remembered his time in their… care, and Lotor wouldn’t let anything happen to him, right? The guy liked him too much for that.

Lotor squeezed his shoulders and gave Lance a reassuring smile before nodding towards the exit. The ship outside of Lotor’s rooms looked exactly like every other Galra ship that Lance had been on. There weren’t many Galra around, surprisingly, although, Lotor might have assigned them on skeleton shifts for Lance’s comfort.

Lotor stopped in front of a non-descript door. The most notable thing about it was that it required a hand scan before allowing them entry. The prince graciously allowed Lance to enter first.

Lance looked over the Druid in the room, waiting for… he didn’t know, Something. But nothing happened. There were no explosions in his head, no sudden recurrence of memories, nothing. He eyed the mask, at least he hoped it was a mask, but even it didn’t trigger anything.

If becoming a Druid meant his face turned into that, well, he was pretty sure that a) Lotor wouldn’t want him to become a Druid and b) he’d rather die than disfigure his face like that.

“You must be Lance.” The Druid standing in the room walked forward to approach them. He tilted his head, looking Lance over. “You have your father’s eyes.”

Lance’s eyes widened, the implications of the words stopping him dead. This Druid knew his father. For a moment, he thought he was referring to his human father on Earth, but no, there was no way that the Druid, this.. Xana… would know that. He had to be referring to… Lance’s birth father.

If Xana, assuming this was the Xana Lotor had mentioned earlier, knew the man who’d sired Lance… what about his…

“Your mother used to hum it as she worked." His mind dragged the words out of static memories, playing them to the tune of a familiar song.

“Lance, are you ready?” Lotor’s hand was firm against his back, pushing him further into the room. “I’ll return for you when you’re done.”

“You’re leaving me?” Lance spun around, his eyes wide. His hand already extended like he could just grab Lotor and hold on.

“It’s alright, Lance. Xana will take excellent care of you.” Lotor took Lance’s hand, raised it to his lips, and pressed a gentle kiss to Lance’s knuckles. “You’ll be fine, Lance.”

Were Lance’s eyes deceiving him, or was Lotor glad that Lance was asking him to stay? He probably was. After all, it further proved that Lance trusted him; which for some bizarre reason was oddly important to Lotor.

It probably had something to do with Lotor’s hidden agenda. Oh well. So long as they aligned – and they did currently share goals – then Lance didn’t care. Well, he did… but he’d worry about why they were sharing goals later.

“Your father was my Blood Brother. By my honor of him to you, I won’t let you come to harm while in my care.” Xana promised Lance.

Blood Brother? What the hell did that mean? And also, WTF his dad worked with this Druid? And possibly his mom too? Lotor had told him as much, but, it was still jarring to hear it confirmed by another source.

It brought up questions that Lance didn’t want to think of. Like, was this what Lance had always been destined to become? A Druid of the Empire?

Xana stepped forward and put his hand on Lance’s shoulder, ignoring how Lance jumped at the touch. Lance craned his head to look up at the Druid, just in time to see him nod and hear Lotor exit.

“I’ll be back before you know it, Lance. Have fun.” Lance nearly gave himself whiplash with how quickly he turned to look at the closing doors.

“It’s alright, Lance.” Lance blinked and suddenly the Druid was directly in front of him, leaning down to be eye level with Lance. “I understand this must be stressful for you. Come, have a seat.”

The Druid turned Lance around by his shoulders, and gently applied pressure to his upper back to make him walk.

“I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now. Your entire world has been flipped, tipped upside down and sideways.” The Druid continued, gesturing for Lance to sit on some cushions on the floor. “I was told that you’d been raised away from the Galra Empire, and you’re only just realizing your heritage.” Xana tsked, shaking his head slowly.

“But you’re going to teach me how to change my appearance, right?” Lance asked, his words coming out all in one breath.

“Of course. I’ll teach you anything you want to know. It’s the least I can do for Kivrah’s son.”

Lance didn’t want to show a reaction to the name. He had his parents, and they were down on Earth. They had never worked with the Galra. Besides, if his birth parents had worked with the Galra, as it’d been implied, then he didn’t want to know about them.

Yet, there was a part of him that did want to know. He was curious, more than he’d ever been in years, to know more about them. Why had they left him? What had happened? How had he ended up on Earth?

He wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth, because hey, he did not want to be raised here by the Galra, but…

“You want to know more about him, don’t you?” Lance jumped, his gaze – which had fallen to his lap—rising to meet the Druid’s.

“How-”

“It’s only natural. Those who don’t know where they come from can never hope to know where they are going, after all.” What type of Chinese Fortune Cookie nonsense was that? Did they even have fortune cookies up in space? Whatever. Xana took a seat across from him. “There is no one better to speak of Kivrah here than I.”

“What about my mother?” Lance didn’t mean to ask about her, but, he couldn’t help the words from spilling out.

“I cannot speak much of Gracia. To my knowledge, they never made their union official, and I only met her a few times.”

Lance rolled his lips as he lowered his gaze back down to his lap. There was a strong temptation to ask questions, specifically about his birth parents. At least he had names for them now, but he wanted to know more. But would he like the answers to those questions? He didn’t know. There was so much he didn’t know.

“We can speak more of them at a later time, if you’d like.” Xana offered. “We only have so much time for me to teach you some of your natural skills.”

“Like the camouflage thing.”

“If you mean the ability to shift, then yes, that.” Xana nodded. “As I said before, those who don’t know where they come from can never hope to know where they are going. Before you can change, you’ll need to know what to return to.”

“It is my understanding that this form is new to you, although it should have been your natural state. Would you say this is true?” Xana questioned.

“Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I always thought I was… human.” Lance shrugged. Xana let out a thoughtful hum. “So, am I going to have to mediate?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow. “Cuz, I used to do Yoga and stuff with my sister, but I don’t think that’s the same.”

“I’ll be honest. I do not know of this ‘yoga’ that you speak of, but mediation is a way to learn yourself, yes.” Xana nodded his head.

“Alright. So… Mediation.” Lance sucked his teeth, and let out a noise. Sitting still and trying to clear his mind just wasn’t something he normally did. He seldom ever slowed down like that; after all, that type of stuff lead to thoughts Lance almost never wanted to deal with. Especially since he’d left Earth and been struck with such a strong case of homesickness.

Then again, maybe if he’d dealt with the thoughts and theories that he’d ignored earlier then he wouldn’t be in the position he was in now.

“If that is something you’re uncomfortable doing, then there are ways in which you can be assisted.” Xana’s words had a strange lit to them that Lance couldn’t place, but he could understand where the Druid was coming from.

“Will it speed up the process?” Space Dad would so totally ground Lance if he found out Lance was even contemplating this. Actually, Shiro would ground Lance for a good majority of his adventure thus far. Oh well. He was too deep into the rabbit hole to try to climb out now.

“Undoubtedly.”

Huh. Well, that increased the odds of it being some sort of space drug. Now the question, did Lance really want to risk going on some sort of weird space drug? Was looking human again really worth that?

He’d turned down the space drugs before, even in the face of torture. But, when in Rome, do as the Romans do, right?

“It won’t cause you any harm, Lance.” Xana chuckled, and stood. Lance blinked and the Druid was gone, another blink and he was back, a large shallow bowl in his hands. He placed it down carefully in front of Lance.

The surface of the liquid in the bowl was smooth, unnaturally so since the Druid had just been carrying it. The glossy purple surface reflected Lance almost perfectly back at him.

“What is this?”

And what was he supposed to do with it? Drink it? Hell. No. Not today, Satan, not today and not ever. Liquids were supposed to slosh and splash around when moved, not stay unnaturally still and smooth.

“A supplement, should you choose to use it.” Xana might have smiled. It was hard to tell with the creepy mask on, and Lance was just going off verbal ques. “It will greatly accelerate this process.”

“Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but how?” Lance looked down at the bowl, and gestured at it. “How, man, how? Am I supposed to drink it? Because that isn’t happening.”

“Drinking it would be preferred, yes, but, if you’re sensitive to Quintessence, then just touching it should do the trick.” Xana paused and contemplated Lance. “Try that method if you feel better about it. Touch it, submerge your hands and feel it. Focus on how it feels beneath them.”

“I just touch it?” Lance raised his eyebrow up again. Skeptical Lance was skeptical.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Xana assured.

“Mmm… alright.” Lance reached forward, and held his hands above the surface. Ugh, if Shiro was here – he wouldn’t be in this mess – then he’d so be getting a talk about safe substances, and the importance of saying ‘no’ and getting grounded.

Quiznak, he missed Shiro. He missed all of the team.

But they weren’t there. They left Lance, abandoned him, and replaced him. They didn’t want Lance. They weren’t there. They weren’t there and Lance was.

His hands shook as he held them over the bowl. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and dropped his hands into the substance.

Hopefully, he wasn’t making a mistake he’d regret.

Chapter Text

The substance in the bowl didn’t really feel like much of anything.

There was a jolt of something which ran up his arms when he touched it, but after that it felt like he was just holding his hands in some sort of warm hybrid between jelly and water. It was squishy underneath his hands, like he was playing with a liquid form of play-doh or something.

Lance opened his eyes and glared down at the substance. Some ‘help’ it was.

Appearance wise, it looked like water. But, when Lance moved his hands, the surface rippled out before falling unnaturally still. It hadn’t oozed over his hands, or squished up between his fingers like he would have expected, given how it felt. For all intents and purposes, it was just like water. Except warm and squishy. Maybe it was some sort of Gel.

He still didn’t see how this was supposed to help.

When he lifted his hand, the substance clung to him, but became almost like a cloud. Wisps faded and disappeared into the air when he waved his hand around and wiggled his fingers.

Okay, so this stuff wasn’t a liquid, or a solid, or a gas… but somehow all three at once? That wasn’t how physics worked. Things couldn’t be all three states at once. In any case, this stuff wasn’t helping him with anything.

Maybe this was some sort of hazing thing. Like, ‘ha-ha’ look at the idiot. Except, he hadn’t really gotten any feelings from Xana that would indicate that he’d do this.

Then again, Lance’s intuition wasn’t exactly the best when it came to people or situations.

Lance huffed, looking up, and… Xana was gone. He looked back down, and the bowl was gone. He was standing – hadn’t he just been sitting? – in the middle of the room. This… this wasn’t making any sense.

There was this vague sense of something being off; both with himself and the world around him. It was like he was seeing the world either through hyper realism or a veil of fog; there was no in between. Every step he took gave him this sense of vertigo, and the world blurred around him with every movement.

Okay. Okay. This was fine. This was fine. This was not fine. He’d jumped down the rabbit hole, and there was where he ended up. In this weird limbo place. Liminal spaces? Was that what they were called?

Oh whatever. He didn’t have the time or patience for this.

“Last I checked, meditation was not some Alice in Wonderland nonsense.” Lance called out.

There was no echo to his voice, no feedback he could hear to say he’d spoken. It was like the emptiness of the room had swallowed his voice up the moment he’d spoken.

Actually, now that he was paying attention to it, he could hear the faint crackle of noise at the edge of his mind. The soft mind-numbing noise a Television made when it couldn’t find a signal and white snow danced across the screen.

Static.

He was hearing static, and not just any static. No. This was familiar static, something he’d encountered before. He knew this static, and he knew it well. Reaching for it wasn’t a physical action; it was more like trying to block things out to focus on it. He brushed up against it; metaphoric fingertips just barely grazing it and…

“Ignore the static, Lance.” Lance jumped at Xana’s voice, and twisted around to look for him. Xana’s voice had the echoey ethereal quality Lance was expecting his own voice to have while in this weird dream world. “I wasn’t expecting you to find this place as quickly as you did. I’m impressed.”

Okay, so Xana wasn’t in the room. Lance looked up at the oddly nonexistent void like ceiling, mostly because he needed somewhere to look to pretend Xana was at.

“Yeah, that’s great and all.” Sort of. Like yeah, Lance was ecstatic that someone was impressed by him, but he kinda wished it wasn’t a Druid, of all things. “But… I don’t know where the quiznak I am, let alone what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Xana’s reply was a dry chuckle. “The sentiment of many when they begin as you have.” Oh, that was helpful. Lance rolled his eyes.

“You may do whatever you want. This is where you’ll find yourself. Tell me Lance, where are you?” Lance didn’t know where he was, that was the problem. UGH. Stupid cryptic people and their fortune cookie nonsense.

Well, fine. If Xana wanted to know where Lance was, then he’d describe the room. Lance clicked his tongue in irritation, but lowered his gaze. “Psh,” Lance blew a raspberry and rolled his eyes. “That’s easy,” He replied sarcastically, “I’m...” He trailed off, blinking at the change.

What was once a hard floor beneath him had shifted into sun warmed white sand, peppered with broken and whole bits of shells, coral, and sand dollars. Before him was the wide vast expanse of blue, the ocean touching the sky in the far horizon. The waves washing up on the beach looked like some sort of rolling painting. He’d recognize this beach anywhere.

Home. He was home.

“You’re…?” Xana prompted.

Lance took a step forward, ignoring the motion blur of the world as he did so. The sand kicked up where he walked, and when he stepped closer to the water, he could feel the cool salt spray of the water.

He felt… strange. Like he shouldn’t be there. Or more perhaps like he shouldn’t ever leave. It was a conflicting confusing feeling; one Lance wasn’t sure what to do with.

“I’m at the beach.” Lance finally answered Xana after a moment.

He crouched down and carefully reached down, like he was about to touch a rapid dog instead of sand. The granules of sand slipped out of his hand and blew away into the wind although some of it remained on his hand. He grabbed another handful, and cupped it, looking at it curiously.

It felt so real. He could almost believe it was.

“And are you alone?” Xana questioned. Lance rolled his eyes, turning as he stood to survey the area behind him to confirm that yes, he was alone.

“Of cour-…”

“Lance!”

At the sound of his name, Lance spun back around, his eyes widening at the figures on the beach.

He felt like his breath was caught in his chest, his heart having stopped beating. This wasn’t possible. And yet, he was looking at his family at the beach. His sisters were laying out on towels, tanning themselves. The younger children were digging and building sand castles. The adults all stood or sat around umbrellas, drinking and talking.

And not far from them… was Keith. Keith, who was sitting on a towel under an umbrella all alone, his feet buried in the sand up to his calves, smiling at Lance. Lance’s heart stopped, again.

“Lance!” Keith called out again, one hand cupped around his mouth, the other raised up to wave him over. The smile on Keith’s face was the largest he’d ever seen, his eyes nearly sparkling from both the sunlight and the joy shining out from within.

This was Keith as Lance had never seen before. This was Keith as Lance would never see.

Lance bit his lip, glanced at his family and then at Keith and jogged over. Keith leaned back on the towel as Lance approached. “You got some sand.” Keith’s hand wiped at the space below his eyes. “Just here.”

Lance raised his hand to mirror the movements, pausing briefly before touching his face and brushing the sand off from under his eyes. Smooth skin met his fingertips, only marred by the grainy git of the sand.

“That’s what you get for trying to show off.” Lance’s older sister laughed at him from her towel. Lance nodded, scrunching up his nose as Keith started to laugh at him.

He opened his mouth to retort, but he didn’t get the chance before the voice in the sky interrupted.

“Lance?” Xana prompted, reminding Lance that this wasn’t real. None of this was real. It was some weird meditation thing. The world seemed to freeze at that realization, Keith’s responding laugher cutting off abruptly, his smiling face frozen mid laugh.

“I… no. I’m not alone.” Except, he was wasn’t he?

He was alone here. He was alone in space. He was alone against the Galra. He was alone in learning that he wasn’t even completely human – actually, he wasn’t human at all. At least Keith had Shiro with him when he learned he was Galra.

Lance opened his eyes – when had he closed them – and jerked back, his hands flying back to help rebalance himself. He blinked, and then blinked again. His eyes felt dry, like they’d been open for too long, and his body felt stiff but odd, like he’d stuck his fingers in an electric socket.

“W…what just happened?”

“You forced yourself out, but you got farther than most others on their first attempt.” Across from Lance, Xana leaned back out of Lance’s personal space bubble. “I suppose it was for the best. Extended time in the Astral Plane isn’t generally recommended for first timers, and our time was nearly up anyways. I suggest trying to meditate while on your own as well.”

Right. Lance was just going to ignore all of that and focus on what he could make of it.

“So… I got homework.” Well, it made sense. Go to school, get the lessons… so it was only natural that homework came next. Xana nodded, probably not commenting due to his own lack of understanding of human terms and culture.

“That sucks, but… if it’ll help me control this,” Lance gestured at his face, “then I’m game.”

Speaking of his face… he reached up and touched his face. The cool smooth scales met his touch, and he winced, remembering how… human he’d been in the meditative state or whatever. Xana had called it an ‘astral plane’, or something, hadn’t he?

“You’ll have to meet with me quinantly until you get the basics.” Xana spoke after a moment. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t practice out of here.”

“Okay, but like, what was all that?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Xana questioned, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Like, I get that was all some weird dream mental state thing. But like… what was up with it? Like, I was on the beach with my family, but it wasn’t a beach I recognized.”

Except it was. It was a beach he recognized. He recognized it because he’d gone there nearly every day of his life until he left for the Garrison. He recognized it because it was the beach he’d seen in his dream the last time he’d crashed Blue.

“Ah. I was wondering about that myself.” Oh yeah, Xana, that was reassuring. “I believe it has to do with your individual personal quintessence. Blue does seem to suit you.” Xana paused.

“Allura did say something about the quintessence we had mirroring that of our lion.” Lance muttered, looking down and furrowing his eyebrows.

In a way, it kinda made sense… Blue was more agile in the water, and had the sonar and ice powers. Red could withstand hotter temperatures, and had fire breath. Green had the plant power… and so what was Yellow? Rock? Yeah, that made sense. So, Black was air.

Ha. Shiro was the thing that was absolutely needed to live. No wonder the team fell apart from his absence.

Lance ignored the quiet voice in the back of his mind saying that water was just as vitally needed as air. The team seemed to be fine without him. They didn’t need him, and he didn’t care.

“Exactly. You saw the ocean because that is a valid representation of your personal quintessence. Blue is usually aquatic in nature.” Lance nodded to Xana’s words, although he was already mentally moving on to the next topic.

“Okay and my family?”

“It is possible that they were there because they were what caused you to form, keep, and hold your human form previously. After all, it is to my understanding that humans are not… friendly towards those different than them.” Xana studied Lance for a moment.

“You would have been very young and any in your situation would have kept and held a shift like you had.” He reached forward and rested his hand on Lance’s shoulders. “But you are home now, if you chose to stay.”

Home. He supposed that if this was truly where his birth parents were from then this would be technically the place that Lance was from. But… how had he gotten to Earth? What had happened to his parents?

He knew that Lotor had said that they were attacked by rebels… but… Lance had so many unanswered questions. And here was this Druid who claimed to know Lance’s father. Heck, he’d even gone as far as to claim being Lance’s birth father’s ‘blood brother’.

“I… I know you said that time was almost up, but…. could you answer some questions about my parents?” Lance asked after a moment.

Xana studied him for a moment before slowly inclining his head. “You may.”

“You said you were my… father’s ‘blood brother’. What does that mean?” Xana chuckled.

“It’s a term given to those who are as close as family as they can be without being family. I grew up with Kivrah, and for a while, I was on the same project as him. In the end, we had differing paths, and he ended up on a separate project with your mother.”

Xana sighed. “It was a shame I was never able to meet with your mother more than I had. I heard that Gracia was very talented. It was a shame when the ship your parents had been on was attacked by rebels.”

“How did I end up on… with the humans?” Lance asked after a moment. “Last I knew, the Galra hadn’t been near that planet…”

“Your parents worked on a special research project away from the main entity of the empire. It’s possible she tried to escape with the research and crashed on that planet. We were never able to find the crash or the remains.”

Then how did they know that rebels had been the cause of their deaths? Something wasn’t adding up here.

“But what matters now is that you’ve returned back to the empire, and with as quickly as you progressed through your astral plane, your parents would be proud.” Xana clasped his hand on Lance’s shoulder again, and Lance got the distinct impression that the Druid was smiling at him.

Lance nodded and smiled uncertainly. Xana chuckled and then half turned, his attention going to something behind Lance. This motion was followed by the audible hiss of door sliding open behind them.

“It looks like Prince Lotor is here. I look forward to future meetings with you.”

Lance swiveled around, looking up at Lotor as he stepped into the room. It was a relief to see the familiar face, and it took away some of the pain he was feeling since seeing his family and Keith.

“I take it things went well?” The prince raised a single elegant eyebrow, and then over exaggerated giving Lance a look over. “You don’t appear to be have been murdered.”

“Me? Murdered? Nah, Xana was great. I don’t know what you were so worried about.” Lance stretched as he stood up, working the kinks out of his system from sitting for a while. “How long was this lesson, anyways?”

“You spent about a varga meditating.” Xana replied.

An hour? Woah. It really hadn’t seemed like all that long, but… then again, he was in his head. It made sense that time flowed weird there.

Time didn’t exist here. Lance mentally winced at the sudden strange stray thought before shaking it off.

“I’ll see you later, Lance. Have a good night, and don’t forget to meditate.” Xana stood, taking the bowl with him as he gracefully rose. Wait, Lance turned back, but Xana was already gone. Had the bowl been empty? He looked down at his hands, but nothing seemed different. They weren’t stained purple or anything. He should have checked out the bowl sooner, but he’d been distracted.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t regret that.

“Is something the matter, Lance?” Lotor’s hand brushed against his back and then down to rest on Lance’s waist, a steady presence as the Prince nudged him forward.

“Nah. Just thought I saw something. It doesn’t matter.” Lance waved his hand in the air. “Sooo… what did you do while I was at school?” He asked, teasingly. “Miss me?”

Lotor laughed, smiling down at Lance. “Of course, but I was thankfully kept busy by my Generals.” Lotor sighed and shook his head. “They’ve been a handful lately, so I sent them away on some missions. Hopefully that will ease their restlessness.”

“You send them away often?” Lance asked.

“As often as needed.” Lotor replied, shrugging away the question as he ushered Lance out the door. “Are you looking forward to tomorrow’s lesson?”

Lance shrugged and nodded. “I guess. It was an… experience, I guess.” He sucked on his teeth as he reviewed the ‘lesson’ and his ‘dream’.

There were many questions that the lesson had given Lance, and he supposed the only way he could answer them would be to meditate again. This time without the ‘assistance’, although, he supposed if he asked, Lotor could probably get it for him.

The faster he got this done, the faster he could pretend to love this and want to become a Druid, right?

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand!” Lance screamed up at Keith, shaking his head.

His feet scrambled for purchase where there was none to be found. His arms ached with the strain of holding up his body. He could feel his grip sliding, not assisted at all by the dampness of the air or the slick clamminess of his hands. Below him, the dark ocean crashed against the rocks at the base of the cliff. Each roar of the waves was the ringing of the death toll in Lance’s mind.

Keith shook his head, crossing his arms. He didn’t look away, his eerily blank eyes locked onto Lance’s own desperate ones. He knelt, uncrossing his hands, although he still didn’t offer one to Lance.

“I may be Galra, but at least I’m not a traitor.” Keith hissed, one hand pulling out his knife and lashing downwards at Lance. The blade sung as it slipped through the air.

It was hard to say which hurt more. The injuries on Lance’s hand, or the pain of being so heartlessly murdered by Keith. He was given a few ticks to debate before he hit the choppy cold ocean. Hitting water wasn’t like diving into a pool, but instead like hitting a solid force. It forced him to gasp for air, taking water in.

The sun wasn’t shining, and the underwater world around him was equally dark and foreboding, giving no clues to the direction the surface was in.

His lungs turned to ice with the cold salt water, his vision blackening at the edges as he was tossed about in the currents. His foot hit something solid, and with one last burst of strength, Lance used it as leverage to push himself up.

His face hit the air, and Lance jerked back to himself with a gasp.

The book in his hands clattered onto the tabletop. He knew he was fine, but it didn’t stop him from examining his shaking hands, looking them over for any sign of the bite of Keith’s blade. His heart was beating a thousand miles per tick, and he was glad he was already sitting.

He let out a whimper, slumping into the chair. His life was already chaos, Lance didn’t need this. When Xana had told him that his quintessence was aquatic in nature, Lance had accepted it easily and brushed it off for other questions. Now, he wasn’t so sure it was a good idea.

For someone who’s quintessence was ‘aquatic’ and ‘blue’ he was developing terrible phobia of drowning. Which wasn’t helped by the fact that he was doing that nearly every meditation session. Ugh. What did that even mean? That he was drowning in himself?

Or was there some sort of outside force helping with that?

Each meditation session, the world he found himself had been getting darker and darker. Using the ‘assistance’ that Xana offered only seemed to make things worse, but at this point, he felt like it’d raise red flags if he were to suddenly stop using it.

Although, if he really wanted to, he could stop using it.

After all, Lance didn’t need assistance to fall into a meditative state anymore. Actually, Lance would argue that he needed something to help keep him out of the Astral Plane. He was starting to fall into it regardless if he wanted to not, like when he fell asleep while reading boring texts.

Xana insisted that this disorientation would pass, and that Lance would learn to better control it; but…it was coming up on quintant three or four, and Lance still wasn’t doing any better.

“This sucks,” Lance groaned, pushing the book across the table and letting his head thunk against the surface. This did suck. Everything about this sucked.

This time it’d been Keith trying to kill him. The time before was Hunk, and Pidge before that, and Coran the time before that and… yeah. He was tired of seeing his mental projection of his previous team mates trying to kill him. It was getting old… and sucky.

“Having issues meditating?” Sonali asked from their position by the door. Lance didn’t know where Lotor was, and frankly, in the wake of his current problem, Lance didn’t care.

Lotor had been nothing but concerned and caring. He’d even been understanding and comforting when Lance had woken him with a ‘nightmare’. Although Lance doubted that it could be considered ‘comforting’ when Lotor had given Lance a mini heart attack upon waking.

No one liked waking up to the feeling of another person’s eyes on them, or said person’s hand stroking their face. But hey, at least Lotor had cared enough to try to comfort Lance, as misguided as it’d been, instead of rolling over in his bed and ignoring Lance on the couch.

There were several people here actually, who seemed to care about Lance. While Lotor was the most expressive, Xana was pretty cool too, and then there was always Sonali and through them, Matt.

“The opposite, actually.” Lance called out to Sonali.

“Well… what’s your quintessence type?” Wasn’t that like some sort of personal question or something? Ah, quiznak it. It wasn’t like his life was going to get any better or worse by informing them of it.

“Aquatic? Water? Ice? Hell if I know.” He’d thought he’d lean more towards water, but Blue was very icy. Then again, his beach had been getting cold lately. Cold and empty.

Come to think of it, beyond ex-friends trying to kill him, he couldn’t’ think of the last time he saw someone on his beach. When the weather had turned sour, his beach had started to empty.

He should probably be worried about that.

He wasn’t human anymore while there either. Perhaps that was a sign that he was becoming more accepting of his Altean features? He no longer wanted to punch every mirror or peel off his scales anymore. That was something positive, right?

“Hmm,” Sonali hummed for a moment. “So that’d make you blue.” They shrugged. “Makes sense. Those with blue quintessence types can be very fluid. It’s what makes it easy for them to adapt and trust so freely.”

Ice was not fluid, but okay. Whatever. He’d roll with it for now.

“Good to know. Useless, but still good to know.” Lance still had yet to lift his head from the table. “That doesn’t exactly help me figure out why I keep drowning.”

“Well, what did you do to keep yourself afloat when with Voltron?” And another probably should be personal question from Sonali. Maybe he should be keeping score to bother them later, maybe dig out some info about themselves out of them.

“Ha. I didn’t.” Blue did all the work. “I sunk, like a rock, and drowned until I learned how to breath underwater.” Not that he actually could breathe underwater or anything. It was more of realizing that Blue wasn’t going to drown him or anything. “I feel like I’m already losing myself.”

“I’m not surprised.” Sonali replied. Lance sat up and twisted in his seat to give them a look. He opened his mouth to question them, but they continued before he could. “They’re trying to influence you rather heavily with the corrupted quintessence. I’m really surprised you haven’t succumbed yet. Then again, you are a former Paladin of Voltron. We were hoping that’d help you resist.”

Of course, it cycled back to his former Paladin status. He really shouldn’t be surprised anymore. It was always his previous position as a Paladin that got him anything, not anything that he did.

“Yeah, I’ve been told I tend to surprise people.” Lance replied bitterly. “And corrupted quintessence? You mean the purple shit that ‘assists meditation’?” Lance asked, doing the hand quotes when needed. “Yeah, okay, that makes more sense now. Soooo, how do I not lose myself? Any tips, oh wise one?”

“I’d suggest what you did with Voltron, but…” Sonali trailed off into a hum. Lance drummed his fingers against the table. “The only thing I could think of would be to find something to anchor yourself to. Something that even if you get dragged down and drown, you can at least hold onto it and find your way back to the surface.”

“So, a totem from Inception. Sorta.” There was no response from Sonali, not that he was expecting one given the Earth reference. Matt probably would have got it. “But what to anchor myself with? Would an emotion work? But those change, and none of this is exactly something physical.”

“Well, think of what’s been happening lately in your meditations. What’s a reoccurring thing you can twist to your advantage?”

Keith.

Meditation Keith’s voice rung out in Lance’s head, repeating the words he’d said before his attempted murder of Lance.

Yeah, no.

While Keith was a pretty common factor lately, Lance was almost certain that making him a totem was just asking for a plethora of mental problems Lance didn’t want or need.

People were not designed to be mental anchors, and even if Lance was still on good terms with Keith, he wouldn’t put that pressure on Keith. He’d seen enough of what doing that did to people, their lives, and their relationships.

No thanks.

In the beginning, Lotor had showed up a couple of times, but considering Lance was pretty sure that they were trying to create some sort of tie or relationship there… yeah, no. Lance wasn’t going to play into that more than he already did.

Besides, once again, same thing as with Keith. Lance wouldn’t put that pressure or anything on a person. It just wasn’t doing right by them.

Not to mention that Lance had already woken up once suddenly sharing Lotor’s bed; and no matter how nice that bed was, Lance was not keen to repeat that experience. He hadn’t done anything with the prince, but quiznak, Lance did not want to give the guy any ideas. Not now, anyways. Maybe after he got a better feel for Lotor and his motives.

Sonali made a noise of distinct annoyance, drawing his attention back to them.

“Fine, don’t share. Just figure it out quickly. I’d hate for you to lose yourself before even making it as a Druid.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at them, but didn’t offer a response. They were right, after all. He was failing already, and he hadn’t even begun.

Then again, maybe Sonali had a point.

What did he do with Voltron? Between the five of them, there were always emotions running rampant across the shared bonds, although said bonds only existed when they were doing that stupid training exercise or forming Voltron. Not to mention the individual connections between the Paladin and the lion.

How did Lance not get swept away by Shiro’s steady confidence, Pidge’s sheer determination, Hunk’s over whelming devotion, or Keith’s insane stubbornness? How did Lance stay afloat in that volatile mixture of emotions and personalities?

Well, that was easy when he thought about it. While the Lions were amplifiers, they were also filters. Blue filtered it all for Lance.

If their bond had been allowed to grow, then maybe then that’d become a concern, but it wasn’t. And it didn’t look like it ever would be. But, it did give Lance a start. He needed a filter, or an anchor. Something to help separate himself from everything else. But what to use?

He didn’t think he could continue to use Blue. She was who knew how far away, and he wouldn’t ask this of her anyways. Who knew what affect this crap would have on her. Besides, he hadn’t felt or connected with her in forever.

She was probably happy with her new pilot.

Lance drummed another beat out on the table, trying not to think of that and instead focusing on what he could do. Just surrendering himself to the currents didn’t sound like a good idea. That sounded like too much like defeat, although his instincts screamed it was a good idea. He was never one for instinct, obviously. Look where it’d gotten him thus far.

Then again, that’s what he did with Blue, and he’d learned to adapt from that. He was good at adapting.

An arm slipped around his shoulder as warmth pressed itself up against his back. Lance jumped, not expecting there to suddenly be someone near him. Sonali was never this ‘friendly’ and he hadn’t heard the door open indicating Lotor’s return.

“You seem deep in your thoughts. A penny for them, Lance?” Lotor’s voice purred in his ear. The warmth removed itself as Lotor stepped away, moving to take the chair across the table from him.

“Sorry. Meditating.” Lance gave a sheepish smile and ducked his head, rubbing the back of his head. It was a half-truth, so he wasn’t lying parse.

Lotor hummed, tilting his head as he thoughtfully considered Lance. “You’ve put a lot of time into that. I’m impressed by your dedication.” Lance peeked up at him, and upon noticing Lotor’s intense stare, ducked his head back down.

“I just want to look normal again.” Lance admitted quietly.

He’d had a conversation similar to this before with Lotor. Last time, Lotor had tried to use the ‘this is normal for you, Lance. This is how you should look’ argument. It would be interesting to see what he said this time.

“Why?” Lotor questioned. “That Lance was a lie, an illusion; surrounded by people who neither deserved nor respected you. They didn’t care about you. They were killing everything special about you, trying to force you into roles of ‘normalcy’.” Lance physically jerked, looking at Lotor and shaking his head as the prince spoke.

That wasn’t true. None of it was true. But… it was wasn’t it? Those were feelings that Lance had felt. Those were feelings that Lance had indirectly expressed to Lotor when he’d been Tyrac. It was a reflection of how Lance had felt.

His mouth felt dry as he listened to this. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want these feelings to be just tossed back into his face. But he had no protests that he could say.

“And in the end, after you confirmed to what they wanted, they still left you. They abandoned you, Lance.” Lotor continued. “Why do you still want to be with them when they hurt you this much?”

Lance took a deep breath, using the silence Lotor was giving him as a chance to think over a response. His sister once told him that a grain of truth existed in every lie. Lance could use this, no matter how much it hurt.

He needed to get the ‘suggestion’ to become a Druid. He couldn’t fail the resistance. Not when he’d failed everyone else.

“So, what do you suggest? That I stay here?” Lance laughed dryly and shook his head. “I just stay in this room, leaching off you? I can’t, won’t, do that to you. I’d rather live a lie and return home than treat you like that. Especially after all you’ve done for me.”

“Home?” Lotor shook his head. “You are home, here in the Empire, surrounded by those who only want to help you grow. This is where you belong.” Lotor reached across the table, taking Lance’s hand, stroking the back of it. “I want you to stay, and I know I’m not the only one who holds that sentiment.”

“Okay, so what if Xana likes me too. Big deal.” Lance shrugged. “That doesn’t change the fact I’m useless.”

At the word ‘useless’, the Prince’s eyes flashed and he frowned, shaking his head.

“You’re far more useful then you’ve been led to believe.” Lotor replied. “Those who abandoned you couldn’t see how useful you are. They don’t deserve you. Here, we see you, Lance. And more importantly, we see what you could do. Xana says you’re a quick study, and that he wouldn’t mind teaching you further, if you have the desire.” The grip on Lance’s hand tightened. “And I wouldn’t mind you staying either.”

“Are you, so you’re, I mean. Can I… stay?” Lance furrowed his eyebrows, and shook his head. “What would I do?”

Hook… line…

“Become a Druid. You have talent, Lance, if you put your mind to it.”

Sinker. Gotcha.

“A Druid?” Lance repeated. “You want me to become a Druid?”

“Yes.” Lotor mirrored his answer with a nod. “You’ve got a lot of potential, and I believe with enough study, you’d even be able to contend against Haggar. Think about it, Lance: you’d be the most powerful Druid in the empire.”

Cool, if Lance was into power, he be all up into that. Good thing he wasn’t. After all, power corrupts, and Lance wasn’t interested in that. Although, he’d take these strokes to his ego.

“I… I don’t know. I mean, I know you offered it in the beginning, but… I didn’t actually think it was a real offer… I mean… I just… I don’t know.”

If only Lance could just come straight out and say ‘yes’. That’d make this process go by so much quicker. But that’d be a bit suspicious.

“Make of it what you will, but know it’s the truth when I say I think you could achieve so much here.” Lotor reached forward, brushing his hand against Lance’s cheek – barely missing the scales – with his other hand. “Stay, please?”

And how could Lance say ‘no’ to that? Not that he was planning on doing that. He lowered his gaze, and fidgeted for a moment.

“You’ll never want for anything ever again, Lance. I swear it. Fashion, food, friends? It’ll all be yours, along with power, rank, and prestige. You won’t have anything to fear here, Lance.”

Anything he wanted… except for the war to end with the Galra surrendering, of course. How… tempting. All this and more for the simple tiny price of Lance’s soul. Of course.

“Al…alright.” Lance swallowed thickly, and looked up, meeting Lotor’s gaze. “Alright. I’ll stay.”

It was a relief. After so long of trying to get this event to play out, it was like taking a load off Lance’s shoulders to finally have it done with. Now he just needed to focus on finding an anchor so he didn’t end up dead before he could be any use to the resistance.

“I’d hoped you’d say that.” Lotor said, “You have no idea how happy hearing you say that has made me. Thank you, Lance.”

Lotor brushed his cheek again; this time, touching up against one of Lance’s scales.

There was a tick of the usual warmth Lance was used to before he was suddenly submerged in cool slick slime. The sensation was enough to cause a physical reaction, and Lance turned his face, hiding it in his shoulder. Lotor chuckled, no doubt thinking Lance was still being ‘shy’ or some rot.

Ugh. He should not have thought of rot, especially with the phantom feel of the slime still washing over him.

“I’ll inform Xana at the next meeting. He’ll be so pleased to hear that you’re staying. He was worried about you being left alone in such a hostile environment again.” Lotor smiled. Lance nodded, again. “We’ll have a nice meal tonight to celebrate.” Lance wasn’t sure he had the stomach to enjoy it.

Chapter Text

To some degree, knowing that the meditation ‘aide’ was corrupted quintessence was helpful for reminding trying to not be influenced by it… but no amount of knowledge prevented it from flowing through Lance, cascading over him like warm water.

He hated to admit it, but it was a comfort to put his hands into it and ‘fall’ through it into the meditative state. Then again, that made sense. It was designed to welcome him in, and then later… well… later it tried to keep him.

Now that he knew it was corruption and trying to influence him, he could feel that. There were nearly immediate changes towards how he felt towards people and things. The appreciation he felt towards Sonali for their knowledge was already being soured. The memory and feelings of the team’s betrayal was dug up and shoved to the surface.

“Focus Lance.” Lance rolled his eyes, breezing past the initial disorientation that followed falling into the weird Altean meditative state. He didn’t need Xana reminding him to focus to know what he needed to do.

Keith was the one that needed help to focus. ‘Patience yields focus’.

Ha. Lance didn’t need patience. He was flying through all of Xana’s expectations. Excelling at them. Even Lotor was impressed with the progress Lance had made over the past movement.

Finally, something Lance excelled at more than Keith. True, this wasn’t exactly something Keith could do. The Galra couldn’t do half of what a Druid could do with Quintessence. And Lance was doing so well. He was almost able to fully change his appearance back to human.

Not to mention all the cool stuff Xana had promised to teach Lance. Everything ranging from levitation of items to the teleportation. The thing Lance was most excited about was the manipulation of quintessence. Evidently, Lance showed a great deal of promise in that field.

It was also a talent that both of his parents had excelled in. Which all but promised that Lance would be good at it too.

Oh, Lance couldn’t wait until he met back up with his old team, and showed them what they’d missed out on. He couldn’t wait to show them how much he was worth, when placed with people who valued him.

The room before him faded into the beach. It’d changed since his first visit. It changed almost every visit, actually.  

The once warm rays of sunshine had been replaced with a misty fog, which rolled over the darker ocean, mixing with the salt spray of the sea. There was a noticeable chill in the air, which hung due to the dampness caused by the fog and ocean.

His family was no longer around, but that was okay. He didn’t want them here at this beach anyways. This was no longer the beach of his childhood. No, it was his beach.

From the dark wet sand and sometimes ice, to the towering cliffs, and the choppy murky ocean. This was Lance. And he didn’t want his family here to see this. He didn’t want them to see what’d happened to his sunny beautiful beach.

Besides, he’d given up his hope of ever seeing them again. He didn’t need them, not when he was wanted here, with the Galra. Not when he could just ask Xana for the stories of his father and mother.

They’d never accept him as he was now: Traitor to Voltron, and soon to be a Druid in training.

The whole world shifted, the edge of the cliffs cracking and crumbling, falling into the ocean with a grating noise of rock on rock and then finally a giant splash.

No.

No. He was doing this for his family. He was doing this for Earth, and for his family, and for everything that Lance held dear. This darkness, it wasn’t him. Not really. It was just the corruption trying to stain him. He couldn’t lose himself to it. He couldn’t.

The shift of mind was a visible difference. It was like everything brightened. The ocean changed from the murky darker colors to take on a bluer tint. The sky brightened to a lighter grey. It wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly better than before.

Lance looked up at the cliffs and sighed. He was all too familiar with them, considering his mind’s surprising love for recreating the Mufasa death scene with them and Keith.

He knew the sunny warm beaches of his past were behind him. He was too full of ice and cold salt water to ever be properly warm again. Messing around with quintessence and meditation like this had only further driven in that fact.

There was surge of warmth and the brief feeling of static that informed Lance that he was being dosed, again, with the corrupted quintessence. The world around him wavered. With each distortion, he could feel the corruption taking hold.

Now that Sonali had informed him of what it was, he could recognize it better. If he let himself be taken into it, he knew where he’d end up. He’d end up drowning in a sea of black tar, or on a muddy beach bank. Or worse. It’d take the form of Keith, or another teammate, and he’d be subjected to yet grueling battle to the death where Lance would somehow always end up dangling on the cliff.

“Lance? Is everything alright?”

No, everything was not alright. He still didn’t know what to do to not get sucked into the corruption.

The world stopped distorting, and Lance didn’t have to look down to see that the sand he was standing on was changing into thick sticky mud.

“Just peachy.” He sung out. His foot escaped the mud with a wet squelch, and Lance winced at the noise, wrinkling his nose at it. Maybe the mud was caused by Xana? He was more of the ‘earth’ quintessence type, evidently. Every child and their parent knew that dirt plus water equaled mud.

“I see. Where are you?” Hell. He was in hell. Where did Xana think he was? On vacation at the Bahamas? Oooh. That actually sounded really nice right now. Maybe he could ask Lotor for a beach vacation.

No. No, that was a horrible idea. He didn’t want to ask Lotor for anything, because then he’d owe the prince. But, then again Lotor cared for Lance, and if Lance wanted to go to the beach, then…

No. No. No. Lotor didn’t care for Lance, except in the aspect that he could use him. Lotor wanted to use Lance just as Lance was using him to get into the Druids to spy for the resistance.

Feels were unnecessary but unfortunately involved.

“The beach.” Lance answered Xana.

“And are you alone?” Lance rolled his eyes. Always with the same questions. Ugh.

Lance stumbled, falling into the mud. Any curses he would have spoken were muffled by his face meeting the disgusting muck, and he spat it out, narrowing his eyes at the ground. This. Sucked.

If this was indeed caused by Xana’s presence, then he could go quiznak off. But…

This did beat being drowned. While he was messy, he was at least still breathing, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that a gift?

There was another distortion, and Lance’s stomach rolled with the force of it. Thick gooey water washed over him, leaving him sputtering out black oil when the wave receded. The fog returned. How had Lance never noticed this before? It must be one of those things that one didn’t notice until it was pointed out.

“Lance? You seem distracted.”

“I’m…” Another wave washed over him, pushing against him with enough force to dislodge him from the mud, and carry him out to sea with the receding wave. Trying to swim through this mess was like trying to fight a rip tide, or trying to swim through molasses. Both options left him going nowhere.

He breached the surface, sucking in a contaminated breath of air before he was forced back under, sent tumbling through the inky darkness of this mess. His hand reached through the darkness, begging someone to help him, although he knew he was the only one there.

There was another distortion, although Lance had no visual clues at first to place it. It was more of a feeling at this point than anything else. The brush of static growing louder before returning back to its usual muted state.

Static. Lance knew static. He’d hidden in static before. It’d sheltered him from the Druids. Or was that the corruption? He couldn’t tell. If he reached for it, would it grant him his salvation or damnation? He didn’t know, but he reached out regardless.

A hand grasped his. He was pulled from the mess: the tar, mud, and goo that had taken over him.

“Are you alright?” Lotor’s warm voice washed over him, cleansing him of the concoction he’d been drowning in. Behind him, Lance could hear the gurgle of the corrupted ocean as it washed upon thick muddy shores.

Disgusting.

“I’m fine.” He could live without this whole experience. Really, he could. Was this all really necessary?

Whatever the true answer, it was at least necessary per the Galra. They wanted Lance to go through this for some reason. Perhaps it was to weed out traitors, and to force people to their side through the corruption.

Lotor smiled at him. Down here in his mind, Lance couldn’t see why he’d ever trusted Lotor to begin with.

Sure, the prince was gorgeous. Lance wouldn’t deny that. The glow of his eyes was highlighted in the fog that surrounded them. The smile brought back the crow’s feet at the corner of Lotor’s eyes that Lance loved so much. It was so hard to fake those, so the smiles Lotor gave him must be real… right?

Lotor said he cared about Lance. He said he cared, and he listened, and he was everything that Lance could have asked for.

The ooze lapped at his legs in the sluggish way that only an ocean of ooze could. Lance accepted it as it was probably not intended to be: a warning. He was slipping again. Quiznak.

“Just as expected. You’re safe here, Lance.” Every word, every syllable literally oozed out of his mouth. It was almost like Lance could visually see the words as they dripped out of his mouth. Sticky words, meant to trap Lance if he let them.

He was going to have to sit down and have a talk with himself about sticky, slimy, oozing, disgusting crap. This was… ridiculous. Honestly, was he some sort of novel, the type his English teachers loved to dissect for symbolism?!

Seriously, Mind. He got it. Lotor was as icky and sticky as the corruption. Bad. He got it.

“Lance? Are you alone?” Xana questioned.

“Lotor’s here.” Lance answered, eyeing the other wearily. People didn’t usually come to his beach since the corruption settled in unless they were there to try to kill him. Maybe this was a sign? Or perhaps it was all part of the Druid’s agenda.

Who knew?

Of course, he was still trying to figure out what that agenda could be. Seriously. Why were they training him? Why weren’t they torturing him as they had been before? Why had Lotor stopped them? What did Lotor want?

Too many questions, not enough answers. But maybe, if he passed this… if he became a Druid, then maybe, he’d finally get what he was looking for.

“Of course, I’m here. Where else would I be?” Where ever Lotor usually went whenever Lance was in ‘class’. Lance didn’t know where that was, but he knew where it wasn’t: Lance’s mind.

Lotor stepped forward, not hindered by the corruption, and rested a hand on Lance’s upper arm. His smile, once so warm, looked sharp and dangerous. Lance tried to take a step backwards, but the world distorted again, and suddenly he was falling forward, into Lotor’s chest.

“Is he saying anything?” To his merit, Xana sounded confused about Lotor’s presence. Which confused Lance because where else would Lotor be? Didn’t the Prince just ask that himself?

It made sense that Lotor would be here. He was important to Lance. He’d never outright lied to Lance, besides the whole name thing. He’d listened to Lance. He’d cared about Lance. He promised to take Lance home.

… Maybe Lotor could even give Lance rain. He missed the rain.

Lance sighed, relaxing into Lotor’s hold. He was safe and warm here. The chill of the beach couldn’t permeate through Lotor.

“I’m safe here.” Lance muttered.

Lotor’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him close. The prince’s chin bumped against the crown of Lance’s head, and Lance felt him nod.

“You are.” Lotor purred. His hands slid up and down Lance’s body, rubbing slow comforting circles everywhere. “You’ll always be safe with me. You trust that, don’t you, Lance?”

“Do you believe him?” Xana’s voice sounded strange. Lance couldn’t place what about it was strange, and it bothered him. Lotor’s arms around him tightened. The questions echoed in the empty fog.

Did Lance believe him? Did Lance trust that he’d be safe with Lotor?

Lance looked up, meeting Lotor’s softly glowing eyes. There was something there, something that twisted his stomach. The world behind Lotor seemed to distort, and Lance closed his eyes, dropping his head against Lotor’s shoulder. His head hurt. Everything hurt. There was something he needed to remember.

“Lance?” Lotor prompted quietly. Lance picked his head up and looked up just in time to see Lotor’s smile. Static washed in, and Lance swooned. There were butterflies in his stomach, and it was all Lance could do to smile back and answer.

“Of course.” Was he answering Lotor, or Xana, or both? He didn’t know. He just knew the answer was yes.

“It brings me joy to hear that. I’ll make sure you never fear again. You don’t know how powerful you could be. How much you could accomplish with me.” Lance had never understood the phrase ‘silver tongue’ until he met Lotor. Lance could listen to him speak all day, especially when he’s saying such things about Lance.

“What is he saying now?” Xana’s voice was an unwelcome intrusion to this, but Lance knew if he didn’t respond, the Druid would become more annoying.

“I’ll be powerful if I stay.” Lance couldn’t care less about being powerful, but there is an appeal to never having to be afraid again. Of being able to finally beat Keith and the others. To put them in their place for making him feel so small and useless.

“Exactly. Don’t you want to stay with me, Lance? Think of all that you’d achieve.”

One of Lotor’s hands slid up his body to cup his cheek. Lance was stuck, staring up at Lotor, their gazes locked. His heart felt funny, like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to beat faster or stop all together. The butterflies in his stomach increased, flying more frantically as their numbers grew.

He was going to be sick. He was perfectly fine. He was… He was…

“Do you believe him?” Xana asked.

“Yes.” He was responding to Xana, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Lotor.

Something didn’t feel right. There were too many butterflies in his stomach, and it hurt. This wasn’t the pleasant feeling that romance novels had prophesized. He was lied to.

…

Lied to. He was – this was a lie. This was a lie. He tried to look away from Lotor, but Lotor’s hand on his cheek kept him in place. Lotor smiled, the genuine smile with the crow’s feet. Lance’s heart skipped a beat.

“Perfect.” Lotor’s voice was a quiet purr. “I knew you would. You belong here.” The floor felt like it dropped out from below Lance’s feet. He was being swept away by Lotor: his voice, his touch, his eyes, his promises.

No. Wait. That didn’t sound right. None of this was…

“If he’s still talking, what is he saying?” Xana prompted.

Did it matter? Lance didn’t think Lotor would be talking for much longer. Not with how things were going. He smiled and laughed. The butterflies were still in his stomach, fluttering away, tickling him. All was safe here.

Faintly, ‘behind’ Lotor and Xana, he could hear a conversation, but the words were muddled. It was too faint to properly hear. There was also this annoying white noise sound, almost like static, but not quite. It was causing his headache.

He clung closer to Lotor, his hands gripping the cloth of Lotor’s clothes. Lotor would keep him safe. Lotor would ensure Lance had nothing to fear. There was no pain with Lotor. There was no pain for Lance with the Empire, with the Druids.

They’d give him the power to return the pain dealt to him.

“I… belong.” The hand touching Lance’s cheek shifted slightly to touch one of Lance’s scales.

Lance’s world exploded into fractals, the feeling of wrongness multiplying. It grew, expanding around him until he was submerged in just how wrong all of this was.

The butterflies escaped out of Lance, the gentle flutter of their wings replaced by the wrenching realization of ‘not right’. He felt sick to his stomach. Bile burned at the back of his throat, physically threatening him. The world around him tilted, sliding around him, giving him a distinct case of vertigo.

Bits of conversation leaked through to Lance. Quiet voices, barely heard under the roar of the mindscape around Lance.

“…too much.”

“Keep going. He’s almost there.”

Lance closed his eyes, he couldn’t do this. Quiznak the rebellion and the resistance. Quiznak Voltron. Quiznak the Empire. Quiznak everything. He couldn’t do this. He could not do this.

He wrenched himself out of Lotor’s grasp, falling back into the tar. He flailed, panicking. How did it creep up on him so suddenly? No, it hadn’t been sudden. He’d lost himself, again. He was still losing himself.

Lotor was still in front of him, unaffected by the ocean of tar surrounding them, while Lance was drowning, sinking in combination of the thick syrupy liquid that’d been spilling from Lotor’s mouth and the existing ooze of the corruption.

Lotor smirked, walking towards Lance like there was nothing around him. He reached out, offering his hand to Lance.

“You’re my druid. You’re mine and no one else’s, aren’t you?” Syrup bubbled out of Lotor’s mouth like something out of a horror movie. One would think it’d make him hard to understand, but Lance could hear his words just fine.

Lance’s mouth opened, the word ‘yes’ on the tip of his tongue. His hand was reaching out for Lotor’s. He needed to say yes. If he said ‘yes’, then everything would be fixed. He’d be safe. He’d be with Lotor. He’d… He…. He’d be making a deal with the devil if he said yes.

He put his foot down, as best he could when there was no ground for him to step on.

No.

The word was swallowed by the ocean, which roared in his ears. Static exploded in Lance’s head. The world had become a mess of blue, black, gray, and purple.

No.

That word was not allowed here. The only thing allowed here was confirmation. He could either agree to Lotor, to the Empire, to the Druids, or he could agree to the corruption. He could lose himself in it. He didn’t have the strength to fight it on his own. There was no chance for him to win. He needed to accept that.

No.

The static changed. It was now a buzz of Lotor’s voice, repeating over and over the promises he’d offered. The promises that Lance had accepted.

Lance’s skin itched. It burned where the ocean touched it. Lotor was still smirking, his mouth not moving despite his voice echoing around. He stepped forward, and wrapped his arms back around Lance.

“Sir!” Xana’s voice sounded distant, sharp, worried. It wasn’t meant for Lance.

Lance tried to kick him away, but his limbs were slow and unresponsive in the goo. His lungs burned with a need for clean air, from the taint of the goo threatening to drown him. The ocean washed over him, submerging them both, although Lance was the only one affected.

He needed to get to the surface, but he didn’t know which way.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” Lotor repeated, and Lance shook his head.

No. Lance didn’t belong to anyone like that. He’d never be equal with Lotor. He’d always be a trophy won, Lotor’s pet druid, and prized possession. A former Paladin, which Lotor had won.

Lance’s vision was starting to black out, but he refused to give into this. The static was still buzzing in his ears, creating a cacophony of Lotor’s voice and the white noise. His lungs gave out, he needed air, and he gasped into the ooze around him.

He could say yes to Lotor,or drown. Lance didn’t get the feeling either option mattered to the prince.

It didn’t matter. Lance would rather drown a thousand times. He didn’t belong to anyone. The closest thing to that would be the way that Blue owned him. But he owned Blue just as much as she owned him. They were a team.

The static broke, and there was an icy rush around him, a roar in his ears which overpowered the sound of Lotor and echoed through his head into his heart and within his soul.

Lance gasped, the feeling of cool icy water filling his lungs. He wasn’t drowning. Instead the ice ran through his veins, filling his body.

The thick sludge of the ocean was washed away, and after a moment, Lance was washed upon the shore. There was still muddy ooze on the banks, but the water foamed as it washed over it, scrubbing away the filth. The water was freezing, ice forming and spreading on the beach, turning the gritty muddy sand to ice.

The cold left Lance shivering, and when he breathed, he could see his breath cloud in front of him. His clothes felt stiff, and when he looked down at them, he could already see the frost climbing up them.

Lance laughed. He couldn’t help it.

He recognized this cold, and while it wasn’t warm – obviously – it was familiar. He was on his hands and knees, but he stood. His clothes cracked as he moved, and the water washing up glittered as tiny ice pieces formed around him and then were washed away.

Lance looked up at the Blue Lion.

Lotor didn’t exist anymore, crushed under her paw and broken into tiny glittering shimmering particles of ice dust.

Blue’s yellow eyes glittered as frost and ice weaved beautiful designs onto her metal. She moved like Lance, unaffected by the water or ice. She was a goddess of both. The embodiment of cold. She leaned down; the lion equivalent of looking Lance in the face.

There was a quiet chittering noise like a whisper in the back of his mind. Lance’s eyes widened. Talking with Blue before was always more of a feeling, but now he could hear her words almost as clearly as if she were actually speaking.

“You are my paladin.” She purred, quietly. “I have waited thousands of lifetimes, and judged millions of souls. Of all options, I claimed and bonded with you. You are mine, and I am yours. This is an unshakable truth.”

Her voice sounded like how he always believed mermaids would sound. It was crystalline and clear, like chimes on the wind, or a ringing of a bell. It was not soft, but it was not a roar either. It was the sound of waves crashing against the shore. It was the sound of cracking and shifting ice.

Her voice and words were a promise. He was hers, just as much as she was his.

Lotor could try to corrupt Lance’s quintessence as much as he pleased. Blue may not be able to wash it all away, but at least she could give Lance a fighting chance, even from across the universe. Most importantly, she gave him a lesson, and a flicker of hope. After all, his quintessence mirrored hers. She just showed him that he had the power to stay afloat this entire time.

“Do you believe him?” Lance had almost forgotten about Xana, but his voice rang out across the icy ocean-scape. There was an almost frantic tone to Xana’s voice, almost unnoticeable.

Lance laughed. Did he believe Lotor? He looked out at the new form his astral plane, and then up at Blue. She purred reassuringly, the sound reverberating through Lance.

Did Lance believe Lotor? No. But, he believed her. He believed Blue.

He believed Blue with his heart, with his soul.

Lance reached out to her, walking freely on reflective ice. His hand pressed against her muzzle. He smiled up at the Blue lion; shafts of sunlight breaking through the fog with every rumble of her purr. He opened his mouth and answered Xana’s question.

“Absolutely.”

Chapter Text

Keith’s dreams were full of turmoil, which he supposed was an accurate reflection of his life currently.

Both Shiro and Lance were missing, even though the team had their lions.

They’d found the Blue Lion, but they’d been too late to find Lance. Of course, if the emergency beacons had worked properly, then they might have found both of them. Coran wasn’t sure exactly why the Castle ceased picking up the Emergency signals sent out by the Lions, but he was working tirelessly to fix it.

Slav had mentioned to them that in 50% of realities, they never found Lance in time. Although, Slav admitted it wasn’t always due to castle error like it was this time. Keith wasn’t sure if Slav was trying to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, or make him feel worse that this was one of the realities where they failed.

There was a Brightside to finding Blue, however: she was much more responsive than Black.

Not that it meant much considering food goo was more responsive than Black, who just laid in a despondent slump where the other Lions had left it… her… him… whatever.

It’d taken Allura a while, but she’d finally persuaded the Blue Lion to allow Coran to temporarily pilot her in times of great need until her proper Paladin had been found.

“This is great news!” Slav has crowed upon hearing this. “In only 5% of realities, Blue allows Coran to pilot her!” He paused. “But, that may not be such a good thing for another.” The look Slav gave Keith was significant, and Keith had to grit his teeth.

Of course, this would impact something with Lance. But they needed the help that Coran could offer. Three Lions were not enough. They’d barely been able to survive when Lance was here, and now that he was gone…

The whole team felt his absence. It was evident in how many times Hunk had to carry Pidge to bed, or the rumble of their stomachs, or how dirty and quiet the castle seemed to have become since Lance’s disappearance.

Allura had been trying to press for a permanent replacement of Lance, but evidently, Blue would not hear of it. To be fair, none of the other Paladins wanted to hear of it either.

Given the situation with the Blue Lion, Keith didn’t blame the Black Lion for remaining unresponsive. Shiro was as irreplaceable as Lance, and if Allura ever wanted them to form Voltron again, then she needed to locate their missing two Paladins, not just replace them.

Not to say that Allura hadn’t already tried to get the Black Lion to accept a new pilot.

“Shiro tasked you with leading Voltron should anything happen to him.” She’d told Keith. She’d pushed him to try to get Black to respond to him. Clearly, he’d failed, and if succeeding meant becoming Shiro’s replacement, then he was happy for once that he had.

Besides, he was already bonded… bonding?... with Red. He couldn’t imagine having both Black and Red in his head demanding his attention.

One Drama queen was more than enough, thank you very much.

Despite Allura’s suggestions, attempts to find their missing teammates had not ceased. However, it seemed that Lance had disappeared just as thoroughly as Shiro had. They’d even stopped by the Space Mall that was near where Blue had crashed, but they’d had no luck.

The moment anyone saw the paladins they clammed up. The whole atmosphere in the mall had been tense, like the mall was at war with itself. After disappearing for a varga, Coran had practically confirmed as much.

Something had happened, although Coran hadn’t been able to find out what, which had basically started a cold civil war in the mall. Keith’s non-existent money was on the cause being Lance.

“You were never going to get any information from them anyways.” Slav informed him quietly once he’d returned to the Castle. Keith didn’t both withholding his groan.

If they were never going to get anything, then why had they gone? Why had Slav allowed them to waste that time?

“Why can’t you just tell me where he is?” Keith demanded.

“That isn’t how this works,” Slav shrugged. “And, if I intervene too much, I could set us off to the higher percentage of realities where nothing works out at all.”

Keith growled, but didn’t say anything more. He was starting to see why Shiro loathed this creature.

Stress on the castle was running high, especially without Lance to diffuse it. It’d started to bleed into Keith’s dreams; filling them with images of Lance dying, or being lost and alone. He still dreamed about the battle where they’d lost Lance.

That said, hearing a lion roar wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in his dreams, but something felt different. It startled him awake, and he laid in the bunk, staring up at the ceiling waiting for any sign that the roar hadn’t been from his dreams.

There were no alarms, no Allura over the speakers calling for the Paladins. Nothing screaming that they were being attacked – again – by a Robeast or a battleship or anything. There was only silence.

At the back of his mind, Red rumbled unhappily. His first clue. Yet when he probed her, she didn’t give him a response.

For a moment, Keith thought that he might have imagined the roar, or it may have in fact been part of his dream.

“Did everybody else hear that?” Hunk’s voice, drifting through the closed door quickly washed away that thought.

Keith was moving before he could think to do so, jumping off the bed, and turning to where his jacket usually hung. He hesitated for a second, perhaps more, as his gaze fell on the familiar brown hanging next to his own jacket. His hand reached out, and he brushed against it before he shook his head, and grabbed his own jacket and left the room.

Lance’s jacket was too warm for him, especially with Red’s heat running through him. Sometimes even his own jacket was too much. Besides, none of the others liked to look at Lance’s jacket.

Hunk and Pidge were already out of their rooms. Pidge rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, and then stifled a yawn. Hunk looked considerably more awake, but then again, Hunk usually got more sleep than Pidge on a daily basis, so this made sense. They turned to Keith as he exited his room.

“Keith?” Keith acknowledged Hunk with a nod before turning and heading down to the Lion Hangers.

There was a twisting feeling in his gut. Like something changed, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It took him a moment to realize it was residual feelings from Red. She was secluding herself away from Keith, trying to keep her emotions from burning out her Paladin. Something Keith was grateful for.

He’d only been able to take the burning for so long before he requested that Red to turn it down a bit. Now she was usually a simmering warmth, unless something set her off, in which case then she tried to hold back as to not injure her Paladin.

He sent a quick questioning probe her way. Was something wrong with her? The roar he’d heard hadn’t sounded like her.

He exited out of the elevator into the central area were all the hangars could be accessed, and realized the answer before Red could send one. He stopped in his tracks, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at the two standing in front of the Blue Lion’s hangar.

As if to confirm, Red pulled up the color blue in Keith’s mind. Yep. The roar had belonged to Blue. Great.

If Allura and Coran had upset the Blue lion, then they could basically kiss whatever help they were getting from her goodbye.

Blue had been mutinously quiet since they found her without Lance. It was a miracle Allura was able to persuade her into letting Coran pilot her. Now Allura was jeopardizing that. He understood she was just trying to do what was best for Voltron, but sometimes in trying to help, one just made things worse.

There was nothing to be done here, except find Lance and Shiro.

Some of Red’s heat leaked through the bond, although it wasn’t bad. It was comforting and reassuring. She’d liked that Keith understood that they needed to find their previous teammates, not forge new ones.

“Oh no. What’s happened now?” Hunk muttered, and Keith mentally echoed the sentiment. His life lately had been nothing but a repeating vicious cycle of ‘what now?’. He was hoping it’d be done soon, but at the same time, he knew that was a fool’s hope.

“I’m not sure. Something seems to have angered Blue.” Allura was staring at the door, her hand hovering above the console to open it. Keith rolled his eyes. Something, sure. And he was pretty sure that something had a name that started with ‘A’.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. Allura was trying. Getting unreasonably upset at people was part of the reason they were all in the current mess they were in. He’d promised himself that he’d work on that.

‘Patience yields Focus.’ Keith took a breath, held it, and released it. He walked up to stand next to Allura, raising an eyebrow at her.

“You gonna open the door?” He barely finished the question before the cause of Allura’s hesitation became clear.

Another roar came from behind the door. The ship seemed to shake from the sheer volume.

To her credit, Allura didn’t flinch back away from the door, but she did frown.

“Oh. That’s why.” Pidge murmured from behind them.

“Seems like a good enough reason not to open the door.” Keith added, mostly because someone needed to. He turned to Allura. “Any idea what caused this?”

If Allura wasn’t the one who caused this then, Keith could only think of one other person who could have stirred up Blue this much – Lance.

Something about that felt… right. He’d bring that up but like everyone else, he was avoiding bringing up the missing Blue Paladin. It was possible that his disappearance was more of a sore spot than Shiro’s.

That may have been because while Shiro’s disappearance was seemingly a work of fate, Lance’s disappearance was a product of their own combined efforts, or so Keith had discovered. Pidge still flopped on how she felt towards and about Lance, but he knew that all of them – except perhaps Allura, who knew how to hold a Grudge like no one would believe – felt some form of regret or remorse towards Lance.

Looks were exchanged between everyone. They were all on the same page, which was comforting, since they certainly weren’t all on the same page when it came to Lance himself.

The set of Allura’s jaw and the steel in her eyes told Keith that she thought Lance was involved as well, but didn’t want to admit it.

He’d seen the same reactions in her now that he saw when she was giving him the cold shoulder for being Galra. That really sucked for Lance if he… when he returned, but Keith had experience dealing with it. He wasn’t planning on letting Lance handle that on his own, especially when Lance had continued to act like nothing had changed when Keith found out he was Galra.

“Oh, come on.” Pidge hissed. “You think it’s something to do with Lance.”

For all of her bravado, Allura flinched at the name. “No. There are any number of things that could have set off the Blue Lion.”

“Such as?” Keith stared down the princess. “Because the only thing I can think of is Lance.” There were noises of agreement from the rest of the team, and Keith could see in Coran’s eyes that he agreed. Allura pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything more.

There was silence from the hangar.

In the back of his mind, he felt a flicker of warmth being kindled into existence. The flame he was feeling now was small, light, and warm. It reminded him of those really small candles – tealights, he was pretty sure they were called. It was a comforting warmth, one that spread through him.

He’d take this to the burning anger and ire of Red any day.

Keith’s burned himself a few times now with Red’s fire. He didn’t even want to imagine what Lance went through with Blue. He supposed he briefly encountered it once, when Lance took that hit meant for him. Once was more than enough.

Keith would happily take the fire and burning over whatever everyone else would experience. He’d probably get to experience it all anyways, once everyone’s bonds were fully formed and complete.

“Allura, you’re the only one who can talk to Blue now. Maybe she knows where Lance is.” Hunk suggested.

“She doesn’t.” Allura’s response was instant.

“Maybe she does now?” Hunk flinched back as Allura turned to him, her gaze sharp.

“I doubt it. Now, if you excuse me, I am heading to bed. I suggest you all do the same. Your performance has been poor as of late, and just because we’re missing a paladin does not mean we’re allowed to slack on our duties.” She brushed past them, Coran following after a heartbeat.

A Paladin. Just because they were missing ‘a Paladin’. Keith’s arms dropped, his fists curling until he felt the bite of his nails against the flesh of his palms. He felt too hot, like he was burning from the inside out. Instinctually, he called out to Red to stop it, but it wasn’t her.

The burning anger he was feeling was his own, not hers.

‘Patience yields Focus.’ Keith could do this. He took a deep breath, and tried to center himself.

“Man, this is worse than when she hated Keith.” Hunk scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “At least then we had Shiro to help buffer that.”

“If I could just get the information off that device…” Pidge trailed off, but they all know what she was thinking. If she could get the information, then they could prove Lance’s innocence. Or condemn it.

Keith needed to be a leader now, not some hotheaded kid who was kicked out of the Garrison for punching a teacher.

He turned around, looking at Pidge and Hunk. “Go, get some sleep.” He smiled at Pidge before nodding at Hunk. Hunk nodded back, and together he and Pidge started back towards the elevator.

“You coming, Keith?”

Keith looked from Hunk to the hangar doors. Heat once again blossomed inside him.

“Nah, I’m gonna stay up for a bit longer.” He was still looking at the hangar doors, but he heard Hunk make a noise of understanding. He waited for the sound of the elevator to fade away before he walked up to the door, and then after a brief moment of hesitation, entered it.

The thing about the Hangars was that besides the color schemes, they could all be the same room in the castle. Same bay doors. Same wide-open space. The only differences were the colors, and of course, the lions housed in them.

The Blue Lion was awake, sitting in front of the door as if she’d expected Keith. Her mechanical tail whipped back and forth, dragging against the ground and sending up sparks from the friction every so often.

Compared to when Keith had last seen her in this bay, she was looking much better. Then again, he already knew that. He’d seen Coran pilot her – as wrong as it was. Most of the time he kept the video conversations to a minimum.

It was wrong seeing Coran sitting where Lance should have been.

The Blue Lion glared down at him, her eyes boring into him like she could see his soul. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that she was looking at him. Without someone at her controls, this was the most alive he’d ever seen the Blue Lion.

This was the most alive he’d seen any Lion without a Paladin at the controls.

In the back of his mind, Red’s presence burned reassuringly.

Looking up at Blue, Keith was lost for words. He’d never been the talking type. That was always more of Lance’s thing, not his. He wasn’t sure what to say to Blue. Did he start with an apology? ‘I’m sorry that I treated Lance badly and pushed him away and helped cause him to leave?’. Ha. That’d go over well.

Even if he knew what to say to her, they couldn’t communicate. It wasn’t like he had a bond with her like he did with Red. He could talk until his words dried up, and she’d have no way to respond to him.

But, he had to try something. He had to do something. He couldn’t just walk into Blue’s territory and do nothing. Red’s protection and reassurance or not, Blue would probably tear him to pieces, and then the team would be down three Paladins.

Red purred, encouraging him. Whatever he did, whatever he said, she’d support him. Keith took a breath, and then released it.

‘Patience yields focus.’

“Is Lance okay?” It was such a stupid question, and he regretted asking it the moment the words left his lips.

Blue responded in a low growl. The hair at the base of his neck stood on end, and he instinctually took a step back. A resurgence of warmth from Red served as a reminder that she was supporting him. Keith took another calming breath.

‘Patience yields focus.’

“He’s not… dead or fatally injured, is he?” Blue responded to his question with another low growl, but he continued. “Because…” Because why, Keith? What would it matter if he was dead or fatally injured?

“Because,” he repeated, “I don’t care.” Blue’s growl this time was louder. She stood up. “I don’t care if he’s dead or alive, or if he’s injured. I care that he isn’t here.” Blue froze, even her tail ceased its movements. “I want you to know that I don’t care where he is, or what I have to do to get him back.”

The Blue lion sat back down, and Keith could feel the difference in her gaze. She wasn’t glaring him into submission so much anymore as she was judging him. He hoped that she didn’t find him wanting.

“I don’t care what he’s supposedly done. He’s a Paladin of Voltron, and if you’re still bonded to him like this, then clearly you agree.”

Even when Keith found out that he was Galra, Red hadn’t given up on him. There was actually a chance that Red may have known from the beginning. Despite all that’d happened, Red had never given up on Keith. They were all fools to think that Blue would give up Lance so easily.

Blue may have been the most trusting of the Lions, but he didn’t think that the Lion would still be keen on Lance if he’d done what Allura was accusing him of. Even if Lance had done it, Keith didn’t think it’d been done maliciously.

Blue was trusting, and trust was something very easily taken advantage of.

The proof how much a bond could stretch between Lion and Paladin was shown with Black and Zarkon. Despite all that Zarkon had done, they’d had a strong enough Bond that Shiro had been unable to fight against it for a while. Zarkon had found them time and time again thanks to that bond, even all the way across the universe.

Even if they found a new Blue Paladin, Lance would still have that bond with Blue. Perhaps Allura couldn’t understand as she’d never been a Paladin. Her bond with the Lions was different from the bond shared between the Lions and the Paladins.

Keith sighed. Blue hadn’t responded further to his words, but he could still feel her judging him. In his head, Red echoed his sigh.

After a few more moments of silence, he headed over to the nearest wall, and sunk down against it. Blue’s gaze followed him, and stayed on him. Red’s flicker of warmth was ever present, and highly appreciated against the chill of Blue’s hangar.

How could Lance stand it in here?

Keith pulled his jacket closer, and then half laughed at himself. Of course. Lance’s jacket. He was almost always wearing it. Except now.

Wait. Keith looked up back at the Blue Lion.

“Lance’s jacket hangs in my room.” He’d meant to say that a bit more eloquently. The words tumbled and spilled out of his mouth without his express permission.

Lance’s jacket meant a lot of things to Keith.

First and for most, it represented Lance’s absence. There were plenty of other things that represented that, from the silence that followed conversations where Lance would have made remarks, to the emptiness in the halls. Yet the thing that tended to hit Keith the most was the jacket. Lance wasn’t there to wear it anymore.

It also served as a reminder. A reminder that Lance was in fact missing. A reminder that no matter how many dreams he had of finding Lance, when Keith woke up, Lance was still gone. It was a reminder of more than that, though. It also reminded him of his failure. How he failed Lance… how he failed Shiro.

“Shiro wanted me to be leader.” He scoffed. “Look where that got us. We’re missing Lance, and the team is more fractured than ever before.”

These are things he’d talked about with Red. Things that didn’t exactly relate to Lance in ways that he thought the Blue Lion would appreciate. He tapped his fingers on the floor, the same song he’d often heard Lance tap out.

Blue rumbled, but it wasn’t a growl. Progress. Keith would take it. He’d do more than take it; he’d take it and run with it.

“Lance probably would have made a better leader.” He paused. “If, you know, we’d actually stopped and listened to him. He was only trying to look out for us.”

The Blue Lion had no response for him. He knew she was still awake from the gleam in her eyes.

Even if she had a response, he doesn’t know how’d he’d receive it. Besides, he doesn’t even know if that’s a thing… bonding with another Paladin’s lion. Not that it matters. Blue has never really shown any real interest in Keith.

Besides, he’s got Red. He’s quite content with Red, and similar to how Lance would never… Similar to how… no. No. Of all the team members, Shiro and Lance are the only people he can think of who would never give up their lions. Yet here the lions are and here their Paladins aren’t.

Comparatively, Hunk would give up Yellow in a heartbeat if someone more experienced came along and demanded it. Likewise, he couldn’t imagine Pidge staying if given the choice between this or her family. Pidge already tried to make that choice once before. And Keith…

And Keith… wow. Well, that left him as the only one who’d never give up their lion. Yet he had, more than once. He tried to run away before Allura found him. And then he’d been willing to die in that mission to upload the virus. If he’d died, where would that have left him? Where would that had left Red?

He’d been willing to leave because of… so many things, but the root of it had been his Galra heritage. He’d felt he wasn’t worth to be a part of Voltron because of that. Like he wasn’t worthy of being a Paladin.

Wait a moment.

Was that why? He looked back up at Blue so quickly he got whiplash.

The memory of that battle played often in his mind. It felt like it was constantly there, stuck on loop in the back of his thoughts, behind the place where Red stayed. He was familiar with it by now from the amount of times he’d replayed it over and over. Blue and Lance jumping in front of him and Red, and then the connection, which he had still yet to explain to anyone.

A puzzle piece clicked into place in his mind. The missing dot was found in the connect-the-dots picture. Suddenly everything was clear. Or at least, clearer than it had been.

Keith understood now, at least a little.

“The reason Lance left, the real reason. It wasn’t because of that argument, was it?” He asked Blue.

There was more than what he was seeing. There was more than what he’d been hearing.

He felt like he was onto something. Something new. A breath through in their ‘relationship’… the likes of which they hadn’t had since… since…

“We make a good team.”

Red supplied the memories. Pull up the images of Keith cradling Lance in his arms, or when they were back to back, skin to skin, climbing up the elevator shaft.

It was like the entire universe just shifted about one inch to the left. Everything was the same, but inheritably, everything was different.

His memories of Lance were changed with this new revelation. Suddenly tiny little things that hadn’t made sense did. This shift in perspective answered questions Keith didn’t know he had.

With Red’s help, his memories were clear. Even older ones. She was able to pull memories, especially ones that she shared.

“Let’s go down swinging.” Keith repeated Lance’s words from the final battle where they lost Shiro. At the time, he hadn’t thought much of them. After the battle, he hadn’t thought much of them. But now, here they were, repeating in sudden clarity in his mind thanks to Red.

He remembered everyone else’s response. Lance’s was odd. Lance’s response was out of place. Strange. And suddenly, very understandable.

Let’s go down swinging. Shiro had been asking people if they were giving up the fight. Hunk and Pidge said they weren’t. Keith had said that he wasn’t. But Lance had said ‘Let’s go down swinging’. He hadn’t expected to walk away from the fight with Zarkon.

To be honest, neither had Keith. But the way Lance had said it, like he expected Zarkon to win too.

Not to mention how Lance hadn’t fought against his team. He’d told them that they weren’t being fair. He’d destroyed the device, but besides that, all Lance had tried to do was explain. And when that failed… he’d ran.

He’d left, and although he could have continued and left them all to the mercy – or lack thereof – of the Robeast, Lance had returned. That was all the proof Keith needed.

He’d ran like Keith had. He’d ran for the same reason too: worth. Lance didn’t think he was worthy. One piece to a mystery that Keith hadn’t known existed. One piece out of many.

Lance didn’t think he was worthy. Repeating it in his head didn’t solve any more questions. If anything it raised more.

How could Lance not think he was worthy? Was he not always going on about how much better than Keith he was? Wasn’t he always talking about how everyone loved him? Wasn’t he always acting like he was the sun, and people were lucky to have the chance to look at him?

Keith looked up at the Blue Lion. She laid down, and let out a quiet rumble.

Look at him, Keith the Lion Soother. First, he appeased Red, now he was helping Blue. But he was no replacement for Lance. No one was. He shook his head.

He just couldn’t understand why Lance didn’t think himself worthy. Hopefully, they’d get Lance back and he could ask. Hopefully, then, Keith could understand.

Chapter Text

It seemed that by passing the weird indoctrination test thing, Lance had been accepted by the Druids with wide welcoming arms.

Which made sense. The test seemed to be designed to help weed out the weak and/or traitorous. If it hadn’t been for Blue, then Lance would have either failed or fallen to the corruption. Instead, thanks to Blue, Lance had passed with flying colors.

It’d been nearly two movements since Lance had passed the test. Two movements shuffled between the few various Druids on the ship as they attempted to give Lance quick crash courses on everything.

Xana was his main ‘teacher’, but every so often someone else would show up to show Lance around, or suggestion some readings, or talk about his parents.

If Lance was honest, it wasn’t bad with the Druids. The Galra military was strange, and Lance found no favor in staying near them.

Galra were rude, barbaric, violent, aggressive, and more than just a little racist. They didn’t seem to care much for the Druids anymore than they cared for their half-breed prince and his half-breed generals – who Lance had heard about but had yet to meet.

As such, many Druids had taken to shifting into a more Galra-esque form. They hid their faces under the terrifying blank masks. Their skin would take a purple hue. Some even appeared to be ‘stuck’ in that form, or perhaps they just liked it. Or, considering the mutation he’d seen to some of their scales, perhaps it was a result of the corruption.

Lance himself had mastered a Galra form alongside his human and ‘natural’ Altean form. Not that he took it often. The racism didn’t seem to exist just for half-breeds and Druids, as Lotor seemed to disdain Lance being in the Galra form.

Lance hadn’t taken that form in a while since Lotor chided him for ‘ruining’ his beauty. Lance’s human form was tolerated, but it his was Altean form that Lotor liked the most.

Lotor seemed utterly enchanted by Lance’s scales, and eyes. He often commented on their color, and how striking they were, especially against the natural tan of Lance’s skin. He also loved Lance’s smile, and often asked Lance to smile for him.

Out among the Galra military, smiles were rare. Laughter even more so. But among the Druids, laughter was freer, flowing through the drifting thick clouds of corrupted quintessence.

Time in space tended to blend and blur. This effect wasn’t helped at all by the quintessence, which tended to fill Lance’s head with static as it swirled around him. It was easy to get lost here.

Lance felt like he was walking along the edge of a sheer drop off on some slipper ice. Like one wrong move, one foot misplaced, and then he’d fall, plummeting to the bottom. One false move, mental or physical could seal his doom.

No wonder the resistance had so much trouble getting and keeping a Druid spy.

Lance was only barely hanging on, and that was only because of Blue’s sporadic interventions and his own force of will. In this place, Blue was a much needed anchor, but even she couldn’t wash away the filth surrounding him… in him.

Neither Lance nor Blue could cleanse the corruption completely; even if they worked together. It was impossible for him to clear his mind of the purple fog and warm static – which often times tried to slide between him and Blue. Lance assumed the reason for the difficulty was due to the amount of time he had to spend around corrupted quintessence.

Thankfully, he only had to deal with it when he was with the Druids, and surprisingly Lance didn’t spend all that much time with them. Lotor took up a lot of his time, especially since Lance had passed the test.

It was like Lance passing the test had sent some sort of signal or something to Lotor which made him more… clingy. Not to say that the prince was clingy or anything. Lance would never say that Lotor was forceful, but he’d been demanding more and more of Lance’s attention.

Which Lance had mixed feelings about. On one hand, Lance would never turn down attention, but at the same time… if Lotor wanted attention, then Lance knew he had a harem that would be more than happy to give it to him.

Lotor’s harem consisted of females, males, and everything else that the universe had to offer; or so Lance had heard. Their rooms were attached to Lotor’s by a door that Lance never used, so if the prince was so starved for physical attention, then he could go find it with them.

As a matter of fact, Lance was sure that Lotor already had. Some nights Lance would wake up and look over to see Lotor’s bed empty, the sheets long cold.

Those were the nights that Lance would go through Lotor’s books and tablet and try to glean as much information as he could before the other would return. The one time Lotor had caught him, Lance had thankfully been reading a text on quintessence, and had been able to explain that he couldn’t sleep and had decided to study.

Of course, it was possible that the prince was just testing Lance’s boundaries. After all, Lance was the prince’s newest favorite toy. He was a trophy to say, ‘I have an ex-Paladin of Voltron’. Perhaps within time, Lance would even become Lotor’s pet Druid.

Or maybe Lotor’s new need for attention was something else. Maybe he liked the chase, and liked the fact that Lance was giving him one by refusing to put out just because Lotor was the prince and getting a bit handsy.

Or, perhaps Lotor didn’t want anything and was just platonically asking and seeking physical affection.

…

Ha. Okay, so that was funny.

Less funny was the physical attraction Lance could still feel for Lotor. Like, Lance would never admit to being shallow but… Lotor was undeniably attractive. Even when he’d been pretending to be Tyrac, Lance had thought that he was gorgeous.

He’d admitted before that he had a crush on Tyrac, and to take it back now that he knew Tyrac’s true identity would only make a liar out of Lance.

And he knew the attraction wasn’t one-sided. Lance was certain that if he asked Lotor if he could ‘share’ his bed, that the prince wouldn’t turn him down. As a matter of fact, Lotor would probably welcome it.

Once upon a time, Lance had considered sleeping with Lotor. He still toyed with the idea even now. They had fantastic physical chemistry, and maybe once Lance did ‘put out’ then Lotor would get bored and wander off. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

The only reason that Lance hadn’t asked to ‘share’ Lotor’s bed was because a) Lance wasn’t like that, b) because it was Lotor. Physical chemistry and attraction or not, Lotor was still Zarkon’s son. Lotor had still been the main feature of the creepy indoctrination thing. Lotor still left him feeling slimy whenever he touched Lance’s scales. And most importantly, Lotor had motives that Lance didn’t know.

Besides, If Lance did ‘put out’ and Lotor got bored, then Lance would miss the attention.

The Castle of Lions had only starved him of attention, and of touch. Hunk could only give so many hugs. Lance wasn’t meant to be in isolation. He’d always been a people person. He needed attention. He needed to be touched. He needed love.

It was for those reasons that he didn’t exactly mind Lotor’s sudden need for attention. Well, those reasons and also because the prince’s attention felt… good.

Lotor touching Lance’s scales didn’t feel right, but everything else did. If Lotor wasn’t leaning against Lance, then he was touching Lance’s shoulders, arms, or face – his favorite place to touch Lance. Lotor had invaded Lance’s couch, suddenly preferring to share space when reading reports, or doing whatever Galra princes did.

And for as much as Lance could say that Lotor could take out his needs on his harem, the truth was that Lance enjoyed this. Spending time with Lotor could even be considered soothing.

It was hard for Lance to explain and put into words, but since the test, it’d seemed that not only had Lotor’s need to be more physical with Lance had grown, but so had Lance’s need for physical attention. Especially Lotor’s.

Even the thought of being away from Lotor for too long made him mentally squirm. It was like there was this itch under his skin that he couldn’t scratch, and it seemed the only one who could soothe it was Lotor.

Not that Lance minded when he was laying on the couch using Lotor’s lap as a pillow while the prince read through a report and carded a hand through Lance’s hair. If he was a cat, he was certain he’d be purring at this point.

There were certain benefits to this new physical thing they had going on. For example, Lance got physical attention that felt amazing – especially when Lotor played with his hair – and Lotor got to touch Lance in a Lance-sanctioned away. AND, icing on the cake, due to his position, Lance had a perfect view of the tablet, and by extension, the documents that Lotor was reading.

Bingo.

Today’s document was pretty interesting. If by ‘pretty interesting’ one meant ‘completely and utterly boring but something that the resistance would probably want to know’. Seriously, surely the Galra had better things for their prince to be doing then reviewing trade routes and economics?

Lance yawned, turning his head more into Lotor’s thigh to hide it, and then sighed peacefully. Other benefits to spending time with Lotor was that he, like most Galra to Lance’s understanding, ran warmer than most. It was hard not to get sleepy when he was so warm, comfortable, and relaxed.

Perhaps he shouldn’t be in the presence of his enemy, but there was little Lance could do about it now.

If Lotor had a response to Lance’s actions, he didn’t see or hear it. Lotor’s hand stilled in his hair for a moment before slowly working its way down to the base of Lance’s neck and then further to his back before returning back up.

If Lance wasn’t so relaxed right now, he might have been irritated at being pet like, well, a pet. As it was, he didn’t mind.

“How do you feel about gladiatorial combat?”

Lance made a show of ‘opening’ his eyes, twisting slightly to look up at Lotor and blinked confusedly – not part of the act.

The prince’s gaze was still trained on the tablet, but clearly his mind was elsewhere if Lance had heard him correctly.

“Wha?” Lance half slurred the question, blinking a little extra as if he’d been woken from a nap. Then again, with as boring as that document had been, he wasn’t too far from falling asleep.

Lotor chuckled quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was merely wondering how you felt towards gladiatorial combat.”

Huh. So Lance had heard correctly.

What did that have to do with economics and trade routes? Unless the goods being traded wasn’t actually goods but prisoners to fight in the arenas.

…

That document just got a whole lot more interesting.

Lance yawned again, this time covering it with his hand, and then stretched. He also took this moment to flip over onto his back so he could look at Lotor easier.

“It, uh, it kinda depends, I guess. I mean, I don’t think I’d do well fighting. I’m kinda a distance target kind of guy, ya know?”

Lotor’s gaze turned towards Lance, one eyebrow elegantly quirking up.

“You’d think I’d put you in the arena?” Lotor’s voice rumbled with amusement. He shook his head, putting the tablet down to free his other hand to stroke Lance’s cheek. If asked, he’d deny turning his face into the touch. “Nonsense, beautiful. You’re too delicate; it’d ruin your loveliness.”

Well, alright then. So Lance was too ‘delicate’ and ‘lovely’ to participate. Good to know. Also, hello nickname. Was Lotor going to start that up? What were they, a couple?

…

That was probably the worst thing for him to think of. Besides, the idea of sleeping with Lotor. And okay, he needed to stop thinking of blue dancing elephants. He just needed to keep the conversation going, that was all.

“You think I’m lovely?” Lance teased.

Lotor’s lips quirked up and he made a show of looking Lance over. He hummed as he considered his answer.

“Honestly?” Lotor asked, and then waited until Lance nodded. “Honestly, I don’t think you’re lovely at all.”

Well… that didn’t crush Lance’s ego at all or anything. Lance crossed his arms, and pouted, although he didn’t move from Lotor’s lap.

“I think,” Lotor continued, “that ‘lovely’ is an understatement, but if I say what I really think, you’ll think I’m lying.”

“Oh.” Lance’s cheeks flushed. No, more than his cheeks flushed. His ears definitely reddened, and his chest felt oddly hot and tight. Lotor’s responding chuckle didn’t help anything.

“But, this hasn’t answered my original question.” Lotor chided gently.

“Remind me again?”

“How do you feel about gladiatorial combat?” Lotor repeated.

“Huh… well, since I’m not participating,” because he was too lovely. “Then I guess we’ll be watching, and… I… I really don’t know.” Lance shrugged. “It wasn’t… well… it’s not something that existed on… my home planet for some time. At least, not in the legal sense.”

Lotor hummed again and although his gaze remained on Lance, Lance could tell that Lotor wasn’t really looking at him. Lance just happened to be where Lotor’s gaze was resting.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Lance asked.

“As a prince, shouldn’t my thoughts be worth a bit more?” Lotor returned, smiling down at Lance.

Lance hummed, tilting his head into Lotor’s touch as he considered him.

“Nope.” Lance chirped after only a few ticks of consideration. “A penny for your thoughts, unless you’re dead. Then it’s a dollar.” Lotor’s nose scrunched up in obvious distaste.

“Only a dollar?” Lotor asked. Despite the prince trying to sound all regal, there was a definite hint of a whine in his voice.

“Only a dollar.” Lance confirmed.

“Hmph.” Lance laughed at Lotor’s response. Lotor pouted, but only for a few ticks. “Well, since you’ve never been, would you be interested?”

“What? To a Gladiator match?” Lance asked, sitting up and twisting his body around until he was sitting next to Lotor, facing the prince.

Was… was Lotor asking him out on a date? Was that what this was? Or was it some sort of threat? Or was it a test?

Lotor nodded, and Lance bit his lip. Honestly, no, Lance wasn’t interested in going. Lotor must have read that in his expression because his face fell a little.

“Are you saying you don’t want to accompany me to a match or two?” Lotor asked after a few ticks, sounding and looking like a regal version of a kicked puppy.

Damn. How could Lance say no to that?

But, Lance just wasn’t keen on going on a date with Lotor to see two other alien species beat each other up until one of them died. Going would probably help Lance sell the idea that he was really on the Galra’s side now. Nothing said, ‘I’m siding with the Galra’ more than going to a gladiator match and cheering on the bloodshed.

He supposed he could try to find some excuse not to go and save his stomach the trouble of having to endure all that death. Not to mention he’d want to help all those aliens. He’d be looking down at them, and he already knew that he’d be seeing Shiro in those poor saps places.

Yeah, no. Lance couldn’t go. He just couldn’t. Sorry, Lotor. But he needed an excuse, as he doubted that Lotor would just accept ‘I don’t want to’ as an answer.

“I never said that, but I gotta know: what’s the occasion?”

“Do I need to reason to spoil my favorite Druid?” Lance rolled his eyes at Lotor. Favorite Druid, ha! Like Lance was actually even half the Druid some of the others were. He was just in training. He’d only been a Druid for two movements.

Wait. IDEA! He could use that!

“Oh, so now I’m not just ‘lovely’, but I’m also your favorite?” Lance teased, leaning forward to poke Lotor in the chest. Lotor laughed and swatted his hand away playfully.

“You are most aesthetically pleasing out of all the other Druids.” Lotor mused. “But you’re also getting off topic. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to distract me.”

“Well,” Lance dragged out the word. “I mean… I kinda am.” He grinned, chuckling so Lotor knew he was joking, sort of. “It’s just…” He shook his head. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” Lotor’s protest was instant. Lance sucked on his bottom lip, and looked down.

“It’s just… I’m flattered that I’m your favorite but… there’s Druids that are better than me.” Lance sighed, and lowered his gaze, dropping his hand and twisting it with his other.

“Nonsense.” Lotor’s hand was suddenly under Lance’s chin, tilting his head back up until he was looking at the prince. “I’ve heard that the others are impressed with how quickly you’re picking up your studies.”

“But I can’t do the thunder bolt or the extreme speed attacks that the other Druids can do.” Mentally Lance got a kick out of the Pokémon names. But, all jokes aside, Lance did feel rather useless as a Druid. He couldn’t do much, and he knew those were like, the two main attacks used by the Druids.

Or at least that was how Keith had made it seem.

“They’ve also been working on this for far longer than you have. For as young and as new as you are, you’re doing well.” Lotor countered. Well, at least Lance could always count on him to try to stoke or boost his ego.

“But all I’m good at is… interrogation, meditation, and shifting between forms.” Lotor’s nose scrunched due to the reminder of the ‘Galra’ from.

Oh right, internal racism towards Galra FTW. No time to let his internal amusement show though, he needed to be sad and pathetic right now. For extra affect measure, Lance added in a small sniffle of pathetic-ness. Lotor sighed, his expression evening back out.

“You’ll get better with time. Your talent with meditation is promising, especially for quintessence manipulation.” Lotor soothed.

“Which the thunder bolt attack is. I’m no good at it.” Since he couldn’t physically look away, he just adverted his gaze. Lance heard Lotor take a deep breath and release it. Not quite a sigh, but definitely a sigh.

“Give it time, but I suppose you’d rather apply yourself to your studies than attend with me?”

There! Lotor provided an excuse for Lance. Perfect!

“You aren’t… mad?” He peeked over at Lotor, noting the turned down lips and furrowed eyebrows. It wasn’t fair. Even upset, Lotor looked attractive. Not wanting to give himself away, he looked back away again.

“Disappointed, yes.” Lance flinched at the words. “But how can I fault you when you want to better yourself?”

“It’s not for myself.” Lance countered. This next part was all bullshit, but he was hoping that the prince would take it.

“Oh?”

“It’s for you. You’ve taken me in, let me stay in your rooms, eat real food. You’ve allowed me to train with the Druids. I just… I just don’t want to let you down by failing.”

He may have been laying it on a bit thick, but it seemed that Lotor was taking it.

“Oh, Lance.” Lotor tsked. “I wish I’d known to take you from Voltron sooner.” Lance flinched again at the mention of Voltron. “It’s so heartbreaking to see how they’ve ruined you so.”

Lance peeked back at him. Lotor’s expression was more tender and warm now. He smiled when saw Lance looking. It was small and gentle, like one would smile when coaxing out a shy animal.

“Even if you were to fail as a Druid, I’m sure there would still be some uses for you on this ship; and I’d still make sure that you were well taken care of.”

Okay. Oh. Kay. How does one even respond to that? What did that even mean? What other uses would Lance have? Unless… unless Lotor was referring to his harem. In which case, yeah, no. No thanks, hard pass. Very strong hard pass.

There were other people Lance would prefer to spend his time with in that way. Some of those people he’d never actually see again. Some of those people, he doubted would ever want to see him again.

He found himself repeating the mantra he’d taken up anytime he even thought of sleeping with Lotor: if only it were anybody else… anybody else, and in any other time and place.

UGH! Why did the people he found attractive have to be evil or on the wrong side or be assholes?! Like seriously, universe! WTF?!

It was an important reminder, given the very noticeable physical chemistry between them. Physical attraction aside, Lance did not want to spend his days as a… as a… a booty call. Like, no offense to those people who were booty calls, and no offense to those in the harem. Hell, no offense to any sex workers, but… uh, yeah, no. That life was not for Lance. Nope. Nada. No.

“I’ll have to make sure I don’t fail then, huh?” Besides, his job given to him by the resistance kinda needed him as a Druid, not as a part of Lotor’s harem. Although, he was pretty sure he’d still be able to get information from Lotor’s tablet even if he was to join that.

“If you insist… but if you do fail, know I won’t kick you out to the cold to live as some space vagabond on a swap moon.” Oh. Sick burn to the Voltron team from Lotor. They deserved it, but still. Ouch.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do. Although, I’ll remind you if you need it. After all, I know how forgetful you can be.”

How… how forgetful he could be? What did that mean? Lance didn’t think he’d forgotten anything recently. His memory was usually pretty good. Yeah, time seemed to blur here, but it wasn’t him forgetting things, was it?

“…Right, of course.” Lotor smiled patronizingly at him, patting his cheek.

“I’ll have to find something else for you, then, since taking you to see gladiatorial combat is out of the question for now.”

“What? No!” Lance shook his head. “You don’t have to do or get anything for me.”

“You don’t think you’re worth it?” Lotor asked before ‘tsking’ and shaking his head. “You trust me, don’t you, Lance?”

The question sounded so eerily familiar to the one he’d been asked before. The one Blue had interrupted. Lance rolled his lips, but nodded. The corners of Lotor’s lips curled upwards, and his eyes gleamed at the response.

“Good.” He purred. “Then trust me when I say that any GAC I spend on you is more than worth it.”

The tablet on the table beeped and blinked, drawing Lotor’s attention back to it. He frowned, reaching forward to grab it. “Quiznak.” He breathed out sharply, narrowing his eyes as he scanned over whatever he read. He paused to look at Lance, giving him a sardonic smile. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. We’ll have to finish this conversation at a later time.”

Cool. No more awkward conversation about what Lance was worth. Thank you beeping tablet!

He was so down with post phoning this. As a matter of fact, he opened his mouth to say as much, but then Lotor was leaning forward. Lips pressed against his forehead for a tick before the prince was retreating.

“If I don’t see you tonight, we’ll have dinner tomorrow, alright?” Lotor offered as he stood, taking the tablet with him. “I’ll see you later.”

Lance blinked, staring down at the place where Lotor had been. He heard the door slide open and Lotor’s voice as he instructed the guards stationed out there, and then…

“Did he break you already?” Lance shook his head, looking up at Sonali.

“I’m fine.”

“I’d hope so. I have GAC on you lasting longer than our previous attempts.” Sonali huffed. Lance rolled his eyes.

“Sure, like you actually have any faith in me.” Lance twisted, resting his chin against the back of the couch.

Sonali shrugged. “I have faith in Matt.”

“How encouraging.” Lance paused. “How much GAC do you have on me?”

“More than I probably should.” Sonali teased.

“Awh, c’mon. Tell me.” Lance pleaded, using his signature ‘puppy dog’ face on them. Sonali shook their head, resting their hand on their hip.

“You’re such a child.” They sighed. “Anyways, you have anything for us?”

“Geeze, I only just started.” Lance responded. Silence replied, and although he couldn’t see Sonali’s face from under their guard mask, he could just see the unimpressed face they were making.

“I guess.” Lance amended. “How interested is the Resistance in trade routes that may include prisoners for the gladiator arenas?”

Sonali perked up, stepping forward. “I’m listening.”

Lance grinned in response. “Perfect. So… before Lotor was called away, he was reading this interesting little document about the trade routes in system G-95 Vox…”

Chapter Text

Training with Xana had a few perks which Lance enjoyed.

For starters, the Druid had known Lance’s birth parents, although he’d been more familiar with Lance’s birth father. Questioning Xana about said birth parents was always a quick easy way to help prove his ‘loyalty’ to the Galra cause.

Additionally, the older Druid was the one who’d first started Lance down this path. He was the one most familiar with Lance and his learning style. So needless to say, under his guidance, Lance flourished.

As a last final perk, Xana was the highest-ranking Druid on this ship. Making him, for all intents and purposes, the one Druid that Lance wanted to schmooze up to. Especially if Lance wanted higher classified reports in the near future.

Lotor seemed picky on just about anybody who was to be ‘by his side’. He’d discarded Zarkon’s original generals and replaced them with his own, and was slowly systematically swapping out others, like the Druids, as well.

As such, there weren’t many other Druids on the ship, at least, nowhere near as many as there were on Zarkon’s main fleet ship.

However, out of all the Druids in the empire, Xana fell just short of Haggar’s former – now dead thanks to the Blade of Marmora and Allura – disciples. Which was a feat in and of itself already, even if someone didn’t consider Xana’s scales.

It’d been shocking the first time Lance had seen Xana without his mask. Allura had said that she and Coran were the last Alteans alive. But then again, Lance was Altean, and he was alive. So he supposed it shouldn’t have been outside of the realm of possibility that there were others as well.

Like, Xana and the other Druids.

In any case, the scales were evidently part of his Altean culture, and learning about them was one of the many mini crash courses that Lance had been given. For the most part it was informative, although expounded a lot on knowledge of quintessence, and, more specifically, quintessence base types.

The scales on an Altean’s face was a physical representation of a person’s personal quintessence. In more ways than one. While the traditional – read: ten thousand year old Alteans – scales were all uniform except for their coloration, the Druid’s scales had evolved and adapted due to mutations from the corrupt quintessence to form differently, although their functions were much the same.

For instance, Lance had gorgeous – or so said Lotor – blue scales, which started as a thin point above the outer corner of his eyes before swooping down to end midway under the eye, widening at the arc of the swoop and narrowing to points at both ends.

Xana, on the other hand, sported a pair of glittering yellow scales that swooped out from under the eye, biggest and boldest there, before narrowing to a point somewhere near his temple. The bold scales were warped from the corrupted quintessence, giving them the appearance of flaking, drying paint smeared haphazardly under his eyes.

Before he’d become a Druid, he hadn’t thought much of Allura or Coran’s scales. He’d just assumed they were of some cultural importance or some alien thing and moved along with his life.

Now he knew better. Xana’s scales meant that he had a base quintessence of yellow. A yellow base quintessence meant, well it meant a lot of things. It meant, at his core, at his base, underneath all the corruption… Xana was like Hunk.

Yellow was slow to anger, although, it was important to note that yellow was also slow to calm back down. Yellow was strong, sturdy, and steady. The perfect best friend in the chaos of the Garrison. The perfect teacher to deal with Lance.

Unlike Hunk, however, Xana was always there when Lance needed him. Hunk had remained quiet, silence in the face of Lance’s so called ‘betrayal’. Xana was always present the moment Lance seemed to run into any trouble. It was something Lance could appreciate.

It was kinda funny, actually, that Xana seemed more loyal than Hunk considering Hunk was pure Yellow, while Xana was more a golden color.

Then again, Xana’s wiliness to be more present for Lance may have been because he wasn’t a true yellow. Just the tiniest hint of red, maybe even less than that, in his personal quintessence made Xana more likely to step in and be proactive, verse the true yellow base trait to be passive and only interfere when it became relevant to them.

Regardless, Xana was always there for Lance; a friendly helping hand that Lance could rely on, especially in matters relating to being a Druid.

“You seem stiff today.” Lance jumped at the older Druid’s voice, twisting to look at him. A smile came easily to his face. A sheepish one, but still a smile.

“I’m Blue. I can’t be stiff.” Lance argued, rubbing the back of his head.

Xana snorted, rolling his eyes. “As you should know, Lance,” Xana paused, giving Lance a look. “Blue is the most versatile of all the quintessence as its dual natured. It can be fluid and flexible as water, or as rigid and stiff as ice.”

Lance rolled his eyes. He knew that. Lance was a true Blue base.

The Lions were designed to be piloted by people who ‘mirrored’ their quintessence, and the Lion’s quintessence was the truest to color bases. As a Paladin, or ex-paladin, of Voltron, Lance’s quintessence was a mirror to Blue’s, meaning he was a true base.

“I know, I know.” He huffed. “I get the color base quintessence. It’s the refined quintessence I get stuck on.” Refined quintessence, translation: corrupted crap.

Xana smiled, the patented ‘you’re too young for this’ smile usually reserved by grandparents for their grandchildren. “Have you been slacking on your readings?”

Lance shifted, his gaze sliding down to the ground. “…no.” It wasn’t technically a lie. He skimmed through his readings when he could. It was disorienting sometimes the way the implanted translator would work, and besides, Lotor was kinda an attention hog.

Not that Lance minded since most of the time this allowed him to read what Lotor was reading for spying purposes. Thanks to that weird indoctrination thing, Lotor and the other Druids seemed to really believe that they’d corrupted Lance.

Xana laughed. “You can’t concentrate on them too well, can you? Your mother used to have your father read the texts out to her.” He shook his head. “It was the only way those two would ever be able to read the text. He was worse than her about it otherwise.”

Cool. Good to know that his slacking on readings was genetic. Hopefully becoming an evil Druid wasn’t entirely genetic. Lance was okay with being a Druid, but he didn’t sign up for becoming an evil one.

“So... I need to have someone else read them out to me?” Lance raised an eyebrow, cocking his hip and resting his hand on it. “Really?”

“I didn’t say that.” Xana shook his head. “I’m not sure you’d be able to stop talking long enough to listen.”

“Haha. Very funny.” Lance rolled his eyes.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a comedian.” Xana teased.

“Uh-huh. Sure, and I’m related to the royal family.” Lance joked.

Xana’s lips curled up into a grin. Not a smile, a grin. That didn’t bode well for Lance at all. At. All. “About that,” Xana began. “I heard something interesting.”

“Oh?” Alarm bells were going off in Lance’s head. Alarm bells and sirens, and air raid noises. He narrowed his eyes, eyeing Xana, trying to figure out what he was getting at.

“Yes. Something about a certain someone being asked to attend the arena and watch a few matches with Prince Lotor.”

“Yeah? Where’d you hear that at?”

“Don’t you know, I hear all.” Xana teased. “But why turn him down? You know the prince is smitten with you.”

“I wish he wasn’t.” Lance hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to say that. He really hadn’t meant to say that! Why did he say that?!

“…oh?” Xana questioned.

“I’m not worth his attention.” Lance shrugged. Hopefully, Xana accepted that as an answer. Hopefully, Xana didn’t look too much into this. Lance really hoped he hadn’t just fucked up, he really did.

Xana was quiet for a few ticks. Lance would know, he counted every single one.

“Is that so?” Lance shrugged again at Xana’s question. “What makes you think that?”

Okay. Okay, so Xana seemed to be taking it. He seemed to be buying this. Lance could work with that. He could work with expressing his own lack of self-worth and self-importance.

“I’m… I’m no one important.”

Xana shook his head, and crossed his arms. He furrowed his eyebrows, frowning heavily at Lance.

“You’re a paladin of Voltron.” Xana’s statement was exactly that, a statement. He said it so bluntly, like it was a fact. Lance flinched, shaking his head.

“No, no, no.” Lance held his hands up in front of him, shaking them frantically. “I left that life behind.”

Xana hummed, not looking convinced. A few more ticks passed before he spoke again. “Did you?” He asked. “It was to my understanding that the Lions do not choose so impetuously.”

“Tell that to the Black Lion and it’s on going custody battle between our Emperor and,” Don’t say ‘Shiro’, don’t say ‘Shiro’. Lance scrunched up his nose, contorting his face into a sneer, “the champion.” Success! He didn’t say Shiro!

Xana’s face likewise contorted. “The Emperor will win.” Xana declared after a moment, “and when he does, he’ll need a Blue Paladin.”

Woah. Okay. Left field here. First, they were talking about Lotor, and the relationship between Lotor and Lance… and then they were suddenly on the topic of Lance being the former Blue Paladin and now… now, he was talking about Lance being the Blue Paladin for Zarkon?!

It was just… too much too fast.

“I’m sorry?”

“That is, of course, assuming our Emperor doesn’t fall to his injuries.” Xana shook his head. “Haggar has been running herself to the ground trying to bring back his failing health.” He paused, tilting his head as he considered something. “Perhaps the Champion wouldn’t be so bad as a Paladin. He already has our influence in him, it wouldn’t be much to sway him to our cause.”

Woah. Wait. Hold up. Could someone press the rewind button, and replay that?

“I’m sorry?” Lance repeated, squeaking out the words.

“The Champion was one of our best works.” Xana sighed, shaking his head. “Such a pity to see him be used this way.”

Okay. Irrational anger at Shiro for not being there to stop his worst mistakes could be put aside for this new founded respect and awe. Like, holy quiznak. Shiro was a person, not an experiment! Why didn’t these people understand basic ethics?

Lance blamed the corrupted quintessence.

“You don’t think that Prince Lotor would be the Black Paladin?” Lance asked. Honestly, he just wanted Xana to stop talking about Shiro. If that meant switching the topic back to Lotor, then Lance would take that hit.

“Prince Lotor?” Xana snorted. “You need to work more on seeing quintessence and its colors.” Xana crossed his arms and gave Lance a look. “If he were to be any Paladin, he would be the Red Paladin.”

….Quiznak. Did Lance have a type?! Was it usual for blue based people to like red based people? Was that a thing?! UGH! First, he thought he had a type for long hair, then it turned into Galra hybrids, and now… now, it was a red based quintessence type.

He was destined to like assholes was what he was hearing.

“Right.” Lance nodded. “Of course. Silly me, I should have noticed.”

“You should have.”

“Okay, but let’s say the Emperor recovers and becomes the Black Paladin again. Why me?” Lance shook his head. “I don’t… make sense. I’ve fought against him.”

“And you stand with him, and his son, now.” Xana replied. “Plus, you’re alive to tell the tale. That says something, I would think.”

“Perhaps, but, I’m alive thanks to… the others, not of any real talent of my own.”

“Ah, and we’ve gone full circle and are back to your debatable self-worth. Tell me, Lance, do you question Prince Lotor’s choices?”

Lance jerked, looked over at Xana with wide eyes. “What? No!” Where was this going? What did this have to do with anything?

“Do you trust his judgement? Do you trust him?” Xana continued to question.

What. Was. With. These. People. And. That. Question?! Whelp, at least he knew the ‘correct’ answer to it.

“Of course.” Lance declared. Xana hummed, a small disbelieving noise. “I do!” Lance protested.

“Then prove it to me.” Xana took a step towards Lance, and held up his hands. “Show me how you feel.”

Lance stared at Xana with wide eyes, almost taking a step back.

“The readings say that to touch another’s scales is-”

“Fine so long as permission is granted. I’m granting it.” The older Druid interrupted. His gaze was trained on Lance. Quiznak, Lance couldn’t turn this down. No, this was a challenge that Lance had to meet, unless he wanted to lose Xana’s faith and trust.

And losing Xana’s faith and trust was something Lance could not allow. Not if he wanted to continue to help the resistance.

Did he trust Lotor? That was a question he asked himself almost daily… quintantly.

He did, but he didn’t. And he wasn’t sure if his trust in Lotor would be the type or strong enough to throw Xana off. Besides, by touching Xana, would he feel Lance’s betrayal somehow? Would he find out that Lance wasn’t loyal? See, there was a question they should be asking. Loyalty, not trust.

In any case, he’d fooled Xana once before, when Xana believed the trust Lance was feeling then was directed towards Lotor when in fact it’d been for Blue. Unfortunately, Lance wasn’t sure how to do that outside of the meditation, though.

“I understand your hesitance.” Xana smiled, not unkindly, down at Lance. “Sharing your emotions like this is… very invasive.”

“It’s… fine.” It was most certainly not fine. As a matter of fact, it was the complete opposite of fine. Lance forced a smile. “If I truly trust the prince, then I’ve got to let go of things such as privacy, right?” He gave a nervous laugh. “I’ll have to be open with him, and trust that he’ll take care of me.”

Xana nodded, moving forward until he was directly in front of Lance. He took one of Lance’s hands, holding it as he lifted it to his face. “Just touch the scales.”

Xana’s scales weren’t the unblemished smooth surface of Lance’s own scales. They were dry and flakey under Lance’s touch. It felt almost like touching papery tree bark. Beyond that, there was nothing.

Lance excepted to feel something. What that something was, he didn’t know. But, he certainly didn’t expect nothing. No feedback; nothing. It was just… awkward. On his part, not Xana’s. Xana was probably used to this whole ‘sharing’ thing.

Xana chuckled. “I can feel your nervousness. There’s no need to feel so awkward.”

…

Lance’s point exactly.

“Maybe for you.” Lance replied. He resisted the urge to fidget, and instead played with the sleeve with the hand that wasn’t touching Xana’s scale. Technically, it was fidgeting, but at least it was a more manageable – less annoying – form of fidgeting.

“Let’s see here…” Xana closed his eyes. “I can feel your nervousness and anxiety.” A smile tugged at Xana’s lips. “It’s good to see you’re so happy and content here.”

Xana was digging through his emotions, but Lance couldn’t feel it at all. It was… disconcerting.

“Calm down. Your anxiety is like a river, deep and powerful, with strong rapids made from your self-doubt.” Xana opened his eyes a little and looked down at Lance. “You should probably get that taken care of.”

Oh yeah, sure. Lance would get right on that. He’d call up the dam builders tomorrow and get that all dammed up. Because that was how things worked.

“The spark of snark was unnecessary.” Xana huffed. He closed his eyes again.

Lance rolled his lips, worrying them with his teeth. Hadn’t Xana seen or felt enough? He was tempted to take a step back, to try to remove his hand from Xana’s scale. Xana’s grip tightened on his wrist.

“Talk to me about Lotor.” The Druid commanded. Lance, unthinkingly, shook his head. “Interesting.” Xana dragged out the word. “What about your old team?”

“My old team?” Lance repeated. He did not want to talk about them anymore than he wanted to talk about Lotor.

“The Black Paladin? I see. What about the Gree—oh. There’s anger there. Strange, Blue doesn’t usually harbor such contempt for long. Yellow? Mmm, what about Re...” Xana’s eyes shot open, their gaze boring into Lance. “Now that’s interesting. You harbored feelings for him.”

It wasn’t a question. Lance trembled, shaking his head slowly, barely moving it. His mind was moving a hundred miles a minute.

Xana was going to find him out. He was going to find Lance out and then he was going to die. He was never going to see his mom or his family again. He was never going to get to say ‘goodbye’. He was never going to see Sonali again, or tell Matt about his sister.

“After all he’s done for you? To you?” Xana questioned. “I can feel your hurt, Lance. He hurt you, and you still care for him, still have those feelings for him.”

“I…”

“No. Wait.” Xana frowned in concentration, his eyes closing again. “Show me how you feel about the other Druids… now show me Lotor again. Ah. I see now.”

This time when Xana smiled, it wasn’t kind. “All those with who you’ve grown to know with a red base spark the same.” He chuckled. “The crush isn’t on the Red Paladin so much as it’s on the base red.”

Good to know that Lance’s earlier assumptions had been correct. Now, if only he’d found out through a significantly less creepy way.

Xana tsked, shaking his head gently, still holding Lance’s hand to his scale. “Blue’s a very cold color for you, isn’t it? You long for the warm waters of your birth home; for the warmth of your system’s Daystar. For the heat of flames and fire.” He chuckled again, a very mirthless sound. “It’s amusing since you’ve been burned by red before.”

Lance whimpered, trying to take a step back. Xana had said this was invasive, but, Lance hadn’t realized it was to this degree. He didn’t want to share any of this with Xana. He didn’t think that the Druid could see memories. That wasn’t how this worked, but… at this point, Lance wasn’t sure.

“You’re afraid of that which you want. I can feel how conflicting it is.” Xana tsked again. “But, none of this is why we’re doing this.” Xana paused. “Think of Lotor again. There you go, Now, where is… ah. There it is.”

Xana hummed, pressing Lance’s hand closer against his scale.

“Blue trusts so easily, you know. It’s a shame that yours has been buried so much under so much self-loathing and doubt.” Xana frowned. “It feels… frozen. Fractured. What ever happened to cause this must have been painful. Do you blame our prince for the fight? Hmm, that won’t do at all.” Xana’s eyes opened again. “Let me fix that… don’t worry, it won’t hurt.”

Uh… how about he didn’t? Lance was sure he could go find a counselor. Go talk to someone who wasn’t as… creepy as this. Man, and he’d been thinking that Xana wasn’t all that bad. Guess he’d been wrong again.

Xana’s other hand grabbed Lance by the head. Out of the corner of Lance’s eye, he could see the corrupted quintessence swirling around it. He didn’t even get a chance to fight back before he screamed.

Xana lied. Static flared up. It filled his vision. It filled his ears. It was all he could taste, it was all he could smell. It was all.

He was drowning in white noise, but not even the static could shelter him from the twisting pain. It was like a headache before a storm, but worse. Hitting deeper than an icepick headache, but so much more painful.

He lost time, he lost himself. He only found himself again when his knees hit the floor and his hands automatically reached out to catch himself.

His arms were shaking, threatening to give under his weight. Corrupted quintessence sparked across his fingers, circling around his wrists before racing up his arms, leaving him feeling numb and disconnected. He couldn’t breathe, but he knew he was. He could hear his breath, heavy and ragged.

Across the room, Xana chuckled. Lance wanted to snarl, to ask him what was so funny, but his tongue was stuck; heavy, weighted, and numb from static. Xana didn’t seem to have that problem.

“I wondered why Haggar took such a long time with you.” Xana stood, using the wall as leverage. “It’s not often we get to experiment with someone with a blue base.” He took some steps towards Lance.

“For as trusting as it is, it’s usually pretty set in its ways. It’s not easy to change the course of a river or the shores of an ocean.” Xana paused. “Even ice requires a delicate touch, I suppose. It’s easier to mold, but… one needs to chisel away carefully, in small increments.”

“It’s a shame that Haggar’s work didn’t stick as it should have. Conditioning someone isn’t easy to begin with, and your blue base didn’t make it any easier.” Xana kneeled down in front of Lance.

“No matter, I’ll fix it.” Xana tugged on Lance’s hair, pulling his head up to look him in the face. Xana grinned, and for once, the sight of teeth didn’t set Lance at ease. After all, he’d learned by now that in the empire showing teeth was a sign of aggression. It was a threat.

No. It was worse than that. It was a promise. A promise Lance didn’t want kept. “Don’t worry, you won't remember a thing; I promise.”

Chapter Text

Lance yawned, grabbing his pillow and hugging it, burying his face into the soft warmth. His body tingled, the type of tingle that came from one’s body being asleep, or when someone stuck a fork in a plug outlet. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t unpleasant either. It was just there.

He stretched, letting go of the pillow to reach out to nothing. A groan worked its way out of his mouth, his muscles aching pleasantly from the sensation.

What had he been doing before he went to bed that he didn’t do his usual stretches?

He yawned again, reclaiming his hold on the pillow. It wasn’t often that he was allowed to sleep in, and he was pretty sure that some family… wait.

Wait. This wasn’t his bed. The pillow he was cuddling did not smell like home. It was too soft and large to belong to the Garrison or… or the castle. Lance sat up, blood rushing to his head, causing the room to spin.

“Oh good, you are alive.”

Lance blinked. His stomach twisted. The sudden comfort of the bed he was on vanishing. This was…

“Why am I on Lotor’s bed?” His voice was unnaturally high. He scrambled off the bed, nearly falling to the floor in the process.

“Woah, woah!” Sonali caught him before he could fall, holding onto him to give him some form of stability. “It’s okay, Lance.”

“Okay?!” Lance’s voice was still shrill. “Okay!?” He repeated. “What part of waking up in Lotor’s bed is okay?”

“The part where I’ve been here the entire time, and Lotor didn’t come back to his room last night.”

Emotions slammed into Lance like a tidal wave. There was relief, but also disappointment, and a good deal of confusion. He slumped into Sonali’s hold.

“He… he didn’t?”

“No, he didn’t.” A gloved hand rand through his hair, another rubbed Lance’s back. “You were like a zombie heading back here… and just… collapsed onto the bed. I haven’t seen you leave Druid training looking that wrecked ever. The Druid who handed you off to me said that you over exerted yourself.”

Druid training.

That was right. He’d gone to training, because he was having problems with manipulation. What did he do afterwards? What had he done while there? Evidently, over exert himself.

Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “I… over exerted myself?”

That just didn’t sound right. Lance wasn’t the type of person to push himself like that. He usually knew his limits and while he’d push them, he wouldn’t wreck himself like that. That was more of a Keith thing.

And Lance was not Keith.

“And evidently fried your brain, yes.” Sonali pushed Lance back down onto the bed before crossing their arms. “Maybe you should get some more sleep.”

Lance blinked, looking up at the guard. He didn’t want to sleep. He just woke up; and what a hell of a wake up it was: waking up in Lotor’s bed with no memory of how he got there.

Huh, maybe Lotor had been right, Lance was forgetful.

“I’m not really all that tired.” Lance shook his head.

“If you’re planning on going back to training, I suggest you don’t.” Sonali interrupted. The guard pulled out a small tablet, unlocking it and scrolling down. “Besides, you already have your usual mandatory training with Xana later today, and…” Sonali paused. “Dinner with the prince?”

Dinner with Lotor? Lance furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his lap. Huh. Twice now in row really wasn’t just coincidence. He really was becoming forgetful. No! Wait! He remembered Lotor saying something about that.

“I guess so. I think I remember him talking about that. Since when do you have my schedule, anyways?”

If Sonali could, Lance was pretty sure the guard would have been giving him a flat look. Sonali sighed, again, shaking their head.

“Since it became my job, per the Prince, to stay your personal guard… remember?” Sonali scoffed. “I guess being his favorite has perks. Like a personal guard-slash-secretary.”

“Hey, hey. No need to get snippy.”

“Besides, it makes things easier on us to pass information. You have no clue what I went through to get this job.” Sonali crossed their arms. “Speaking of information…”

Lance looked up as Sonali trailed off. He knew they wanted to know if he’d found out anything interesting or anything that the Resistance could make use of. His job was to collect that, after all.

“I don’t have anything,” Lance shrugged. “I haven’t seen anything interesting on Lotor’s tablet, and I haven’t heard anything with the Druids. I’m still just a newbie.” And red didn’t trust easily. Most Druids had a red quintessence base, even if it’d been covered up by corruption. “Accepted and welcome doesn’t mean the same as trusted.”

“I guess your best source of information is the prince, then.”

“For now.” Lance fell back onto the bed with a sigh.

So long as the prince continued to trust Lance, then yes, Lotor was Lance’s best source of information. Right now, Lotor didn’t think much of anything about letting Lance lay in his lap while going over sensitive documents. So long as Lance didn’t do anything jeopardize that trust, he was fine.

….

Trust. That was the root of all Lance’s issues right now, wasn’t it? Whether or not he was trusted, and by who.

Matt trusted him. Sonali and the rest of the resistance didn’t trust him so much as they trusted Matt. His old team didn’t even trust him, not when it mattered. They all thought he’d turned on them, sharing information about them. Which he supposed he had.

Just like he was doing to the Galra. Just like he was doing to Lotor. Lotor trusted him, and he was betraying it.

Lance sighed again, a hand reaching up to run through his hair before he let it lay over his eyes. His stomach felt like it was in knots. He evened out his breathing, taking a deep breath and counting before letting it escape, slow and steady. Another, and so on.

“I thought I didn’t suggest training.” Sonali’s voice drifted in. Lance frowned, sitting back up to glare at the guard.

“Good thing it was a suggestion and not an order. Besides, I’d hardly consider meditation as ‘training’.”

“If you say so. I’ll just… go over here and shut my… quiznak.” If Lance were able to see their face, he was almost certain Sonali would have been sneering. “See if I ever care about you again.” They muttered, returning to their post by the door, arms crossed and leaning back on the wall. “Wake me if you need anything.”

Lance flopped back down on the bed. He closed his eyes, and refocused on his breathing. When he opened them back up, he was at his usual place on the ice shelf. He wrinkled his nose, curling his lip at the amount of corruption there.

“This… was not here yesterday.” He muttered to himself.

He knew that because he made a point to try to meditate every day, usually after other routines, like yoga. Like the one anime said: a sound soul rests within a sound body and a sound mind. Or something like that.

Blue was usually his go-to for this, as the Lion tended to be able to clean this up easier than him, but today, the lion was nowhere to be seen. Not unusual, but not not unusual either. He shrugged, turning to give a critical eye to the icy ocean.

Oil and sludge bubbled up on the surface, washing up onto the ice shelf with every wave. Lance crossed his arms, frowning down at the sludge.

What had he done yesterday? Besides evidently over-exert himself.

He knelt down examining the corruption. It was strange to think that this was really so dangerous, considering it didn’t really look like much. Without thinking about it, he leaned over, brushing against the corruption with his fingertips. The ‘edge’ of the world blurred, the sounds of the waves turning to static.

“Quiznak!” He pulled back, frowning at the black discoloration staining his fingertips. Oh yeah, not cool. He didn’t want this stuff here.

Well, no time like the present to practice cleaning himself up without Blue. He may not have been able to save himself from drowning without Blue yet, but he could at least do this much without the lion, right?

He needed to learn how to do this without her. He wouldn’t have the benefit of her presence forever, her absence now proved that.

After all, the team would be replacing him soon, or at least, they should be thinking about it by now. There was no way Coran was a permanent replacement. And besides, Lance could vaguely recall being told that they’d managed to form Voltron or had replaced him.

In any case, Shiro was irreplaceable, but Lance? Lance wasn’t anything special.

Not to them, anyways. Oh no, they were probably happy to be rid of him. Stupid useless Lance, who couldn’t do anything. Stupid useless Lance who betrayed them.

Hell, he was useless to the resistance, right now. He couldn’t get them any information that they wanted. They wanted information on the Druids, not on whatever trade routes he could read about from Lotor’s tablet.

“I’m so useless.” Lance muttered.

“I’ll say. You can’t even clean this mess up on your own.”

Lance jumped, spinning around at the voice. Shiro crossed his arms, and frowned down at Lance.

“You aren’t real.” No one in the Astral Plane was real except for him, and even then, he wasn’t technically real. Not real-real. Like, if he died here, like, actually died, then he’d die in the real world.

Shiro’s eyes glinted as he tilted his head, considering Lance. “Do you believe that?” He laughed, the cold sound echoing against the ocean behind Lance and the icescape around them. “It doesn’t matter.” Shiro took a step forward. “You don’t matter.”

This wasn’t real. It was a projection of the corruption, designed to distract him, to stop him from trying to clean it up. It wasn’t real… but the pain it inflicted was.

Lance winced, shrinking into himself as if he could make himself smaller, as if he could hide from Shiro’s dark gaze.

“I don’t know why I ever thought you could be a Paladin of Voltron.” Shiro continued. “I don’t know why the Galra think you’ll ever be able to become a Druid. All you ever do is disappoint.” Shiro shook his head. “You were already a seventh wheel before… what number wheel are you now?”

“You aren’t real.” Lance repeated.

“None of this is real.” Shiro countered, raising his arm and stepping forward. In response, Lance took a step back. “Not me.” Shiro’s arm lit up, and Lance took another step backwards. “Not you.” Shiro’s gaze slid downwards, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. He let out a chuckle. “That isn’t real either.”

Lance froze, mid step back, and looked down. Black sludge washed over his shoe, sticking to the material, staining it black. His stomach twisted. Shiro laughed again.

He looked up just in time to see Shiro swinging his arm at him, and Lance completed the back step, barely missing Shiro’s attack. His foot sunk into gooey corruption, and kept sinking. He flailed, losing his balance.

Hitting the ‘water’ wasn’t like actually hitting the water. Sure, there was still a slash as his back hit against it, but this wasn’t water. It was oil; it was sludge; it was ooze and slime. It was thick and sticky. Trying to fight against it just got him more stuck, more entangled in it.

He managed to break the surface, gasping for air. He reached out, seeking help he knew he wouldn’t find. There was nothing here besides himself, his demons, and the corruption. He’d have to help himself, if he could.

A wave of corruption washed over him, coating him in more of the ooze, dragging him back under. Despite years of being on the swim team, and knowing what not to do, it still didn’t stop him from repressing that first initial instinct.

Lance took a breath.

Except instead of air, he got water. He got water, and all that previously mentioned corruption. It filled his lungs, coating the inside with the thick slime, threatening to choke him out. It slid down his throat, pooling heavily in his stomach.

He gasped as he sat up, hand going to his chest as if he could physically hold his heart and calm it down. Sweat rolled down off his forehead, following his nose until it dripped off the tip. He felt sticky and wet, like the... vision? Meditation?… hadn’t just been all in his head.

He wiped the back of his hand against his forehead. It came back shaking, and glistening with sweat.

Lance looked to where Sonali was. The guard was still by the door, apparently unaffected by him. Presumably, they were sleeping. They’d wake if the door was opened, he was sure. He took a deep breath, and then another – more to reassure himself that he could than out of necessity.

He slipped down out of the bed. He shivered, the phantom sensation of the ooze still on him, not helped by the sweat.

See? This was why he hated physical training.

He hated getting all sweaty and dirty. It made him feel disgusting. Brightside, he wasn’t limited to the tiny showers the castle provided anymore. Nope. Here, he had the luxury of Lotor’s overly luxurious bathroom, and its magical bath.

Perks of being the holder of the Prince’s affection.

He stripped, dropping the spoiled clothes into the ‘laundry shoot’ and then turned on the water. Maybe a bath wasn’t the best idea after having a dream about drowning. But, baths had always been a way for Lance to calm himself and relax in the past. And, he refused to believe that’d actually been his astral plane.

Denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt, after all.

He sighed, looking at the various soaps and oils – which he ignored – that he could pour in. Normally he went for the more salt and ocean smelling soaps, but… he hesitated, the sharp icy salt scent of the dream coming to mind. His eyes landed on the smokier fiery scent, but that reminded him too much of… someone he’d rather forget at this point.

After a few more ticks of debate, he settled on a warm floral scent. It smelled like… sunflowers and lilacs, or at least, the space equivalent.

He took a deep breath of it, finding it immediately put him at ease. Lance smiled, and poured it in. This was exactly what he needed. And after he was done, he could ask Sonali to bring in a space brunch of some fruit or something.

Chapter Text

“How does it feel to be his favorite?”

Lance looked up, both at the sudden question and the sudden voice.

Normally, Lance didn’t pay much attention to the door that led to Lotor’s harem. After all, they didn’t bother him, and he didn’t bother them. For the most part, they all just… stayed out each other’s way.

The girl standing there, Lance knew had to belong to Lotor’s harem.

The prince had banished them from his room when Lance came to stay with him, although, he knew that Lotor still visited them from time to time. The sweet-smelling perfume which sometimes lingered on Lotor long after he’d seen them, and jibes from the other Druids told him that.

While he knew of their existence, he’d never actually meet them. Much like Lotor’s infamous generals.

Perhaps Lotor didn’t want to scare Lance away, or perhaps he thought he was fooling Lance into thinking Lotor only had eyes for him. Or maybe it was simply because Lotor knew the members of his harem and had come to know Lance and just didn’t want to risk any cat fights.

Regardless of the reason for the segregation, Lance never had a reason to seek any of the members of the harem out. He preferred to stay in Lotor’s rooms and ignore the door, or in the common areas of the Druids, training and studying.

If it was his choice, he wouldn’t interact with them at all. But, it appeared it wasn’t his choice anymore.

“What’cha mean?” Lance asked, warily looking the woman over.

There was no place for her to hide a weapon, not in all that see-though gold sheer, which was draped around her. It glistened in the lighting, showing off tiny gems imbedded into it. He politely refrained from looking at her more intimate areas, her breasts clearly visible through the golden material ‘covering them’. He refused to let his eyes stray down past her waist.

He may be a flirt, but he had manners. He flirted with people to make them laugh and smile, not for… this.

“I used to be his favorite, you know.” She crossed her arms, the gem embedded sheer moving to follow her movements, attached to shiny golden bracelets at her wrists, which were connected by thin chains to a ring.

Lance pursed his lips. After such a nice de-stressing bath… of course he’d have an ‘incident’ following it. His luck at the finest.

At least this lady had waited until after he’d gotten dressed and was perusing the bookshelves for a book on quintessence to read over. His appreciation for that aside, what was he supposed to say: ‘Oh, sorry, here, you can have him back’? Oh yeah, that would go over real well.

“Has he given you any jewelry yet?” She was asking a question, but she wasn’t asking so much as demanding and answer. If Lance actually had an answer, he’d be sure to give it to her, but as it stood he needed clarification.

“Jewelry?” Lance furrowed his eyebrows as he asked. Lotor hadn’t given him any jewelry, and he kind of hoped that Lotor never did.

His childhood memories of movies and romance told him accepting jewelry from a prince was never a good idea unless you wanted to be involved with them. Which… Lance was still on the fence about. But those were thoughts for later. He didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with this right now.

She held up her arm, letting her hand flop over to show off the ring and the braided chains that connected it to the golden bracelets. She shook her hand, letting the jewelry jingle.

“Jewelry,” She repeated. “Or do they not have it at whatever primitive world the Prince picked you up at?”

“Hey, lady, that’s uncalled for.”

She arched a thin eyebrow, and pursed her golden glossed lips, glaring him down.

“Look, Lady-” Lance didn’t want to make enemies here. He really didn’t. He certainly didn’t want to go around starting cat fights with the harem girls. They deserved better than that, but really. He hated using this phrase, but she was asking for a fight.

“Corral. Princess Corral.” She interrupted. Her nose wrinkled after she finished, like she was disgusted that Lance couldn’t even tell who she was.

It was Lance’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Oh? My apologizes your highness; but the princess of what?” Okay, so he just shamelessly stole a line from Pidge. It wasn’t like he was going to be seeing Pidge again, ever, so what did it matter. “Lotor’s harem?”

“Excuse me?” She snarled. “You dare talk to royalty that way?”

“What royalty?” Lance laughed. “You still haven’t answered my question, Princess.”

She held up her chin, sticking her nose up in the air. Real princess-like behavior there. He could see why she used to be Lotor’s favorite.

“When he gets what he wants from you, he’s just going to kick you to the curb.”

Okay, so that kind of confirmed Lance’s earlier thoughts about Lotor potentially not caring about him anymore once Lance put out. Then again, this was also coming from a biased, upset source; so, he should accept her word with a grain of salt.

“Oh? Talking from experience?” Lance asked.

Corral huffed. “At least I know he’ll always come back to me.”

Lance gave her another look over, this time making it very obvious what he was doing.

“Pluh-ease. Like he’d ever go back to you. He’ll pick up a replacement for me before he returns to you.” Lance replied, rolling his eyes.

“He’s returned to me in the past.” She declared. “He comes to see me some nights still.”

Oh big whoop. Lotor was only doing that cuz Lance wasn’t warming his bed. “Probably cuz I won’t sleep with him.” Lance replied.

Her eyes widened, and Lance cursed himself for that comment almost immediately. “Once I do, he’ll probably never return to you again.” Those words did not make him sick to say at all. Because, oh geeze, what if she reported them back to Lotor?

But what choice did he have?

If he hadn’t told her that he would sleep with Lotor, then she could just as easily tell Lotor that Lance never intended to sleep with him. Which would then make Lotor think something was wrong and start paying more attention to Lance. Which was something Lance simply could not afford.

“You haven’t slept with him?” She asked.

Lance narrowed his eyes. “What, is too hard for you to imagine someone not spreading their legs for him just because he asks?”

She crossed her arms again. “He’s just interested in you for the challenge. At least I’m not in this for the jewelry.”

“Oh yes, that makes perfect sense. I’m in it for the Jewelry that I’ve only just now discovered he gives away. Of course.” Lance gave her a level look. “Look, Corral, I’m not here to make an enemy of you. I don’t even want to bother you, and I’m sorry if I’m Lotor’s new favorite. Believe me, I didn’t ask to be, nor do I think I deserve to be.”

Lance was quiet when he finished, mirroring her position of crossed arms. He met her gaze, and challenged his own, lifting his own chin up ever so slightly.

Corral laughed, the sound high pitched and distorted. When she finished, she smiled, eyes flashing the same golden hue she was adorned in.

“I look forward to you joining our ranks.” She purred. “It’s been too long since I’ve had any other company than the prince or some other sniveling simpering fool.”

“So, what? I’m off the hook for now?” Was this some sort of test? For what: her or Lotor? Was this nothing more than just an attempt for her to try to establish herself as the alpha bitch, or was she trying to see if he a person she could just walk all over and bully him?

He’d thought that being in Lotor’s harem would have taught her unity. Maybe even concern.

Then again, he didn’t know how Lotor ran things. He didn’t know the stories of these people. He didn’t know who’d agreed to join, or for what reasons. He didn’t know who’d been forced to join. He didn’t know who’d been trapped into joining it like he’d been trapped into joining the Druids and playing spy for the resistance.

“So long as you keep turning him down, he’ll continue to come to me. It’s only a matter of time before you give in and join us, or he gets bored. Either way, he’ll return back to me in the end.” Corral shrugged. “In the meantime, I can at least appreciate good conversation when I can, until he breaks you in.”

“You’ll be enjoying good conversation for a while then.”

“All I’m seeing is more benefits for myself.”

“Cuz’ that’s all that matters, of course.” Lance replied dryly. She blinked at him, a more genuine smile curling at her lips.

“You’re getting it now.” Lance rolled his eyes at her response. She nodded into the room, gesturing to it with a wave of her hand. “Mind if I enter. His lordship’s asked that we only enter with your permission.” This time she rolled her eyes. “It’s like he’s afraid that we’ll scare you off or something.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “I think you mean that he’s afraid that I’ll scare you off,” Lance corrected. It may have been ill advised, but seeing as no one was actually there to advise him, he waved her in.

Corral pursed her lips, looking him over again before taking a step in, and then marching over to Lance’s couch and sitting down on it. A wave of perfume trailed behind her, smelling way too sweet to be enticing.

“A Red Giant is still a Star.” She waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

Lance snorted. “On my planet, we’d say ‘same difference’.”

Corral tilted her head, taking his words into consideration. “Same difference.” She shrugged. “How very odd. And what, praytell, planet have the Alteans claimed now?”

“I’m not…” Altean. But he was.

“Oh, sore point?” She asked, crossing her legs and leaning back to settle into the couch cushions. Lance resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose. This lady did it enough for the both of them… although he was seriously hating that he’d be smelling her perfume all night long when he was trying to sleep.

“You could say that. Alteans weren’t… common where I came from.”

“Were any aliens?” She asked.

“Not that I could say.” Lance shrugged.

“Hmph. So, I was right: you are from a primitive world.” She scrunched up her nose. “Why is the prince interested in you again?”

“Rude.” Lance returned.

Her hand went to her chest, splaying out. “Who? Me?” Good to know that was a universal gesture.

“Why are you here?” Lance sighed, sinking into the arm of the chair Lotor had originally claimed before he invaded Lance’s couch. Corral eyed him, but didn’t say anything other than to answer the question.

“I told you, I wanted to see if you were even worth having a conversation with.”

“I’m regretting passing your test already.”

“Now who’s being rude?” She clicked her tongue. “Aren’t Alteans supposed to be diplomatic?”

“Quiznak if I know.” He ignored her gasp. “Do I look or act like a proper Altean?”

Corral was quiet for a few ticks. “No. I suppose not. I always though Alteans wore more… lighter colors.” She nodded down at the dark under suit he was wearing instead of the robes. “Then again, I heard you were studying with the Druids.” She paused. “How… prestigious.” She smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes.

“At least I have a use outside of pleasing Lotor.” Lance fired back, ignoring how her eyes flashed at Lotor’s name.

“At least I have the manners to refer to our lord properly.”

“I’d rather be useful than have manners. The useful tend to live longer than the polite.”

She considered him for a moment before shrugging. “I suppose I cannot argue with that logic. Let us bless the stars that we both have our uses.”

“You have a use other than tending to… our lord?” Lance sneered the last part.

“You may not refer to him as such outside of mocking now, but you will learn.”

“When he breaks my spirit?” Lance asked, rolling his eyes.

Corral flashed her teeth in a sharp smile. “He tends to get under the skin and unravel you from the inside out. I’ve seen plenty of people with more spunk than you break to his ministrations.” She paused, standing back up and heading back towards the door she came from. She paused there, looking back to Lance from over her shoulder.

“Count my words, you won’t last long.” She smiled, and exited from the room.

Lance watched her go, but didn’t respond to her last comment. She wouldn’t hear it even if he did. Truth be told, she’d hit more sore points than he’d like to admit.

While he may not have liked his use here, it was still a use. He was needed here, to be a Druid, to be a spy. If those uses required he became another – to please Lotor – then so be it. He stood by what he said: he’d rather be useful than not, as the useful tended to live longer.

He’d learned that lesson at the Castle, around the same time he’d learned how truly useless he was there. His time with Voltron had taught him well.

He’d had suspicions. Suspicions he’d only started to believe around the time they broke Slav out of the Beta Traz.

He took a deep breath, immediately regretting it when he was assaulted with that overly sweet perfume. He’d deal with his own lack of self-worth later. He had a lesson with Xana to get ready for, and dinner with Lotor in about two vargas. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.

“She’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?” Lance turned to eye Sonali. The guard was standing at the door, as per usual when Lance was ‘on his own’.

“She’s a treat alright.” Lance scoffed.

“Most people don’t handle her as well as you did.”

Lance raised an eyebrow and gave Sonali an unimpressed look. “Oh? You’ve seen Lotor’s other harem candidates pass through here?”

“Not exactly. He doesn’t usually let them stay in his rooms.”

“Guess I’m just special.”

“I guess so. He doesn’t usually let them become Druids either, although, I can assure you, most of them have spent at least some time with the Druids.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Lance replied dryly. He stood up and headed towards where he’d last put his robes. “No doubt letting the Druids poison their quintessence or something.”

Sonali was quiet for a moment. “I know they can influence people with the corrupted quintessence, but to poison someone with it? They can do that?”

Lance snorted. “You’d be amazed with that they can do with that shit.”

“I’m pretty sure that it’s used to corrupt the ‘cured’ quintessence that the rest of the universe uses to power things.” Only the Alteans seemed to use ‘pure’ quintessence, no curing or refining needed. It was obvious that corrupted quintessence powered the Galra ships. “It’s also what the Druids use for combat and their powers.”

Sonali hummed, obviously thinking this over. “So, the power of the Druids is borrowed from the corrupted quintessence?”

“Sort of. I think the older Druids have either figured out how to convert their own quintessence into the corrupted stuff, or they themselves have become corrupted to the point that is their quintessence now.”

For some odd reason, Lance thought of Xana almost immediately after he spoke. Which didn’t make sense, because Xana was such a great guy.

Lance shrugged. “I’ll need to work more with the quintessence manipulation aspects of being a Druid to know for sure. Hopefully we’ll be going over that during this lesson.”

“All this has been enlightening, but how’ve you been holding up?”

“What’cha mean?”

“I know you’ve found your anchor, but even still, I doubt you’re unaffected by the corruption.”

Lance paused, thinking of the icy beach and the cold salt water, coated in oily corruption. He thought of the images of his previous team who’d show up every so often. Like Shiro, earlier this morning – although, he still wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t just a dream.

He thought of Blue, of how she’d roar every so often – less so now – to try to wash it all way. He thought of how the past few times, he’d had to try to wash it all away himself. He shivered, feeling the cold of his astral plane already seeping into his bones, and resolved not to think of it again.

“I’m fine.” He breezed past Sonali, raising his hood and hiding under it. Sonali couldn’t talk to him out in the halls, and besides, he had a lesson to get to.

Chapter Text

From the moment Lance entered the room, Xana had been staring at him, and while Lance knew he was a fine piece of ass, he somehow doubted that was why Xana was staring so intently at him. Besides which, Xana was old and no thank you? Lance wasn’t interested in being with someone his father’s age.

In any case, that left only a few reasons that Lance could think of that would cause the staring.

The first reason he was pretty sure was wrong. Lance was almost 99% certain that he hadn’t been late. After all, he’d left before Sonali even mentioned leaving, so by that logic, Lance should have actually been early. Perhaps he’d come too early, and that was why Xana was so interested in looking at Lance.

But somehow, neither of those options felt right. The way Xana was watching him reminded Lance of a predator watching its prey. While he didn’t necessarily feel like Xana was going to attack him, the staring was still unwelcomed attention.

Which was weird because normally Lance didn’t mind people staring at him. Like, yes, he knew. He was beautiful. But something about the way Xana was staring at him just made the hair stand up on the back of his neck – and not in a pleasant way.

“How are you feeling?” Xana stepped forward, his gaze still intently trained on Lance.

“Uh, fine?” Lance took a step back, noting that something passed on Xana’s face as he did so. Displeasure? Disappointment?

“You sound uncertain.” Xana noted. “I’d like to apologize for our last session. In my own distraction, I failed to prevent your over-exertion.”

Oh. That explained the watching! Huh, well, it was sweet that the Druid was just worried. Lance relaxed, his shoulders slumping and arms crossing casually as he grinned at the other.

“Awh!” He cooed. “Were you worried about little ol’ me?”

“Clearly I was wrong to.” Xana replied good naturedly. “In any case, I was thinking the lesson could be a bit more, how do you say it… ‘laid back’, I believe?” Xana’s eyebrows furrowed, and his hand tapped on his chin. “Whatever you use for ‘soothing’ or ‘relaxing’.”

“You had it right. It’s expressed in many ways, but I think what you’re really trying to say, is that we’re having a lazy day.”

If Xana wanted to take an easy day because of guilt over Lance’s over-exertion, then who was Lance to argue otherwise?

So, Hecks yeah, he was so down for a lazy day. He slept in, took an awesome bath. Minus his conversations with Sonali and Corral, his day had been really good so far. And with his dinner with Lotor later… he’d be a fool to turn down a chance to relax.

He didn’t know what was so special about the dinner with Lotor, but evidently it was a Big Deal™.

“A lazy day?” Xana repeated. “Yes, that does sound correct.”

“Right on!” Lance dropped his arms from their crossed positions to point at the cushions. “Are we gonna stand all day, or is this a sitting lesson?”

“Sitting, I think, would be preferred.” At Xana’s response, Lance walked over to the cushions, flopping down onto them before crossing his legs and looking expectantly up at the Druid. He opened his mouth to speak, but Xana beat him to the punch. “I was thinking we could go over pure quintessence color base types.”

“Oh man.” Lance groaned. “I did not study for a pop quiz.”

“You study?” Xana quirked an eyebrow as he teased. He took a seat on the cushion across from Lance. He was still overly watching Lance, but now that Lance knew it was due to worry, it was easier to ignore.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” Lance replied dryly.

“Well, I was under the impression that you were too busy being distracted by our prince to study.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Leave Lo- Prince Lotor out of this.” The look Lance was giving Xana was the same look of a petulant child, including the crossed arms and the pout.

“Dropping honorifics already?” Xana teased. Lance’s face flooded with heat, and not for the first time, Lance thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t show off blushes that easily. He did not need to give Xana more ammo in teasing him about Lotor.

“It’s not like that!” Lance protested. “We’re not like that!”

“No?” Xana’s laugh was pleasant to listen to, usually. It wasn’t often Lance could get the other Druid to laugh. He just wished that Xana’s laughter didn’t come at his expense.

“No! There’s nothing between us!”

“The Prince does seem rather smitten with you.” Xana argued slyly. “That doesn’t seem like nothing.”

It hit Lance hard and without warning; it being a sudden and strong wave of déjà vu. It was like he’d had this exact same conversation, or at least something similar to it, with Xana before. Yet, he couldn’t recall actually having a conversation with Xana about this.

Maybe it was the topic? Maybe he’d talked with Sonali about Lotor’s attraction. It wasn’t like it was a bad thing that Lotor was attracted to Lance. After all, that attraction was what opened the door for Lance and gave him so many opportunities.

But as for how Lance felt about Lotor… that was still a sticky situation. Like, Lance wouldn’t deny the guy looked nice. It helped that he smelled nice too, reminding Lance of… lilacs, actually.

Oh no.

Had he used Lotor’s shampoo and soap earlier? Oh no. Oh no! He had dinner with Lotor! He couldn’t show up smelling like him! Who knew what ideas the prince would get. And what did it say about Lance that he’d basically bathed himself in Lotor’s scent, and… and…

“Lance?”

Lance literally jumped, eyes widening as he looked at Xana’s concerned face. “Uh, sorry,” His smile was sheepish and he ducked his head. “Got lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

Xana hummed, nodding his head.

“But yeah, I guess he is. Smitten with me, I mean. Lotor, uh, Prince Lotor is. Oh, you know what I mean!” Lance sputtered.

What was wrong with him!? Normally he was such a smooth operator! Then again, He was distracted by the fact that he kinda sorta smelled like Lotor right now. Not to mention that Xana was kinda like an uncle, and Lance had never been able to be smooth when his uncles and aunts had teased him about his crushes before.

…. Not that he had a crush on Lotor, because that’d be ridiculous. Except he kinda, sorta, maybe did, and he might have already admitted that to himself, or at the very least admitted that they had some chemistry.

Could anyone really blame him for being so wishy-washy on his feelings? He was still on the fence, and he didn’t think anything anytime soon would change that.

“Sounds like he might not be the only one smitten.” Xana continued to tease.

“Who me?” Lance laughed nervously. “No way. I don’t… I ... uh… It’s not like that. Why’re we still talking about this, hmm? You got a crush on him?”

“A… crush?” Xana repeated. He was quiet for a moment before shaking his head. “If you are asking if I am interested in our prince, then I’d have to decline. But since we’re on the topic of him, I wonder if you could tell me the base color of his quintessence?”

Okay. Okay, Lance could handle that a lot better than he could the teasing, except for the fact that Lance didn’t know the answer. He felt like he should know, but when he tried to think of what it could be, his mind just blanked.

“Why does it matter?”

Xana arched an eyebrow.

Which was weird to look at because it didn’t look like Xana had the kind of eyebrows that could be arched. Xana wasn’t like Lance, who spent hours in a bath, or in a bathroom, readying himself for the day. As a matter of fact, the prettiest thing about the Druid was his scales, which… were kind of flaking off, and were definitely far from ‘elegant’, and kind of reminded of papery tree bark.

Huh. Weird. Why’d Lance just think of papery tree bark suddenly? That was strange and oddly specific.

He couldn’t ponder on that any more before Xana was answering him.

“In honesty, knowing the prince’s base color does not matter. Learning how to tell a base color, however, is.” The Druid paused. “There are several ways to do this. For example, someone could tell you have a blue base because…” Xana trailed off, giving Lance a chance to chime in and explain.

“Because of my scale color, duh.” An Altean – Druid or not – always had scales which matched their quintessence. That was like Druid Basics 101.

Xana frowned. After a moment he opened his mouth, and then closed it. “…Well. Yes. But you won’t always have the benefit of scales. So, someone can tell that you have a base blue because…”

“Uh…”

Xana sighed. If he was Shiro, he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose by now, and giving Lance the patented ‘I’m too tired for this’ look.

“Alright, Lance. What defines the blue base?”

“Well, Blue represents water and ice. It’s both liquid and solid; flexible but rigid; which makes it the most versatile. People with a blue base usually seem to be the most trusting, but they can also be stubborn and stuck in their ways.”

Xana clapped. “A short summary, but, essentially yes. Now, what about me?”

“You got yellow scales, so I know you have yellow base.” But Xana didn’t want him using scales as an answer. “But, I can also tell because base yellow is slow to anger, but slow to calm down too. Yellow base is… strong, steady, and… sturdy. That describes you.”

“That is correct. I’m a base yellow. Now, would you say either of these two are the prince?”

“No way!” Lance barely let Xana finish the sentence before interrupting him. “Lo… Prince Lotor is… Well, he’s… he’s passionate.”

There wasn’t really any other way to describe Lotor. He was passionate. He was passionate about ruling the empire; about his desires to bring down rebellions. Even as Tyrac, Lotor had been passionate, especially towards Lance’s plights and drama’s. He was very driven, and more than a tad ambitious. Especially in regard to his plans for the empire. But…

“He’s also impulsive.” Like when Lotor decided to bring Lance on. When he decided to allow Lance to become a Druid. Like when he decided to check out the Lion on the moon, and see if he could make a friend out of its paladin. Yet, despite all, “He doesn’t trust easily either.”

Actually, come to think of it, was he describing Lotor or…

Lilac eyes, Lilac scent. They weren’t really all that different, were they?

“He’s a red base.” Lance realized. “Prince Lotor has a red base.”

Just like most of the Galra, and Druids raised by them. Just like Keith. No wonder Keith was the team member who ended up being part Galra. Most Galra tended to have a red base lately. Probably due to the Galra having owned the Red Lion at one point. Zarkon had probably been looking for a Paladin for it.

He didn’t know if that was thing, breeding people with a specific color base quintessence. But, he knew the Galra had the Red Lion before Voltron did, and he knew most Galra, at least the ones in the military according to other Druids, had a red base. Perhaps there was a connection, perhaps there wasn’t.

“Very good. But, you won’t always have the luxury of knowing someone’s personality to figure out their base.” Xana reminded him.

“Yeah, and I know, I know. I need to know their base so I can correctly estimate what they’re gonna do, and react before they can even figure out for themselves what they’re doing.” Lance rolled his eyes as he spoke. Honestly, he’d heard this spiel like a hundred times by now.

“Exactly, which is why we need to work on your quintessence awareness.” Xana shook his head. “You’re fine with the two easier methods to tell a base, but it won’t last you forever.”

“Alright.” Lance sighed.

“This exercise will be similar to meditation. Except, with meditation, you’re trying to see inside yourself. I don’t want you actually going to the Astral Plane.”

“I’m sorry, but what? Could you, I don’t know, explain that a bit more clearly?”

Xana sighed again. “Try to see your color, if it helps I can provide a mirror.”

Wait a tick. Trying to see one’s own ‘color’? Using a mirror? Laughter bubbled up, escaping out before Lance could stomp it back down.

“You want me to see my aura?” Lance shook his head, still laughing. “Are you kidding me? I haven’t done that since I was a kid! That’s actually legit?”

Xana didn’t seem to know how to respond. He stared blankly at Lance for a few ticks, his eye twitching.

“Aura?” He finally asked after a bit. Lance nodded.

“Yep. Aura. It’s like the color of someone’s soul. You could tell their personality, health, and even their current emotions based off the colors you saw.”

Xana opened his mouth and shut it a few times. “Can… can all Humans do that?”

“Psh. Please.” Lance rolled his eyes. “Those who can are usually considered crazy.” Lance shrugged. “Which was why I never really talked about it or did it. And then, eventually, the colors just faded and I didn’t see them anymore.”

Xana pressed his lips together in a heavy frown. “So they repressed it.” His tone was sour. “Such a primitive race.” He shook his head. “A waste of potential.”

Lance raised an eyebrow – his was more elegant than Xana’s. He groomed his eyebrows to be absolutely gorgeous, regardless if he was quirking them or not.

“Dude chill. I think I remember how to do it. I just gotta work on it again. I got this.”

The look Xana gave Lance was nothing but skeptical. Heh, Lance would show him. He’d succeed at this, no problem!

“Alright. Since you are already aware of this, then I suppose I can let you go early.” Wait, what? Seriously?! “If you promise to work on it.”

“Dude, I do.” Xana frowned at Lance’s choice of words, shaking his head.

“AND, next session, we’ll be going over the two other pure quintessence bases: green and black.” Xana added. Lance groaned, scrunching up his nose.

He already knew all that. He wanted to move on, and try to work at some of the more advanced stuff.

“I’m tired of this stuff, Xana.. when will I learn the cooler stuff?” Lance whined.

“Once you have the basics.” Xana replied.

Oh, well if that was all Lance needed…

“Kay, well, Black technically doesn’t exist, but manifests in purples and pinks. It’s super rare because it means leadership, and there are very few people that are born leaders.” Allura, Shiro, and Zarkon were included in this grouping. “And Green is super inquisitive and curious. There, there’s the basics.”

Xana laughed. “Alright, alright. We’ll work on some advanced techniques next time, if you’ve learned how to properly recognize a base.”

“Promise?” Lance couldn’t see his own eyes, but he was sure they were sparkling with mini stars in them.

Man, he couldn’t wait. Not only would he get to learn some cool stuff, but it’d also be taking him closer and closer to getting into the more sensitive projects that the Druids worked on. He hoped to eventually get on a major project where he could give the resistance some important and major information.

The Robeast Project would be a great project to be on for that reason, although Lance wasn’t sure he’d be able to stomach it. Not to mention, it was Haggar’s personal project, and therefore, it was doubtful that Lance would be assigned it.

Unless Lance ended up being really talented with quintessence manipulation, but even then it was still doubtful he’d be assigned to something as important as Project Robeast.

Lance supposed it didn’t matter exactly what project he was given once they thought he was ready, so long as it was something he could give the resistance information on. And besides, it’d probably be a while before he was ready for a project.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but Lance was getting there.

“Yes. I promise. Now, go. Shoo. Begone with you and your promises and begging.” Lance laughed, scrambling up to his feet as Xana shooed him away. “And have fun with your dinner.”

“You know about that?!” Lance cried, spinning back around to give Xana a horrified look.

“I know everything.” Xana replied. Again, a wave of déjà vu washed over Lance, but he shook it away. “Now, shoo. Go have fun.” Xana made the ‘shoo-ing’ motions again.

Lance laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I’m going, I’m going!”

Sonali looked up from where they were stationed by the door as Lance danced out of it before spinning around and slumping back against it.

“Easy lesson?” They asked.

“The easiest.” Lance replied, bouncing off the door and down the hall. “When’s my dinner with Lotor?”

“In little over a Varga. Your session was shorter than usual.” Lance hummed, not really caring to answer the implied question there.

“Cool, sooooo, I got time to shower.”

“You… showered earlier.”

Well, yeah, he did. But now he’d realized that he’d washed with Lotor’s shampoo and soap. He couldn’t show up to their dinner looking like that. Plus, he’d met Corral, and he was sure that Lotor would smell her perfume.

“Shush. We’re in the halls. No talking.” Lance stuck his tongue out at the guard once he was done talking.

Sonali groaned in response, but fell obediently quiet.

Perhaps for the better. Lance’s stomach was suddenly full of butterflies at the thought of the dinner. It was special, for some reason. Like, he wanted to think it was a date, but… nah. It couldn’t be a date. Lotor didn’t seem like the dating type.

Lance mentally sighed. He guessed he’d find out in a bit.

Chapter Text

Sonali crossed their arms, blocking the exit to the room. The guard was staring Lance down, resolute in their decision to block the exit.

“Oh, come on.” Lance whined, dragging out the words as he said them. “Are you being serious right now? Like, I said I’m fine.”

“It’s my job to watch over you.” Sonali replied, looking down at Lance and crossing their arms.

“And I told you, and I’ll tell you again: I’m fine.” Lance spun around, as if to physically prove that he was fine. “I’m wearing the nice clothes Lotor gave me, and I took another bath.”

The nice clothes had been left on the bed when Lance returned from his Druid lesson, and consisted of a nice new cloak and a new under suit. To be honest, the ensemble kind of reminded Lance of longer fancier version of the night clothes and bathrobe he’d been using at the Castle of Lions, except in Galra colors.

The reason he’d taken a second bath was because he could only imagine the response Lotor would have to Lance showing up smelling like Lotor. His stomach twisted at the idea of Lotor’s response, although if it was nerves or excitement, Lance couldn’t tell.

Sonali sighed. “I’m just… worried about you. You were so out of it… and… I just… I don’t want to have to put you out of your misery if I can help it.”

Lance flinched back at the reminder. It felt like someone poured cold ice and water down his back, or like someone had ‘walked over his grave’, as his family would say. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head.

“Oh, Sonali.” He whispered. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

They didn’t even really know him all that much, and yet… here they were, still concerned over him. Over his well-being. He was touched, really he was. That was twice now that someone had been concerned over Lance today alone.

“I know you are.” They huffed. “I just… I don’t like that you’re having dinner with him in the Gardens.”

“The… gardens?” Lance repeated. “This place has gardens?”

Why had he not been told about this before? Did all Galra ships have gardens? Could he visit said gardens? …Did it rain in these gardens?

These were very important questions that Lance needed answers to.

“Yes. But access is very restricted. I won’t be able to follow you in. Anything could happen there, and I wouldn’t know.”

Well, that explained why they were so upset that Lance was going on this dinner. It actually had little to do with Lance and everything to do with the possibility of Lance betraying the Resistance.

It was possible that Sonali was legitimately concerned for Lance’s safety outside of where they could see and influence, but… Lance’s estimated likelihood of that possibility was tiny. It was far more likely that they were more concerned about themselves.

Being out in space didn’t stop people from being selfish.

Still, concern was concern – no matter how ‘misplaced’ it was – and Lance would take it.

“I’ll be fine.” At this point Lance was starting to feel a bit like a broken record. How many times would he have to assure Sonali that he was fine until they accepted it? “Lotor’s infatuated with me, I doubt he’d do anything.” Lance attempted to wave off their fears. “I’ll be fine.” He repeated, hopefully for the last time. “I hate saying this, but… trust me.”

Sonali sighed, but seemed to let the subject drop. “I… I suppose you’re right. We should be off then, if we don’t want to make you late.”

Lance blew a raspberry, rolling his eyes. “Plu-ease. I’m pretty sure I’m basically Cinderella in this situation – a reference I’m sure goes way over your head, but follow with me. It basically says that I can show up as late as I want, sweep the prince off his feet, and be home by midnight.”

“I’m not sure I want to understand that reference, but if you say so.” Sonali gave him what he suspected – stupid helmets hiding facial experiences – was a self-indulgent look before turning their back and heading out. Lance followed, not even a step behind.

The halls were unusually empty, although, perhaps those normally in the halls were off getting food for themselves. He was actually kinda glad that there weren’t many around.

Normally, he walked these halls with the safety and ambiguity of the Druids robes and mask. Wearing these nice silken clothes that Lotor had provided for him gave him no such protection. Thankfully, that was what Sonali was for.

Not that Sonali was particularly needed today as the halls seemed vacant. If anything, Sonali was being used as a map more than a deterrent or a ‘protector’. This ‘garden’ wasn’t close by, and although Lance tried to keep track of the turns and steps, it was rather difficult.

Hopefully Lance would be able to learn for future purposes. Restricted area or not, if Lotor was letting Lance enter now, then there was a super high chance that Lance would be able to visit again. And while Lance was pretty sure he’d have Sonali with him anytime he ventured off to the gardens, it never hurt to know his way around without the guard.

Just in case of anything.

Honestly, Lance had expected something a bit more to the doors of the Garden. If he’d been honest, he’d expected the Galra Space Ship equivalent of double French doors with some stained glass or something. Instead, he was just looking at a standardized bulkhead door.

“This is it.” Sonali muttered. “Only Royalty, some Druids, and a few drones are usually allowed in.”

Well that was good to know. And, also, Score! Some Druids were allowed, and with any luck… then Lance could become one of those privileged Druids.

“I’ve heard some of the Harem members and Lotor’s personal guard can enter too…” Sonali added on just a tick later. “Be careful.”

Lance blew another raspberry. “Stop worrying.” Lance half sung out. “I’m not worried, so neither should you.”

Well, that was a blatant lie if he ever said one. He was worried. He was worried about this ‘dinner’ in the ‘restricted’ gardens, with Prince Lotor. Of course, he was worried. Or that ball of ‘worry’ in his gut could have been anxiety. Or gas.

He tended to get gassy when he was nervous. It was a trait he shared not-so-fondly with Anna from that ancient Disney movie his sister loved, although it wasn’t anywhere near as ancient as that first Cinderella movie, but please, talk about the classics.

But talking about Disney princesses brought up unwanted memories. Like all the conversations/debates he’d have with Hunk about who everyone was. Like, c’mon… Allura was totally Aurora! Both of them were super gorgeous, and slept for like a couple thousand years while their society and kingdom crumbled before being awakened by a handsome ‘prince’.

Plus, both their names started in ‘A’, AND, sorry Hunk, Allura’s long gorgeous hair was more like Aurora's than Kida’s. And another AND, Kida wasn’t even recognized as an official Disney princess!

Lance shook his head and took a deep breath. There was no need to get worked up or emotional right before this dinner. Lotor would sense it like a shark sensed blood in water.

He took a deep breath and pressed the button to open the doors before stepping through into an airlock like space. Well, that was different, and bit more… expected? It made sense that the garden would be separated from the rest of the ship through more than just a single door.

After a few ticks, the door across from him slide open with a quiet ‘whoosh’ and Lance continued.

Lance would like to say that he noticed Prince Lotor waiting for him first. He’d like to say that he’d acknowledged the Prince and greeted him with a charming smile. If asked, that would be how Lance would present the story. But, honestly, Lance would be lying.

In truth, Lance was too busy gawking over the gardens to notice Lotor.

When he’d heard ‘garden’s he hadn’t expected much. Like, his highest expectations had been some ‘rain’ via some sprinklers in the ceiling, and even then, he’d doubted it. He’d thought that the gardens would be just a small little greenhouse like place with only a few plants.

He never thought he’d be so happy to be wrong.

If Lotor’s private rooms were hell, then this was paradise. The flooring under him was tiled with various shining crystals which faintly glowed, illuminating the path.

The planters were made of the same dark metal of the ship, built into the ground and coming up about to Lance’s waist. The plants in each planter were thick, full, and colorful. From where he was rooted at the entrance, he could see a myriad of colors, although, most were shades of green.

Off in the distance, he recognized the low rumble and roar of running water… a lot of it. It sounded like it was free falling, giving Lance the impression of a waterfall. In which case, he wondered just how large these ‘gardens’ were.

The lighting here was weird, fluctuating as some of the plants swayed in a non-existent breeze. It wasn’t helped by the glowing path either, which casted strange shadows as light came from two different sources and directions.

“I was worried your guard may have gotten lost.” Lance jumped at Lotor’s voice, and the gentle touch to his arm.

Of course, once he saw Lotor, the garden’s beauty and splendor paled in comparison. His stomach flipped in a way that it hadn’t since Lotor had touched Lance’s scales, so long ago. His mouth felt dry, his response became stuck in his throat.

Lotor smiled gently down at Lance, crow’s feet once again making an appearance at the corner of the prince’s eyes. His hair was tied back, although some strands refused to be captured and instead framed his face. Lotor’s eyes were brighter than any of the lights on the ship, which should have been enough to set Lance on edge, but instead reminded him of another’s purple eyes.

Both of the people who Lance had felt the strongest attraction to were so similar, when Lance thought about it.

They both had a red base. Both were partially Galra. Both had physical similarities. Perhaps Lance had a type after all, and how lucky he was to find another who matched it so perfectly after the disaster that was the red paladin, and Lance’s relationship – or lack of one – with him.

No. No, like with Hunk, Lance wasn’t going to think about that. He wasn’t. He just wasn’t. He was going to enjoy his dinner with Lotor and not think about… them. He wanted to think about Lotor instead, and how nice he looked.

Now to verbalize that. “Uh,” Lance’s mouth finally worked out. Lotor’s responding chuckle was well worth the embarrassment, and Lance bashfully ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he mentally screamed.

This was like… Lance’s childhood dreams come true! A fantastical dinner in a beautiful fantasy garden with a hot guy who happened to be a Prince. Quiznak. Maybe for one night Lance could forget about who Lotor truly was and just enjoy himself.

And what did he do? Just say ‘uh.’ Ugh! He was such an idiot. Not that Lotor seemed to mind as he held out his hand in a clear invitation.

Well, it wasn’t like Lance could reject him, now could he? Besides, he doubted Lotor was inviting him to die. His hand fit perfectly against Lotor’s, and it didn’t matter how well Lance’s skin tone hid blushes, he was certain Lotor could see it when he raised Lance’s hand to brush his lips against Lance’s knuckles.

“You look stunning.” Lotor’s voice was a low purr, and Lance would be lying if he said it didn’t do anything for him. Why was denying Lotor’s affections and advances a good idea again?

“You took my breath away.” Lance admitted, almost shyly. He’d never been one to be shy, but suddenly, standing in this garden with Lotor looking at him the way he was… Lance felt like it.

“I think you’ll find there’s several things in here that will do that.” Lotor replied. “And, I assure you, I am the simplest thing here that will.”

“Oh? Gonna give me a royal tour?” Lance teased. Lotor laughed again, the sound literally reminding Lance of sunflowers and sunlight.

Lance took a half step back, and the prince allowed it, gently lowering Lance’s hand as he did so. Lance needed to be careful. Despite his earlier brief wishes of just enjoying the night, he needed to remember where he was, and who he was here with.

He was playing with fire here – literally – and he couldn’t afford to mess up. The feelings he was having right now… he couldn’t act on. He needed to stay firm.

Maybe if Lotor wasn’t the prince of the Galra empire. Maybe if Lance wasn’t technically part of the resistance. Maybe if things were different…

“If that is what you would like; your wish is my desire.”

Lotor offered Lance his arm. Lance considered it for a moment, but ultimately, he didn’t really have a choice but to take it. Actually following through on that was easier than Lance would have thought. It was surprisingly easy to force himself to press up against Lotor. They fit together like puzzle pieces, perfect.

It was like Lance was made just for Lotor; or like Lotor had been made just for Lance. They were made for each other.

… and that was sickenly sappy. Lance needed to get ahold of himself. Ugh, what was with him today?

Thankfully Lotor was more than happy to provide a distraction. “These gardens span a decent sized portion of the ship.” Lotor informed Lance, setting off at a slow leisurely rate down the path. “They’re used in part for life support purposes but also for… pleasure as well.”

“Pleasure, you say?” Lance inquired, looking up at Lotor. Lotor smiled down at him.

“Mostly relaxation, although, I know some Druids have experiments and pet projects in here.” Lotor sighed. “Nbayd had been interested in poisons and toxins before his death. As pretty as some of those blossoms were, I couldn’t have been happier when Haggar called him to my father’s side.” Lotor sighed and shook his head.

“Nbayd… wasn’t he one of the Druids of the Four Directions?” Also, one of the only green based druids in existence. Green was often associated with plants, nature, and growth. It made sense that he would be interested in growing things, even if those things were poison.

“Indeed, he was.”

Lance was quiet. After all, he hadn’t known any of the previous Druids of the Four Directions, and he didn’t know who Haggar had replaced them with. As far as he knew, the positions were still open, as Haggar was too busy tending to Zarkon to figure out who would replace her previous disciples.

“Did you know him well?” Lance questioned after a moment. Lotor shrugged with one shoulder.

“As well as I knew any of the Druids of Four Directions. They were loyal to Haggar, and through her, my father. But, as far as Druids went, he was one of the more talented in the ranks.” Lotor paused, stopping to turn to Lance and stroke his cheek. “You’re the Druid I’m most familiar with. It is my hope to one day have you at my side the way Haggar is at my father’s.”

Sorry, wait.

What did Lotor just say? That was like, Commitment with a capital ‘c’ talk right there. Like.. Lance thought he might have heard something along those lines before, but he wasn’t sure and that was all a hazy memory and… just… Lance shook his head.

“You want me to be your Haggar?” Lance asked, still not believing that he’d heard correctly.

“Not the way I’d put it, but yes.” Lotor confirmed, as he dropped his hand, and gestured for Lance to continue walking.

“Why not Xana?” Xana, who was basically top-dog as far as Druids on this ship went. Xana, who was basically next in line to become a Druid of the Four Directions, if he so desired.

“Do you not want the position?” Lotor tilted his head, studying Lance.

“I… I don’t know.” Lance admitted quietly.

Lotor hummed as he thought about Lance’s response. “Obviously, you’re in no place for it yet.” He agreed after a few ticks of contemplation.

Lance flinched at the words, tearing his gaze away from Lotor to study the colorful blossoms surrounding them so that Lotor couldn’t see how affect Lance was by those words. “But then again, you’ve only gone through what, three movements of training? Time will help you improve.”

Huh. That made Lance feel better, sorta.

“You really think so?” Lance asked. “You really think that... that I’d be able to replace Haggar?”

Lotor bumped his shoulder against Lance’s, prompting him to look back up at the prince.

“I know it.” Lotor affirmed, smiling almost gently at Lance. “I know you’re more than capable of replacing her. When we’re done, she and my father will be standing in our shadows, their names just footnotes in history compared to ours.”

Lotor came to a stop, and then reached over to once again grab Lance’s hand and kiss the back of it.

“I can think of something better to show you than these flowers. Would you be interested?” Lotor asked.

Lance nodded, and Lotor once again gestured for him to continue walking. The rest of their walk was quiet, although, the roar of the water Lance had heard earlier was growing steadily louder. Was Lotor going to show him the source?

They turned the corner, and it was like someone had stolen Lance’s breath again.

The first thing he noticed was the waterfall. It arced through the air, helped and assisted by a rock wall with a plethora of vines and flowers growing over it. To prevent people from falling, there was a railing, which also had vines entangled in it.

Off to the side, was a small gazebo. The light gray of the gazebo was a nice contrast against the darker metals of the ship. Like the railing, vines that were growing on it, giving it living flowering curtains.

This was literally straight out of some fairytale fantasy story.

“You like it?”

Lance laughed, the sound escaping out him as he took in the sights. He wanted to go over to the railing, he wanted to look at the waterfall, he wanted to stand in the gazebo. This was fantastic!

“Like it?” Lance repeated, incredulously. “I love it! It’s beautiful!”

“Go on,” Lotor inclined his head, and stepped back, dropping Lance’s arm and allowing him free range. “This overhang is my favorite.”

Lance didn’t need permission twice, racing forward until he was at the railing. The blossoms there were a soft amber, and each one was larger than Lance’s own hands. But, those weren’t what he was there to see. He peered over the railing, trying to spot the bottom of the waterfall, and it wasn’t until he was actually hit by some droplets of water that he realized the most marvelous thing about it all.

“The water’s in reverse.” Lance muttered.

He watched it with wide eyes, not believing what he’d just said or what he was seeing. “That’s… impossible. Lo-” Lance spun around, intent on asking the prince about it only to cut himself off.

His mouth went dry again, words leaving him as he looked up at Lotor. When had Lotor crept up directly behind him like this, so close they were basically touching. Lotor reached out, putting his hands on the railing behind Lance, mere centimeters away from Lance’s waist. Trapping him against the railing.

“Yes?” Lotor replied.

It seemed that all at once Lance realized the position they were in. How close they were, how… romantic the scene was. This wasn’t just dinner with Lotor. This was a date. A very nice, beautiful, romantic date.

Quiznak. He was an idiot to deny that earlier. The nice clothes should have given it away, along with Xana’s teasing.

Heat flooded his face again, and he tore his gaze away, choosing instead to look off to the side. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest, beating so loudly he was surprised Lotor couldn’t hear it. His stomach twisted again as he thought of how close they were… close enough to kiss, if Lotor wanted. If Lance wanted.

And there was the root of the problem, wasn’t it?

Lance didn’t know what he wanted. He knew who he wanted, but, both options seemed so unobtainable and farfetched, that he’d never stopped to imagine that they could be options. Keith was gone now. Out of the picture, but Lotor… Lotor did want him.

Perhaps too much, if the slimy feelings that Lance had felt before from Lotor were true.

“I have a gift for you.” Lotor was close enough that his breath tickled Lance’s cheek, making a shiver run down Lance’s spine and his stomach to clench into a ball as his heart became a thousand butterflies. Quiznak. This was a problem.

Lotor was too close, way too close, and he smelled really good – just like the soap that Lance had used, and quiznak, he liked that scent. And if Lance wanted… all he’d need to do would be just look back up at Lotor…

But no. No. Lance couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Besides he was curious about this ‘gift’. His curiosity was enough for him to peek back at Lotor.

Lotor was watching him, and it was enough to make his stomach untangle to become a bunch of butterflies again.

“A gift… for me?” Lance repeated.

This garden wasn’t a gift enough? Like, seriously, he knew Lotor wanted to spoil him ever since the conversation – which was never finished – a few quintants ago about the gladiator matches. But this garden… and now a gift?

Lotor hummed an agreement. “You’ll have to wait till after dinner.”

Finally, the prince took a step back, gesturing to the gazebo with a wave of his hand. “Come, let us enjoy the food, and company of each other.” He looked back to Lance as he finished speaking.

A romantic dinner date with a prince in a beautiful garden’s gazebo overlooking a waterfall. Quiznak.

Lotor was going to ruin him.

Chapter Text

If someone were to look up the definition of a hopeless romantic, there would be an image of Lance directly beside it. There would also be a small little footnote which would read, “See LANCE, pg. 698”. So, it went without saying that Lance was, and had always been, a hopeless romantic.

Not that anyone could blame him. He’d grown up sitting right there next to his sisters, being outvoted and forced to watch whatever Disney Princess movie they wanted to see. But what had started out as forced had very quickly become him suggesting the movies and sighing along with his sisters at all the romance and true love.

His favorite Disney Princesses were the old classics. Like, the really old classics, like ‘Cinderella’ and ‘Sleeping Beauty’. He’d go to bed humming the songs, dreaming about the day he’d either get to sweep someone off their feet, or maybe, he’d be the one being swept off his feet.

Lance wasn’t picky, to be honest.

“If you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true.” Those words had been Lance’s life for a while. He’d lived by them when he’d worked to become part of the Garrison. He’d lived by them through his time at Flight School.

And, he’d lived by them for a while for his fantasies of a love life.

His dreams varied. Sometimes they consisted of him rescuing a beautiful royal, who’d kiss his cheek in thanks. Other times, he was a flirt, wooing their attention with carefully said words. They’d swoon into his arms. He already knew exactly what necklaces and jewelry to give them.

But, he’d also dreamed the opposite.

He dreamed about being saved by charming royal. He was fine with a princess being the one to save him instead of a prince.

It was a nice alternative to him being the one to save the day: imagining someone else coming and heroically rescuing him.

Younger Lance was even willing to offer up a few kisses of thanks to his savior. He was definitely more than willing to give up his love and his heart… and, if he got some courting jewelry, he certainly wouldn’t say no to that.

“If you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true.” Well, Lance must have believed enough because here he was, finally, after years of dreaming… and he couldn’t have been more conflicted.

If only younger Lance had known what royalty was really like; then maybe he wouldn’t have believed so strongly. If only Lance had known how most Princesses weren’t of the Disney variety: all sweet, kind, and caring.

Allura may have been a magic space elf princess, but she was fairytale princess in looks alone.

She lacked most of the gentle mannerisms of the Classic Disney princesses. She wasn’t a soft spoken flower who attracted animals like black pants attracted white dog hair. She was more like Xena than Snow White.

And… as it turned out, real life Princes were just as equally far-fetched from their Disney counterparts.

The last words he’d use to describe Lotor would be brave, chivalrous, and kind. He couldn’t imagine Lotor to be the type to face a dragon with a sword and attack it to protect his love – no, that was an image once reserved for Keith… Keith who had faced death via android gladiator to rescue Lance from being sucked into Space through an airlock.

Much like Allura, Lotor was only a fairytale prince in appearance. Appearance, and evidently courting gifts.

Corral’s words from just a few vargas ago echoed in his mind. She’d wanted to know if Lotor had given him any jewelry yet. Well, he could now positively answer that question the next time he saw her. If he ever saw her again.

Lance’s hand trembled as he reached out, lightly tracing the swoops and curves of the Galra Empire emblem crafted on the piece with the tips of his fingers.

He couldn’t tell what the metal was, but it wasn’t the warm gold of Corral’s jewelry. Instead it seemed to be made of a similar material to that which the ships were made of. A dark gray which shinned dimly in the light.

Presumably that design had been made on purpose so that the emblem didn’t outshine the true eye catcher of the piece: a thumb nail sized purple jewel. He refused to acknowledge who’s eyes the gem reminded him of. The gem hung, suspended by delicate chains made of the same metal as the rest of the necklace. The jewel glittered in the lighting of the garden.

As a matter of fact, the gem glittered almost too much.

Lance’s hands faltered as he dipped down to the jewel of the necklace, lightly touching it. There was a brief spur of energy which sparked against his fingers at the touch.

Quintessence. This gem, whatever it was, was holding corrupted Galra quintessence.

Lance licked his lips, opening his mouth to speak and then shutting it when no words came to him. He couldn’t accept this, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Where his heart had once been fluttering, now it existed as a solid lead weight.

“Do you like it?” Lotor’s voice was unusually quiet, like the prince actually cared whether Lance liked it or not.

He didn’t.

“It’s very beautiful.” Lance answered instead.

There was no point to go more into the question. He cared for the necklace as much as Lotor cared if Lance actually liked it or not. But, there was little Lance could do or say. Even if he admitted that he didn’t care for the necklace, Lotor wouldn’t care.

For once in his life, Lance knew it was better to remain silent.

“But?” Lotor prompted.

Lance’s eyes rose from the necklace to look at Lotor. He tugged his bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it. His chest still felt tight, his heart fluttering too quickly, trapped by the bones there. There was that tugging sensation again. That strange feeling of being a tug of rope in a war between desire and remorse. Between Lance’s freedom and his pleasure.

He blinked down at the jewelry, honestly not sure how he felt about it. This time when he touched the jewel, he traced it and the design almost absent mindedly.

When Lance had imagined getting jewelry like this… he’d always imagined he’d be able to turn it down. To turn down the person and continue on his life, or accept it and change his life forever. This… this wasn’t something he could turn down. Not if he planned to continue helping the resistance. Not if he planned to continue to live.

But he had to think of the connotations of accepting this gift; the consequence of his actions. Lotor didn’t present it as a courting gift, but, contrary to popular belief, Lance wasn’t stupid.

Even he knew what it meant when someone, especially a royal someone, presented a piece of jewelry to the person they liked. Especially a piece like this.

Like a record on repeat, Lance’s mantra sprung back up in his mind: Perhaps if it was someone else, perhaps a different time, a different place… a different person.

Yet, perhaps he was going about all of this the wrong way. If he had to keep denying this to himself, then maybe… maybe Lance did want this after all. Or, maybe, what he really wanted was for this to be on the soft white sands of a beach, with sun shining down, warming his skin. Perhaps, if his partner was… was… warm violet eyes and black messy hair.

Lance’s heart physically ached at the sudden scene in his head. One he refused to indulge another moment of.

In his mind’s eye, the vision shattered, the shards swept away like dust under a rug. He had to let it go. It wasn’t going to happen. Keith had left him. He’d left Keith. Their non-existent relationship was done.

That ship sunk a long time ago. It sunk in an over-used training room, destroyed by harsh words thrown around like cannonballs, and then the wreckage was battered and beaten by asteroids and days of being left alone.

Keith, and the others, had left Lance. And Lance had left them.

He had no one back there. No one except for Blue, and he wouldn’t have her for forever. He wasn’t naïve enough to think he would.

No matter how much he wished he could just go back, he couldn’t. He couldn’t go back to Earth, and he certainly couldn’t go back to the Castle. He couldn’t even go back to the Space mall. But… Lance was here now, with Lotor, spying for the resistance.

He blinked down at the necklace again, and then blinked a few times in rapid succession, as if that would clear up the sudden blurriness in his vision. Perhaps said blurriness, and pressure building up behind his eyes, was from staring at it too long. And not from what Lance was afraid they were from.

“I’ll ruin it.” Lance answered, his voice breaking halfway through the word ‘ruin’. His hands were still trembling. The pressure behind his eyes seemed to increase. He felt like he couldn’t swallow, he couldn’t breathe.

Because Lance ruined everything. He ruined his life on Earth when he left, including the lives of his family and those he held dear. He ruined his chance with… He ruined his life at the castle. He ruined his team. Even if he didn’t want this necklace, didn’t want what this necklace stood for… he’d still ruin it.

And, for all he knew, this necklace didn’t mean what he thought it did. It was possible that the Prince just wanted to give Lance something pretty to wear around his neck.

Or a collar to leash Lance to his side. A choker to strangle Lance into submission, to remind him of his place. A courtship gift in which acceptance meant…

Lotor’s hands wrapped around Lance’s holding them, and the box, steady.

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Lotor asked.

Lance looked up to see the white of Lotor’s teeth shown through with a smile. One of his hands slid up Lance’s arm to cup Lance’s cheek. Lotor made a soft shushing noise as he brushed away the beginning of Lance’s tears.

“Darling, I was afraid that it wouldn’t be worthy of you.” Lotor attempted to sooth. “You’re beautiful.”

Darling.

Lotor had called him ‘Darling’. That was new. New and terrifying. New, and terrifying, and something Lance wasn’t sure he was ready for. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for that. Maybe in time. Maybe if Lotor wasn’t… Maybe… Maybe…

Lance took a deep shaky breath, and then turned his face into Lotor’s touch. The breath he’d taken filled his lungs with the familiar sweet scent of lilacs.

Lilacs. Huh. Lance could have laughed. Except, he couldn’t right now.

Lance didn’t like new things when it came to Lotor. New things meant change, and change wasn’t something Lance could anticipate here. He especially didn’t like the way his heart jumped at the… at the pet name.

“It’s very beautiful.” Lance repeated from earlier.

He tore his gaze away from Lotor’s and looked back down at the necklace. Once again, Lance was struck with the thought of just how much the gem resembled the color of… lilacs. The evident flower of Lance’s love life: Keith’s eyes, Lotor’s scent.

He was still absentmindedly stroking the gem, taking some measure of pleasure as the trapped quintessence resonated within him. Yes, he could understand the feeling of being trapped.

The jewel felt warm under his fingers, pleasantly so.

“Less so than you.” Lotor’s slim fingers picked the necklace out of the box, slipping it out from under Lance’s touch.

He watched it as it hung from Lotor’s hands, suspended in the air, glittering and shining as it caught the light. It felt like someone was physically holding his heart, squeezing it tighter and tighter with every breath, with every moment, with every twirl of the dangling gem. His fingers already felt cold with the removal of the jewel from under them.

Lance was willing to bet that it’d be warm around his neck. A comfortable reminder that he was wearing it. That he was now collared.

“My robes will cover it.” Lance realized aloud. He blinked, surprised in himself that he’d spoken. And then blinked again at the realization of what he’d said.

Perhaps, he could get away with not wearing it! Lotor would only ever know that he wasn’t wearing it when Lance was out of his robes.

But… what if he forgot? What if he forgot to put it back on, or worse, what if he lost the necklace?

“I don’t think it will, and if it does, then it’ll be our little secret.” Lotor replied.

Lotor stood, slipping around to stand behind Lance. His fingers were warm against Lance’s skin, contrasting against the cool metal of the necklace and the event soft lining – except for the warm jewel. Lance’s heart still felt strange, fluttering uncontrollably in his chest, and breathing was difficult.

Putting a necklace on someone was always portrayed as an intimate moment. Lance had never thought much of it when he helped his sister put on a necklace, but now that someone else was putting a necklace on him, everything was different.

“I should have given you a necklace long ago.” Lotor commented.

Lance could feel him finish clasping it, feel the softness of the cloth martial of the band, and the weight of the necklace as it settled against him. It was heavier than one would first assume, or perhaps the weight was entirely metaphorical.

“Yeah?” Lance asked. His voice sounded breathy, like he was in a daze. He supposed he was. After all, none of this felt real. It was all just some weird dream, right? But then again, a dream was a wish a person’s heart made.

Lotor hummed. “It compliments your form rather nicely.” His fingers stoked the skin above where the necklace sat, before sliding down over the necklace and falling to Lance’s shoulder. Lotor’s hands rested there for a moment before he pulled away, heading back to his previous seat. He hummed again, his eyes on Lance.

“Beautiful.” Lotor breathed out.

Lance wondered what was: the symbol of the Galra Empire on his neck, the tears he could still feel in his eyes, or the image of him being collared. Instead of asking, Lance plastered on a smile. “Pretty as a picture?”

“Prettier, I believe.” Lotor chuckled. “I was correct: the necklace is nothing compared to you.”

“You’re a prince.” Lance half laughed. “I’d expect nothing less than for you to be correct.”

Already, he could feel the necklace weighing down on him. Physically, the necklace wasn’t much, but mentally, it was like a ball and chain. The necklace itself was the chain, and the jewel was the ball. It took everything Lance had not to reach up and touch the jewel again.

“This has nothing to do with my ranking.” Lotor disagreed. “I know I’m not a perfect man, and there are times I am seldom correct.” Lotor paused, leaning forward and grabbing the wine glass that he’d been using through dinner and looking down into the dark liquid. “We all have our pasts, Lance, with the mistakes we’ve made that haunt them.”

Lotor smiled wryly, and then looked back up at Lance. “Would it be too terribly wrong of me to be thankful for the mistakes of your past? After all, they are what drew us together.”

Oh, Lance was well aware of the mistakes he made that led to this. He regretted every single one of them. Starting with leaving Earth.

“I’m afraid-”

“Don’t be afraid.” Lotor interjected.

“-I don’t know you well enough to speak the same of yours,” Lance finished.

“You have no need to fear here.” Lotor continued. “You’re safe.” Lotor put the glass down and leaned forward, cupping Lance’s cheek again. “You’re beautiful; precious to me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And what did Lance pay for that protection? His soul? His heart? His sanity?

He already felt too vulnerable right now as it were. He suddenly longed for the security and comfort of the Druid robes. At least he could hide in those; blend in with the other Druids, vanish into their ranks.

But no, Lotor would never allow that. Lance would never be able to escape from him, not with this necklace. Not with what it meant. Not with what Lotor wanted from Lance.

Lance looked away from Lotor, letting his gaze drift until it fell upon some flowers near the railing protecting people from falling into the water. Something about the amber golden color of the blossoms pulled at his mind. He’d been thinking of it earlier, whatever it was.

“Has he given you any jewelry yet?” Corral’s voice drifted to him on a nonexistent breeze.

Lance grasped onto that memory and thought. He grasped and held on until he felt more like himself. Anger flared up within him, sudden and inexplicit, but it felt right. It felt normal. Lance blinked and slid his gaze back to Lotor.

“Do you give all your prospective conquests jewelry?” Lance asked, his tone souring. Lotor reared back as if Lance had slapped him.

Lotor opened his mouth to speak, but Lance didn’t let him. He wasn’t done.

“Or just your favorites? Do you whisper the same sweet nothings in their ears? Offer them the same sugared promises?” Lance drew in a shaking breath which turned into a broken laugh. “Will I be left abandoned and alone in the room next to yours; just existing to entertain you when you finally remember me again?”

The conversation from before dinner drifted into his mind. Lotor’s desire for Lance to take over for Haggar. To be what she was for Zarkon for Lotor.

“Or am I just your Druid plaything? You saw how things were with Haggar and your father, and thought you wanted it too. Do I have a purpose for you outside of that? Outside of… whatever it is you want from me?”

Because that was something that was still bothering Lance. What did Lotor want from him? Why had he decided to spare Lance on the moon? Why did he save Lance from the Druids? Why hadn’t he tried to get any information about Voltron or anything from Lance? What was Lotor’s motives? Lance needed to know.

Surely, it couldn’t have been just his appearance. Surely, it couldn’t have been just Lotor’s feelings for Lance. Surely, it couldn’t be that simple. It just couldn’t. Things didn’t work that way.

Lance stood, amazed that Lotor was still allowing Lance to continue. That the prince was allowing Lance to stand over him and look down upon him. Lance’s lip curled, the thought that had been haunting him since Lotor presented the gift slipping out through his lips.

“By wearing this necklace, is that the ‘safe’ future I accept?” Lance asked, his voice growing both in strength and volume.

“You’ve spoken to one of the harem.” It wasn’t a question, and both of them knew that. It didn’t stop Lance from nodding in affirmation.

“I have.” Lance raised his chin, standing resolute.

“Jealously twists their words.” Lotor’s voice was surprisingly calm.

Lance narrowed his eyes at the response. It was unacceptable, not that Lance knew what was acceptable anymore. Hell, he didn’t know how he felt about Lotor anymore. It was all confusing, like a twisting hedge maze that he just couldn’t find his way out of.

“Just as it will mine when I am in their position.”

Lotor coolly regarded Lance for a moment, his almost lilac eyes trained on Lance. A cold prickle ran across Lance’s back, and he just knew what Lotor was going to say. He’d let him talk to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the moment he said what Lance thought he was going to say…

“Don’t you trust me, Lance?”

Lance wished he hadn’t asked that question. It felt like something in him was breaking every time he heard it. It felt like he was dying every time he confirmed that he did. He wasn’t cut out for this type of work… and if his next responses blew his cover, then Lance would be happy to be rid of it.

He was done. He couldn’t do this anymore. Sorry unnamed resistance. Sorry Matt. Sorry Sonali.

He hoped Sonali would forgive him if he didn’t end up walking out of here. He was done with the feelings he felt for Lotor. He was done with struggling as a Druid. He was done being some pawn in Lotor’s games. Most importantly, he was done with that question.

“I am so tired of that question.” Lance shook his head, wiping the air with his hand. “It’s not relevant here, Lotor. I’m not stupid. Not enough to believe that you’d change for me. To believe that I’m ‘it’ for you.” Lance paused to laugh.

Because the idea really was laughable.

Honestly, what had Lotor been expecting. For Lance to just accept his words when Lotor sprouted out stuff about how safe and loved Lance was here? Lance could count the number of people that had ever truly loved him on one hand, and he sincerely doubted anyone on this ship could be included on that count.

Perhaps Lotor’s affections were real. But why would a prince like Lance like that? It was unfathomable. Lotor wouldn’t change for Lance. He’d find a way to make Lance change for him. He’d find a way to shape and mold Lance to his desires, if he hadn’t already.

No. No, Lance didn’t think he’d already started. Lance’s own affections felt too real. The cause for his feelings may have been false, but the feelings themselves felt true.

Which made this all the worse, because Lance actually liked Lotor.

“Lan-”

“I’m not finished.” Lance cut him off. “I know you’ll discard me off to that damn room once you’ve achieved whatever you want from me. Like I said, I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise. I’d hoped that you’d at least be honest with me. Trust is a two-way street!” Lance let out a sigh, shaking his head again. He pursed his lips after a moment, and stared Lotor down.

“Don’t lead me on. I don’t…” Lance huffed. He threw his hands up in the air, mimicking the movements of throwing up paper in exasperation.

He felt… tired. Mentally and physically. Lance sighed. Well, he wasn’t dead yet… he was of half the mind to continue, but instead he tried to calm down and keep his cover.

“I’d do anything for you, and I… I don’t expect the same of you. But if you’d do anything for me, even just one thing, then do this: don’t lie to me.” If there was one thing Lance wanted, it was that. That Lotor not lie to him.

Not that he expected Lotor to actually do that. The silver dripped from Lotor’s tongue too easily.

Lotor opened his mouth to speak, but Lance help up a hand, palm facing towards the prince. He shook his head. This wasn’t the time for Lotor to speak. Not yet anyways. Pressure was still building behind his eyes, and Lance hated that.

He always cried easier after crying earlier. He hoped he could at least hold off until he was done.

“I want to make this clear because I am sick of that question.” Lance started. He’d spoken the truth earlier when he said that trust was a two-way street. “I do trust you, but I trust you to be you. I trust you to lie, cheat, and kill your way to whatever you want.”

Once again, Lance had to hold up a hand to prevent Lotor from speaking. “I trust you to promise me things that will never happen. I trust you’ll leave this conversation telling me more beautiful lies, because you know that I’ll want to hear them. You asked me if I trusted you. Your Druids have asked me if I trust you. I’ll answer again, for a final time. I trust you, but no one’s ever thought to ask how I trust you.”

“You tell me not to be afraid. You tell me that I’m safe here. Then you ask me to trust you, to trust those words. It’s because I trust you that I don’t trust them.”

Like the verbal vomit exploding from Lance’s mouth, wetness started to drip down his cheeks, leaving salty trails shining in the strange lighting of the garden. The trails stopped at the scales, and traveled along the edge, like raindrops meeting a crack in glass.

Lotor didn’t allow for a single tear to drop off Lance’s face before he was standing. Lance didn’t even get a chance to blink before his face was pressed into Lotor’s chest as the prince wrapped him up in a hug.

The hug was enough to break the floodgates, large ugly cries escaping from Lance along with tears. His body trembled, and he collapsed into Lotor’s hold, holding onto the prince if only because Lotor was the only thing for him to hold onto.

“So, this is how you really feel?” Lotor shook his head. He didn’t seem to know how to respond to any of this, like he didn’t believe the words he’d heard. “You trust me, but in all the… wrong ways. I see I’ve gone about this all the wrong way.”

Lotor’s words were faint echo of his earlier words about how he wasn’t a perfect man, and how there were times that Lotor was in the wrong. He must have realized that this was one of those times.

“I’m sorry, Lance. I should have noticed this earlier. I knew you were damaged,” Lance flinched at Lotor’s choice of words. “But I never thought that Voltron had damaged you so.”

Lance felt like his throat was closing up. He sniffled, pulling his head away from Lotor’s chest to turn it so his face wasn’t smashed. He tried to take deep even breaths, trying to steady himself. Each breath gave him a lungful of the cloying scent of lilacs.

“You should have spoken to the Druids about this. Promise me you’ll talk to Xana.” Lance made no such promise. Lotor could ask until he passed, Lance didn’t intend to open back up like this again. It hurt too much. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

His heart hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt. Worse yet, he didn’t quite know what had set him off. Why he’d revealed so much to Lotor. Flying off the handle wasn’t like him. He’d just been so upset, and worse, he knew if he was asked again if he trusted Lotor, he’d reveal just as much again. He was just so tired of that question.

Lotor sighed. One of his hands had moved to cradle Lance’s head; the other, Lotor ran up and down Lance’s back. “Or not.” He breathed. “I’m honored you… were able to come to me about this, Lance.”

“You’re honored that I trusted you.” Lance corrected. His words were slurred from being held against Lotor, but the prince understood them nonetheless. Lotor let out a half laugh which was more a sharp exhale of breath than anything.

“Yes.” Lotor paused. “You want truth from me.” Lance nodded. “Even if it hurts?” Lotor questioned.

“Especially then.” Lance confirmed.

“Alright.” Lotor’s voice quieted as he spoke. “I can do that for you, pet.”

The necklace around his neck was no necklace. It was a collar. A reminder of who Lance belonged to. The nickname Lotor just called him confirmed it. He was no ‘darling’. He was ‘pet’. A pet Druid, a passing fancy. The flavor of the week.

Lance closed his eyes. Hearing that confirmation didn’t make things better, but Lotor had done as Lance had asked. He hadn’t lied to him.

“I never lied about your beauty.” Lotor muttered. “It was one of the things that first drew me to you. That and how emotional and expressive you were. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but few here are as lively as you.”

“Beauty,” Lance began, choosing to only focus on that for now; because the rest sounded too real for Lance to deal with, “is in the eye of the beholder.”

Now that his tears and sobs were fading, he could feel the numb coldness that often followed an emotional breakdown like that. The cool apathy was welcomed. “And love,” Lance scoffed, as if Lotor could love. “Love is blind.”

Lance listened to Lotor’s heartbeat. It was strange to think that something that sounded so warm and so human was so far from it.

“Wise words, but, in this case they are wrong. Anyone who denies your beauty must be blind.” Lotor argued gently.

“Mmn.” Lance was quiet for a couple minutes. “Perhaps you’re the blind one. I am damaged after all.”

“You’re upset about the choice of wording, it’s the truth. Besides, I prefer damaged. There’s something appealing about taking someone broken, and rebuilding them; of helping them flourish and grow.”

Rebuilding them, right. Because Lance was being rebuilt right now.

Lance sighed. “I want to stop hurting.”

“Then let me take away the pain.” Lotor shifted, tilting Lance’s head back so the other was looking up at him.

He cupped Lance’s cheek, briefly stroking over Lance’s scales, but not keeping his touch there long enough for any feelings to show through, which was actually kind of sweet. He wasn’t forcing his emotions on Lance. Not that it’d really affect Lance’s emotions, but he supposed it was the thought that mattered.

“Let me take care of you.” Lotor whispered. He dipped his head down, stopping just centimeters away from Lance.

After the emotion breakdown that Lance had just gone through, he couldn’t believe this was happening. But it was. Worse, it seemed to be working on him.

The strange feeling was back in Lance’s stomach. It was in his stomach, in his head, in his heart, in his lungs… He took a shuttering breath, and released it. He was tired. He was so tired, and here was Lotor, offering to take that away. If only Lance would let him.

If something sounded too good to be true, then it usually was. But Lance knew what he was getting into here if Lance agreed. Perhaps he didn’t know exactly what, but he had an idea, and sometimes, an idea is enough.

He was just so tired, and he was only human. Except he wasn’t human anymore, was he? But he was still entitled to mistakes, and if that was what this ended up being, then so be it.

He’d add it to his ongoing growing list. Because as much as he wanted to keep fighting the good fight… Lance was so tired. Fighting against everything was tiring. Fighting against himself, and his own desires was tiring.

The effort and energy put into this fight could be put elsewhere. It could be put into his training. It could be put into his spying. It could be put to better uses. He was done with this fight, at least for now. At least for this exact moment.

The next breath Lance took was calm and steady, even as his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest. One tick was all it took to decide. One tick, a little over a second for him to make a choice.

Lance’s eyes slipped shut as he leaned up the remaining few centimeters.

Chapter Text

Ezor sighed, resting her hand on her hip as she looked up to the empty commander seat where Lotor usually sat.

When their prince had originally been exiled, his father had left him several ships to use at his disposal. One of which was the cruiser that Lotor favored with his generals at the helm. The other was an old Druid based experimental ship, which functioned more of a base that Lotor could return to. There were others, but those were the two ships Lotor seemed to use the most.

Although, compared to how much use the cruiser saw, the command ship seemed practically abandoned by Lotor. Not to say that he didn’t use it, because he did, but it was very clear that he preferred his cruiser.

Given his harem’s location on the command ship, it wasn’t unusual for Lotor to disappear for a few days to the other ship to tend to them – or more accurately for them to attend to him. However, it was unusual for him to be returning back to it so often, and staying there for as long as he was.

While he wasn’t always the most open with his generals, usually he at least would be nice enough to tell them things. Sometimes he made them prompt, but usually he was good about not treating them the way his father treated his generals.

Lotor’s treatment of herself and the other generals was something that had first driven Ezor’s loyalty to Lotor.

Most people looked at her and saw ‘half-breed’ or ‘hybrid’. They might not have said it, but she could see it clearly in their expressions and tones. She was looked down upon. A traitor to her mother race and a waste of blood to her father race.

But Lotor… when he looked at her, it was never with anything less than a thoughtful glance. He didn’t look at her and see ‘half-breed’ or ‘hybrid’. No, he looked at her and saw her, and her potential. He’d picked her up off the ground – almost literally as no one ever wanted to give a half-breed the time of day, let alone a job – and took her in.

Now when people looked at her, the first thing they usually saw was the symbol on her chest and the Empire’s emblem on her shoulders. People didn’t look at her like she was something disgusting caught under their shoe, but in fear and awe – if she let them see her to begin with.

And it was thanks to Lotor that she was where she was. He seldom disrespected her or the other Generals. So long as they remained loyal to him – and Ezor couldn’t think of any reason that she’d not be loyal to him when he’d done so much for her – then he didn’t have a problem with them.

As a matter of fact, so long as they remained loyal and did what Lotor asked, he didn’t care what they did. So, times when he went to the command ship to check up on XYZ or his harem was usually free time.

And while Ezor would never complain about free time, they’d been given an awful lot of it recently. Sure, Lotor would send them off to do his errands, but it wasn’t the same as when he was with them.

Lately he’d seemed so preoccupied, and worse, he wasn’t talking with them about what it was keeping him. It just wasn’t like him. And while Ezor trusted him – really, she did – she just didn’t like him closing up on his Generals like this. They were a family, right?

She sighed again, this time prompting Acxa to look up from her station where she’d been running diagnostics, again, for lack of anything else to do. Narti and Zethrid were both on the other ship, presumably off terrorizing the poor sentries.

“If you’re so bored here, you can always go aboard the other ship.” Acxa huffed before returning to her screens. Kill joy.

But Acxa was right. If Ezor wanted, she could go onto the Druid ship herself and see what was going on. After all, there was nothing saying that they all had to stay on the cruiser.

And it wasn’t like Ezor hadn’t been on the other ship before. The last time she’d been on the ship it’d been to visit the harem to see if any of them would catch her fancy. Lotor didn’t mind his generals using his harem within reason and with a few exceptions.

Like that Princess from Demos. Like, honestly, Ezor didn’t know what Lotor saw in her besides her pretty face. Ugh, if she wasn’t off limits, Ezor didn’t think she’d be interested in that princess.

She supposed she could go and see if Lotor had made any changes to his harem. Generally, he kept it small, filled with the people that he could see himself eventually returning to bed with every so often, if only to ease his own personal loneliness.

He didn’t mistreat his harem in any way, beyond the fact that it was a harem. Ezor supposed that Lotor’s strange desire to ‘take care of’ the harem was his way of ‘making up’ for the fact that he used them all in some way, shape, or form.

In any case, not all harem members remained. Some chose to succumb to quintessence poisoning, not because of Lotor, but because of their own personal demons. Other’s asked instead to be put to use for the Empire and were given over to the Druids.

While their ends weren’t always the most pleasant, at least they lived in luxury and safety before they left, however they decided to leave.

In any case, Lotor’s harem changed perhaps every half a deca-phoeb or so. The newest addition that Ezor had heard about was that bratty princess from Demos, so the chances of there being someone there to interest Ezor was slim to none.

Besides, she wasn’t really feeling it right now.

She debated her options for a moment – a word Lotor had brought back to them after one of his undercover stints – before ultimately deciding to explore the ship. It wasn’t like there was anything new to discover, but it was fun to go through people’s stuff and snoop around. That was always different, and she needed to catch up on the latest gossip anyways.

There were certain people who were always on board, like the Druids – although Ezor didn’t usually snoop through their stuff – or the bridge officers; and they usually had interesting tidbits of information stashed away in their stuff.

Like, for example, Bridge Officer Sonali had a ‘mysterious admirer’, aka: Private Glauca, who was constantly littering her locker and room with love notes. Last Ezor had heard, he was worried about being transferred off the ship soon and didn’t want to leave Sonali behind. Poor thing had no clue that Sonali burned most of the letters in the incinerator. Apparently, she had no desire for love, or to find out who was so infatuated with her.

Oh, and then there was Bridge Officer Bmuth who was having an affair with Sentry Thrak. Which was interesting considering that Bmuth was married to Bridge Officer Kynia in secret. Speaking of Kynia, last Ezor checked, he was cheating on Bmuth with Captain Goud – Bmuth’s brother.

Oh, and then Sentry Alxc was totally crushing on Lotor AND on Zethrid, and wrote very, very, very, interesting little stories about the three of them.

Now, Ezor considered herself fairly flexible, but she was pretty sure she couldn’t even do some of the position described there. Also, Zethrid was not sugary sweet and most certainly did not smell like either Furë a kuqa or Seksi fruit. Ezor couldn’t confirm this, but she was also pretty sure Zethrid didn’t taste like Seksi fruit either.

If anyone ‘tasted’ of Seksi fruit, it was Lotor because if there was Seksi fruit in the vicinity, then by the time he left there’d be none. She couldn’t confirm it, and he was denying it, but Ezor was about 99% certain that Lotor had been the one to eat her last Seksi Pastry Puff.

In any case, it wasn’t like there was a shortage of things for Ezor to do on the other ship. There were options that were way more entertaining that the vast emptiness of space and Acxa’s personality.

Besides, she could hit up Lotor’s personal rooms and see if she happened to stumble across whatever had captured Lotor’s attention so thoroughly lately.

Her mind made up, Ezor practically bounced as she headed for the airlock to board the command ship. Acxa didn’t even look up as Ezor exited.

Maybe she should have said something, but… oh well, Acxa would figure out where Ezor had wandered off to eventually.

Her journey in the ship was largely uneventful, but then again, she was also invisible. That tended to help with not causing any incidents in the halls. It also helped that it was around dinner time, and while there were grumbling guards on duty, security was more relaxed.

Which technically shouldn’t have made sense because, hello, Prince Lotor was on board… but then again, Prince Lotor was on board and if there was anyone who could handle himself, it was Prince Lotor and his Generals. They’d take out an enemy before the guards could even think to shoot.

In any case, she decided to swing by Lotor’s rooms first. As enticing as finding out more about the drama of the various bridge officer’s lives, she was more interested in what had been affect her life.

Besides, Lotor deserved to be snooped. He was keeping things from his Generals. Like, who did he think he was? The prince of the empire?!

Ezor snorted quickly at her own private joke. Too bad none of the other Generals would care for it.

The door slid open with a quiet swoosh and Ezor grinned to herself as she stepped inside.

If she wasn’t such a beloved and valued General of Lotor’s, she was pretty sure that Lotor would have murdered her long ago… with love and affection. Especially since she had a habit of snooping through his stuff. A habit he allowed only because she snooped through other people’s stuff as well, and often found interesting information that sometimes Lotor liked to hear.

“Let’s see here.” She half sung out as she bounced through the prince’s room. She raised an eyebrow at the general disarray, which was definitely unusual for Lotor. He usually liked the room much more orderly than this, and Ezor would know.

This was far from the first time she’d been in his room. How scandalous! She giggled to herself, only to cut that off as she realized the books on the table were Druid books.

“Druid books?” She muttered, flicking through one idly.

She tsked quietly, shaking her head. Was their wayward prince thinking he could do Altean magic again? Silly little weblum. Ah well, if their prince was aspiring, again, to do magic, then who were his Generals to try to stop him and remind him of his past failures?

Awh, who was she kidding? Gossip could wait. She needed to nip this in the bud before Lotor became grouchy and depressed. She could go out and try to find him… after all, it wasn’t like this ship was huge, but…

Why do that when he was bound to return to this room eventually?

She jumped over the back of Lotor’s couch, and landed on a pillow. She blinked, looking down almost comically at the pillow and the blankets spread out on the couch.

Pillows and blankets on the couch? Books on Druid magic? Room in disarray? None of this made sense for Lotor… Ezor gasped, her eyes widening.

It wasn’t Lotor who was trying to learn magic! He must have found a Druid to become his ‘Haggar’! Wow. For someone who was all ‘I am not my father’ he sure did like to follow in his footsteps.

She jumped back over the back of the couch, scrambling for the door.

She needed to tell the others about this! They totally needed to tease Lotor about this next time he was in a good mood. She needed all the details: how they met, when they met, when was Lotor planning on introducing them, and when was the wedding?

She didn’t care what Lotor said, Haggar and the emperor were totally married. Okay?

Was the Druid a male, a female, neither, or both? Did they wear dresses? What colors would the wedding be? Traditional dark colors? Lotor’s colors? The Blue and Orange would look nice together, especially tied with dark gray or that almost purple on their uniform.

Ohh! She was so excited! She needed to tell the others, but where could they be? There was always the chance that Narti and Zethrid were out roaming the halls, terrorizing the sentries, but it was dinner time. There weren’t many sentries for them to terrorize.

Which meant… The Gardens!

Narti liked the gardens, as she liked to touch and feel the plants. Kova liked the gardens too because he could run and play through the flowers. And where ever Narti was, Zethrid was probably close by since she could only stay entertained for so long without being able to kill the few sentries on duty.

This in mind, Ezor skipped, invisible, over to the garden. She frowned at Sonali, who wasn’t on the bridge where the bridge officer should be, before easily bypassing around her. Poor thing was so tired she was practically sleeping on the job.

Ezor would have to look into making sure that Private Glauca was transferred. Maybe that’d make some things easier on her.

Ezor had been right, unsurprisingly, about where her comrades were. She usually was, after all.

She found the other two generals, in one of the higher parts of the garden. “Heya girls!” She chirped becoming visible again. Zethrid spun around from the railing where she’d been looking down at something and pressed her finger to her mouth.

“Shh!” Zethrid hissed before turning back. Ezor blinked, and then joined the other two at the railing, looked down and…

She slapped her hands over her mouth to hold in her gasp. Quietly she bounced, mentally screaming. How quiznaking cute!?!?

“Acxa!” She half whispered, half screamed into their communicator devices. “Acxa~!”

“Yes?” Acxa ground out.

“Have you seen Lotor’s new little pet Druid!? He’s positively adorable!” She continued to whisper scream to the last general.

“…Stop spying on our prince.” Acxa replied firmly. Ezor pouted, sighing dramatically as Zethrid quietly laughed at her.

“But Acxa~. He’s so cute!” Ezor leaned forward on the railing, trying to get a better look at the Druid as Lotor tried to put on some moves. Awh! No wonder Lotor had been so distracted lately! He had this adorable little Druid to return to.

How could he hide this from them!? Did he think they’d tear the poor thing apart? Ezor eyed Zethrid. Well, she might, Ezor mentally amended. But if he really was a Druid worth replacing Haggar over, then Zethrid shouldn’t be a problem to the Druid.

Narti’s arm was suddenly around her waist and she was pulled back. She pouted, and then brightened up, dancing away from Narti’s hold. “I could just go down and see them!” She sung, turning invisible as Zethrid tried to catch her.

“Quiznak.” Zethrid muttered. Narti could probably find her, but the other general was more than content to let things be, evidently.

She snuck down to the gazebo where Lotor had guided his new pet Druid to, saying something about a meal. She peered cautiously between some of the foliage and watched the two of them. The Druid didn’t seem to know how to react to Lotor, but clearly liked him.

How adorable!

She mini squeaked, and then froze as Lotor’s sharp gaze looked over to where she was hiding. He narrowed his eyes, and stared at the spot for a moment before turning back to pay attention to his Druid.

Uh-oh. She was caught. There was no way he didn’t know it was her.

Well, Brightside, Lotor was having a date so he couldn’t march over to her and throttle her yet, and because they were eating, the Druid didn’t seem to have caught Lotor’s glance in Ezor’s direction.

Huh. Maybe Lotor had been right to keep him from his Generals then. The Druid must have been a newbie if he hadn’t sensed her. Stupid Druids and their abilities to sense crap. It made it so difficult to sneak around!

Thankfully, it was a dinner, so the Druid didn’t seem to catch Lotor’s glance in Ezor’s direction. He must have been a new Druid too if he hadn’t sensed her. Druids were such a pain to sneak around!

Idly, she pulled a flower down off its stalk, playing with it as she listened to some of their dinner conversation, only to drop said flower and squeak again when she caught the name.

Lance?!

As in the Blue Paladin of the Blue Kitty? The same Lance that Lotor had purposely allowed to go free? The Lance that Lotor had been speaking to practically nightly to help gain trust, favor, and awesome inside information? The Lance that had been radio silent for like ever now, and had legit upset Lotor with said silence?

That Lance?!

She had no clue that Lance was Altean! Although, that did explain why he was a newer Druid. AND, that also explained Lotor’s interest in him!

Okay, never mind her thoughts about it making sense why Lotor hadn’t shared yet. This new information made it downright rude of Lotor not to share! Especially since he’d been such a grouch when Lance had stopped calling him.

Rude! He was so rude! Ugh!

Although, why was Lance here? And training to be a Druid no less?

Wasn’t he a paladin of Voltron? Piloting the Blue Kitty? Then again, when they’d watched Voltron fighting the Robeasts lately before they’d lost them, the Blue Lion was always the last to join the battle. Sometimes she didn’t join at all. Was Lance being here the cause of that?

Was that why Lotor was all like ‘observe, don’t interact?’

Well, this explained so much, like Lotor’s lack of interest in that little detail! Every time she, or one of the others, tried to bring it up to his attention, they’d been expecting some form of interest. Yet he’d just brushed it off.

Now they knew why!

Okay. So, now she really needed to get some information on this ‘Lance’. She stealthy crept back out of the gardens, once again sliding around Sonali – she had to make another mental note to get that taken care of – and headed for a terminal that she could download some information from.

She scrolled through the data on Lance, and shook her head. “How horrible.” She muttered. “Poor thing.” No wonder Lotor liked him so much, if there was one thing Lotor liked more than useful pretty things, it was broken useful pretty things that he could put back together.

But still… she tsked. To be betrayed by his team like he had… well, she just couldn’t believe it. Thankfully, Lance was in better hands here with Lotor. Lotor would take care of Lance. It might take Lance a while to see that, which was why Lance was in the very capable hands of the Druids.

Or not so capable since she was able to dig up under some classified information using Lotor’s key – which he knew she knew – to pull up. Poor Lance wasn’t taking to the conditioning very well, but, it seemed like Xana had found a solution. At least for now.

She’d keep an eye on it, although she had faith in Lotor – and to some degree the Druids.

Voltron had blinded Lance, but between the Druids and Lotor, Lance would be able to see the truth. It was only a matter of time before Lance stopped fighting them. He’d already started to stop, from what she’d seen in the gardens.

Now, she just needed to wait for when Lotor would return to the cruiser to tease him about this. Oooh, Lance would look so pretty in Lotor’s colors. Especially since it looked like his eyes matched Lotor’s uniform.

Ah, it was like it was meant to be!

Ooooh! She couldn’t wait to meet the Druid! Hopefully, it’d be soon, she was dying to meet him.

She closed out of the information, and tapped her finger against her chin. She had a bit to wait before Lotor showed up at the cruiser, sooo, she could probably fill that time with snooping. She did need to find out what had happened with Bmuth and that situation… she also needed to find out about Glauca.

All of which she was able to do, have Glauca transferred out on the next transfer, and still have time to spare before Lotor showed up – the next morning – and when he did, he was frowning. But not the ‘I’m disappointed with you’ frown, but the ‘I’m actually unhappy’ frown.

“Awh, did your dinner not go well with your little Druid?” She teased. Acxa shot her a look, but didn’t say anything. Zethrid sighed.

“Ezor.” Lotor’s voice alone was a warning.

“Secrets, secrets are no fun! Secrets, secrets hurt someone!” Ezor sung out. “Did you really expect me not to get curious? Nothing usually holds your attention like this.” She paused. “Well, Princess Corral did for like a movement, but then you seemed to be bored with her.” She hummed. “Actually, you seemed to get bored with her right after…”

Her eyes lit up, and she could see from Lotor’s face that she was right. She grinned.

“OMG! You actually like him! You have since you met him when you were undercover!” She cried out. “That’s. So. Cute!” She cooed.

“Ezor. If you value your life and position, I suggest you stop.”

Awh, how cute! He’d already regressed to threatening her life and her position. He hadn’t stooped that low in years without major baiting from her. Not that he’d ever do it.

She tsked, and sat on a blank spot on the console. Lotor had it specifically put there for Kova and herself. “I’m just teasing.” She sighed. “He’s totally adorable. I approve. So, when do we meet?”

“Never, if you keep this up.”

“Awh! Don’t be like that. But fine. I’ll behave… for now. But if this gets more serious, then I wanna meet him!” She grinned. “I’ve been wanting to talk to him since I first heard you guys talking!”

Lotor sighed, and sat down in his chair, sprawling out on it. “If you must.” He droned, before continuing. “Currently he’s emotional. I don’t think it’d be in anyone’s best interest for him to meet you lot yet.”

Emotional? Yeah, she supposed that made sense. “That might be the quintessential conditioning you’ve authorized on him.” She paused to give Lotor a half flat look. “If things go south…”

“They won’t.” Lotor growled. “His emotions are true, we’re just helping him realize that. Now this discussion is over, understood?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Only if we get to meet him soon, kay?” She asked. Lotor glared at her, but after a moment, nodded his head.

“Very well.”

Chapter Text

Keith sighed, watching with no small amount of amusement and irritation as Allura tried, once again, to convince the Blue Lion to accept a new Paladin. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Black Lion was still completely unresponsive, Keith was sure she’d be trying to bargain with it as well.

Probably for the better that she couldn’t. One pissed off Lion was more than enough.

Sitting on the ground next to him was Pidge. She had needed a break from the broken remains of the communication device, and was running through some diagnostics on Blue.

He didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but he knew that she was trying to see if there was something wrong in Blue’s code that was causing her to turn more and more hostile towards her pride ma- the other Lions and the Paladins.

Hunk had retreated a while go, citing that he was unable to watch this anymore. Not that Keith blamed him. This whole situation was kind of a mess.

Hopefully Hunk had headed to the kitchen. During his time in the desert, Keith had eaten some questionable things, but even he was getting kind of sick of all the space goo. And while he couldn’t be certain, he was pretty sure that everyone else was too – including the Blade of Marmora members on board.

The Blade of Marmora guys were a new addition to the ship. They’d hailed the castle a couple days ago and offered their assistance since they’d noticed how Voltron seemed to be struggling.

And it wasn’t like they were wrong. Voltron was struggling, but what else could people expect when they were missing two paladins and had two out of commission lions: one of which was despondent, and the other being more temperamental than Red.

Despite her original misgivings about the Blade of Marmora, Allura had welcomed the help. Honestly, they all had.

Blue growled, her eyes flashing as she regarded Allura. Keith wasn’t always the best with people or creatures, but even he could feel the hostility wafting off her with each threatening rumble of her growls. In the back of his mind, Red rumbled her own warning, although it was directed more at Blue.

Red been disgruntled about Blue ever since she attacked Red the other day during a battle. Not much harm had been done, but… it was fact that Blue had attacked at all that bothered Red; and to make matter’s worse, Blue didn’t show any signs of ceasing her behavior. She was becoming more and more unruly and dangerous as the days went by.

Now, Keith didn’t disagree with Allura and the others on the point of there being something wrong with Blue. The thing was, he didn’t think antagonizing Blue was the way to fix the problem. That just seemed like asking for trouble. As someone who was evidently the ‘chief authority ‘ on asking for trouble, he was pretty sure he knew what he was talking about.

But it wasn’t like he had any other suggestions or ideas to offer up beyond ‘finding Lance’. And until he had an alternative suggestion that wasn’t the evidently impossible, then no one was going to listen to him.

Red ‘pawed’ at him, mentally brushing up against him to get his attention. Despite her growls, it didn’t seem like Blue was going to attack Allura anytime soon, so Keith turned his attention to the strange mental connection he shared with Red.

Red had an idea, or maybe Green had the idea, and was using Red to pass it to Keith since Pidge was still deaf to her lion unless in the heat of battle. It was hard to understand exactly what the Lions were saying whenever they decided to play telephone. And man, did they love to play telephone.

Keith closed his eyes, sinking back into Red for her to pass the message along better. He frowned, trying to keep up with the feelings, thoughts, and ideas flying around. There was just too much, and he couldn’t understand them.

“I don’t get it.” He muttered to Red.

“Yeah, me neither.” Beside him, Pidge sighed. Keith ignored her, instead choosing to focus on Red’s irritation.

Red dug through his memories, the sensation more than a little painful since she wasn’t exactly careful. The memory she pulled up was dull and faded, most likely as a result of time and the fact that he didn’t have Red to help him preserve his memories at the time.

Keith watched as they all found the Blue Lion. Lance knocked on the particle barrier, and then it fell down. Yeah, he knew that. What was so special here?

Red snarled with frustration, and replayed the scene. Lance was saying something stupid, and then he just walked up and knocked on the barrier and… yeah, Keith still didn’t see what was so special about it.

She growled and dove back into his memories, digging through more recent ones until she found the battle with Druid on the hidden Galra base. She replayed the scenes with the glowing containers, and then the magic that the Druids had used.

The next memory was also faded, but it was when Allura was talking about the lions. What had she said? Something about more than science could explain… No! She said something about a mystical bond!

Maybe something was wrong with that bond!

Red’s responding purrs were so strong that Keith felt like he was vibrating. Okay. That was the idea. Awesome! Now to convey it to the others without seeming like he was crazy.

Which was harder than it sounded, especially since Keith wasn’t always that good with people. Like, he tried, he really did, but there were things that just didn’t make sense to him, like Lance’s stupid cheer, or half the references Lance made – although he appreciated that Lance tried to explain them to him.

He’d have to just try. Maybe he’d come across crazy, or maybe he wouldn’t. But now he had an alternative option than provoking Blue. Maybe Allura would listen to him now.

“Hey Allura?” He called out, bouncing off the wall and walking towards the princess. Above them, the Blue Lion growled threateningly, her tail flicking back and forth in her agitation.

“Not now, Keith.” Allura called back before resuming talking to Blue in a quiet low voice. What she was saying Keith didn’t know, but he wished she’d stop. Whatever she was saying was clearly upsetting the lion.

“No, I think I have an idea!”

“We are not wasting time looking for Lance.” Allura spun around, and glared at him. Not even a second following her words, Blue’s paw slammed down on the hangar floor next to her. Allura would have fallen had Keith not raced forward to catch her.

“Careful.” He warned Allura, while glaring up at Blue.

Blue glared back down at him.

In the back of his mind, Red issued her own silent growl of threat. She would not forgive if Blue hurt her Paladin. The waves of hostility coming from Blue faltered for a second before returning full force. Keith could only imagine Blue’s response, probably involving Lance.

“Thank you, Keith.” Allura stood, looking over her shoulder at the Blue Lion. She stared her down for a moment before looking back at Keith with a sigh. “What was your idea?”

“What if we’re going about this the wrong way?” Keith asked. He could already see Allura’s eyebrows knitting together as she considered his words. He licked his lips, and took a breath for continuing, knowing that her response to the next part would not be as... friendly. “I think it has something to do with Lance.”

The change was instantaneous. Allura’s who body stiffened, her eye’s narrowing. “Lance is gone, Keith.” Allura returned flatly.

“I know that!” Keith shouted before realizing that he was doing it again. He took a breath, repeating Shiro’s motto. ‘Patience yields focus.’ “I know that.” He repeated a bit more calmly. “But that doesn’t mean Lance can’t be involved. She won’t take another Paladin because Lance still is her Paladin.”

Allura pursed her lips and looked back at Blue. “Black took another Paladin despite Zarkon still being around.”

“Well, that’s Black.” Keith huffed. “Weren’t you the one who said that the bond between Lions was mystical or something like that?”

Allura froze. “Bonds.” She repeated, spinning back around to face Keith, her eyes practically glowing. “Keith! That’s it!” She cried out.

Keith took a mini half step back, looking at Allura with some measure of uncertainty. What was ‘it’? The bonds? She was actually listening to him? He needed clarification. “What’s it?”

“It shouldn’t be possible… but I mean, I suppose!” Allura prattled on for a moment before finally explaining.

“You’re talking about the bonds between the Paladins and the Lions! If Lance is still tied to Blue, then something could be passing through that bond.” She spun back around to look at Blue. “The bond is created through a mirroring of quintessence, which is why my bond with the lions is different than the bond that you all share with yours.”

“So, this quintessence stuff is causing the problem?” Pidge called out. She was still by her computer, a safe distance away from Blue should the Lion decide it wanted to go on a rampage. “Good job, Keith!”

It hadn’t really been Keith who’d figured it out, but he couldn’t credit the Lions without seeming crazy. Well, the team already thought he was crazy to some extent, based on how Lance talked to him, but… he didn’t want to seem ‘crazier’. But not crediting the Lions seemed… wrong.

Man, was this what Lance always had to deal with? It sucked.

In the back of his head, Red rumbled. The sound felt light and airy, like she was laughing at him. Well, at least she didn’t mind him not bringing her up.

“It’s a likely cause.” Allura confirmed, she spun back around and looked up at Blue. “I think I can verify it too.”

She reached out and touched Blue’s paw. Where her hand was placed on the lion, a small spark of blue light started to glow. Allura closed her eyes, and bowed her head. Above them, Blue was still growling threateningly, although it slowly started to taper off.

Allura gasped, her head shooting up as she looked up at the Blue Lion. “This cannot be!” She cried out. “That shouldn’t be possible! How did this happen?”

“How did what happen?” Keith asked. Pidge echoed his question not too long later. “Allura?”

Allura pulled back her hand, acting as if she’d been burned. Which was total nonsense because the only burn that Keith could see Blue giving was freezer burn. She was blinking up at the Blue Lion, her mouth dropped almost comically open.

“It’s like…” She paused, knitting her eyebrows as she considered her words. “It’s almost as if the Blue Lion’s… There’s something wrong with her quintessence. It feels like the Galra crystals.”

Keith’s head erupted into pain as Red mentally lashed out at the confirmation. She wasn’t lashing out at him, but at the world in general. Keith tried to calm her down. He needed to hear what Allura and Pidge were saying, but Red was too distraught.

‘Patience yields focus.’ Keith could do this. He took a deep breath, and forced himself to ignore the Lion wreaking havoc in his mind. He’d deal with the headache she was causing later. He’d pushed himself through worse pain. This… was nothing.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be much different from purifying the Balmera.” Allura responded to whatever Pidge had asked.

“So, you can fix this?” Keith asked. He needed to know, both for Red’s sake, and the sake of his own sanity.

Allura took her sweet time responding, looking up thoughtfully at the Blue Lion. “I think so.” Allura replied. “But if this is caused by Lance, then it is now imperative that we find him.”

It should have been imperative that they found him from the very beginning.

Keith gritted his teeth, holding back his remark at this. Honestly, this was worse than when it’d been discovered that Keith was part Galra. But he was the acting Team Leader now. He couldn’t just pick a fight with Allura, no matter how much he wished to.

“Oh, get over it!” Pidge shouted. “Lance fucked up, but if his lion hasn’t given up on him, then we shouldn’t either!”

Keith turned, wide eyed, to look at Pidge. Likewise, so did Allura. Unlike Allura, however, Keith smiled at Pidge, nodding his head in appreciation. “Thank you, Pidge.” Keith agreed, crossing his arms as he looked at Allura. Allura pursed her lips and exhaled sharply through her nose.

“This isn’t the time, Paladins.” She remarked. “I’m going to go ahead and try to purify Blue.” She paused, looking at Keith. “I suspect you already have, but you may want to see if our guests have heard anything new about our missing Paladin…s.”

Keith wanted to comment on her near slip up, but at that point he’d be displaying Lance levels of pettiness; and without Lance, Lance-levels of pettiness just wasn’t the same. Besides, he didn’t need to start a fight, which is why Keith shrugged and nodded.

“Sure.” Keith walked towards the doors to the castle proper. Maybe he could also find Slav and see if he could get any relevant information from him. “Pidge, could you help out Allura in any way you can. I’ll go check with our ‘guests’.”

“Will do!” Pidge chirped. As the door shut behind Keith, he could hear Pidge explode into a thousand and one questions, presumably on quintessence and the ‘bond’.

Keith headed to the main bridge where the two members of the Blade of Marmora members onboard the castle usually gathered. His walk through the castle was blissfully quiet. Even Red had quieted, evidently calmed by Allura’s belief that she could ‘fix’ Blue.

Keith hoped that Allura would be successful. He hoped for a lot of things. He hoped that this would stop Blue from attacking them. He hoped that whatever Allura did to Blue would be a two-way street and help Lance. He hoped that it’d be enough for Lance to come back to them. He hoped that he could have the team all back together again.

He missed the team. He missed Lance, and Shiro… and he missed how things used to be. He’d gladly listen to Lance insult his mullet again if it meant he could hear Lance again and know that he was safe.

Keith paused, looking at his reflection in one of the windows in the castle. He ran his hand through his hair, rubbing at the ends before dropping his hand. His hair was getting kind of long… Maybe if he cut it then Lance wouldn’t pick on him about it as much?

He shook his head, turning away from the window. Lance wasn’t back yet, and Lance would probably just start boasting about how Keith finally started to listen to him or something stupid. He was being stupid.

It wasn’t like changing his hair would make Lance like him.

Not that he wanted Lance to like him. It was just… he wished they weren’t always fighting. Like, yeah, sometimes it was fun, but other times – Lance’s responses from when Keith blew up at him before he left flashed in his mind – they took it too far.

Keith stopped in front of the doors to the bridge, and took a deep breath. Lance wasn’t here now, but he would be, and then… Keith could… Keith could… And then once they found Lance, then they could focus on finding Shiro again, and then they’d all be together, a whole team, again.

But first, they had to find Lance.

Keith entered the bridge with that thought in mind, and nodded at Myklar, the taller of the Blades, when he raised his head in acknowledgment. Coran wasn’t too far from them, looking over some holographic star charts.

Keith blinked, thinking that he might have been mistaken, but he was pretty sure the star charts Coran had been looking over had been of… the Milky Way.

The star charts were immediately closed out the moment Coran noticed Keith, and he grinned, tugging at his mustache. “Ah! Number 4! What brings you up here? And where’s the princess?”

Keith frowned. Why would Coran had been looking at star charts of the Milky Way? That didn’t make any sense unless he thought Shiro or Lance had found a way back there.

Mysteries for later.

“Blue’s hangar.” Keith replied. “She said she was going to try to ‘purify’ Blue like she had the Balmera.”

Coran hummed thoughtfully for a moment. Keith mentally counted to three before he saw the realization of his words in Coran’s eyes. Coran dropped his hand, his while body freezing. “Wait, what?”

Keith half shrugged, and then side stepped out of Coran’s way as he bolted for the door.

“Purification?” Azur, the other Blade, asked. “Why would she need to purify a Lion of Voltron?”

“She said that Blue’s quintessence was like what the Galra use on their ships.” Keith replied. “Do you know anything about that?”

“The quintessence is refined by the Druids for optimal performance.” Azur answered. “I didn’t think it could ‘infect’ a Voltron Lion.”

“One should never underestimate anything from the Druids.” Myklar rebuked. “I’ve heard some resistances refer to refined quintessence as corrupted.” He informed Keith. “The luxite in our blades helps negate most of its effects.”

As if to add on, Red thrust the image of the Druid and the glowing purple stuff back into Keith’s mind. Ah, okay. So that was what that stuff was. The more he knew. She also followed up with the image of how the Druid seemed to just… disintegrate into his Marmora sword when he had fought them.

Alright. So, Blue had weird Galra Druid corrupted quintessence in her, but how did she get it?

Allura had mentioned something about the mirroring of quintessence, and that it was now imperative that they find Lance. …Oh no. Was Lance somewhere with Druids?

Keith had barely survived his first fight with one without his Marmora sword. Shiro had unspeakable amounts of damage, both mental and physical, after one year in their ‘care’. How would Lance fair under their treatments?

Quiznak. Keith should have fought Allura harder. He should have searched more. He should have been better. Why couldn’t he just be better?

Always the ‘best’ but it was never enough. He could never keep people from leaving, he could never get anyone to stay. Not his family, not Shiro, and not even this new team.

“Do you have an idea of how the Blue Lion came in contact with it?” Myklar’s question distracted Keith from his thoughts. “If the Druids are able to influence Voltron, then this is grave news.”

Keith could work with this. He needed to work with this. He needed… He licked his lips and tried to channel someone that Shiro would be proud to come back to. “Allura thinks it has something to do with our missing Paladins.” Keith paused, looking both of the Blade of Marmora members over. “You haven’t heard anything new about them, have you?”

If the Blade of Marmora hadn’t, then perhaps they could return back to that Space Mall. Slav had basically confirmed that it was useless, but it was the only lead they had so far.

There had to be something. If not there then… Keith watched the two Blades exchange looks.

He may not have been the best with people, but he knew that move. That was the ‘we’ve heard something but we didn’t think it was important, so we didn’t tell anyone and we really should have’ move. Or the ‘we know something you don’t know’ move.

“What did you hear?” Keith demanded of them.

If they had information on Lance or Shiro, then he needed to know. He needed to get the team back together. Things were already going to hell in a handbasket. There were Robeasts scattered across the universe from where they’d run from them, and team relations was at an all-time low.

If they could just get either Shiro or Lance back, then everything would be fine. Everything would all work out.

“Just a rumor.” Azur replied.

A rumor, huh? Well, if it led Keith to either Shiro or Lance, then he was willing to listen. He made the ‘go on’ gesture, and Myklar sighed.

“Our operatives in the Empire have so far been unable to confirm or deny the rumor.” Myklar paused to give Keith a look. “It’d be folly to try to attack the Empire for just for a rumor.”

“But there was a rumor?” Keith confirmed, pressing for more information. “What was it?”

“Yes. There was a rumor.” Myklar confirmed. “Someone who was believed to be a Paladin of Voltron was found at a Swap Moon,” Okay, so that all checked out, “and was taken into Galra custody. However, we’ve been unable to find anything to support this.”

Rumor or not, it was their latest lead on where either of their two missing Paladins were, and that first part was too close to reality to be ‘just a rumor’.

Damn it! Why hadn’t they brought this up earlier? If that rumor was true, then Lance was in Galra hands… then he was with the Druids. He was probably being tortured, maimed, and experimented on, much like how Shiro was… and it was all their fault.

Quiznak!

If Keith had been a better leader, none of this would have happened. If he’d been better in the fight, had been quicker, then Lance wouldn’t have taken that hit. Lance wouldn’t be gone. Lance wouldn’t be suffering right now.

Quiznak. Now he’d failed Shiro and Lance. Why couldn’t he just be better?

“Is there any other information? Any idea that the Blades have on where a ‘possible’ Paladin could have been taken?” Keith demanded.

“You can’t be serious.” Myklar laughed before he realized that yes, Keith was serious. “With your current team state, it would be suicide to attack the Empire.”

“Our team will remain in its current state unless we do!” Keith argued, raising his voice. “Now, where is the most likely place they would have been taken?”

The two Blade members exchanged another look, and Keith growled. He didn’t have time for this! He was here arguing with these two when they could have been confirming the rumor and possibly returning another Paladin back home!

“Knowledge or Death, right?” Keith asked. “If one of our missing Paladins is there, then we need to get him out.”

“A Druid facility.” Azur quietly informed Keith. “Which one, I could not say. But if they truly believed someone to be a Paladin, then they would want to interrogate him.”

Right. And in the Galra Empire, ‘interrogate’ meant ‘tortured by the Druids’. Quiznak.

“Then I guess we’ll need to find out which one.” Keith paused. “Besides, you just said our blades are good at handling Druids.”

“A good blade does not a warrior make.” Myklar instantly replied. “Fighting Druids can be difficult.”

“I know.” Keith returned. “I’ve fought three, and won twice. Pretty good odds as far as I’m concerned.”

Now, he just needed to figure out which Druid facility their teammate had been taken to.

“Any other rumors?” Keith asked. “Not necessarily about the missing Paladins.” He clarified just in case. It never hurt to know extra rumors on the off chance that something that didn’t sound related was.

“Do you just want all the gossip?” Myklar asked. “A swap moon would be better for that.”

“Well, there’s a rumor that Prince Lotor’s been working on a new project.” Azur gave Myklar a look, as if to say ‘really’ at his suggestion. “We haven’t been able to find out anything about it.”

Wait. Rewind. What did Azur just say? Did he… Had Keith heard him correctly? Prince?

“I had wondered why he had ceased hunting our order down.” Myklar replied. “Whatever he’s working on it can’t be good for anyone.”

“I don’t know.” Azur furrowed his brows. “The Prince has seemed better than his father. I heard that under him, Demos has been allowed to maintain their government and culture.”

Myklar laughed dryly. “At the expense of that scandal with their Princess.”

“I’m sorry, did you say Prince?” Keith interrupted. “Like… Zarkon’s son?”

Both of the Blades looked at Keith, and he got the feeling that they were silently judging him for not knowing who this ‘prince’ was. But seriously, all their time spent fighting Zarkon, and not one person had thought to bring up the fact that Zarkon had a son!?

“That would be correct. He was exiled when he was a child, but due to Zarkon’s defeat, he’s been brought back as Emperor Pro Tem.” Azur explained.

“He’s been after the Blade of Marmora for years, and has taken down quite a few other resistances and rebellions.” Myklar added on. “Despite being exiled, he still had some control in the Empire, and started to amass his own military force. I’ve heard his Generals are quite formidable.”

Okay. So, Zarkon had a son who was acting in Zarkon’s stead, and he had some sort of project, which the Blades were sure wouldn’t be good for anyone opposing the empire. Keith was willing to bet that either Lance or Shiro were involved in that little project.

Was it Shiro? Was it Lance? It didn’t matter. Whoever they were, they’d suffered enough. It was time for them to come back home to Voltron.

“Do you know where he’s doing this project?” Keith asked. The Blades exchanged another look. “Well?” Keith prompted after a few moments of silence. Azur sighed and looked away.

“No one does.” Myklar finally responded.

“So far we’ve been able to find out that he uses two ships. One is a battle cruiser that had been outfitted for him. The other is an old Druid research ship that I heard he uses for his command base. Unlike his father’s command ship, Prince Lotor keeps his in constant motion.” Azur further informed Keith.

“And no one with the Blade knows where they are?” Keith found that hard to believe. It seemed like the Blades were all over in Zarkon’s military, even as high up as ‘Commander’. It seemed strange to think that none were in Lotor’s ‘military’.

“No.” Azur’s short response was clear enough, but thankfully he chose to continue without Keith’s prompting. “It has been more difficult to get one of our members working under Prince Lotor than it was for Zarkon. He screens his higher personnel more often, and doesn’t trust as easily. Compared to all of Zarkon’s commanders and generals, Prince Lotor only has four.”

“You can’t be seriously thinking about going after Lotor, can you?” Myklar asked.

Keith frowned, and then turned around, heading back down the hallway he’d come from without answering their question. He ignored the Blades as they started a conversation as he left, something about them not believing he was going to be doing this.

Well, they’d better.

This was going to happen, but first, he needed to know where Lotor’s ships were. Someone had to know where Lotor’s ship were, and the best place to learn that information was by hacking into Galra ships.

Which meant he needed Pidge.

Of course, like all things in the world, he just couldn’t just have a quick quiet journey back to Pidge. He just had to run into Slav.

Keith crossed his arms and glared down at the shorter creature, willing – daring – Slav to say something. As if sensing that, Slav looked up at Keith with his large eyes. Keith resisted the urge to scream, and instead sighed.

“What? Are you going to tell me not to do this?”

“Are you following your instincts?” Slav replied, which didn’t really answer Keith’s question. Keith narrowed his eyes, trying to think of where Slav could be going with that question. Why did it matter? “I’d suggest you follow those.” Slav continued after a moment.

“No percentages to give me this time?” Keith asked warily.

“You wouldn’t like them.” Slav replied, shrugging before he turned and left. Keith ran his hands through his hair, resisting that urge to scream again…. He failed.

“Can’t you just tell me for once?!” Keith shouted after him. Keith was half tempted to chase after the creature, but past experience told him that chasing after Slav would only result in frustration and pain – on his end. It wasn’t worth it.

He dropped his hands to his side, flexing them so he wouldn’t just ball them up into fists. Why was everyone testing his patience today!? It was like they were trying to annoy him! Red rumbled in his head, trying to sooth him as best she could.

He took a few deep breaths and after a moment, thanked her and continued on his way.

Hopefully, Pidge would less aggravating. He stopped outside the hangar to the Blue Lion, checking with Red to make sure that he wouldn’t be interrupting the ‘purification’. Red assured him that Blue was considerably calmer now, and that procedure had been finished. Coran had taken Allura up to her room to rest.

Perfect. No Allura meant that she wasn’t there to tell him no to this plan.

He entered the hangar, and was pleased to see that his hunch had been correct. Pidge was still running diagnostics. If he had to guess, she was probably trying to see if there was a difference in the coding now that Blue had been ‘cleansed’.

Upon seeing him, Blue let out a friendlier rumble, reminding Keith of their ‘talks’ about Lance before she’d started getting hostile and violent. Well, good to know she wasn’t going to kill him or anything while he was there.

“Hey, Pidge?” He called out. She looked up at her name. “Think you’re up to hacking into some Galra ships? We might have a clue on where to find one of our missing team members.”

Pidge’s grin was all the answer Keith needed.

Chapter Text

Lance had never been overly religious, not like how some of his family could be.

Religion just hadn’t seemed all the important to him in between family dinners, his swim practice, his brother’s soccer practice, his sister’s instrument recitals, and the general mayhem of his family and everyday life.

Graduating and being accepted into the Garrison had only added more to his already hectic lifestyle; and then leaving with the others in Blue… he just never really had the time for religion.

Which, yeah, okay, blasphemy and sins. He knew. His abuelita would be in angry righteous tears if she knew this. Although, Lance had to wonder, what would upset her more: Lance’s own lack of faith, or the fact he made a deal with a devil and sealed it with a kiss?

At least, that was how it felt.

To win wars, battles had to be lost. If he wanted to win, wanted to succeed, he needed to get stuff off his plate. He needed to spend energy used on lesser battles for those greater ones.

When this was all said and done, Lance knew he’d have to face himself and what he’d done. He’d have to accept the choices he’d made, and the consequences of those choices. He’d have to live with himself and the knowledge that he’d pushed his own lines and boundaries of morality and ethics.

He was, after all, sleeping with the enemy.

Well, perhaps not that. Not yet, anyways; although, he had the feeling it was an inevitable outcome.

All they’d done was kiss. But a kiss was a kiss, and a battle lost was a battle lost. Lance just had to hope that the risk he took by losing that particular battle weighed out in the end.

Brightside, now he could focus more effort and energy into getting better at being a Druid. If he could do that, then he’d get better access to information like Projects. Maybe he could even find out more about the Robeasts and put an end to them.

Another Brightside benefit, Lance now knew where he stood with Lotor. Their relationship – if one could call it that – was a bit more defined. Evidently confiding in Lotor as he did was the right choice, as it seemed to make Lotor trust Lance more. Only time would tell if that was truly the case or not.

Either way, hurray for small victories, he supposed.

And as much as Lance hated to say it, he trusted Lotor when he promised to never lie to Lance.

Perhaps it was due to how sincere Lotor had sounded, even as he confirmed Lance’s fear of being nothing more than Lotor’s new pet Druid. Perhaps it’d been the fact that Lotor had confirmed it at all.

Of course, he was still working through how exactly he felt about all. It was for that reason that he’d hidden himself away as soon as he’d woken up the morning after the ‘date’.

Escaping from Lotor’s prying eyes was easier than Lance had anticipated. Then again, perhaps the prince had expected this and had allowed Lance this disappearance. It wasn’t like Lance was trying particularly hard. He’d gone to the one place in this spaceship he felt the safest: Lotor’s bathroom.

Like a teenage girl hiding away in a bathroom during a bad date. He knew it was ridiculous. But, the bathroom was always a strange place of sanctuary for him.

It was a place he could curl up in the shower or bath and just pretend that all of his worries were being washed away by the water and dragged down into the drain, never to be seen again. There was something calming about the gentle white noise of a shower, and water swirling down a drain. The quiet pitter patters of water droplets falling around him.

In space, this was the closest he could get to rain without trying to find a planet with it.

Not to mention, if he turned the water hot enough, then it would fog over the mirrors. Normally, this would be a travesty, as Lance wouldn’t dare deny his vanity, but lately… he hadn’t liked what his reflection was showing him.

From the too obvious signs of his new-found origins – the pointy space elf ears, and the admittedly pretty swoops of blue scales under his eyes – to the newest sign of Lotor’s ownership of him.

He had stared at his reflection for what had seemed like to him only a few ticks but what had actually been nearly a varga when he first entered the bathroom.

Lance didn’t want to admit it, but… Lotor was right: the collar choker did beautifully compliment him. The jewel still glittered, even outside of the strange lighting of the garden. However, no matter how pretty it looked, the sight of it still made Lance’s heart clench painfully.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t hurt to sleep in, but then again, Lotor had probably had it designed with the intent for it to never be taken off. Which meant it’d be comfortable. Besides, Lance didn’t even think he could remove it. When he’d felt the back, he hadn’t been able to find a clasp that he could use to take it off.

It didn’t even seem to be bothered by the shower. It seemed that this collar would never be removed.

“Lance?” Sonali called through the locked doors.

Since Lotor had left earlier this morning, Sonali had been trying to talk to him. Lotor had attempted once, before seemingly backing off. Sonali had informed Lance that the prince had gone to use a different bathroom. Probably one that belonged to the harem.

Compared to Lotor’s one attempt, Sonali had tried four or more times. Honestly, Lance had lost count.

Like every other time before now, Lance remained silent, staring at the water as it swirled down the drain.

“Lotor may be content to let you drown in there, but I’m not.”

As if Lotor would truly be okay with letting his pet Druid drown. No, the prince probably had some other way of ensuring Lance didn’t die. Maybe it was something built into his new unremovable collar?

“Water is not a renewable resource on a space ship, Lance.”

Lance blinked, the water that was caught on his eyelashes disappeared, only to be replaced mere ticks later. Lance shook his head, droplets of water flying from his hair.

Not a renewable resource his ass. There was an inverted waterfall on this spaceship. Sonali could shut their quiznak about water not being a renewable resource.

Huh. He paused, his mind catching on a specific part of that thought. An inverted waterfall… that was an unnatural thing, right?

Perhaps it was some like weird symbolism in his life that the universe was trying to show him. Perhaps it was a sign. Of what though? That he wasn’t doing the right thing? That he was in the wrong? That he was… unnatural? Or that these events were?

Well, no shit, Universe. But what other choice did he have? None. He had no choice, and this collar around his neck only proved it.

“Quiznak. How does Matt make this look so… ah-ha!” The light indicating the door’s locked status blinked out, and the doors themselves slid open. A wave of steam rolled out of the bathroom flooding the bedroom, just as a wave of frigid cold air from the bedroom invaded the bathroom.

Once upon a time, Lance would have shivered at the cold. Now, he felt it was a testament to how little he cared that he didn’t even react. Or perhaps, a testament to how much he’d changed.

“You’re a wreck.” Sonali huffed, shaking their head. They exited out of Lance’s view.

The water turned off, but Lance still didn’t respond. The water that remained was still going down the drain, and Lance watched it, wishing he could just melt and go with it.

When he was little, he used to play with the little tiny whirlpool that would sprout up from the drain in the bathtub. Sometimes he would sail his little toy ships towards it and pretend they were caught, unable to escape.

His life now was much like those little boats. The only escape he had was death.

The Voltron team wasn’t going to come for him. They’d left him on that planet, where he’d crashed Blue. They’d left him, and then only come for Blue once he’d left. It shouldn’t have been too difficult for them to figure out where he’d gone. If they’d just gone to the Swap Moon, they would have found him.

But they didn’t. Because they didn’t want to find him. Instead they’d replaced him. He wasn’t needed there. They didn’t want him there. Without Tyrac, he had no escape there; and he very well couldn’t continue talking to Tyrac after what all happened.

Tyrac didn’t even exist.

The resistance didn’t give two shits about him. They’d already stated that if he was caught, they wouldn’t do anything. If he turned on them, then they would eliminate him, or at least try to. Sonali only cared about whether their cover was blown, and if they needed to put him ‘out of his misery’.

Lotor wasn’t the escape that he’d once been as Tyrac. Instead now, Lance was seeking to escape from him. Not that he could. Unremovable collar, and dates that left Lance confused with twisting guts and a clenching heart, and all that.

There was no future for him that ended happily. He would either die here as either Lotor’s pet Druid, or a resistance spy.

He would die. He would die. He would die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t… he didn’t….

Something warm and fluffy settled around his shoulders, and then another on his head, half covering his face. There were hands touching him, but they were gentle, rubbing the soft fluffiness against him with slow circular movements, and then wrapping him up in it.

“This was not part of my job description.” Sonali muttered.

Then why were they doing it? Lance wondered, but he didn’t ask. He felt like he’d been hit with the Kumar again. Except, it’d sucked up all of his energy instead of quintessence. Or were they one in the same? Lance didn’t know, nor did he care.

All night long, he’d been awake, questioning if he’d made the right choice. If giving in to Lotor’s advances, and his own body’s desires, had been the right idea. Not that it mattered, he’d already committed. He was stuck with his new life: Lotor’s future replacement for Haggar and bed warmer.

But Lance was more than that. He was a spy for the resistance, although, not a very good one. He was… he was…

A Failure. He wasn’t a good spy, he wasn’t a good pilot, he wasn’t a good paladin, he wasn’t a good student, he wasn’t a good Druid. He wasn’t… a good anything.

Sonali was careful as she dried around his neck, but she still hit the collar. Not that he needed a reminder of its existence, of what it meant.

Ugh. He couldn’t even be a good pet. He was betraying Lotor, and he wasn’t even good at distracting or entertaining the prince. Right now, Lotor was only interested in him because he was new. Lance was a novelty which, in time, Lotor would lose interest in.

Perhaps he’d been better off not knowing how Lotor really felt. Perhaps he’d been better off only guessing what the slimy feeling he’d get from Lotor touching his scales was. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t admiration, or care, or anything positive. It was possession. It was obsession. It was poison.

“Well, Corral will be happy to know that she was right.” Sonali muttered.

The guard was done wrapping his body up – as much as Lance would allow to be wrapped up when he refused to move – and had moved on to Lance’s hair, attempting to dry it with the towel as best they could without jostling him too much.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think I’d prefer you talking to this, right now.” They removed the towel from his head, tossing it somewhere, probably in or near the laundry shoot. “You’re seriously starting to worry me kid.”

Huh. Maybe he’d been wrong about Sonali. Well, it was good to know that someone on this stupid ship cared for him. That there was someone in the vastness of space that cared about him.

The Voltron team didn’t – hadn’t. Lotor did to a degree – no one liked their toys being broken, of course. Oh. Wait. That was worse, wasn’t it?

Which was worse: a toy or a pet? Well, one was an inanimate object that didn’t feel. It was used and abused. Pets were at least alive, but that didn’t mean they were any less abused.

“Which is worse: being a toy or a pet?” Lance’s voice was hoarse from the shouting he’d done yester-quintant, and then his silence since then. He hadn’t meant to speak, but the question had slipped out, driven by his own morbid curiosity.

“It speaks.” Sonali said. Their voice was dry, the worry Lance had heard in it moments before suddenly gone. “And none of that talk.” They chided. “You’re a spy; not a toy or a pet. It doesn’t matter what Lotor calls you.”

But it did. It did matter what Lotor called him because Lotor owned him now, didn’t he? After all, Lance had accepted the collar, and the kiss. He’d basically surrendered. Screw winning a battle; Lotor already had the whole quiznaking war.

Why couldn’t he ever just be Lance, a boy from Cuba? Why did he have to be Lance, the Altean; or Lance, the Druid; or Lance, the cargo pilot; or Lance, the Blue Paladin? He didn’t want to be Lance, the spy; or Lance, Lotor’s pet.

But he didn’t get that choice now, did he? Once again, Lance didn’t have the luxury of choice anymore. It’d been taken from him long ago. It was just only now really hitting him and having a true impact. It was like accepting that necklace was the last straw that sent Lance into a nuclear meltdown.

“Oh, come on, kid.” Sonali sighed. “If this is about the necklace, it’s a pretty one at least? I mean, we all kind of knew the jewelry thing was going to happen eventually.”

It wasn’t about the jewelry. It was about what the jewelry meant. It was about what Lance had silently agreed to, twice. He could scream and shout all quintant long that he had no choice, but that wasn’t true. He could have died.

Instead he’d lived. He’d lived and let Blue down. He wasn’t hers anymore, or so said the collar around his neck. Or did this mean that Blue belonged to Lotor now via proxy of him?

He looked down into the fluffy towel, blinking back a new fresh batch of tears.

“Lance,” Sonali sighed. “Look, I don’t know what’s got you down, but you got stuff to do. You can’t do this all quintant.”

Sonali was right, of course. He did have things to do. Plus, he was sure Lotor wouldn’t allow this for much longer. Lance didn’t want to see how the prince would try to fix this. Lance was lucky he’d been allowed this at all for this long.

He just needed to get over himself. He needed to accept what he’d done and move on. It was the only thing he could do. It was what he had to do.

He was broken and hurt, but that was how people learned right? Sometimes things had to be destroyed to make something beautiful. Although, Lance wasn’t sure he’d be beautiful if he made it out of this all alive. Or maybe he would be as Lotor’s beautiful pet Druid.

…At least he’d be getting some awesome jewelry out of this all.

Yeah. See? He just needed to find a Brightside to this. He just needed to find the silver lining the mushroom shaped cloud of his life, and move on. He was Lance. That’s what he did. He found the silver lining, the bright side, the place with the greener grass.

Lance closed his eyes, feeling a bit more at peace with himself. He was a failure, and he knew he was a failure. He just needed to accept that, move on, and try to be better. No, not try. He needed to be better. And he would.

He’d be the best god damn Druid that Empire had ever seen, and the best damn Spy that the resistance had ever seen.

He’d make the Voltron team regret abandoning him. He’d make Lotor proud to have given him a chance. He’d make the resistance awed that he’d lasted longer than any other Druid spy.

And to start, he needed to get over himself and get up off the bathroom floor.

Lance opened his eyes, and at the corner of his vision, he saw the faintest flicker of color. He turned to look; and blinked, staring at Sonali.

Colors exploded out from Sonali, fading in and out, constantly moving and changing. Closest to Sonali, the color was a bright, almost lime, green. Although the further from Sonali it went, it changed to be a muddy red.

He looked down at his own hand, and stared at the brilliant blue which radiated from him in a thin outline. He blinked a few times. It didn’t fade away.

Uh. This was not okay.

Was he hallucinating from all the crying? Or was this a side-effect of the corrupted quintessence in the stupid beautiful unremovable collar? He didn’t want to see this crap.

It felt like a switch was physically hit, but the sensation was all mental. Lance blinked again, and there were no colors. Snippets of Xana’s teachings in the beginning parts of the meditation era sprung up in his mind.

Holy quiznak.

Lance’s quintessence was Blue based. He saw blue coming from him. He’d just seen his own quintessence. Which meant that he’d just seen Sonali’s quintessence.

He was seeing quintessence.

Had his sudden self-realization triggered it? Xana had said that the only way to move forward was to know oneself or some rot like that. So perhaps his breakdown had triggered it.

Perhaps something good could come from something bad.

“Lance?” Sonali asked, touching him tentatively. Lance turned and blinked back up at them. He couldn’t see the quintessence anymore now that he’d turned the power off, but he couldn’t ‘unsee’ what he’d seen.

“Green is a weird quintessence color for a guard.” He said, still in a stupor over having seen the quintessence at all.

Come to think of it, green was a weird quintessence base for any Galra. Most guards were Red, or so he’d been told. He’d never encountered someone who was described to be an inverted watermelon before. Seriously, all that had been missing was tiny pockets of black to be the ‘seeds’.

“How did you know that?” Sonali asked after a long moment of silence. “Do the other Druids know that?” The frantic tone of Sonali’s voice knocked Lance out of his stupor.

“Uh, no? They all think you’re red.” Because they did. Lance could clearly recall one of the other Druids commenting on it, now that he thought about it. Xana often lamented how much red quintessence filled the empire, or at least the military. “But you’re gree-“

“Yes, yes, I know!” Sonali interrupted him. “How do you know that?”

“I saw it?” Lance replied, furrowing his eyebrows.

Somehow, he’d seen it. Now, how had he managed that? Could he turn it back on? How could he retrigger the ability?

“What do you mean you ‘saw it’?” They hissed. Lance shrugged. “Don’t shrug at me! I need to know!”

“You were Red along the outside.” Lance supplied. “And if the Druids thought you were ‘off’ or something, then they would have done something about it by now.” Lance paused. “Why are you Red on the outside?”

Sonali let out a noise that sounded like a low hiss of a curse before pausing.

“No one else can see that?” They asked after a moment.

Lance shook his head, staring at them with wide eyes. He didn’t think they were going to do anything drastic to him, but, he wasn’t willing to place nonexistence GAC on that. Sonali had the power to end his life if they thought he was a threat to the resistance.

Sonali exhaled sharply. “Quiznak.” They shook their head. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll blow my cover, and then we’ll all be screwed.”

“That didn’t answer my question, but okay.” Lance nodded slowly. “Okay.” He repeated, although it was more directed at himself. “Okay… so… yeah.” He took a deep breath, and nodded to himself.

First thing he had to do was get some clothes on. After that, he needed to try to figure out how to ‘turn on’ and control this new ability to see quintessence.

It might have been due to both towels overlapping there, but the collar around his neck felt warm. Absentmindedly, he reached up to touch it, stroking the jewel.

A smile tugged at his lips. Heh, he’d told Xana that he’d figure out how to see quintessence by the next lesson. Guess he’d showed him. He’d show everyone, even those who weren’t there to see him anymore.

Chapter Text

Whenever Lance expected getting super powers, he always imagined that it’d be something that he’d be able to just do. With the exception of a few super heroes, it always seemed like they just knew how to use their powers.

As it turned out, Lance was one of those few who realistically had no clue how to control his new-found power. Worse yet, the blossoming brilliant bright colors appearing and disappearing in his vison each time the power turned on and off was giving Lance painful little ice pick headaches.

No one said having cool powers was supposed to be painful.

And his new ability was cool. He couldn’t just see people’s quintessence, but quintessence in general. The world seemed to glow brighter with latent quintessence in the air. There were bright purple veins which crisscrossed the ship as it traveled the circuits supplying power. Water seemed to have just the faintest glow – a similar hazy glow of the air.

It was… different, and cool. But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

He could also see thin veins of corruption running through his own quintessence; the bright purple pulsing against his blue, occasionally fracturing out and growing.

He should have been worried about that, and he recognized that he should have been worried about it… but at the same time, he felt numb towards it. After all, there wasn’t a lot he could do about it.

He could cleanse it as much as he wanted – sometimes with Blue’s help – but it’d only push it back for a little bit before it reappeared. Not to mention with his position as a Druid, he couldn’t exactly just suddenly not have any of it in his system anymore.

The ship he was on was literally ran on corrupted quintessence. Every tick that he was on the ship he was being exposed; although the latent exposure was miniscule at best.

So, long story short, he couldn’t do anything about the corruption. It was a waste of his time, energy, and everything to worry about it.

Sonali’s unique coloring on the other hand… that was curious.

They still hadn’t told him why they were Red on the outside, but he got the feeling that asking again would only cause the guard to freak out again. It was presumably within his best interest not to remind them. Sonali hadn’t brought it back up since the ‘shower’ incident, and Lance was no hurry to bring it back up.

Not for the first time Lance wished that he could just slip out his smart phone and google something.

If he could just google ‘how to see auras’ he felt sure that it’d help him control this new ability – although his problem was with turning his ability off. But Google didn’t exist in space, and even if it did, he doubted he’d get the cell reception to get the data to google something.

Shame.

So instead, he was forced to go through Lotor’s countless books, scrolls, and tablets on various readings to see if there were any suggestions or ideas hidden in there. Never before had Lance been so happy that Lotor practically owned a small library in his room.

Lance scowled down at a book, narrowing his eyes as he used the tablet to try to translate the text into something he could read.

For all of its capabilities, the universal translator wasn’t designed for work like this, and translating multiple texts of this magnitude at the same time just wasn’t something it could easily do.

It certainly didn’t help that surrounding Lance was a mini army of books, scrolls, and everything else that Lance thought might even mention quintessence and the ability to see it. He’d even pulled up some of Haggar’s reports and research that was ‘free floating’ on the Galra server.

Most Druid reports and research was locked up safely in the Druid quarters or terminals, but there were some more commonly referenced pieces that were left on the main servers.

Despite Haggar being the ‘mother of quintessence research’, all her reports and research had been useless to Lance thus far. The most interesting thing he’d come across was something about Balmera crystals.

From what he understood from that research, once a crystal’s energy was used up – or the crystal was broken – then the only solution was to get a new crystal from a Balmera and corrupt it.

Which was a waste of time.

If they could figure out how to revitalize the crystals, it would streamline the process so much. It’d also help out the Balmeras as there wouldn’t be a near constant demand for new crystals.

Not to mention, Lance was interested to see if they could figure out a way to revitalize other quintessence types. Lance totally wouldn’t object to having a pretty blue based crystal, or a green based crystal.

Would they power a ship the same as a standard Balmeran crystal, or a corrupted Galra one? Or would the difference colored crystals serve different purposes? Would the presence of a green crystal have any effect on surrounding plant life?

After all, the corruption system was, from Lance’s understanding, an attempt to create black quintessence. So, it went without saying that if they could corrupt a crystal and change the quintessence it outputted, then why couldn’t they change a crystal to a different color base?

And why not go one step further than that? If they could inject a crystal with a specific quintessence base, then what about a creature?

Of course, that particular line of thought was in Project Robeast territory, and while Lance wouldn’t mind getting on that Project for spying purposes, the real reason he was interested was much simpler: he wanted to try to make the ice bats – Keese – from ‘Legend of Zelda’.

Not that it mattered right now, as he was nowhere near ready for a project like Project Robeast.

Perhaps he could revisit this topic once he’d learned quintessence manipulation. Lance didn’t have any projects or tasks officially assigned to him, and so he could work on that as his own little pet project, later.

His current ‘project’ of trying to see quintessence wasn’t going anywhere. He slid his current text to the side and pulled out another one. Thankfully, no translator was needed on this one, and dove into the readings.

Man, Lance had thought his days of having to do homework like this were over when he left the Garrison. Guess he was wrong. At least this stuff was interesting some of the time.

So, absorbed in his task, Lance didn’t even notice when the door slid open and Sonali left. He did, however, notice the bright, almost candy apple red, which appeared in the corner of his vision just a tick before he was being gently touched on the shoulder.

“Someone seems to be feeling better.”

Lance jumped, twisting to look over at Lotor. The candy red of Lotor’s quintessence was broken up by thick lightning like veins of corrupted quintessence. If it wasn’t so evil, Lance might have said that it was kinda pretty, in a way.

It sounded weird, but Lance wanted to touch it. Like, he knew that was a bad idea, but it was like how a kid would want to touch a red-hot stove.

That damned uncomfortable itch which Lotor occasionally triggered resurfaced under Lance’s skin as he forced himself to look away. Although, said itch was slightly soothed when Lotor leaned over him as the prince looked over what Lance was reading, and after a derisive scoff headed over to the bookcase to select something different.

“This one would probably help more, if you’re looking into quintessence awareness.” Lotor handed Lance a book and grinned at him. “It’s good to see you getting so involved in your studies.”

“Well, I wanna be the very best.” Mentally, Lance ignored the mental continuation of the theme song. As catchy as it was, it wasn’t applicable here.

Lance accepted the book, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Lotor, or more accurately the colors surrounding him. It wasn’t fair. How come something so bad for Lance looked so pretty? Like, it wasn’t bad enough that Lotor looked so pretty, now his quintessence was too.

“I’m sure you will be.” If Lotor noticed Lance staring at him, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead he moved some of the books so that he could take a seat on the table, leaning against it. “I wanted to talk to you this morning, but you didn’t seem to be up for a conversation.”

Lotor’s tone was light, and his body language was open, but here was a current of something that Lance didn’t like in the words themselves. He stiffened at them, biting his lip and finally looking away from Lotor.

Heat flooded his cheeks, and he resisted the urge to rub the back of his head in embarrassment, instead tightening his hold on the book Lotor had given him. He had hoped that Lotor would just let that whole thing slide, but evidently not.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Lotor prompted. “Just like we used to, when we were separate. It hurts to see you so upset.”

Said the guy who’d tried once to contact Lance before leaving. Oh sure. Lance believed him. But then again, Lotor seemed sincere, and he was a prince. He couldn’t afford the time to sit around and coddle Lance.

And hadn’t Lotor already proved that he cared for Lance? Time and time again? He’d taken Lance in, and given him food and a place to stay. He’d allowed for Lance to be taught how to control his Altean abilities, and become a Druid.

Lotor had felt sincere when Lance had… Lance sucked on his bottom lip, trying not to think of the kiss he’d shared with Lotor the night before.

“I’m fine now.” It wasn’t technically a lie; Lance was fine now, sorta. He kinda wanted to kiss Lotor again, but that was such a bad idea on so many levels, and he already regretted the night before so much.

And he just wished that he could just stop being so wishy-washy about this and Lotor.

“Are you mad at me?” Lotor didn’t whine, but he came awfully close in that moment. “You were the one who locked the door. I just thought I’d give you the time you so clearly needed.” Lotor sighed dramatically. “I’d hoped that after last night, we would be more open towards each other.”

“It’s nothing, Lotor. Really.” Lance looked back up at him to offer a quick smile.

The candy red glow around Lotor was gone, although Lance wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not. He kinda wanted it back as it was a nice distraction, but Lotor was wanting to have a serious conversation, despite his dramatics.

Lotor frowned, and shook his head.

Upon seeing Lotor’s disappointed face, Lance back looked down. Subconsciously, his hand rose to play with the jewel of the necklace. After a couple moments of silence Lance sighed.

“Really, Lotor. It was just me feeling like I was going to let you down. That’s all. I’m over it.” Lance still wasn’t looking at Lotor, but he could just feel the prince quirking an eyebrow as if to say ‘oh really?’. “Like I said, I just want to be the very best. I don’t want to fail you.”

Lotor stood, and then took a seat much closer to Lance. He leaned down to gently take Lance’s chin in hand and turn his face upwards.

“It would be very difficult for you to fail me, pet.” Lotor’s voice was a confident purr, and just the sound of it sent chills down Lance’s spine.

“But I fail everyone.” Lance muttered.

He was very proud at his lack of physical reaction at the nickname. Mentally, he still cringed. Although, the more Lotor called him ‘pet’ the less Lance reacted. Perhaps that was on purpose?

Probably for the best. Lance needed to get used to it. Actually, he needed to do more than get used to it, he needed to own it. But, he could wait a little on that. After all, one small step at a time, right?

“Because they don’t know how to treat you. They don’t bolster your strengths, or help you grow stronger. They just use you for themselves, to help themselves grow stronger.” Lotor paused. “I’m helping you grow. The only way you could disappoint me is to stop. It’s time that you used them, the way they used you.”

“How?”

“You’d be amazed at how motivated someone can be by spite alone.” Lotor shrugged, seeming nonchalant about that statement, yet the way he said it made it sound like such a fact of life. It left Lance wondering just what spite motivated Lotor, for him to say those words with such certainty.

“They mistreated you. Abused you. Treated you like trash and a maid. And then they abandoned you! Doesn’t that upset you? It wasn’t you who failed them. It was them who failed you.”

Did it upset Lance how the Voltron team had treated him? Absolutely.

Lotor was right, spite was a great motivator. After all, that was why he was going to be the best now. That was why he was going to make Voltron regret abandoning him. He was going to show them. He was going to show everyone.

Lotor half chuckled. “There’s that spark back in your eyes.”

Lance wanted to duck his head, but he couldn’t when Lotor was still holding him under his chin. Lotor hummed, studying Lance for a moment before dropping his hand and letting go of Lance. He leaned back on the table.

Lance watched Lotor for a moment, before realizing he’d been playing with his necklace. In the Galaxy Garrison, they hadn’t been allowed necklaces, so Lance had thought his habit of playing with one would have faded by now, but evidently not. Either way, he was sure that that Lotor had noticed. Heat once again flooded his cheeks as he dropped his hand to his lap.

“It’s no problem.” Lotor assured. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” That was right. Lotor had offered to take care of Lance.

Lance nodded slowly. “Yeah, you did say that.” Well, Lotor had demanded that, right before… Right before Lance had kissed Lotor. He supposed that Lotor took that as an acceptance to his demand. But what did that mean exactly? What did that entail?

“I’m glad you recalled. In that case, I suppose you wouldn’t object to me taking you planet side in a few nights?”

Lance froze, blinking at Lotor. “Planet side?” Lance squeaked.

Why was Lotor taking him to see a planet? What good would that do? Here Lance was in a safe controlled environment. A place where Lotor could affect things. Out on a planet, there were too many variables. Too much that Lotor couldn’t take in effect for.

“Of course.” Lotor purred. “Last night went so well, I thought it’d be a good idea for you. I have a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Lance repeated. Lotor hummed his confirmation. “For me?”

“I’m positive that you’ll like it.”

“I can’t.” Lance shook his head. He gestured at the books. “I’ve got so much-”

“You’d deny me another chance to spoil you?” Lotor interrupted. “You agreed to let me take care of you. Besides, with how diligent you are, I’m sure you’ll be able to afford a night of fun and pleasure.” Lotor reasoned.

Lance looked between the books and Lotor helplessly. While the studying was an excuse, it was also a legitimate reason. He needed to be a better Druid so he could get access to better information.

He needed to be a better Druid for Lotor. He needed to be a better Druid for himself.

BUT, he couldn’t decline the date. He’d already declined the Gladiator match, and he wasn’t sure how much more Lotor would allow. It didn’t help that Lotor was right. With the date a few nights away, Lance didn’t really have an excuse not to go.

Quiznak, another date with Lotor. Part of him was excited, but another part of him was terrified. He hoped that he wouldn’t be given more jewelry. He wasn’t prepared to handle that. He wasn’t prepared for any of this.

“I-”

“Shh.” Lotor held a finger to Lance’s mouth, silencing him. “Let me take care of you.”

He didn’t really have a choice. Lotor was bound and determined to take him out, whether Lance wanted him to or not. After a moment, Lance nodded. Lotor grinned, his hand dropping from Lance’s mouth.

“Wonderful.” He purred. “You’ll love this, I promise.”

Lance wasn’t convinced. He didn’t know what the surprise was, and honestly, he was kind of scared to see what Lotor thought he’d like. Reminded of an earlier conversation, Lance took a chance to make a request.

“No gladiator matches, please.”

Lotor chuckled. “Of course.” Lotor’s tablet beeped from somewhere in the room, and Lotor’s smile fell. He sighed, the sound long and drawn out. “The duties of a prince never cease.” He complained.

Lance was half tempted to tell Lotor that if he didn’t want to be a prince so much that he could disband the empire. The only reason he didn’t was because he knew saying that would only annoy Lotor and nothing would be done. There was no point. Instead Lance only shrugged.

Lotor hopped off the table, heading over to where the tablet was. Lance heard him groan and the noise of the tablet hitting the bed.

“Are you father’s generals still giving you difficulties?” Lance asked, spinning the chair around to look at Lotor. Lotor side eyed Lance, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Where’d you hear that?” Lotor asked. Lance shrugged again.

“Gossip gets around.”

Lance wasn’t lying. He’d heard from both Sonali and the other Druids that the Empire’s military hadn’t exactly been welcoming to Lotor. As a matter of fact, they disdained him for being a ‘half breed’, and bringing along his own generals.

Zarkon’s military had been full of nothing but racists and elitists. Good thing Lotor was there now to fix that.

The Gladiator match that Lotor had invited Lance to not too long ago had been his ‘debut’ to the Empire’s military to show off his strength and might.

It was kind of sweet that Lotor had attempted to show off to him.

“They’ll be taken care of soon enough.” Lotor didn’t elaborate on the statement, and Lance didn’t exactly want him to. It sounded vaguely threatening enough. “Along with any traitors within their ranks.” Lotor shook his head, disdain clear on his face.

Now that Lance had to ask about; considering he was one, and he knew of at least one other.

“Traitors?” Lance questioned. “I heard some Druids saying that they’d already been fished out by Haggar.”

“I don’t trust that they got them all. I doubt that Commander was acting on his own.” Lotor replied, scrunching up his nose. “I still can’t believe my father hadn’t realized that sooner.”

Lance hadn’t met the guy, but he was sure that he’d been a good spy to work himself up to the Commander rank. That took a good deal of skill to pull off.

“All the better that you’re in charge now, right? I mean, I heard it was your specialty to track down rebellions and traitors.”

“I made of habit of it when I was bored, yes.” Lotor replied, grinning at Lance. “It was fun when it was something I did by choice.” The tablet once again beeped and Lotor’s grin fell. “It appears I must leave you. Promise you won’t spend all night studying.”

"I make none." Lance teased. "I sleep better when you're here."

Mostly because then Lance knew exactly where Lotor was. When he wasn't there, Lance was always paranoid that he'd walk in on Lance snooping through his stuff or something. Plus, he had the feeling that Corral wouldn't randomly pop in if Lotor was there.

Of course, it wasn't until after he saw Lotor's responding grin that he realized what he'd said. Quiznak.

Well, there was no rewind. No take backs. No way for him to just make Lotor forget that he’d said that. Best he just own it.

“Is that so?” Lotor was still grinning, and remained grinning even when his tablet beeped again. “In that case, I’ll have to make sure I return to ensure you get a sufficient amount of beauty sleep.”

“Hmph.” Lance crossed his arms and turned away.

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Lotor came up behind Lance, and wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on Lance’s shoulder. He stayed there for a few moments before the tablet beeped again. Lotor sighed. “I’ll be back before you can even miss me.” Lotor promised before pulling away.

Lance shrugged. “As long as you return, I’ll be happy.” Because if Lotor didn’t return, then Lance had reason to worry. If Lotor didn’t return, then who knew what would become of Lance.

Lotor laughed. “Of course.” He picked up the tablet and headed for the door. “I’ll leave you to your studying now. Have fun!”

The moment Lotor left, Lance heaved a huge sigh of relief. He let his head fall forward onto the table with a thunk. Almost instantly he felt the tinge of pain associate with the power coming back on. Great. Just great.

“That doesn’t look like studying.” Sonali commented. Lance groaned again, but sat up. He pulled the book that Lotor have given to him closer and opened it up. Lotor had to have given it to him for a reason. Maybe it’d answer his questions.

Chapter Text

Much like vacation days when Lance still went to school, the time slipped away faster than Lance would have liked until it was time for his date with Lotor.

Nothing else had occurred between them, but that didn’t stop Lance’s heart from beating erratically in his chest at the mere idea of this date. After all, at the last one, he’d kissed Lotor, and liked it. And while that was fine and dandy and everything, it wasn’t fine and dandy at all. 

He’d been cycling through these thoughts over the past couple of days, teetering on the fence of indecision in regard to how to act. At this point, there was no denying that there was something between him and the prince, so denying his feelings at this point was pointless. But whether he should act on those feelings or lock them up and away… that was the question.

To be, or not to be. To return Lotor’s affections, or not to.

As if sensing Lance’s nerves, Lotor reached out and gently took Lance’s hand, holding it as they entered the planet’s atmosphere. Lotor rubbed his thumb over the back of Lance’s hand for a moment before lifting it and kissing Lance’s knuckles gently.

Lance’s heart lurched at the gesture. If this was a movie, then a younger him would have been squealing in joy and hiding his face into a pillow as he screamed out his second-hand embarrassment.

On the Brightside, Lance didn’t have to worry about his newest ability flaring up while on this date. He’d finally figured out how to control it and, like he’d predicted, Xana had been stunned at how easily Lance had picked it up.

As a matter of fact, Xana was beyond stunned. Evidently, most Druids could just sense a person’s quintessence, and a few could see it, but none to degree that Lance could. It kinda made Lance feel all fuzzy inside to know that he could do things that others couldn’t.

His new ability flaring up and giving him a headache was one less thing he needed to worry about while on this date; and he could already imagine so many things going wrong.

With his free hand, Lance reached up to toy with the gem of the necklace, fiddling with it absent mindedly as he got lost in his thoughts. But, then again, for as many things that could go wrong, the chances of them were slim.

He was with Lotor, the Emperor Pro Tem of the Galra Empire, for goodness sake! He shouldn’t be worrying about what could go wrong on their date. After all, nothing would happen to Lance so long as Lotor was there. Lotor was safe.

“You shouldn’t be so nervous, pet.” Lotor leaned down to whisper that into Lance’s ear. His breath was warm against Lance’s skin, and caused his hair to tickle against his neck.

“I’m not.” Lance replied. It was a half-truth. He was still nervous, but he wasn’t at the same time. He felt like he was going to be sick from all the conflicting feelings inside of him.

“Oh?” Lotor questioned.

“It’s just… been a while since I was planet side.” Lance offered another half-truth. Being planet-side after so long in a space ship was… different, and while he was excited, he was also anxious about what to expect.

Not to mention his wish-washy choices on how to deal™ with the obvious chemistry between him and Lotor.

Which brought him back to the thoughts of how he kissed Lotor after one date.

What would happen after two dates? What if he started liking Lotor more than he already did? How much further would Lotor force Lance to stretch his ethics?

How much more delaying would Lotor allow? He hadn’t asked for anything after the kiss. He hadn’t demanded more kisses, or tried anything. For all intents and purposes, Lotor had been a perfect gentleman.

It unnerved Lance because Lotor was impatient.

Lotor was impulsive. He wasn’t really the type to sit back and let Lance come to him. Except, he was. He was letting Lance set the pace, and it just seemed too good to be true.

“It’ll be good for you.” Lotor tried to assure Lance. “If you loved the Garden, then you’ll love this.”

Lance nodded, but remained quiet, playing with the necklace.

He hadn’t really had a necklace since the Garrison to play with, and despite knowing what jewel was on this one, he couldn’t help himself but to play with it. It was something to fidget with and to help preoccupy his mind. He’d rather play with it than bite his lip.

Lip biting was bad, especially since he still didn’t have any Chapstick. Woe be Him.

“Where’re we going?” Lance asked after a moment of silence.

“Bsët.” Lotor replied. “Specifically, the city of Hësë.”

Lance mentally clasped onto the information, trying desperately to use it to help distract him from his never-ending cycles of thoughts.

“The planet has been under Galra rule for a while now.” Lotor continued. “They’re the main source of the erëz plant, which is a commonly used spice across the universe. It grows so well here thanks to the underground magma pools in the area.”

“You’re taking me to a farm?” Lance asked, crinkling his eyebrows.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Lotor to take him somewhere nice for their date, but… a spice farm?  Lance had tried his hand at farming once, and uh... yeah, no thanks. A farm wasn't in his definition of a 'date'.  

Lotor laughed and shook his head. “Oh no. I’m taking you here for something else. In any case, these people are fond of spices and herbs, so if at any point you feel overwhelmed let me know. The Furë a kuqa has a rather strong scent to it, and it can be a bit much at times.”

Right. Lance wasn’t even going to try to pronounce that. Although it was touching that Lotor was concerned about Lance being overwhelmed by what sounded like incense.

It didn’t take long following this conversation for the shuttle to land and the doors to open.

Lance’s first glimpse of the planet wasn’t anything impressive. Which isn’t to say that it didn’t look interesting, because it did. It just didn’t look impressive.

The land around him looked like how he’d always imagined Mars to look like, kinda. Whenever someone walked, a plume of rose colored dust appeared before dissipating into the air. Dry looking planets were scattered all around, making a network grid across the ground.

Had there been any wind, Lance would have expected to see a tumbleweed roll by.

If the vines were the spice plants, then they looked kinda… dead. Then again, Lance wasn’t a biologist, or a plant doctor, or whatever that profession was called.

The best part about this place, so far, had to be the sky. It was a pale blue, a close reminder to Lance of home. In the distant horizon, Lance could even see clouds.

There was a village not far from where they landed made up of a mixture of giant dead husks of trees and their roots, and the crumbling ruins of a city long gone. Cloth hung in the doorways of these dwellings, and when the native species exited, clouds of dark pink – almost red – colored smoke escaped.

If Lance had to guess, the village’s cloying candy sweet scent was probably a product of that smoke. Kind of like how Hersey, PA always smelled like Chocolate. The only reason he knew that was because his family stopped there once on their way to New York.

In the center of the small village was a well which housed the only true greenery in the area. There was a patch of vines that were still alive, intertwined around the well. They extended out for about 10 feet in any direction from the well, before their vines started to slowly die off.

Lance spun around, ignoring Lotor as he approached the well and started to speak with presumably the leader of the native species here.

Said species appeared to be humanoid, which was reassuring. They were thin and willowy, ducking in and out of their cloth doors with flexible ease as they looked at Lance, Lotor, and the Galra Soldiers.

Lance paused in his examination when he stopped a symbol rather familiar to him etched on the rocky surface of one of the ruins. He’d recognize that anywhere, especially since the last time he saw marks like these, it was when he found Blue.

“Voltron.” He muttered, reaching out to touch against the markings.

“The Red Lion was found here.” Lotor informed Lance, causing him to jump and spin around to look at the Prince. “My apologies. I didn’t intend to scare you.”

“You took me to where Red was found?” Lance’s tone dipped as he spoke. Lotor only nodded his response. “Why?” Lance hissed out.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t care about Red. He didn’t care about Voltron. The only thing he cared about when it came to that stuff was Blue. Blue was his. He could care less about the others, especially Red.

Lance didn’t even wait for a response before he was spinning around on the heel of his foot, fully intending to chalk this date up as a failure and sit in the ship until Lotor realized how ‘not okay’ this all was.

Lotor seemed to have other plans as he reached out and grabbed Lance’s arm, spinning him back around. “Have faith in me, Lance. I didn’t take you here for that.” He continued to manhandle Lance around until Lance was looking at the well.

…

If this was some ‘The Ring’ crap, then Lance was out of here. Out. Of. Here. Or ‘IT’ crap. He was out of here if some clown popped his head out of that well.

“That’s the Lula a shiut.” Lotor informed Lance, and Lance was ashamed to admit it took him a moment to realize that Lotor wasn’t talking about the well but the green vines around the well. “It only blooms once a deca-phoeb, on the same quintant.”

“You took me here for a flower?” Lance’s tone was as flat as shaken soda that’d been left out in the sun for a day.

If Lance wanted to see a flower there was a very nice, very lovely garden up in the spaceship he could use.

“Not just any flower.” Lotor sighed. “Its blossoms have a chemical effect on all of these plants.” He waved his hand at the dead vines on the ground and then at the trees. “They come back to life for three fourths of the deca-phoeb before slowly dying back off until they reach this point…. Upon which the flower reblooms and restores life again.”

Lance hummed, considering this information. That did sound… marginally better.

“Alright.” He muttered after a moment, twisting around to look up at Lotor. “That sounds kinda cool.”

Lotor smiled and let out what could have been a sigh of relief. Awh, was the prince nervous that Lance wouldn’t like this? How cute.

“The Leader would be honored if we stayed to watch the blooming.” Lotor suggested. “And while we wait, we can try some of the local dishes. I’m most fond of the Seksi fruit.”

Lance nodded and that was all Lotor needed to shift his hold on Lance until he was holding Lance’s hand as he guided Lance to the largest tree near the well. The leader saw them coming, and held open the cloth, letting clouds of color escape into the air. Lance’s nose twitched at the scent.

Well, Lance was right about that smell coming from the smoke… and Lotor had been right about the smells and scents of this place being a bit overwhelming. Lance fought the urge to sneeze, wiggling his nose as he tried to adjust to the over powering scent.

Lance’s head swam in the scent. He could taste it on his tongue, thick and syrupy. He felt like he was getting more smoke than he was air, causing him to breath in more as he attempted to get more air. His head felt light.

Lance was reminded of the time he’d walked into a dorm room in the Galaxy Garrison where the occupants had been smoking way too much weed and the room had been hazy with the smoke. This was just like that, except this smoke was pink and sweet smelling.

Lance barely stepped over the threshold before he decided it to was too much. He tugged on Lotor’s arm, and tried to backpedal out. He tripped over his own feet, and in trying to not fall, ended up stumbling forward.

Lotor turned to catch him at just the right time, and he fell onto Lotor’s chest. He heard Lotor exhale with a ‘oomph’ and take a half step back to catch him. He felt bad, but he couldn’t figure out how to work his legs anymore, and so he just stayed there.

Great. He was an anime girl falling onto her love interest now. That was just perfect. Well, his life was basically an anime now. He found out he was a magical girl™ and his love interest was a space prince™. So of course, he’d fall on said love interest like this.

And he was referring to Lotor as a love interest.

…

His life was officially over.

He felt his face flush and he buried his face into Lotor’s chest. He was not going to look up at him. Nope. Not going to happen. Besides, Lotor’s body and clothes helped filter out some of the smoke; and Lance wasn’t going to lie, he preferred the soft scent of lilacs that Lotor was fond of.

He breathed in deeply, unable to stop himself from doing it. Was it weird that he liked how Lotor smelled? It was probably weird. He should probably stop before he made even more of a fool of himself.

The more he breathed in, the more the world seemed to warp around Lance. Noises blended into sights, and sights into tastes.

It was official, Lance was experiencing some sort of weird high from this smoke.

He could hear Lotor speaking to him, but he couldn’t focus on the words when Lotor was distracting him by running a hand up his back. Lance shuddered at the sensation and pressed himself closer to Lotor.

The next moment, Lance’s stomach dropped as the ground beneath his feet vanished as he was swooped in one smooth move. He laughed, wrapping his arms around Lotor’s neck and resting his head against the prince’s shoulder. The fact that Lotor could so easily pick up Lance and carry him bridal style did things to Lance.

He was carried for a moment before the world spun around as he was manhandled and put back down. He laughed as he was laid out on a soft pillow-like cushion. Lotor sat down beside him and it took Lance all of a moment to maneuver himself so he was sitting in Lotor’s lap.

The Prince didn’t seem to know where to put his hands, and after a moment of watching him fumble, Lance took them and put them on his waist. “You can touch me, you know.” Lance informed him. “I’m not gonna break.”

If Lotor had a response, it was never spoken, especially not when Lance reached out and tucked a stay piece of Lotor’s hair behind his ear.

“You’d look pretty with a flower crown.” Lance realized out loud, before gasping and putting his hands over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Oops. “I mean, you’re always pretty.” Lance tried to fix what he’d said, but somehow, he thought he might have just made things worse.

“Is that so?” Lotor’s voice made Lance feel all sorts of funny, and he giggled, nodding.

“Mmmhmm. You’re so pretty. Haven’t I told you that?” Lance laughed at the expression that his words gave Lotor, feeling all too pleased with himself. He liked it when Lotor smiled, and he especially liked it when he smiled because of Lance.

“Not really, no.” Lotor admitted.

“Well, I am now.” Because it was true. Lotor was very pretty, and Lance would have said it had to do with the fact that he was royalty, but Lance had seen Zarkon and he was not pretty. “And your hair is always so silky.” Lance continued.

He recognized that he was word vomiting, but he couldn’t quite care enough to do anything about it.

“Perhaps some Seksi would help him?” A foreign voice asked, and Lotor took his eyes off of Lance to acknowledge the other.

“You’ve opened the windows then?” Lotor replied coolly.

“Yes, Prince Lotor.” The voice replied. “And it is my people’s belief that eating some of the Seksi should help as well.”

“Leave it here.” Lotor nodded off to the side. Lance twisted around to watch the village leader drop off a plate of something before he left. “Would you like to try to eat something, pet?” Lotor asked him, one of his hands rising from Lance’s waist to gently touch his cheek and guide Lance to looking back at him.

“Is it as sweet as you?” Lance teasingly asked. Lotor’s smile tightened and after a moment he nodded. He leaned over, taking a piece of the food and the pressed it to Lance’s lips.

“Try for yourself.”

Obediently, Lance opened his mouth, accepting the cool tart, but oddly sweet, flesh of some sort of fruit. He chewed it a few times before swallowing and then licked his lips to catch more of the flavor.

It was sweet, but tart. It kinda felt like a peach, except not.

“I knew you’d like it.” Lotor’s gaze flickered down to Lance’s lips before the prince grinned. “Do you want another piece?”

Lance licked his lips and then after some deliberation decided that yes, he did. “Please?” He asked. Lotor’s eyes seemed to darken, and his grin seemed just a bit sharper when he picked up another piece to give to Lance.

This time when Lotor gave Lance the slice of fruit he let his fingers linger. By the time he’d processed the thought he’d had, Lance was enacting it. He kissed Lotor’s fingertips, licking against them when he accepted the fruit.

It wasn’t like Lance didn’t know what he was doing, but it was more like he didn’t care what he was doing. He felt… alive, daring… adventurous.

Weird was another way to describe how he was feeling. It was like he’d handed over reigns to the control of his body to someone else, and the scary thing was that he didn’t particularly mind.

There was barely the hint of a thought about kissing Lotor, but he was never given a chance to enact it as Lotor kept him busy with fruit or his fingers. Which didn’t bother Lance any. He liked things being in his mouth. He liked the feel of it.

He liked having something he could suck on, like a lollipop, or a piece of fruit, or Lotor’s fingers. Heck, with the fruit juice on them, Lance could almost pretend that Lotor’s fingers were lollipops.

“Such a good boy.” Lotor breathed out after a moment. The only clue that Lance had that Lotor hadn’t meant it was the widening of his eyes and the shocked quick intake of air.

Regardless if Lotor meant it or not, it didn’t matter. The praise went straight to Lance’s head, and he preened the compliment. Yes! Yes, Lance was a good boy, and he’d do his best to try to fish more compliments like that out from Lotor.

He chased Lotor’s hand when he pulled it away, sucking on his long thin digits and twirling his tongue around them. Lotor’s entire body stiffened, his face flushing a beautiful shade of darker purple. He licked his lips before swallowing thickly.

“Look so good.” He muttered after a moment. Lotor’s gaze flickered between Lance’s eyes and Lance’s mouth, where he had started to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You like hearing that, don’t you?” He continued a bit more boldly.

Lance hummed around the fingers.

“This is such a good look for you.” Lotor commented as he slid his fingers out of Lance’s mouth and wiping them on a small towel that had been provided with the plate of fruit.

“You’re a good look for me.” Lance replied smartly. He leaned forward, invading into Lotor’s space. Once again, the thought to kiss him resurfaced, along with some other not so decent thoughts which followed along the line of the fruit they’d just shared.

Except Lotor hadn’t had any of the fruit. He’d given it to Lance. How… sweet of him. Ha! Wasn’t Lance just so punny?

“Are you feeling better?” Lotor asked, distracting Lance from his less than pure thoughts.

Lance hummed, leaning back – and ignoring Lotor’s very quiet, barely noticeable, sigh of relief – as he contemplated Lotor’s question.

Well, his head felt considerably less foggy than it had in the beginning when he’d told Lotor how pretty he looked. He still looked pretty. Especially since he’d changed to a bit of a darker shade of purple which Lance was realizing must have been a…

“Are you blushing?” Lance asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Lotor’s response was rushed, although after his question he took a breath and then continued like normal. “You’ve never… displayed this openness before.”

“I think it’s cute.” Lance grinned. “You’re cute. I like you a lot.”

Lotor smiled, mildly awkward. “That’s… nice. I take it you aren’t feeling better?” Oh yeah! Lotor had asked him about that, hadn’t he?

Lance laughed. “Sorry. I’m forgetful… but I feel better. I always feel better with you.”

“Maybe some sleep would help?”

“Help with what?” Lance asked. “I don’t need a nap.”

Lotor smiled, almost patronizingly, and reached up to cup Lance’s cheek and caressed him. “Says the one who’s high on Furë a kuqa.” He sighed. “I really wish you’d informed me when it was too much.” He muttered.

Well, Lance’s bad. It wasn’t like he came here with the intent to get… high. Well, quiznak. He just broke another ‘Don’t Do Drugs’ pledge that he’d made in middle school. First the corrupted quintessence, and now this. What a record.

“But I don’t feel as weird as before.” Lance whined. Of course, it was only after he spoke that he realized how true that was. Like the smoke in the room, his mind seemed to be clearer than before. Speaking off… when did the room air out?

He could recall Lotor saying something about windows, but it’d seemed so unimportant at the time.

“That’s promising.” Lotor arched an eyebrow and looked over him like he didn’t believe him. “I’d still feel better if you took a nap. It’ll be a while yet before the Lula a shiut blooms.”

“Fine.” Lance dragged out the word in an overly dramatic sigh as he rolled his eyes in an equally over dramatic fashion. “I suppose I could take a nap. If it’d make you feel better.”

“It would.” Lotor assured him.

Lance rolled his eyes again, sliding off Lotor’s lap only to reclaim it as a pillow once Lotor had put a pillow there. Lance eyed the pillow before shrugging it off. If Lotor wanted to act weird, then he could act weird. It wasn’t Lance’s problem.

His eyes snapped open only what felt like a moment later as there was a loud crackling noise.

A loud rumble following the crack, and echoed in the room. Lance tilted his head back to see that the sky outside had darkened immensely. A flash of light lit up the sky as lightning arced across it. He blinked, taking a moment to recognize what he was seeing.

“Is that a... a storm?” His words were still half slurred. His mouth tasted weird, like how mouths usually taste when someone hadn’t brushed before going to sleep, but worse. Like he’d been eating something sweet.

But he couldn’t pay attention to that when there was lighting arcing in the clouds.

Lotor didn’t stop him as Lance rolled off his lap and stumbled to the window, looking out and taking a breath. He’d recognize that scent anywhere: rain.

“It triggers the blooming of the Lula a shiut.” Lotor replied after a moment. Lance blinked, confused for a moment before the memories of the vines in the middle of the village resurfaced. That was right, they were here to see the blooming of a flower.

Lance looked over his shoulder to see Lotor watching him. He raised an eyebrow at the pillow in the prince’s lap. It took him even longer to remember that he’d been using his lap as a pillow. He’d been doing something else with Lotor, something involving fruit.

He licked his lips, tasting the sticky sweetness of some sort of fruit.

Yep, fruit had been involved.

Actually, yes. Fruit had definitely been involved. And fingers, and thoughts that Lance usually kept locked up and hidden in the far reaches of his mind. Stupid Space Weed making him say the things he thought and meant.

… Maybe he could play off not remembering and just continuing his relationship with Lotor like normal? It wasn’t like the Prince had forced him anything, although all of Lance’s actions had been due to him being under the influence.

And that didn’t open a giant can of worms.

But it wasn’t like it was Lotor’s fault. Lotor hadn’t planned for Lance to get high. As a matter of fact, he’d specifically told Lance to tell him if it became too much. Lance getting high was entirely Lance’s fault.

That didn’t change what had happened… but…

Oh well. Time for Lance to do what he did best. Ignore that and press on. Especially since he just heard another crack of lightning. He bounced on his toes, rolled his lips and glanced back over his shoulder at the window before looking to Lotor.

“Can we go look?”

“The Lula a shiut usually blooms after the storm.” Lotor furrowed his eyebrows. He patted the pillow on the floor next to him and smiled. “Why don’t you come back and eat some more fruit? We can wait out the storm in here.”

Ugh. No. Nope. Nuh-un. Lotor had taken him to a place that had a storm and was suggesting that he ‘wait it out’?! Lance didn’t think so.

Lance frowned, shaking his head. “I wanna see the storm.” He walked over to Lotor much easier than he’d walked over to the window, and dropped down to his knees since the prince was still sitting. “Please?”

Lance was trying the puppy dog pout, making sure that his eyes were extra big and that he looked pitiably and pathetic as he asked. Hopefully Lotor wouldn’t be able to say no to him. He sniffled after a moment for good measure.

Lotor sighed, and looked away, shifting as if he was uncomfortable. “I don’t see why you want to, but fine. Do as you want.”

While he was pretty sure he’d slept off most of the effects of that smoke, Lance must have still been under at least some of its influence as he didn’t realize what he was doing until he was already moving.

Lance sprung forward, wrapping his arms around Lotor’s torso as he muttered a litany of ‘thank you’s. Then as quickly as he’d started the hug, Lance was backing away, and heading to the open door.

Besides the open windows, that must have been how the smoke had escaped the house so quickly. Probably for the best as Lance couldn’t imagine what being stuck in it for long term would have done to him.

Not that it really mattered anymore when he was outside, taking in a deep lungful of the air, tasting the rain. Quiznak, he loved rain.

He loved jumping, slipping, and sliding in the puddles. He loved being drenched in the downpour. He loved the rainbows that sometimes showed up after the storm. He loved how clean and fresh everything smelled afterwards.

Lance just loved the rain.

As a couple of raindrops fell into Lance’s outstretched hand, Lance felt a small empty place inside of him fill with coolness for the first time in what felt like forever as he connected with Blue outside the Astral Plane. She roared along with his laughter as the rain came down heavier and the wind picked up.

Water was their element. Of course, he’d connect to her here and now. And of course, she’d share in his joy.

For once, Lance didn’t care about his vanity as the wind attempted to style his hair and the rain flattened it down. Water streamed down Lance’s face, mixing in with salty tears of happiness from the fact he was able to experience rain again.

Screw his earlier reservations for this date. Sure, he’d been drugged, and said and did things he probably shouldn’t have…. But this? This more than made up for it.

Before long the rain had become a steady downpour, and Lance was loving it.

“Lance!” Lotor’s voice came from the nearby tree Lance had exited. He spun around, laughing as he kicked up rain in the puddles. Lance danced towards Lotor, spinning around in the rain until he was almost at the prince. “This isn’t-”

Lance cut Lotor off, crashing into him, and after a moment, slotting their lips together. He was hasty and not very graceful, bumping his nose against Lotor’s but oddly enough, once his lips were pressed against Lotor’s all that clumsiness seemed to melt away in the rain water dripping between them.

For a heartbeat Lotor was unresponsive, clearly caught off guard by either an armful of Lance crashing into him, the kiss, or both.

But once that heartbeat passed, Lotor’s hands fell to Lance’s waist, holding him close, and responding to Lance’s lips, pressing them back against Lance’s gently.

Lance pulled back, grinning and giggling. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Lance breathed out.

Lotor’s expression seemed dazed, but he smiled at Lance none-the-less. His gaze was warm as he looked at Lance, his expression softening like he was looking at Lance in a new light. “Of… course.” He belatedly responded.

He licked his lips and Lance’s gaze darted down to watch the movement before he returned his gaze to Lotor’s eyes.

Some part of Lance was aware that he was soaking wet and that he was probably ruining Lotor’s clothes – he wasn’t in his armor for once. Heck, he’d probably gotten some of the red mud on him, not that the prince seemed to care given how… tenderly he was looking at Lance.

Lotor licked his lips again. “…May I?”

It didn’t even take Lance a tick to recognize what Lotor was asking. He needed less than a heartbeat to be decide, and heart thudding loudly in his ears, he nodded.

Lotor leaned down slowly, giving Lance the option of pulling back or running away if he wanted. Lance’s lips parted as Lotor pressed his against Lance’s.

Kissing was always awkward, what with keeping a person’s nose in mind, and then whether the kiss was too wet or too dry or too bitey. Lance wasn’t a fool to think that kissing Lotor would be perfect… but, damn if it wasn’t close.

Considering the water dripping down off Lance’s face and hair it was hard to tell if the kiss was too wet. Water tended to make things wet, and Lance didn’t really mind. The taste of the rain mingled with the sweet taste of the fruit that Lance could taste between him and Lotor.

Lance shivered at the slow kiss, practically melting into Lotor as his knees seemed to become weak. He reached up and ran his hand through Lotor’s hair. They parted a moment later just before the need for air could burn in Lance’s lungs.

Lotor smiled at him, before leaning down again this time to press a kiss to Lance’s cheek. “Go on.” He murmured. “Have fun.”

Lance nodded as he took a step back, turning to face the downpour with a grin before throwing himself back out into the rain, twisting and twirling around as he jumped in puddles.

He’d kissed Lotor. Not once, but twice. He’d allowed Lotor to hand feed him, and had licked Lotor’s fingers. He’d gone on another date with the prince and had undoubtedly given Lotor more ideas than he probably should have.

But how could he care about that when there was rain falling against his face in torrents, washing away his worries, concerns, and fears? How could he care about that when Blue’s internal roars echoed in his laughter?

What he’d done was future Lance’s problem, and he’d take care of it all later. Right now, he had better things to do than to worry.

Like dancing in the rain.

Quiznak… Rain. He’d never thought he’d see it again, yet here he was.

He felt so light and free. He felt happy. Happier than he’d been in a long time. Happy enough to ignore the headache he could already feel coming on, and the sweet taste of Lotor. Happy enough to ignore his soaked hair and clothes, and muddied legs.

Lance twirled in the rain with his face tilted to the sky. The lightning exploded, cracks of light dancing in dark clouds. Thunder drummed in his heart, and for the first time in ages, Lance felt more than alive. He felt like he was living. He felt like he was… Free.

He laughed as the rain hit his face, and after a few moments, looked over his shoulder to see Lotor staring at him. His hand had been near a pocket, but he was crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway, still sheltered from the storm inside the tree.

The prince looked dazed, but when he noticed Lance looking at him he smiled. It was the same tender smile that he’d given Lance before. The same tender smile that made Lance’s heart beat louder than the rolling thunder.

Lance grinned back, and then laughed as another crash of thunder followed the lightning arcing across the sky.

Screw the flower that Lotor had brought him here to see. This was the better gift. He didn’t even care that he’d kissed Lotor in thanks. Lotor had given Lance rain, one of the things that Lance missed the most about Earth.

Warmth blossomed in Lance’s chest at the thought. He licked his lips, tasting the rain mix with the flavor of Lotor, and humming.

If Lotor had given him rain, then perhaps Lance could live with this. Perhaps him being with Lotor wasn’t all that farfetched after all. Lotor may have been the prince of the enemy, but that didn’t mean he was the enemy.

Besides, he treated Lance so well, and took care of Lance, and had given him rain. What more could Lance ask for?

Chapter Text

It wasn’t often that Lotor texted his generals. Usually if he needed them then they were usually either nearby, or only a video chat away. If he did text them through their communicators, then it was usually a quick small message of ‘come here’, and usually he only did it around the Central Command Ship.

So, when Ezor’s communicator let out a series of chirps that she’d programed to represent a message from Lotor, she was surprised.

He’d sent them off to on a recon mission to see if they could just ‘locate, not engage… Zethrid’ the Paladins of Voltron. Presumably he did this to keep his generals out of his hair while he went on his date.

She rolled her eyes as she jumped up to sit on the console – ignoring Acxa’s disapproving glance – and crossing her legs. She pulled out her communicator, unlocking it with a few quick movements.

If there was one thing more surprising than their prince texting her it was the content of the ‘message’. She titled her head, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked over the photo. The question of why he’d contacted her had an answer now at least.

She’d been bothering him for ages about his little pet Druid. The smug bastard was just rubbing things in by sending her a picture. He knew that she wanted to be snooping around on the date.

It took her less than a tick to decide that this took priority over their stupid mission and transferred the picture over to the ship, putting it up on the ‘big’ screen and blowing it up to get a better look at it.

“What are you doing?” Acxa’s question was more of a sigh than a question, although she didn’t ask further once the picture of the Druid showed up on the screen. Zethrid looked away from Kova, blinking at the change, but evidently having no objections either.

“That’s the Druid?” Zethrid asked, giving Kova the piece of meat she was teasing him with before shifting her stance to rest her hands on her hips.

Ezor leaned back, looking the picture over. If Lotor wasn’t a prince and had no obligations, Ezor would have suggested that he became a photographer. For a quick snap, it was adorable. Although, its contents were… questionable, like the location, or more accurately, the weather of said location.

“Presumably.” Acxa replied before pausing. “Didn’t you see him before?”

“Just a glimpse and from a distance. Ezor saw him better than Narti and I.” Zethrid replied. She scrunched up her nose and leaned forward for a tick before shifting her stance to crossing her arms. “Small thing, isn’t he?”

“He seems to be weathering the storms of Bsët alright.” Ezor commented. She was pretty sure that Bsët was where Lotor had talked about going. Presumably for the blooming of the Lula a shiut.

Initially, when Lotor had told her about the date (read: when she confronted him about it after snooping through his stuff and finding out about it), she’d felt kind of bad for the Druid. Storms on Bsët could get pretty nasty, and it was just a stupid flower. Big whoop.

Well, jokes on her. The Druid seemed to be loving the storm if the picture was any indication. It didn’t answer the question of ‘what the quiznak, Lotor? Why in the worlds are they are out in the storm?’ but she supposed if it made the Druid happy then whatever.

As long as Lotor was happy then she was fine. And right now, Lotor was happy if the Druid was happy… and there was no fabricating the pure emotion captured in the picture.

It was plain as day to see the emotions in his face and body. The picture had been snapped hurriedly, with the Druid – Lance – in motion, but that didn’t take away any beauty from the picture. The Dr- Lance was practically twirling through the rain, cracks of light running through the sky behind him.

His face was tilted up to the sky, and based on his expression, he was undoubtable laughing. He probably didn’t even now that a picture had been taken. Stupid photogenic people.

“He looks kinda wild here.” Zethrid commented after a moment. “I can see why Lotor’s interested.”

Ezor could also see why. There was something… enchanting about the former Blue Paladin, and this picture seemed to capture it flawlessly. She could suddenly understand how Lotor had become so enthralled.

She’d always heard about how gorgeous Alteans could be, but she’d never really understood until now.

Still, enthralled or not, she couldn’t help but to wonder when Lotor’s thing with the Druid would end. Relationships with Lotor like this never seemed to last long. Something pretty and shiny would undoubtedly catch his attention, and then he’d be chasing after it like Kova after pieces of meat that Zethrid teased the kitty with.

Although, now that she thought of it… Lotor had been ‘with’ the Druid for a while….

“How long has he been working on this one?” Zethrid might as well as been reading Ezor’s mind with her question. “And you think he’ll be tossed to the harem?”

Acxa hummed, tilting her head and bringing her hand up to her chin as she considered the question. “Longer than usual.” She replied after a while. “And I don’t think the harem is within Prince Lotor’s plans for this one.”

“He’s never trained one of them to be a Druid before.” Ezor chimed in.

Behind them, Narti flicked her tail against something, adding in her two cents on the matter, whatever it was. Kova let out a loud rumble of a purr.

Ezor pulled back up her phone with the intent of pulling up the reports and documents on the Druid, but then froze, her eyes widening at the caption she hadn’t noticed before. “Oh.” She muttered quietly. “Oh!” She repeated, gasping it louder this time.

Well… that changed things.

“What?” Zethrid huffed. “You can’t just ‘oh’ like that and not give a reason.”

Normally Ezor would continue to try to bait Zethrid until either Lotor or Acxa – the buzzkills – intervened, but she didn’t have the time, patience, or the capacity to care right now. Not with that caption.

“Harem is not in the plans!” She squeaked, clasping the communicator as she flipped it around and shoved it in Zethrid’s face. “Read, read, read!” She mini chanted, bouncing up and down so much that Zethrid couldn’t read.

“Get it out of my face!” Zethrid growled, batting Ezor’s hands – and the communicator – away. Both of them froze, staring as if in slow motion as the communicator was knocked out of Ezor’s hands and went sailing through the air.

It seemed with each heart beat the communicator flipped, and Ezor swore that her heart stopped the moment Acxa caught it.

Acxa glanced down at the screen, and Ezor saw the exact moment that Acxa noticed the caption due to Acxa’s eyebrows arching up in surprise and the small gasp of surprise.

“Oh no, if it’s got that response from Acxa, I want to know!” Zethrid demanded.

Acxa opened her mouth, shut it and took a breath before reading out the caption. “’I think I’m in love.’?”

“He thinks he’s in love!” Ezor confirmed in a squeal. She bounced, pulling her hands away from Zethrid – who only allowed it as she was in shock – and pumped her fists. “That’s. So. Adorable!”

“That’s… new.” Zethrid muttered. “Lotor doesn’t do Love.”

“Nope.” Ezor sung out, dancing around to grab her phone from Acxa. “He doesn’t.”

Zethrid was far from wrong, as a matter of fact, she was 100% correct. That was new. And unusual. Lotor didn’t usually ‘do’ love. He didn’t believe in it; at least, not like this.

He knew about ‘love’ as in the love of comrades. In his own special way, he loved his generals. After all, he let them play with Kova, or goof off. He kept sending pilots to try to get the Altean ship out of the glowing quintessence portal despite all failed attempts because he knew that made Zethrid happy. He’d even hugged Acxa when she returned from the Weblum.

And most importantly, he never yelled at Ezor much when she snooped, even if she was snooping through his things.

It was in little ways that he showed that he cared and loved his generals, but actually saying those words? Well, Ezor thought she’d never hear him say anything remotely close to that. Or, well, text it.

If he was admitting that he thought he was in ‘love’ then he must have been feeling like this for a while. Lotor didn’t just make proclamations like this, so he had to have been sitting on this for a while. Or something happened on this date which pushed him over his reservations.

Regardless, Lotor thinking he was in love explained so much, like the sheer amount of patience he was giving Lance.

He wanted this – whatever it was – to be… genuine. Well, as genuine as it could be with the Druids influencing Lance’s emotions; carefully carving out his quintessence and molding him to Lotor’s desires. Corrupting him to the ways of the Druids slowly but surely.

Lotor could say that the Druid’s feelings were genuine all-day long. And perhaps, to some degree, they were. Or at least had been. After all, the Druid’s had to start somewhere, and according to the reports, all the Druids had done was cultivate existing emotions.

But, at the end of the day, there was no denying that Lance had been influenced by outside forces, and it was possible that whatever genuine feelings he’d had in the beginning were now false, crushed under the weight and expectations of the corruption and manipulation.

But, then again…

Ezor studied the picture again, ignoring the conversation going on behind her between Acxa and Zethrid. Lance’s emotions seemed so… real in the picture. She’d even thought it earlier – there was no fabricating the emotions there.

Looking at this picture, it was easy to forget that Lance had been conditioned to be more ‘open’ to the idea of loving Lotor. That he’d been manipulated into being more… confident and sure of his abilities, that he was worth the prince’s attention and desire. That he too shared those desires.

But, she’d been studying the reports, even the ones that Lotor ignored after a customary glance. Lance had been incredibly resistant to the conditioning in the beginning to the point that Xana had to basically recondition him from the beginning and then step in and periodically reinforce said conditioning.

Although, it seemed said conditioning was finally sticking to Lance.

Perhaps then… perhaps this was real then. If anything, she hoped for Lotor’s sake that it was. That he’d been right and all Lance had needed was a nudge or twelve in the right direction.

They did look cute together.

She’d only seen them at that one date, but even then, she’d seen how Lotor had looked at Lance. And now, well… Lotor didn’t just take pictures of people like that and send them to her. And if he did, he certainly didn’t add the caption ‘I think I’m in love.’
She sighed and pulled her phone back up, staring at the caption for a moment before pushing past it. “Sooo, when are we gonna meet him? ;)”

She wasn’t expecting a response to her text, so she wasn’t too terribly bothered when she didn’t receive one.

It was still surprising that he’d texted her at all. She couldn’t imagine what must have triggered it, but if it had anything to do with that picture, then well, she could only assume Lance had done something to confirm the Prince’s feelings.

In any case, there was no way she was not going to meet Lance now. Especially since Lotor was texting things like that to her. It was just a matter of time and bothering Lotor until he allowed it.

Chapter Text

For as little as Lance cared about them, he guessed the flowers were pretty.

The blossoms were about the size of his head, and had about like 50 or more petals per flower. They kinda reminded Lance of his mother’s Dahlia flowers, except pale pink with blue veins and attached to thick vines.

True to Lotor’s words, almost immediately after the first flower bloomed, the area of greenery increased exponentially. It was gorgeous to see happen, but if Lance was honest, he still cared more about the rain.

But who could blame him?

Of all the things he missed about Earth, baring his family there, rain was one of the things that he missed the most. And finally, after who knew how long in space, he’d been able to dance around in it again.

Wow. Just thinking about it made Lance feel giddy all over again, making him grin and smile like a love drunk idiot. He supposed he might have been that too, considering what he’d done.

He’d kissed Lotor… again.

Like, he’d heard the phrase ‘I’m so happy I could kiss you’, but he’d never thought he’d act it out. Lotor had been strangely silent the entire time back to the ship, and had stared at Lance. Which would have been creepy if Lance hadn’t kissed him… twice.

And enjoyed it.

Quiznak, he’d enjoyed it. The actions themselves were from being caught up in the moment, but the relief that he’d felt after doing them wasn’t. That was real, and really, he should just stop questioning himself.

Perhaps once Lance would have been all up in knots freaking out over this, but strangely, he felt at peace. It’d felt way to natural to kiss Lotor like that, to look at him and not even think about his actions before doing them.

Romance books always talked about how being with ‘the one’ felt like puzzle pieces falling into place, and while Lance didn’t think Lotor was ‘the one’, he thought that he might understand those romance books a little more now.

Furthermore, if Lance had thought that just being physically close to Lotor solved that itch under his skin, then he was wrong. This was the least annoying it’d been since he’d first noticed it. Not to mention, that rain just seemed to have made Lance’s whole outlook brighter.

Sure, he was a little ‘under the weather’ from his dancing in the rain, but it was just a head ache and some minor sneezing. Nothing that would keep him down, and certainly nothing that some quintessence – or attention from Lotor – wouldn’t resolve.

Xana even came to visit him at one point, giving him a pointedly disappointed look before giving Lance some low stress lessons and some ‘homework’ to work on.

Although, Lance wasn’t sure if the headache was caused by the training he’d been doing with Xana or the dancing in the rain. He’d had an intense training session only a few quintants after he returned from the planet, and honestly, the two events were too close to properly determine the true cause.

Or perhaps this was a product of two events combined. Not that Lance was complaining. Being pampered by Lotor was nice.

Lotor sighed, running his hands through Lance’s hair before tsking quietly. Lance heard him inhale, and, already anticipating Lotor’s question, cut him off. “Yes, it was worth it.”

Lotor chuckled quietly in response, and Lance fell quiet, heaving a nearly silent sigh of contentment. Yes, being pampered by Lotor was nice.

So nice that it was incredibly easy for Lance to begin to drift off. Beyond the little pockets of conversation, it was quiet in the room. Not quiet like a pin could drop and one would hear it, but a comfortable quiet.

There was the soothing dull lull of the classical music that Lotor liked to listen to, the soft hum of the ship, the occasional tap on the tablet and sometimes a responding low beep, and…

“Lotor!” A female voice shouting out Lotor’s name from the doorway.

Lance was not the only one startled, as evidenced by the appearance of Lotor’s somewhat retractable claws. Thankfully, the only appeared for a moment before Lotor regained control. It would have been funny if it wasn’t mildly terrifying to feel the claws.

Now, Lance had faith that Lotor wouldn’t hurt him like that, even accidently, but even with that faith, Lance doubted he’d ever be able to feel those claws without some measure of fear. He could remind himself that he was safe with Lotor as much as he wanted but there was still that unwarranted fear.

Unwarranted because he knew that nothing would ever to happen to him with Lotor.

Regardless of how safe he felt with Lotor, combination of the claws and the unknown voice was enough to startle Lance out of his sleepy daze. Lance’s eyes shot open, his hand going to chest as if he could physically hold and calm down his erratically beating heart. He sat up, looking over the back of the couch at the doorway.

The woman standing there had her arms across over her chest, but even still Lance could see the symbol denoting who she was. While it was different, Lance still recognized the symbol there as one related to the symbol Lotor himself wore.

Given how informally she addressed Lotor, how she’d entered Lotor’s personal rooms, and the symbol on her chest, not to mention the matching colors of her armor… Lance could probably assume that this was one of Lotor’s infamous generals.

However, Lance had no clue which one. He watched her with wide eyes and then turned to look at Lotor just in time to see his eye twitch.

“Ezor.” Lotor greeted. Well, now Lance had a name for this chick. Hadn’t he heard it before?

Ezor… Ezor… Ezor… hadn’t Sonali said something about an Ezor? Sonali had warned him about the Generals, which was probably where he heard the name from… but he couldn’t quite place it. Was she the wildcard? Or the cold aloof one? Or… what had Sonali said?

Ezor gasped and Lance looked just in time to see her almost literally bounce over to them. “Is this him?” She asked, leaning over the back of the couch to peer at him. Instinctually he fell back, until he was back to using Lotor as a pillow.

Okay, so this definitely wasn’t the cold aloof one. Definitely not. But that was fine, there were enough cold and aloof people on this ship already. Besides, he should have guessed that from her appearance.

Some cold and aloof couldn’t be as colorful as Ezor.

She was colorful, in fact, that amidst the darkness of the room, it almost hurt to look at her. Her primary color seemed to be a shade of not-red, but not-pink, and possibly not-orange either… but somehow being all three colors at once. That wasn’t even including the blue, green, and yellow of her… ponytail either.

Like Lotor, the ‘whites’ of her eyes were actually yellow. Unlike Lotor, her irises were a blue green color. Lance would never admit it, but he thought that Lotor’s eyes were prettier.

She was gorgeous in a ‘this lady could probably kill Lance in 101 ways with just her pinky’ kind of way. There was something about the sharpness of her eyes and smile that set off alarms in Lance’s brain, like she could judge his soul or something.

Despite that, he thought that she and him would probably become great friends. Especially if she was always this… bubbly.

He hoped that all of Lotor’s generals were this friendly, although he somehow doubted that.

Lotor sighed. “I suppose this was bound to happen eventually.” He muttered.

Lance blinked up at him in mild confusion before he pieced it together. So Lotor’s generals, or at least this one, had wanted to meet him. That was… surprisingly expected.

Of course, they’d want to meet him and make sure he wasn’t a threat to the prince. As if to confirm that, Ezor chirped out her response. “I told you I wanted to meet him!” Ezor paused, and looked Lance over. “Poor thing doesn’t look so good though.”

“He thought dancing in the rain coupled with intense training would be a good idea.” Lotor replied, running his hand through Lance’s hair and scraping gently at his scalp. “It’s nothing some rest won’t fix.”

Lance hummed in agreement, mirroring Ezor’s hum. He watched as she shifted to sit on the back of the couch, looking down at Lance.

“I mean, he’s super cute.” She leaned down as if to study him more. “You gonna talk to me or just continue to stare?”

“Ezor. You startled him awake. Leave him be.” Lotor chided.

“Uh, thank you?” Lance replied to her comment. Normally he’d be all over a gorgeous girl – alien or not – telling him that he was super cute, but somehow, he just didn’t feel comfortable with that with her. Or maybe it was Lotor’s presence, since he was… something with the prince.

He just didn’t know what he was with Lotor. Maybe they didn’t need labels. Then again, Labels kept people in Florida from drinking Windex. Then again, neither Florida nor Windex existed out here on this ship or in space.

No offense to people in Florida or anything.

“Awh. So cute!” Ezor cooed. “I can see why Lo-”

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Lotor interrupted.

Lance pouted. He wanted to know the ending of her statement. As if knowing that she winked at him and then turned her attention back to Lotor.

“Hmm?” She furrowed her eyebrows as she contemplated the question before her eyes lit up. “Oh! Oh yeah! I came in to give you that report you asked for.” She pulled a small chip out of nowhere and waved it around some before handing it off to Lotor.

“And you couldn’t have just sent it because…?” Lotor trailed off as he put said chip into his tablet, although he didn’t open whatever was on it.

“Oh, come on. You really think I would let an opportunity to possibly meet him pass me by?” She laughed. “I’ve been trying to meet you for ages,” She informed Lance. “But Mr. Possessive won’t share.” She stuck her tongue out at Lotor.

“I share plenty with you.” Lotor replied hotly. “Perhaps more than I should if you’re going to snoop like this.”

Lance snorted quietly at their exchange. It was comforting to see that Lotor allowed this kind of behavior, even from his Generals. By now, Lance was certain that Ezor would have been sentenced to death at least three times by Zarkon.

Lotor truly was different from his father. Lance could see Lotor being a good leader to the Galra empire one day.

“Well, now that we’ve met, we could do a meal or something later?” Lance offered. “I wouldn’t mind sharing a lunch with a lady as lovely as you.” Ezor giggled into her hand while Lotor stared in mock offense at Lance’s words.

“Are you saying I’m not lovely?” Lotor retorted.

“Pluh-ease. Everyone knows I’m the lovely one between us.” Lance’s replied came partnered with a grin. “You’re the handsome one.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Lotor instantly replied. “I’m flattered.”

“You two are sickening.” Ezor complained, rolling her eyes.

“If it bothers you so much, then leave.” Lotor replied, shooting her a cool look. “That’s what you get for snooping.”

She sighed and once again rolled her eyes, this time extra dramatically. “Oh, alright.” She paused and looked back down at Lance. “We can have lunch sometime. I look forward to meeting you when you’re feeling better.” She winked, and stood.

Lance waited for the sound of the doors sliding back shut before speaking. “She seems like a handful.”

“She has her uses.” Lotor shrugged. “She’s good at what she does, and I can’t fault her for that. Although, I was hoping for a different introduction.”

Lance laughed. “Why? That was perfect. It showed me exactly how you guys are.” Lance smiled up at Lotor. “And… for the record, if that’s any indication, I think you’ll be a great emperor.”

Lotor’s hands froze in Lance’s hair and there was a certain gleam to his eyes when he looked down at Lance. “Is that so?” He half laughed. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Speaking of, any news about your dad?” Lance asked.

He hadn’t asked about Zarkon in a while and while he knew Lotor was still Emperor Pro Tem, he hadn’t heard anything further on the subject.

“Haggar is still working with him, but she cannot say when, or if, he’ll ever wake. Voltron really did a… number on him.” Lotor paused. “I used that correctly, right?”

Lance laughed and nodded. “Yeah, yeah you did.”

Some part of Lance felt like he should be guilty. After all, he’d helped put Zarkon in that coma, but on the other hand, the universe was so much better off without Zarkon. Lotor was 100 times the better emperor.

Lotor was great with the planets he ‘captured’ in the name of the Galra, allowing them to keep their identity while still integrating them into the Empire.

Lotor’s idea of government was kind of like the United States, in a way. The Galra empire was DC/Washington, and each of the planets Lotor captured was a state. Those planets were allowed to keep their identity, their culture, their government. They just had to listen to Lotor every so often.¹

But at the same time… that guilt wouldn’t be silenced. The universe may have been better without Zarkon, but he was still Lotor’s father. Lance had been responsible for putting his… for putting Lotor’s father in a coma.

And although Lotor didn’t seem to really care – there was no love lost between Lotor and Zarkon – it didn’t change the fact that Lotor was still Zarkon’s son, and Lance was… still partially responsible for what happened.

“Don’t worry about him.” Lotor soothed Lance. “Haggar will see to him, and should I ever be so lucky that he never wakes, then all the better.” Lotor stroked Lance’s face. “The universe doesn’t need him or Haggar when it has me and you.”

Lance smiled thinly in return, leaning into Lotor’s touch. The guilt grew, changing into bile that soured Lance’s mouth. He thought to his tablet, rife with information that he’d stockpiled for his own purposes or to give to the resistance.

Right. The universe didn’t need Zarkon or Haggar when it had Lotor and Lance. Except Lance was betraying Lotor.

“You seem troubled by my words.” Lotor commented.

Lance smiled tightly again, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.” He started before sighing. “I just don’t feel like I’m up to the task of taking up Haggar’s mantle yet.”

Like so much he’d said to Lotor, it wasn’t exactly a lie. For all the leaps and bounds he’d made in his Druid training, he didn’t have anywhere near the amount of experience as Haggar. In a fight between them, there was no doubt in his mind that she’d win.

“I have faith in you.” Lotor replied. “I know you won’t fail me.” He played with Lance’s hair, looking off in the distance. He paused suddenly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly before he looked down at Lance.

Lance blinked up at Lotor, his mind a blur as he tried to figure out why Lotor was giving him such an intense look. “Lotor?” He asked after a moment.

Lotor blinked and looked away, and it may have been the lighting, but Lance thought he appeared to be a bit darker than normal, like he hadn’t meant to just stare at Lance for so long. Or to be caught doing it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lance asked.

“Not now, pet.” Lotor resumed playing with Lance’s hair. “Perhaps another time.”

It sorta irked Lance that Lotor wasn’t sharing, but he supposed that the prince was entitled to his own secrets. It wasn’t like he had to share everything with Lance.

That didn’t stop Lance from sighing extra dramatically and rolling his eyes. “Fine.” He dragged out the word as he spoke. “Keep your secrets.”

“It won’t be for long.” Lotor promised. “I just need to work out some things…” He trailed off, his eyes going distant.

Lance rolled his eyes again, this time a lot less dramatically. “Alright, alright. Like I said, keep your secrets.”

“Keeping my secrets is what’s kept me safe all these years. It’s a hard habit to break.” Lotor sighed. “Just give me some time, pet. The only thing I can tell you now is that these plans fall outside the Empire.”

Outside the Empire? Well, at least Lotor’s plans weren’t just the cliché ‘take over the Empire and rule it’ plans that most sons of evil Emperors tended to have. But, Lotor’s use to words did intrigue Lance. Zarkon ruled most of the known universe.

What could Lotor have been planning that it fell outside of the Empire?

He felt like he should try to pry, but he was lucky he’d gotten what he had from the prince. If Lotor wasn’t ready to share, then he wouldn’t. Besides, if he pried too much, then it was doubtful Lotor would tell him anything at all in the future.

“I trust you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” Lotor’s eyes lit up the moment Lance spoke. Lance mentally sighed, preparing himself for what he knew he’d just triggered. Ugh. But, he couldn’t be too bitter since he had no one to blame but himself for the question that he knew would follow his statement.

“You trust me?” Lotor teased, referencing Lance’s hatred of that question and word. Lance groaned, once again dramatically rolling his eyes.

“Rude. You’re rude, and I hate you.”

Lotor laughed and shook his head. “You don’t.” He countered. “but thank you.” His tone was considerably softer when he spoke, and when Lance looked up at him, the strange gentle look from the date was in Lotor’s gaze.

Just seeing that look, and seeing it being directed at him was enough to send his heart and stomach on a roller coaster ride.

He didn’t deserve to be looked at like that. Not when he was betraying Lotor. The guilt was eating him up inside, and the only defense he had against it was the continued belief that he wasn’t betraying Lotor so much as Zarkon and Zarkon’s empire.

Well, that and focusing on other things than his guilt. Like the ‘thank you’.

There wasn’t much that Lotor could be thanking Lance for. Dropping the subject? Trusting Lotor on it? He wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t like Lotor gave him much time to respond before he was speaking again. “You should rest some more.”

Lance wasn’t really all that tired anymore, but he knew that Lotor was right. Besides, it gave him the perfect opportunity to just… he didn’t know, ignore the softness and gentleness? Ignore the thanks and appreciation? Just slip right past the awkwardness Lance felt in his very bones?

“Yeah, alright.”

Chapter Text

Lance hated to admit it, but… he secretly kind of liked it when Lotor stared at him. There was something comforting in the way that Lance always seemed to have some degree of the prince’s attention.

But there were times when it was annoying. No. That wasn’t the right word. Distracting sounded more correct, and with what Lance was doing, distractions could be deadly.

As if to prove this point, the ball of concentrated quintessence that he’d been working on…‘wobbled’ for lack of a better term. Lance narrowed his eyes, rotating his hands as he fought against it to keep it compressed before safely dispelling the ball of quintessence and allowing it to dissipate into the air.

It was interesting how in its concentrated form, quintessence could be seen, even by those with low quintessence awareness.

The quintessence released, he turned his attention to the prince, huffing quietly when Lotor didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he’d been staring. As a matter of fact, he seemed to confirm it, the corners of his lips tugging upwards into a smirk.

“Yes?” There was a minor bite to his words as he spoke, but it’s source was only minor annoyance. He’d promised Xana he’d be a pro at this by their next class, and that meant Lance needed to practice. As if reacting to his annoyance, he could feel quintessence energy spark between his fingers.

In response, he curled his hand into a fist, tightening down on his mental control on the quintessence inside him.

“Admiring the view.” It felt like Lotor was contemplating a piece of fine art as he looked at Lance. Which, okay, yeah, Lance kinda was a piece of art; but still.

“Oh?” Lance arched an eyebrow. “And a penny for your thoughts on it?”

“You don’t have a penny.” Lotor teased. “But I was thinking about how much you’ve grown here.” Lotor shifted, picking his head up off his fist so he could lean forward and touch Lance’s face. Lance closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh as Lotor’s thumb brushed over his scales.

If he focused, he could still feel slimy stickiness under the current of warmth, but he didn’t want to focus. He just wanted to enjoy the warmth of Lotor’s affection. Lotor was always so safe and warm, and Lance loved it.

Why had he ever thought fighting against Lotor, or what was there between them, was a good idea, he’d never know.

“It seems like it’s been so long since you were a timid little thing, hiding away in my bathroom,” Lance opened his eyes when Lotor continued on. “Terrified of the world those who would dare to hurt you.”

“It wasn’t that long ago.” Lance replied quietly. “I’m still…”

“You’re more than that now.” Lotor cut him off. “You’ve progressed faster than any other Druid. That’s an accomplishment you should be proud of.” He paused, and when Lance looked up at him through his lashes, he could see Lotor smiling. “I’m proud of you.”

Lance would be lying if he said that those words didn’t send his heart into a frenzy of palpations. Each frantic beat echoed in his ears like drums. Lance swallowed thickly and adverted his gaze.

Lotor’s hand dropped away, and Lance immediately missed it.

“Also, I like watching you. There’s something… graceful about how you manipulate quintessence.”

“I manipulate it just like anyone else.” Lance playfully rolled his eyes, laughter in his voice as he shook his head. “There’s nothing ‘graceful’ about it.”

“I think everything about you is graceful. Even when you fall over the couch at some ungodly varga in the morning.” Lotor teased.

“That’s rude.” Lance wrinkled his nose. “Super rude. Rude AF. I’m so offended right now, you don’t even know.”

Lotor snorted, rolling his eyes as he leaned back to settle into his seat. His gaze was still warm and thoughtful on Lance, making Lance’s stomach twist with every tick. He knew that look. He knew what it meant, and the anticipation was killing him.

He’d been on a few dates with Lotor since the one where he’d danced in the rain. He’d shared a few more kisses with Lotor too. The guilt once associated to the action had all but vanished by now, leaving instead fuzzy warm thoughts, which, if left unattended, tended to turn a bit more heated and steamy.

Not that Lance would act out on those. Not yet, anyways.

He’d indulged once, under the influence, while on that planet with the rain, and he didn’t intend to indulge again until he was certain that Lotor wasn’t going to just discard him once he put out. Not that he thought Lotor would do that, but… well, it was better to be safe than sorry. And thus far, Lotor seemed to understand and respect that.

Lance couldn’t have been more pleased.

Besides, he didn’t feel comfortable sleeping with Lotor when he was betraying him. Just because his relationship with the Prince had changed, didn’t mean that Lance wasn’t still spying.

Just a quintant ago he’d talked with Matt through Sonali’s communication device – a rare event – and had been asked to see if he could either find out more information on Project Robeast or any other classified but high-profile project like the Kumar.

It was doubtful Lance would be assigned to either anytime soon, but he’d promised to do what he could.

The Resistance was having to clean up Voltron’s messes, and evidently, they’d been leaving a grid lock of robeasts in their wake. Which was worrisome. Why weren’t they taking care of…

Lance winced, a sharp stab of pain cutting across his thoughts. Stupid ice pick headaches. He’d been low key wondering when it was going to kick in. They often did after he’d been practicing quintessence manipulation.

Lotor moved almost immediately, getting up and moving so he was closer to Lance, placing a hand under Lance’s chin to tilt his head up so Lotor could look at him.

Xana assured him that it was natural for Lance to get them, considering Lance’s quick progression. And Lance was progressing quickly. Lotor hadn’t just been flattering Lance when he said that no Druid had progressed as quickly as Lance had.

And it seemed that Lance was only getting better and better. Quick speed might not have been Lance’s forte, but quintessence manipulation evidently was. He was picking it up like a fish picked up swimming.

Lotor had been correct so long ago when he said that just a little bit of spite was great motivation. Especially since in terms of quintessence manipulation, Lance had already surpassed Xana’s expectations.

Just like he had with his quintessence awareness.

Xana had a few theories on why this was. The first theory was that it could have been due to Lance’s base quintessence.

After all, different bases meant that some abilities would be more difficult, and others would come with more ease. Xana himself was a great example for this. As a yellow base, utilizing the ‘extreme speed’ talent was something that never came easily for him, much like how it wasn’t really Lance’s thing either.

The second theory was that it had to do something with the fact Lance was an ex-Paladin of Voltron.

The Lions had a greater view of quintessence, which helped them choose their Paladins.

Xana believed that the Lion’s ability may have somehow enhanced Lance’s own ability. Which, to some degree, made sense. The Druids were still unsure of what affects piloting a Lion of Voltron could have on a person’s quintessence.

But Lance didn’t think that theory had anything to do with his ability to see quintessence. He’d been able to see quintessence as a child, and that was well before he’d met Blue. If Blue had influenced anything, it was his quintessence manipulation, and even that Lance was loath to associate to her.

Besides, they had a living example of the first theory in Xana and ‘extreme speed’. Also, Xana couldn’t tell Lance much about the last blue based Druid, Lance’s mother; so, there wasn’t exactly a precedent for Lance.

As for Blue, Lance could still connect with her. She still showed up, every so often in his astral projection, although neither of them were ever able to do much about the corruption anymore.

It hurt Lance to see her there, to watch her as she tried to make her way to him with the sludge slowing her down, and the corruption smeared across her body. He tried to clean her when he could, but as corrupted as he himself was getting, there wasn’t much he could do.

Although, lately, Blue had been returning to him cleansed and clean. The last that had happened he’d begged her to leave him. She was free, and he wasn’t. She’d snarled at him about him being hers, and tried to dig him out.

A few times she’d tried to cleanse him. But, at this point, Lance had given up on the corruption. Trying to keep the corruption out was like trying to sweep the outside during a dust storm.

It just wasn’t going to happen.

Besides, Lance didn’t mind the corruption so much anymore. Especially since he’d figured out how to manipulate it in the astral plane. It was no longer controlling him. He was controlling it.

The only thing he didn’t love about his progress as a Druid was the headaches. Seeing ‘auras’ or people’s quintessence was hard on Lance’s eyes, which helped start them. Manipulating quintessence was a headache in and of itself. Which brought him back to here, with Lotor looking him over.

“Another headache?” Lotor’s question was spoken quietly, barely above a whisper just in case the sound hurt Lance.

“Mm, nothing bad.” He was thankful for the dim lighting. Bright light was almost never pleasant when paired with a headache, nor were loud noises – to which he was thankful to Lotor and his consideration to not speak loudly.

“Have you spoken to Xana about it?” Lotor asked as he shifted to cup Lance’s face and rub small little circles into Lance’s scales. Almost instantly the warmth of Lotor’s affection and concern flooded him, making him sag into Lotor’s hold with a sigh.

Lance’s eyes fluttered shut as he basked in the warmth running through him, letting it push away the pain of his headaches and replace it with the mental equivalent of sunshine.

How in the world could he had ever once feared Lotor hurting him? Despite the strong undercurrent of slimy possession – or maybe it was obsession? – Lotor’s feelings were so very safe and warm. Lance could bask in them all day; he didn’t even mind the slimy undertone anymore.

A spark of amusement filtered through the connection, and Lance peeked open an eye to give Lotor a look before he remembered Lotor asking him a question.

Oops. His bad.

“He said it was natural.” Lance muttered. “Cuz of how fast I’m progressing.”

“You’re very talented.” There was a surge of pride which Lance both heard and felt, and he flushed, surprised at how strong it was. He pulled away from Lotor’s hands with wide eyes, and then ignored Lotor’s amused chuckles.

“Sometimes I forget how… modest you are.” Lotor’s laughter died down as his spoke, his eyes growing distant as his smile faded into something bitter. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Lotor didn’t need to continue speaking for Lance to understand were his thoughts were going. It wasn’t Lotor who was lucky to have Lance, but Lance who was lucky to have Lotor. He was thankful that Lotor had found him, and helped him.

For as much as he talked, words in situations like this weren’t usually his forte, so he resorted to actions. He leaned forward again, just barely brushing his lips over Lotor’s cheek. The prince hummed, his hand finding Lance’s and loosely holding it, only squeezing briefly when Lance pulled away.

“I should be thanking you.” Lance’s voice was tender as he spoke, as soft and gentle as the kiss he’d just given Lotor. When he looked up at Lotor, he was pleased to note the ever-so-slightly darker shade of purple against the Prince’s cheeks and upper ears.

Lotor hesitated for a tick before chasing after Lance, pressing an equally gentle kiss against Lance’s lips. He moved slowly, as if to give Lance time to turn his head away if he wanted. Lance appreciated that Lotor offered him that silent choice, although he never took it.

Lotor almost always kissed him like that, unless Lance had been the one to initiate it. Like Lance was fragile glass who’d be broken at the first touch. Like Lance was delicate. Like he was something… special.

His lips curved upwards into a smile, pressing a bit closer as he closed his eyes. A small breathless sigh parted his lips just slightly, and he moved them against Lotor’s, inviting the Prince to deepen the kiss if he so desired.

A hand cupped the side of Lance’s face, the palm hot against his cheek. Lotor didn’t take the invitation, instead pulling away just so he could press his forehead to Lance’s.

Lotor’s eyes were usually so focused and intense, but now they were soft and kind. Still intense, but in a different way than they usually were.

“You’re beautiful.” Lotor’s voice was breathless and quiet, like a thought not meant to be heard. But Lance heard it, and his face heated up even as his smile grew. He ducked his head, pulling away easily from Lotor.

“You were gonna ask me something?” Lance prompted, still looking down to avoid looking at Lotor. Despite Lotor’s responding laughter being warm, it sent shivers down Lance’s spine.

Lotor took Lance’s hands, holding them loosely. “I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me to the gardens later today?”

Lance bit his lip, looking up at the prince from under his lashes. His hesitation crumbled at the hopeful look on the Prince’s face, and really, who was Lance to say no? It wasn’t like he had a reason to say no, and besides, the past couple dates with Lotor had been nothing short of pleasant.

“I’d love to.” Lance replied. Lotor’s smile might as well as been a sun for how brightly it shone. He pulled Lance’s hands to his face and kissed his knuckles before dropping them.

“Thank you.” Lance flushed, looking away yet again. His face felt hot, and he just knew he was blushing. “I’ll pick you up after your lessons.”

Lotor touched Lance’s chin, turning his face upwards so he could press a chaste kiss to Lance’s cheek. “I’ll go ahead and get things ready.” He muttered. “I’ll see you later.”

He pulled away from Lance, and Lance watched him leave. Sonali entered just a few short ticks later, and Lance got the distinct impression that they were eyeing him, judging him. He scowled. “What?”

Sonali looked away with a short quiet sigh. “Nothing.”

Lance narrowed his eyes, studying the guard for a moment before turning away. He switched to his other vision, biting back the hiss at the brief stab of pain it caused him and looked around to verify that there were no invisible eavesdroppers lurking around.

Speaking of the invisible eavesdropper… Lance ought to check when his next movie night with her was. She’d taken to ‘kidnapping’ him occasionally for some ‘bonding’ time. It wasn’t really all that bad, since she was pretty cool to talk with.

Hands down, Ezor was Lance’s favorite general. Although her ability to turn invisible made things a bit difficult for him and Sonali.

“Anything interesting today?” Lance asked once he was sure the coast was clear. He was referring to the Resistance, a fact the both of them knew about. Sometimes Matt recorded little holovids asking for specifics in some of the information Lance fed them.

He didn’t have much interaction with Matt, but he had enough to stop thinking of him as the Green Paladins brother, and instead as his own entity.

Some part of Lance hoped that Matt would never find out about the Green Paladin. There was no way that Matt wouldn’t be loyal to his family, and to be honest, Lance didn’t want to deal with the fallout after he helped Lotor destroy team Voltron.

He smiled at the thought of them on their knees before him, finally realizing the mistake that they made in abandoning him. In ignoring him. In mistreating him. He’d show them all, and he’d make sure that the last thing any of them saw was him.

“No.” Sonali sounded tired. They wouldn’t say what was going on, but the little bit he’d managed to get, something had happened during the last transfer of guards. He didn’t know what that something was, but it’d had Sonali on edge. If he were to hazard a guess, then he’d assume that a resistance member was transferred away, someone they didn’t like had been transferred in, or they’d received bad news.

Not that Lance was supposed to know anything about that. He was supposed to only think that there was Sonali and no one else. Or something like that.

He picked up his personal tablet – a gift from Lotor – and scrolled through his schedule to double check when his date with Lotor would be, and to check his movie night with Ezor. “They were wanting more information on Project Crystal.”

Lance paused, pursing his lips at the mention of the abandoned project. “Why?” He turned around to look at Sonali. “The project’s been abandoned. It was found to be unserviceable to the Empire.”

“They wanted to know how the Druids would graft Balmerian crystals into a creature.” Sonali replied, shifting uneasily. “And why exactly the project was abandoned.”

“It was abandoned because it wasn’t working.” The ‘duh’ in Lance’s statement wasn’t said, but even Sonali should have been able to pick up on it. “I don’t know how they were grafting the crystals, the reports don’t go that much into detail. But none of the experiments survived.” Lance shook his head. “They were going about it entirely the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Drazil.” Lance replied, pulling up the image of the Robeast and displaying it to Sonali. “This fucker right here.” He pointed at it for good measure. “It became infused with Balmerian crystals after the Balmera attempted to kill and imprison it.” Lance shrugged. “It went from difficult to kill to damn near impossible.”

“So, the project was a success?” Sonali gasped. “Lance, this shou-”

“It was a failure, technically.” Lance interrupted. “Project Crystal was designed to create fake Balmeras, not… whatever Drazil became.” Lance closed the image. “And as far as I know, the Druids aren’t aware of the fate of that Robeast after it’s imprisonment.”

“What about the Kumar project? You said you were going to try to get more info on it.” Sonali prompted.

“Not much to add there.” Lance replied. “The Kumar still isn’t operational, and won’t be until Haggar assigns new Druids of the Four Directions and trains them on the project. Even then there’s a likely chance of there being differences due to the different balances in base quintessence that will have to be accounted for.”

Lance paused, and then looked at Sonali. “And before you can ask, because I know you’re gonna… no I don’t know when Haggar will assign new disciples. Or who they will be. It’s a popular rumor that Xana will be chosen, but I’ve heard Petyr is a possible candidate as well.”

Sonali hummed, pacing a bit as they took in this information. “And that’s it?”

Lance narrowed his eyes at them again, leaning back against the table. “You want more?”

“Anything you can give us on the Robeasts.”

“I’m not able to access that classified of a project yet.” Lance replied coolly. He scrolled through his tablet, pausing at one particular document. He scanned it over before looking back up at Sonali and half shrugging. “I don’t have anything else. I haven’t seen anything more about weapons or people trading beyond what I’ve already given you, and I don’t think you want repeat info, do you?”

Sonali shook their head. “Of course not.” They sighed. “But if you recall something, let me know, alright?”

“Of course.” Lance smiled thinly and deleted the document he’d saved about the prisoner transport ship heading for a Druid base in the Ulippa System. As much as he wanted to help those people out, he’d given the Resistance too much information and he had to be careful.

He was walking a thin line lately. If he shared too much, then the Galra would suspect a spy. If he didn’t share enough then the Resistance would think that he turned. He wouldn’t be able to help anyone if he was dead.

Not that he thought Lotor would kill Lance. If anything, they’d stop his lessons and throw him into the Harem where he couldn’t do any further harm. But, if he was caught, then it was doubtful that Sonali would escape.

Regardless of how it went down, Sonali would be impacted, and honestly, given how tired they seemed lately, Lance didn’t want to make their life more miserable than it already was.

Chapter Text

Lance frowned as he swirled the straw around the oddly bright and colorful drink Ezor had provided him. Its texture was something like a mixture between a milkshake and a slushie, or maybe a smoothie? Whatever it was, it smelt like it could rot his teeth if he smelled it long enough.

“It’s not gonna kill you, silly.” Ezor chirped from beside him. “Try it! You might like it.”

“Or he’ll be normal and sane, like us, and hate it.” Acxa argued from across the table. She stirred her own drink – a dull red thing that looked like the stuff Lotor drank only in a slushie form.

“Lotor said that he likes sweet things!” Ezor protested. “And you weren’t invited anyways. Go away.”

“I’m making sure you don’t kill him with that poison.” Acxa replied, pointedly looking at the colorful banded cold drink in Lance’s hands. “Prince Lotor doesn’t even like it, and you know how much he loves Seksi.”

“Lotor’s a wet blanket.” Ezor paused, scrunching up her nose at what she just said. Likewise, Acxa’s lips turned downwards and her whole body seemed to twitch. “Did I use that correctly?” Ezor asked Lance. “It doesn’t sound like I did. It sounds kinda gross.”

Lance rolled his eyes, shaking his head fondly. “You used it right.” He informed her.

Ezor cheered, sticking her tongue out at Acxa. “See! I told you I was using it correctly!”

“Doesn’t make it any less insanitary.” Acxa replied.

“Well, maybe if you spent more time with Lance….” Ezor trailed off, giving Acxa a meaningful look.

“I only just met her Ezor, chill.” Lance laughed, putting the questionable drink on the table to pat the air in the ‘chill’ motion.

As a matter of fact, this lunch was his first meeting with Acxa ever. He knew about her from Ezor, who was a chatterbox when it came to stories about the others and Lotor but he had yet to meet any of the other Generals until now.

His impression of Acxa was much the same as it was with Ezor, except for the whole ‘color’ thing. He was still about 100% sure that Acxa could kill him 101 ways with just her pinkie. Probably without trying either. And based off what he’d heard about Narti and Zethrid, he was sure they were probably the same.

“Fine.” Ezor crossed her arms almost like she was pouting but she was still giving Acxa a look. Lance sighed, feeling a bit like a parent trying to get his children to behave. Man, was this how Lotor felt when managing his generals? If so, no wonder he kept tossing them off on missions to keep them busy.

Also, no wonder Lotor always seemed so stressed. Maybe Lance could braid his hair later and give him a manicure? That usually helped him de-stress.

“Lance!” Ezor cried out a moment later. “You didn’t try the drink!” Her hands went to her cheeks as her gaze shifted between Lance and the drink in rapid succession.

Lance sighed, picking the drink back up and moving to take a sip of it only to pause when Acxa spoke.

“I wouldn’t.” Acxa advised. “Her mother species lives off Ylik and fruit. Unless you want your teeth to rot, I wouldn’t suggest drinking that.” Right… Lance didn’t know what ‘Ylik’ was, and based on the name he didn’t want to.

“Oh, shut your quiznak!” Ezor snarled.

Acxa froze, her mouth dropping open as pure undulated horror overcame her features. “Ecxuse. Me?” She growled out a few ticks later.

“I learned it from Lance!” Ezor quickly said, throwing her hands out at Lance and turning invisible like that’d save her from Acxa’s fury. Like, yeah, sure, okay. Throw Lance under the bus for that, he didn’t care.

…

Whelp, if there was one thing he’d learned from his family, it was that if he didn’t want to talk then he’d better fill his mouth.

Acxa’s murderous gaze turned on him just as he put the straw in his mouth and sucked. Acxa’s expression mirrored Veron Dursley’s from the first Harry Potter book, except in reverse. She went from murderous rage back to horrified in less than a tick.

“Huh. I’ve never seen her turn that color before.” Ezor commented idly from somewhere behind him. The coward was probably using him as a shield.

Lance hummed, swirling the mixture around in his mouth before swallowing. He licked his lips, considered the taste, and then took another sip out of the straw.

It wasn’t exactly a tropical smoothie – the texture was too… blocky and icy for that – but it wasn’t a slushie either. And the taste was just off for lack of better word. He could taste the Seksi fruit in it, along with something that tasted vaguely of mango, pineapple, banana, and maybe apple.

Yet despite all those flavors, it still tasted kind of bitter. Like he was drinking a sugar-free lemonade with hints of those other fruits.

Acxa physically flinched, leaning back away from Lance. He couldn’t really tell, but he thought she look a bit green. “Prince Lotor was right to keep you two separated.” She hissed.

“Needs more sugar.” Lance muttered as he stirred the drink again, frowning down at it. “The fruit’s too bitter.”

“Sugar?” Ezor asked.

“Yep.” Lance popped the ‘p’ and took another sip of the drink. “It’s a sweetener.”

“Oh!” Ezor crowed. A bowl drifted down in front of him, courtesy of his invisible friend. He peered inside it at the light blue powdered substance. “Ylik!” Ezor informed him cheerfully. “Narti loves this stuff.”

Lance looked at the drink, looked at the bowl, and then at the spoon in the bowl before shrugging, picking up the bowl, and pouring it inside while stirring with the straw.

He took another sip once he’d finished, and hummed thoughtfully. “Much better.” Well, Acxa definitely looked a bit more on the greener side now. Interesting.

“You might as well as just be drinking liquified Ylik.” She muttered, aghast.

Lance shrugged and took another sip. “Tastes like home. Man, I bet that Ylik would make some awesome cotton candy.”

“Cotton candy?” Both Ezor and Acxa asked, abet with completely different tones.

“Mmm, yeah. Air spun sugar. It’s basically that stuff spun around super-fast so it turns fluffy and then you eat it.”

Ezor reappeared at his side, and Lance swore he could see stars in her eyes. “Tell me more!” She demanded, taking a seat.

“You’re both demented and crazy.” Acxa muttered.

Chapter Text

Lance had the feeling that he was nearing towards the end of his training with Xana. It wasn’t that Xana had said anything about it, but it was just something Lance had realized after the sudden increase in difficulty. Things always got harder right before they were done.

It was always darkest before the dawn.

Some trainings weren’t so bad. Lance walked away from them feeling… energized yet tired at the same time. Other trainings were so bad that Lance would wake up in Lotor’s bed, his body stiff and his mind sluggish as he barely recalled the previous quintant’s events.

But those times were fading, becoming less and less common as the quintants passed.

Lotor helped when he could. He comforted Lance after those rare trainings, allowing Lance to braid his hair, or to use his lap as a pillow while Lotor carded his hands through his hair and massaged his scalp. A few times Lotor had even drawn a bath for Lance, adding some of Lance’s favorite bath bombs which turned the bath into a shimmering shinning golden color; like he was bathing in liquid gold.

Lance always emerged from those baths feeling like he was absolutely glowing, and the shimmering shine of the glitter which clung to his skin and hair only helped reinforce that.

There were other benefits to the comfort as well, seeing as Lotor took this time to look over reports. Surprisingly, the soft classical music Lotor preferred to listen to was soothing to the headaches. If it was a lap-pillow kinda day, then if Lance was up for it, then sometimes he could glean bits of information.

Rarely, Ezor would show up to watch a movie with Lance, or take him out for a lunch in the gardens, citing Lotor’s inability to escape whatever princely meeting he was attending at the time. Even more rare was the random occurrences of Zethrid, Acxa, or Narti and Kova.

It was enlightening to see each of the different Generals in ways that he suspected that none besides Lotor and themselves had seen. For example, Zethrid was an artist. For as much as she loved to destroy, she had talent with creating works of art – although her topic was usually explosions.

Acxa apparently did more paperwork than Lotor, but she enjoyed showing Lance the star charts that she’d made herself of uncharted areas where she and the others had gone. And while Lance couldn’t say much of Narti, Kova was the softest quiznaking thing in the universe and it totally had some weird Jedi mind purr powers that just put Lance right to sleep.

But this quintant was not one of those quintants where Lance spent time with the various generals; nor was it a day where Lance needed comfort and attention from the Prince.

He’d been on a date with Lotor just a few quintants prior, and had seen a movie with Ezor the quintant before yester-quintant. His lessons hadn’t been too tough on him, but this was a free day for him. And he was intending to spend it exactly as such.

Which meant he was sprawled out on the couch, lazily watching holographic images display across Lotor’s ceiling in a way that was supposed to emulate trees. His hand lit up briefly with quintessence energy as he used his powers to make the holographic display ‘skip’ to the next design.

“You seem to favor this one.” Lotor muttered as the colors in the room changed to a cooler shade, the holographic designs now displaying patterns and ripples similar to what water reflection from the sun looked like.

“It’s calming.” Lance replied.

He’d been so irritated when Lotor had first showed him this that he hadn’t been shown it earlier. Irritated to the point that Lotor had granted him control over it just about anytime he wanted now.

It hadn’t taken Lance long to figure out how to ‘hack’ it with quintessence, although poor Lotor had to use an application on his tablet or a remote.

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence, Lotor’s hand occasionally drifting down to languidly pet Lance’s hair as he read through his reports. After a while, Lotor broke the silence with a familiar, common question.

“Penny for your thoughts, Lance?”

Lance hummed, tilting his head back to look up at the prince through half lidded eyes. “Maybe if you had one.”

“Oh?” Lotor questioned, arching an eyebrow as he looked down at Lance. He put the tablet down on the table near them, and turned his full attention to Lance. “How about something worth more?”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” There were tons of things worth more than a penny that Lotor could give Lance, so it didn’t really give away any hints. Gifts were just a perk of whatever he had with Lotor.

Lance wouldn’t quite call it a relationship, and he definitely wouldn’t introduce Lotor as his boyfriend or anything, but… they were something. His mind drifted back to Bsët, where the line had been blurred and possibly crossed.

They might have been considered… lovers there, if Lance believed that Lotor knew of love. He wasn’t a fool to think he could be the one to teach the Prince, but… there was something appealing about the idea.

Not that Lance could ever properly return that love. For as good as Lotor was to Lance, Lance could never be that good back to him. Not so long as he was betraying the Empire, and, by extension, Lotor.

“I was thinking,” Lotor started his reply. His eyes slid from Lance’s face, and his hand trailed along Lance’s neck to play with the loose jewel hanging from the choker. “Something shiny to match this?”

Lance’s breath was caught at the movement and the feeling of the tips of Lotor’s claws barely scratching against his bared neck. He swallowed thickly and hesitated less than one tick before he was grinning and tilting his head back further to allow Lotor more room.

Something shiny to match his necklace, huh? Well, that could be any number of things, but that at least lowered the options down to jewelry. Lance could work with that.

He’d look really good in some earrings, but his ears weren’t pierced. Unless Lotor decided to help Lance out with that, earrings were unfortunately out. Rings as well, since Druids used their hands with quintessence a lot.

A bracelet wouldn’t be bad. Or an armlet. An anklet wouldn’t work well with his boots… so it was probably a bracelet or an armlet.

Neither of which would bother Lance. He used to wear bracelets and jewelry all the time from his younger relatives. He could pull off just about any style bracelet or armlet, no problem.

Regardless of what he was given, the only thing Lance could be absolutely sure of was that it’d have a Balmerian crystal on it. Not that that bothered Lance either. He hadn’t been affected adversely by the necklace he was wearing, so clearly it was safe for him to have more.

“And here I was,” Lance purred, “thinking about how good you treat me.”

Lotor’s responding quiet bark of laughter was like hearing audible sunlight. “Is that so?” He questioned. Lance nodded, humming as Lotor’s fingers trailed up and down his neck, claws ever so gently scraping against his skin.

“Good to know I’m treating you right.” Lotor continued to speak. Lance hummed in agreement again. Yes. Lotor was treating Lance right. Certainly better than how Lance had been treated at the hands of the Paladins of Voltron.

Lotor’s hand skimmed up, ghosting over Lance’s face to briefly touch his scales before sliding down to the tips of Lance’s ears. “Have you considered piercing these?” He asked.

“Thought about it once, but… it never worked out.” Lance half shrugged. He’d wanted to go to space, and his best bet of that had been the Galaxy Garrison. He’d been limited to what he could do there.

Also, Lotor was losing his touch. That question practically screamed to Lance that he was going to get earrings. “You gonna get me earrings?” Lance asked, grinning as he shifted to sit up. Lotor allowed the movement, pulling his hands away.

“It was a consideration, yes.” Lotor titled his head in a short-lived nod of agreement. “I thought a pair or two may look good on you.” He paused, as if to consider his words. “Then again, I believe just about anything would.”

Lance chuckled awkwardly at the admission, twisting around so he was on his knees on the couch facing Lotor. “You spoil me.” Lance accused, pointing his finger and poking Lotor in the chest.

“Am I not supposed to?” Lotor returned. “You deserve it, but if it bothers you so… how about a movie tonight?”

Lance’s eyes lit up at the prospect. The last movie he’d seen with Ezor had a trailer to something that he was absolutely dying to watch. Specifically, he was dying to watch it with Lotor, if only to see his reactions.

“My choice?”

“You have a preference?” Lotor asked, before shrugging. “No matter. If you want to see something, I’ll do my best to obtain it. What movie?”

“Battle for the Stars: Return of Altea.” Lance announced. “I heard they made Allura extra hideous… and I just have to see this.”

Lotor’s smile faded to a neutral frown at the mention of the movie, his eyes narrowing briefly before he nodded. “I wasn’t aware you were familiar with the cartoon.” Lotor commented.

“Last season I watched was Battle for the Stars: Curse of Altea. Man, I was soooo hooked that I’d beg my boss to let me off so I could watch it.”

Lotor hummed. “If it means that much to you, then of course. That’s the live action movie that just came out, right?”

“Sure is.” Lance nodded.

“Then we can watch it after dinner.”

Lance’s face cracked into a giant smile, and he pressed a quick kiss against Lotor’s lips. “Thank you.” He whispered as he pulled away.

Lotor’s eyes were smoldering, and his hands flexed, curling into a fist for a tick before relaxing. The returning smile was tight; not that Lance thought anything of this. Lotor was weird sometimes after Lance kissed him, although he suspected it was because Lotor wanted more kisses.

“I…” Lotor cleared his throat. “I’ll be back. I need to locate that movie.” He stood, a bit too stiffly, and quickly retreated. Lance snorted quietly, shaking his head. For as smooth as Lotor could be sometimes, the poor prince could easily turn into an awkward turtle at the strangest of things.

What Lance would give to be able to read Lotor’s thoughts sometimes and see what he was thinking of.

Whatever. Lance flopped back down on the couch, already missing Lotor’s warmth and attention. But… hey, movie night. And if there was one thing Lance knew about movie nights, it was that they made the best for snuggling and cuddling.

Sonali entered the room not long after, sighing as they walked over to look down at Lance. “You’re a mess.” They informed him.

“A hot mess.” Lance replied, stretching out.

“Debatable.” Sonali rested their hands on their hips, frowning down at him. At his lack of response, they sighed, heading back over to the door and leaning against the wall, crossing their arms.

Lance flipped over to his stomach, grabbing his tablet off the table as he did so and turning it on to check through the archives for anything interesting. He skimmed over the quintessence manipulation and elemental reports that he’d saved, and instead paused at another report of prisoners being sent to Ulippa.

Something about Project Kuron, although that was all that Lance could find about it. He frowned, and deleted that report from his tablet before locking it and sitting up.

He had a few vargas to go until the dinner and movie, but… he supposed he could go ahead and set up some things, like cleaning up the movie area, and getting ready for the date.

The movie area, aka, Lotor’s library area, had a pulldown screen where a movie could be projected. Which would have been nice if Lance didn’t leave his Druid books all over the place. He heaved a heavy sigh as he stood. Some of the books he carried, others he practiced his telekinesis aspect of quintessence manipulation.

“You’re getting better at that.” Sonali commented from the doorway.

Lance laughed, moving the books and cleaning up the room with a gesture of his glowing hand. “Of course. Xana says I’m a prodigy with manipulation.” Lance sung out, boasting slightly. “I’ve got real talent here.”

Sonali snorted, and shook their head. Lance laughed and flipped them off, before cancelling his manipulation, and surveying the now mostly clean room. “Better than Mary Poppins now.” He grinned to himself.

He spun around, nodding to himself before heading to the bathroom. He paused at the door and glanced at Sonali. “If I’m not out in two Vargas or by the time Lotor returns, let me know, yeah?”

“Will do.”

A couple of vargas later saw him at the couch, waiting for the movie to start.

To be honest, he’d been on movie dates with Lotor before, but something about this date felt different. Like there was a different energy about it.

And Lance’s feelings on this had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Lotor was trying to persuade him to try Kanki, which was the wine stuff that Lotor was always drinking.

Lance toyed with his necklace as he shook his head in a quiet ‘no’. From his understanding Kanki was basically wine, like he thought it was, and sorry, not sorry, Lance just wasn’t interested.

He’d been white girl wasted on wine before, and he’d vowed never again. Also, aliens didn’t always have the best sense of taste with those sorts of things. He’d tried the Altean version, Nunvill, and had vowed ‘never again’. And he was Altean, so that was saying something.

“This is nothing like Nunvill, Lance, I promise.” Lotor assured pressing a glass into Lance’s hand. “Try it. I promise you’ll like it.” Lotor grinned, keeping the glass in Lance’s hand by holding his own over Lance’s.

Lance sucked on his teeth and looked down at the dark liquid. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at Lotor and biting his lip.

Well, he had been thinking it was about time to possibly start toeing the line between them… like they had in Bsët, and if he was going to do that, then he needed some form of liquid courage. Then again, perhaps it was best if he didn’t… but…

He probably wouldn’t mind if they did take another step forward in their relationship. Maybe. Probably.

No. No, he should go into the step with a clear head. Bsët was a mistake. A step in the wrong direction. Neither of them should have done what they did… But that didn’t mean Lance couldn’t try the stupid Kanki. If anything, he was trying it just to shut Lotor up about it.

“You sure I’ll like it?” Lance asked.

“Definitely.” Lotor replied. “It’s much smoother than Nunvill, and doesn’t have such an awful taste.”

“What’s it taste like then?” Lance pulled his hand – still holding the glass – away from Lotor. Idly, Lance swirled the liquid in the glass like he’d seen sophisticated rich people do on his mama’s soap operas.

“Try it and find out.” Lotor encouraged. He took a sip of his own glass, and then looked at Lance. “See? I didn’t die. No poison here.”

Lance laughed, and shook his head. “You’ve been drinking it for a while. You’re probably immune.” He sighed, and lifted up the glass. “But fine.” He took a small tentative sip, and then immediately took a larger sip.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Lotor’s grin was sharp enough that it could probably cut a hole in fog like in the old cartoons. Lance probably shouldn’t have found that as attractive as he did.

Lance looked away and hummed, shrugging noncommittedly. He took another sip, holding it in his mouth as he tasted it before swallowing.

He licked his lips, the sweet tart tang flavoring of the liquid still there. It reminded him a bit of the fruit on Bsët, and maybe a little bit of some other things too. He hummed again, considering it.

Well, Lotor had been right on more than one account with this. Kanki was in fact smoother than the Nunvill. And a lot easier to down too. It was sweeter, and more fragrant. Tasting like a juice more than an alcohol.

Despite how much it tasted like juice, Lance knew it was an alcohol.

Now that he’d drank it, he could feel the slight burn, and the pleasant tingling warmth that filled his body. The itch to be near Lotor returned, which didn’t make sense, since they were sitting so close together already. Whatever, Lance could ignore it.

In front of them, the movie started to play, not that either of them noticed.

“Yeah.” Lance muttered, dazedly looking down at the partially empty glass. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Would you like more?” At Lance’s nod, Lotor leaned forward to picked up the bottle off the coffee table. He smiled as he poured Lance another glass.

Lance was careful to sip this glass slowly as he finally turned his attention to the movie. He knew his limits with wine. It always seemed way too easy for him to get white girl wasted, which was the last thing he wanted to be around Lotor.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Lotor, but more of him not trusting himself. He knew how he acted when he was white girl wasted, and while he was thinking of making his relationship with Lotor more… physical… he hadn’t committed to that yet.

It seemed that he was doing well as every time he took a sip, he’d yet to run into an empty glass.

About a quarter of the way through the movie, Lance noticed that the room seemed to be much warmer. He shifted uncomfortably but was distracted by some action on the screen as the act they’d found for ‘Shiro’ finally found the Black Lion.

The actor that they got to play Shiro wasn’t human, but it was the most humanoid that he could manage, and Lance could appreciate that. ‘Shiro’ attempted to report back to Zarkon but was under attack by the other Paladins who had been ‘seduced’ by Allura already.

He leaned back into the couch and took another sip of his wine before waving ‘bye’ to Shiro as he too was seduced by Allura. Bye Felcia.

The room started to fade into a smoky fog, leaving only the screen where the movie was projected.

Half way through the movie, and Lance jumped as a hand touched his thigh. He blinked, and realized belatedly that he’d been just staring at the screen for a couple of doboshs, and had no clue what was going on.

It looked like some sort of battle between a badly done CGI Voltron and some Galra battleships. Shrio was attempting to break out of Allura’s seduction, but was failing. ‘The Yellow Paladin’ blew up a Galra spacecraft with his possible girlfriend on it.

He looked down at the hand before following it to Lotor. Lance blinked as Lotor took his hand, the one holding the glass, and pulled it out of his grasp.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you agree, pet?” The room swam in and out of focus. The only thing he could focus on was Lotor, and his grin. Lotor placed the empty glass on the table.

Lance blinked at the glass. When had it become empty? What was happening? That itch from before was back, and suddenly so much worse than ever.

Lotor leaned away, settling back against the couch cushions, and watched Lance, his grin never fading. “Why don’t we have some fun?” The lazy way that Lotor purred the question sent chills down Lance’s back and created goosebumps on his arms, despite how warm he was feeling.

Lance blinked, the room was still fading in and out. It felt like this mind was full of warm static fog. Quintessence. He could feel it, could feel the energy in his body, tugging at him like a magnet towards Lotor.

Lance frowned, and shook his head. The room spun with his refusal.

“Pet.” Lotor called as he patted his lap as an invitation. His eyes were smoldering as he eyed Lance. “Come here.” He crooned, and crooked a finger when Lance didn’t move.

Lance shook his head after a moment of heavy debate. There was some tiny part of him that recognized that he was wasted. The same part of him that recognized that on his birthday – last year? Was it Last year? – and prompted him to make himself sick so he wouldn’t have a hangover later.

He didn’t think there was a Space McDonalds that he could get an extra-large order of greasy fries nearby so he could make himself sick.

There was, however, a bad idea lurking around nearby. A bad idea that Lance was already tempted to do sober.

As much as he wanted to be sober, or to do nothing, or to keep denying Lotor… a larger part of him wanted… differently.

Lance blinked and looked over at Lotor again. The price was leaned back against the couch, his body very open and his lap looking so very inviting. Lotor’s lips were quirked and he made the ‘come hither’ motion again.

Lance shook his head again, but despite that found himself crawling over the span of the couch to climb onto Lotor’s lap. He straddled him, facing the prince.

Lotor’s grin was smug as he looked over Lance. “Good boy.”

Chapter Text

A hand lazily ran up Lance’s spine, and he shivered, arching his back away from the touch and forcing himself against Lotor. Lotor’s praise echoed in the haziness of his mind.

“So hot.” Lance muttered.

He leaned against Lotor, and despite what he’d just said, he shivered. Electricity ran from inside his body to Lotor, and it felt so good; but he wanted to feel more. He wanted to feel better.

But he didn’t. He wasn’t ready. They’d only been kissing, and Lance didn’t want anything else. Not yet. He opened his mouth to protest, but for some reason the words to say wouldn’t form in his head.

Actually, Lance’s lack of words might have been from Lotor’s lips finding his own. Lotor swallowed down any protests that could have come from Lance. And then, when Lotor found the zipper at the back of Lance’s bodysuit and slowly began to tug it downwards, Lotor swallowed down Lance’s responding gasps.

He could feel his skin prickle as the cooler air of the room hit his flushed skin. Once again, Lance shivered as Lotor’s hand ran back up his spine and cupped the back of his neck. His other hand fell to Lance’s hip, where he massaged. Lotor pulled away, leaning back to break the kiss.

Lance’s whine was embarrassingly audible, not that he cared. He licked his lips, chasing the flavor of Lotor and the wine.

“Feel better, pet?” The hand on his neck squeezed.

Lance nodded, and then leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Lotor’s shoulders and neck. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that he was pressing his lips against the prince’s again. The kiss was sloppy and wet, not that Lotor seemed to mind.

Unlike previous times, Lotor was allowing Lance to take command of the kiss, giving Lance the choice to deepen it or keep it more chaste.

Naturally, Lance deepened it. He could taste the wine and Lance let out a low moan at that favor. Lotor’s hand on his neck slid back down, joining his other hand before they both slid to Lance’s ass, palming him and squeezing.

Lance groaned as he was pulled against Lotor closer, and rolled his hips. He couldn’t decide which he liked better, pressing back into Lotor’s hands or pressing forward and brushing against the growing budge in Lotor’s pants.

Lance slid his one of his hands from Lotor’s shoulder and started to map the clothed planes of Lotor’s chest. Lotor’s eyes were practically burning as he looked at Lance, and allowed to touch him to his heart’s content.

“Like what you see?” Lotor asked him. Lance nodded, biting his lip.

Lance couldn’t remember why he’d been wanting to protest earlier. Lotor wouldn’t do anything that Lance didn’t want, right? He’d take care of Lance; he already had by helping Lance cool off when he was so hot.

Lance licked his lips, still tasting the sweet wine and hummed. Lotor’s smile grew, and removed one of his hands from Lance’s backside. After a moment, a finger was at Lance’s mouth. “Suck.” The demand was simple, short, and went straight to Lance’s other head.

He didn’t even need to think about following the command before he obediently opened his mouth, licking the finger.

“Gorgeous.” Lotor breathed as he watched, almost enraptured as Lance licked up the finger, following the dripping trail of wine. Once that was done, Lance returned back to Lotor’s finger which was pressed into Lance’s mouth and hooked. Lance moaned around it, his eyes sliding close.

“That’s right.” Lotor cooed. “Such a good boy.”

Quiznak, those words did so much for Lance. Especially when Lotor straightened out his finger and pulled it out of Lance’s mouth only to press two more in a moment later. Lance sucked on them both, running his tongue around them.

Lotor pumped his fingers in and out of Lance’s mouth, seemingly content for now to watch. “You like things in your mouth, don’t you?” Lotor asked, sliding them out. A string of spit followed, connecting Lance’s mouth to Lotor’s fingers.

Lance opened his eyes and licked his lips, breaking the string. Lotor swam in Lance’s vision, hazy smoke like fog still filling his brain. He whined, needing something, wanting something.

Lance leaned forward, and with no shame pressed Lotor’s spit slick fingers against his cheek before kissing them. “Please.” The word escape Lance in a breath, and then in another and another until he was quietly chanting out ‘please’ with every breath.

“Please what, pet?” Lotor teased. His fingers traced around Lance’s mouth, not letting Lance take the fingers in.

“I need.” Lance whined. What did he need? He needed something. He wanted something. And he knew Lotor could give it to him. He rocked forward, and pleasure sparked up his body, setting already inflamed nerves alight. Beneath him, Lotor moaned. “Please.”

Lotor’s fingers slipped into his mouth at the last plead, and Lance moaned around them. Once more Lotor pumped them in and out of Lance’s mouth. “I bet you’d like something else.” Lotor commented. “Do you want something else? Something better to suck maybe?”

Lance moaned around the fingers and when Lotor removed them nodded. “Please.” He begged. The hand still squeezing his ass stopped, and patted him for a moment.

“On your knees.” Lotor commanded.

Who was Lance to deny a command? Lotor would knew how to take care of Lance, and if Lance needed to be on his knees for Lotor to do that, then Lance would fall to them. He slid off of Lotor, feeling boneless and limp as he sank to his knees between Lotor’s legs.

He had a foggy idea of what Lotor wanted, and Lance was… excited. His mouth felt dry, although he knew the opposite to be true. He rested his head on Lotor’s thigh, and gazed up at him, waiting for Lotor’s next instructions, or some praise.

A hand ran through his hair, and tugged at the hair from the scalp. “So gorgeous.” Lotor muttered as he shifted. He palmed himself with his free hand, and Lance’s gaze darted to the hand and then to what it was palming. “You look so perfect between my legs like this.” Lance preened at the words.

After a moment, Lotor stopped palming himself and pulled down a zipper. With bated breath, Lance watched as Lotor coaxed out his member.

Like a human’s would be, Lotor’s dick was hard and glistening. A pearl of precum was already starting to form at the tip.

Unlike a human’s, Lotor’s head was a bit more less of a head? It didn’t really separate itself from the shaft, although there were some frills that sort of circled around where the head divider would be before running almost vertically down the shaft.

Clear liquid oozed from both sides of the frills, and Lance wondered what it’d taste like. He was actually kind of excited to find out. Lotor pumped himself, pulling a quiet moan out of the both of them.

Lance mouth still felt dry, but the trail of drool that slid down his chin told him otherwise.

Lance leaned forward, transfixed on what Lotor had present him. His mind was screaming at him again, but he couldn’t care less about what it was saying. All he knew was that he wanted whatever Lotor wanted to give him. Lotor would take care of him.

“Like that?” Lotor asked, lightly slapping it against Lance’s cheek. More liquid seeped out of it, smearing on Lance’s skin as Lotor gently slapped it against Lance’s face. Lance nodded. “You want this?”

Lance tore his eyes away to nod up at Lotor. Lotor’s smile widened. He held it still, in front of Lance’s face. “Show me how much you want it.” He commanded.

Lance leaned forward and kissed the tip before licking it. He tongued the slit at the top, where the precum was. At that, more precum leaked out. Lance lapped at it, humming as he took in Lotor’s member up to the fills and swirling around the ‘head’.

The stuff coming from the tip was a different consistency than the clear stuff coming from the frills, although the taste was similar. The stuff from the frills seemed to be some sort of lubricant, based on its texture.

“Good boy.” Lotor moaned.

He pumped himself again, careful not to dislodge Lance’s mouth from his tip. Lance looked up at him from through his lashes and once Lotor’s hand moved, pressed forward, slowly sliding Lotor’s dick inch by inch into his mouth, working it in and out.

He batted Lotor’s hand away and ignored the responding chuckle. Lance wrapped his hand around his girth, feeling it’s weight and width in his hand, and pumps what isn’t in his mouth.

The closer he got to the base, the wider and thicker Lotor became, until it stretched Lance’s mouth wide around it and the tip nudged the back of Lance’s mouth.

“That’s it. Gorgeous, pet.” Lotor moaned, the hand in Lance’s hair tightened, but he wasn’t pulling, not yet. His body was practically quivering with the exertion it took not to buck up into Lance’s mouth.

Lance was only able to get about three quarters of it in his mouth, but he didn’t care when it feels so heavy and thick on his tongue. He pulled back, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking even as he rocked backwards off of Lotor until the tip remained.

He swirled his tongue around it, paying special attention to the leaking slit and the frills. Warm slippery fluid oozed into his mouth, sliding down his throat with every swallow. He pulled himself off with a pop, looking up at Lotor as he kissed the tip and then licked him down to the base.

He held up Lotor’s dick, pressing his tongue flat against the underside of his dick, and hummed as he felt it twitch in his hand. He licked up to the tip, opening his mouth and taking it back in as a little spurt of fluid came out.

“You like that, don’t you?” Lotor asked. “Like how it tastes?”

Lance hummed and Lotor bucked once before he got himself back under control. Lance was pleased to see that he was panting, and that the hand not in Lance’s hair was clutching the armrest of the couch like a lifeline.

Lance grinned around Lotor. Oral always had been a specialty of his.

Although, this wasn’t what Lance really wanted, but it was good enough. Electricity hummed through his body, temporarily sated for now by this.

Lotor’s hand came free from the couch and touched Lance’s lips, smearing spit and precum. “Quiznak.” Lotor breathed before moaning as Lance sucked hard.

Lance could have beamed with pride. He’d caused Lotor to swear and moan. Maybe if he treated Lotor right, he’d give Lance what he really wanted.

He pressed forward more, forcing himself to ignore his gag reflex as he swallowed Lotor down. Jaw ached, but Lance pressed through it until he couldn’t anymore and he pulled himself off. Spit, precum, and the other fluid connected Lance to Lotor in a spider web of strings.

But he wasn’t done. He leaned back in, until just the tip was in his mouth and continued to explore it and its frills. What he didn’t have in his mouth he pumped, sliding his hand easily up and down the shaft thanks to the mixture of fluids.

Lance squeezed, experimenting with different pressures and grips as he tongued the frills, listening for Lotor’s moans and occasional curses to know what worked best. Then he worked his way up to the leaking slit, sucking on it harshly.

“That’s it, pet. Just like that.” Lotor purred.

Precum squirted out, coating Lance’s tongue, and he moaned. The taste was sweet, like the quintessence spiked wine he’d been given. He wanted more of it, and he knew exactly how to get it. After all, he could do oral in his sleep.

Oral had always been a favorite of Lance’s.

He smiled lazily around the tip before popping off with an audible noise. He took Lotor in his hand, and rubbed him in slow circles, working his way up until he was at the base.

He removed his hand, sliding it down to the tip and working Lotor there while he lathered the base in licks and kisses, slickening it up with a mixture of precum and spit. Then he licked and kissed his way back down to the tip, working Lotor with his hand where ever Lance’s mouth wasn’t.

Above him, Lotor moaned, telling Lance just how much a good job he was doing.

He sucked back in the tip, once again tonguing the slit until another gush of precum came out. Lance moaned around him, and then took in more of Lotor.

The hand in his hair had loosened its grip over time, but it suddenly tightened again. That was the only warning Lance was given before Lotor was holding his head and bucking up into Lance’s mouth. Lance did the best he could, relaxing his jaw and trying not to gag as Lotor fucked his mouth.

Lotor’s free hand went to Lance’s face helping to hold him in place as he rutted into Lance’s mouth. The hold on Lance’s hair remained tight.

By the time Lotor started to slow down, Lance’s jaw ached worse than before. His lips felt stretched.

Saliva leaked from his mouth with every thrust. Finally, with one hard thrust, Lotor finished. Lance gagged as the sudden strong stream hit his gag reflex, and tried to pull away, but he couldn’t with Lotor holding him there.

“Swallow.” Lotor growled.

Lance went pliant, throat loosening to constantly swallow the stream like he was chugging milk. After what seemed like eternity, Lotor’s stream slowed to a stop, and for a moment, his spent dick filled Lance’s mouth before it slipped out.

A small amount of the mixture of semen and spit spilled from Lance’s mouth as Lotor slipped out. And Lance licked his lips, trying not to let it escape. “Good boy.” Lotor purred. “Now clean me up.”

Lance whimpered, but obeyed, leaning forward to lick and suck Lotor’s limp member clean.

Once done, Lance pulled completely away. Lotor petted Lance as he quickly tucked it back away. “Such a good boy. You did so well.”

Lotor tugged his head upwards, and Lance obeyed, climbing up into Lotor’s lap. The hand in his hair loosened, and then slid down to Lance’s back, stroking up and down his spine leaving trails of goosebumps.

“You did so good.” Lotor muttered into Lance’s ear.

His hands were all over Lance’s body, stroking his spine, and gently pulling away clothes. The cool air felt fantastic as it hit Lance’s heated flesh and he moaned, practically turning boneless in Lotor’s lap.

One of the hands slid between Lance’s body and Lotor’s, and then massaged Lance’s upper leg, slowly moving upwards until Lance was gasping, clinging onto the prince as he rocked his body into Lotor’s touch.

That was what Lance had needed. Just finally being touched nearly brought Lance to tears, and he half sobbed, half moaned as his head fell onto Lotor’s shoulder. Through blurred vision, he could see Lotor’s hand massaging the tent in the fabric of the body suit.

“Such a good performance requires a treat, right?” Lotor purred. “Do you want that, pet?”

Lance nodded, moaning as he rocked into Lotor’s hand. Except Lotor’s hand was gone, and Lance practically cried as he watched Lotor pull away. Pressure prickled from behind Lance’s eyes, and within a few blinked, the tears were falling slowly.

“Please.” He sobbed. “Please, I need.”

Lotor’s hands were on his face in an instant, brushing away the tears. “Tell me what you need, pet.”

Lance shook his head, the words to explain what he needed unable to come to his mind. He just knew that he needed. He needed Lotor touching him. He needed Lotor on him. He needed something, he needed Lotor.

Quiznak, he needed Lotor. He needed this to end. He needed this to be over. He couldn’t take this anymore. He felt strung out, like he had been stretched too thin.

Without his permission, his body bucked, grinding up against Lotor until there was pressure back there, where he needed it. He was given some relief for a moment before Lotor’s hands left his face and were instead on his hips, stopping his motion.

“Please.” Lance begged. “Please, please, please.” He just started repeating the word like a prayer, hoping that Lotor would take pity on him and give him what he needed.

His prayers were answered.

He wasn’t aware of when his bodysuit had been moved, but suddenly Lotor’s hand was wrapped around Lance’s painfully hard member, stroking him with quick even strokes. Pressure coiled in Lance’s lower body.

Lance’s begging trailed off, turning into a mixture of begs and moans. Lotor chuckled and then leaned forward, capturing Lance’s mouth with a kiss.

Lotor twisted his hand, his thumb toying with Lance’s head and slit, and that was it. Lance’s world exploded, the pressure in his abdomen suddenly expanding out. His back arched, and he threw his head back, his mouth opened in a soundless scream as he came into Lotor’s hand.

Faintly he was aware of Lotor talking. Telling him how good he’d been, how gorgeous he’d looked, but he couldn’t concentrate on the words proper. Not when Lotor was still taking care of him.

Lotor continued to milk him through until Lance had come back down, and slumped once more against Lotor. Lotor’s hand had caught most of Lance’s release, and Lotor shifted him with his free hand, holding up his soiled hand to Lance’s face.

He didn’t need to say anything as he pressed his dirty fingers to Lance’s mouth. Lance opened his mouth, sucking in the fingers before licking and cleaning his own release off Lotor’s hand.

“Gorgeous.” Lotor muttered. It seemed that was his favorite way to describe Lance. Not that Lance minded.

He was still surfing the high that came after a release, content to just lay on Lotor and absentmindedly suck on the prince’s fingers. He felt sated. The itch under his skin had died down to a dull throbbing over the span of their time together, leaving Lance feeling content and calm.

He whined as Lotor slipped his fingers away, and then gasped as his world spun. He was being shifted, lifted and carried before being dropped into a cloud. Lance landed with a quiet ‘oomph’, and Lotor chuckled.

He leaned down and carefully removed Lance’s clothes. The cool air felt good against Lance’s skin, so he laid there, pliant as Lotor undressed him. “Stay.” Lotor commanded as he pulled away.

Lance tried to sit up, but nothing was cooperating with him. The ceiling swam in his vison, and before he could try to get out of the cloud he was on, Lotor was suddenly on the cloud with Lance.

Lotor sat next to Lance, and gently ran something that was warm and kinda damp on Lance’s face. It took Lance a moment to realize that Lotor was cleaning him off with a small towel, wiping away the mess that had been made.

Once he’d finished, Lotor disappeared, only to return moments later to run the soft cloth down Lance’s body. He left again, and when he returned, it was without the cloth. He climbed onto the cloud, and fiddled with something.

The lights dimmed, to their night settings, and Lotor put something away. “Come here.” He touched Lance’s shoulder, and then guided him over to where he was. Once Lance was there, he pulled up a thin sheet. Tucking him in. Lotor was tucking him in.

Lance sighed, shifting so that he was using the prince’s chest as pillow. He curled up as close as he could to the prince, his eyes drifting shut.

Chapter Text

Pidge sighed as she leaned back, watching as the program ran through the content she’d lifted from the Galra ship she’d hacked into.

Keith had told her about the rumors he’d heard, and while they did sound promising, she wasn’t banking too much on them. It just seemed way to convenient to finally hear something about their missing teammates after so long of not hearing anything. It just seemed too good to be true.

Like the saying said, 'if it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is.'  

But she trusted Keith and his instincts, and if they were saying to take stock in these rumors, then, well… she’d follow through.

It didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to continue the various projects that she had been working on, like trying to crack that communication device that Lance had. It was ruined beyond repair, and she’d initially declared it useless, but… she felt certain that she might be able to find out something from it.

Or maybe she just really missed Lance’s voice. Not that she’d ever admit that.

It’d taken Lance disappearing for her to realize the extent of how much she actually liked him and what he did for the team. Sure, he stole her headphones, and her phone, and the game they’d bought at that Space Mall… but he was there for her when she needed it.

Like, she hated to say it, but… Shiro’s absence – while felt – wasn’t as noticeable as Lance’s.

Shiro tended to be… separate from the others. The person he spent the most time with was Keith, and that was usually training. Other than that, he was often on his own in his room or with the Black Lion.

Lance’s absence on the other hand, well… it was hard to miss. The halls were too quiet, void of laughter or talking. There was no one taking her headphones or music player, or telling her to go to bed. The castle felt… empty, like he’d been filling it up all by himself, and now that he was gone, there was just a… void.

The program scanning Shiro’s face pinged, and she sighed, and although she already had an idea of what had matched, she still pulled it up on the slim off chance that she was wrong.  She watched a short clip before dismissing it and continuing the scan. It was just another recording of Shiro’s time in the Gladiator matches before he returned to Earth.

Out of the three people she was searching for, Shiro returned the most pings. Turned out that lots of Galra had recordings of Shiro’s battles in the Gladiator matches. Shiro had been a popular champion.  Who would have guessed?

Matt pinged a few times, but it was seldom anything new. Anytime the program pinged him, it was that same footage she’d already seen.

As of yet, Lance had not been pinged. It was as if he’d just vanished. Perhaps more soundly than Shiro.

She sighed again, and switched screens, checking the scan on the database on this ‘Prince Lotor’ person that the Blade of Marmora had told Keith about. There wasn’t much about him, as he seemed to keep mostly to himself.

There was a memo about him assuming the position of Emperor Pro Tem, so that at least checked out. But other than that, he was barely mentioned. It seemed he operated his own fraction of the Galra military, and Zarkon’s military was being given orders by that fraction.

There were some notes about his Generals, but nothing really concrete, and unfortunately, absolutely nothing about the location of this guy's central command.

It was disheartening.

Shiro pinged again, and she sighed, resisting the urge to beat her head against the table. She checked it out, and then continued the search as per usual.

This was all stupid. So very stupid. It shouldn’t be this hard to find people in the Universe when she had access to Galra stuff. The Galra were everywhere! So finding someone shouldn't be this difficult.

No wonder the Blade of Marmora were able to slip under the radar for so long.

She spun around to another monitor, and attempted to work a bit more on Lance’s communication device.

She was almost positive that she’d figured out what the hard drive of the device was, and if she was right... Well, if she was right, then it was just a matter of breaking the encryption and seeing if the data on it had been corrupted or deleted or anything.

She’d only been working on it for a varga or two – being constantly interrupted by Shiro’s pings – before the doors slid open and Keith walked in.

“How’s it going?” He asked, heading over to her and leaning against her chair as he looked over her progress.

“It’s not.” She replied, narrowing her eyes. “What I thought was a hard drive wasn’t, and at this point, I’m not even thinking this is Galra. Their tech is so much easier to deal with than… this.” She huffed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the new tech, but I’d like it a bit more if –”

“If it wasn’t keeping valuable needed intel from us.” Keith interrupted. “Yeah, I know.” He looked over to the photo scans, where Shiro once again pinged.

He backed off so Pidge could check it out. “It’s just Shiro… again.”

“Again?” Keith questioned, crossing his arms.

“His Gladiator battles are popular with the Galra.” She rolled her eyes. “I swear, recordings of his battles fill about a third of every battleship’s personal files.”

Keith hummed, frowning at the computer.

She’d only just started to spin back around when the computer pinged again. Pidge froze, her eyes wide. She’d programed each person to return a specific ping, and while she was intimately familiar with Shiro’s, and knew Matt’s by heart… the one that had just played was new.

She unfroze and spun back around to the monitor, pulling up the program, and… She stared at the picture she’d used for Lance, and the video clip next to it. A match to Lance.

Finally.

“Is…” Keith began to ask, but his question trailed off. She felt his weight settle back against the top of the chair as he leaned in closer.

“Yeah.” She nodded. The curser felt slow as she moved it over to the clip, clicking it once for it to play.

The footage wasn’t shot by typical Galra security cameras. As a matter of fact, the footage seemed almost homemade.

The visual was shoddy, looking like something out of a camera flip phone from Earth. Lines ran across the screen, jumping and skipping. It was a miracle that her program had been able to pick up anything in this mess.

“I’m telling you, that’s…” The audio was almost more static than audio, and when it kicked in, it did so with a loud burst of feedback.  Both Keith and Pidge jumped at it, although the audio faded out not even a tick later.

There was a sign that flashed in the video, a sandwich shop, and then… Keith gasped above her, and she couldn’t help to do the same.

Lance smiled at the Unilu manning the sandwich bar, giving him a patented Lance grin before laughing. The audio cut back in, playing some annoying shop jingle, but Lance’s laughter could clearly be heard mixed in with it. Lance backed away from the bar, tossing a two-fingered salute at the Unilu before turning away.

The clip ended, the screen going blank except for Lance’s smiling face in the picture. A pop up appeared asking if she wanted to continue the scan and disregard this content.

Keith moved faster than her, taking control of the mouse and replaying the clip. She blinked, tearing her gaze away from Lance – Holy Quiznak! Lance!!! – to look up at Keith.

He looked like a man in the desert who’d just spotted an oasis in the distance. She couldn’t think of anytime Keith had looked this serious beyond only a few other instances. His eyes were constantly moving, taking in everything in the video.

He replayed the video again, and this time she watched it again. Lance’s laughter echoed in her ears, and she could ignore that annoying jingle if it meant she could hear him once again.

“I was there.” Keith admitted after a moment. “I was at that sandwich bar.” The chair under his hands creaked, like his was gripping it too hard. His eyes were hard as he leaned forward. The jingle and Lance’s laughter played, over and over as he repeated the clip in that particular part.

Lance’s laughter would haunt her dreams tonight if she dared to sleep. Joining in with mashed up memories of Matt, her father, and Shiro. She made a mental note not to sleep unless she couldn’t help it.

Pidge bit her lip, tearing her gaze away from Lance’s face to look up at her teammate. “Keith.”

“That bartender looking me right in the face and said he’d never seen Lance.” Keith continued like he hadn’t even heard her. “Lance was at that Space Mall, and we didn’t find him, Pidge. What if… what if he’s still there?!”

She shook her head and took the mouse back from him, pressing ‘continue’ on the scan after saving the clip to her files. “We’ll find him, Keith.”

“We left him, Pidge!” Keith shouted. “We left him. We should have found him! While he was there, or if he’s still there.”

“I know.” She replied.

Honestly, that was one of her biggest fears with her father or Matt: that she’d leave the planet they were on without knowing it. At least Matt returned an occasional result in her scans… her father hadn’t even returned one.

The computer pinged Lance’s beep again, and both she and Keith looked at it in unison. The preview image for this clip looked more like a Galra security camera feed.

It was dark, like an alleyway of some sort. Whatever was happening was at the beginning middle of the alleyway, bit it was clear Lance was there.

She pressed play. Lance was standing in an alleyway, face to face with the muzzle of a Galra sentry weapon. Keith’s intake of air was sharp, but she watched grimly as Lance didn’t bother fighting or resisting whatever was happening.

Unlike the previous clip, there was no audio here.

The sentry seemed to ask Lance something, and Lance nodded. Not even a second later and the sentry swung his blaster at Lance’s head.

“Lance!” Keith cried out as Lance’s body crumpled into the guard’s arms.

“He can’t hear you Keith.” Pidge muttered quietly. She sniffed, and looked away. “This happened…” She pulled up the records and grimaced. “A while ago. Too long ago.”

“This confirms those rumors.” Keith growled. “This confirms it. We need… We need to get him back.”

Pidge pursed her lips, frowning slightly as she replayed the footage. If Lance truly had betrayed them for the Galra… then why were they treating Lance like this? Lance seemed complacent in the beginning, but she didn’t know what they were talking about, or what was going on. People’s lives could have been at stake.

And if there was anything Pidge knew for sure about Lance, it was that he tended to care too much, especially about strangers.  Everyone always thought Hunk was the bleeding heart, and to some degree, he was.  But no.  Lance was the true bleeding heart, willing to even sacrifice himself for others.  

The Mall had seemed so… weird when they’d been there. Coran had mentioned a ‘cold war’, and well… she was now willing to agree with Keith that Lance was apart of that.

Keith growled in frustration as Lance collapsed on screen again. He spun around and marched out of the room. Pidge didn’t bother watching him leave, and sighed, saving the clip and pressing ‘continue’ again. She watched the flashing clips and images for a moment before returning to the device, but Lance didn’t ping again.

Chapter Text

Lance’s head was pounding as he woke.

He opened his eyes, and then winced at how bright the lights were. Veins of bright purple ran across his vision, which wasn’t helping anything. He hadn’t had his ability turn on while he was sleeping in forever, and he wondered what could have caused it.

He closed his eyes, and buried his face against the soft, but oddly firm, warmth of his pillow.

He wanted to sleep, really, he did, but there was something nudging at him from the back of his mind, preventing him from getting the sleep he wanted.

Maybe it was how comfortable he was? He hadn’t been this comfortable since he discovered he could sleep anyway he wanted at the Castle, including in the nude. Not that he did since attacks could happen at any time.

Not to mention that his mouth tasted weird, too sweet and kinda salty at the same time. Had he not brushed his teeth before going to bed? And why did his jaw hurt so much? He tried to recall.

He remembered dinner, and then Lotor trying to get him to drink his wine, and then… and then… memories suddenly exploded in Lance’s mind. They were hazy, as if he’d dreamed them instead, but he knew they were real.

He could distantly recall Lotor’s smooth voice, and his fingers in Lance’s mouth. He felt phantom touches of Lotor’s hand on his body, and… Lance’s eyes shot open as he sat up. Lotor’s arm, which had been wrapped around him, slid to the bed. Lance held his breath as he watched Lotor stir, and then released a sigh of relief as the prince remained sleeping.

Quiznak.

Lance’s breathing turned labored as he quietly panicked.

The memories from last night kept playing on repeat in his mind. He hadn’t dreamed that. It was real, as evidenced by Lance’s nakedness, and the ache in his jaw that only came from giving a really good blow job, receiving a really good face fucking, or both.  

Was that technically….Had he been? And if he had, who could he go to? No one. Lotor’s word was law here. Besides, Lance didn’t think that he’d been... After all, while Lance couldn’t remember consenting, but he couldn’t recall not consenting either.

As a matter of fact, Lance could very clearly recall enjoying it at some points. Lotor hadn’t done anything that Lance hadn’t liked.

And besides, Lance had thought that if Lotor had asked, he would have heavily considered. Perhaps the alcohol had just helped move the inevitable along. He knew that he was going to eventually end up with Lotor like this. He just hadn’t expected it so soon.

He hadn’t expected to give in so soon.

But, Lotor had been mostly tender in Lance’s hazy memories. He’d even tucked Lance into bed. And, most importantly, he hadn’t actually fucked Lance. He hadn’t taken advantage of Lance’s lapse in judgement and sanity to actually do anything more than a couple of lewd acts.

This was fine, said the dog sitting in a burning room. This was fine, said Lance sitting naked in Lotor’s bed.

Beside Lance, the prince stirred again. Lance looked at him, but all he could see was Lotor’s grin from the night before, and all he could taste… all he could taste was sweetness and salt, and oh that was gross! That was so gross!

Like, Lance liked giving oral. He liked receiving oral. He just liked oral in general, but that was… he’d… ugh. At least Lotor could have helped him brush his teeth, or given him a mouth mint, or given him some water, or something!

Like, he knew Lotor had it in him to do aftercare because Lance didn’t feel all crusty in places he didn’t want to be crusty. Which meant that someone cleaned him up, and the only one who could have done that was Lotor.

Lance took a deep breath, and tried to force himself to relax.

This was fine. Absolutely fine. Lance just got drunk off wine, that was all. And had climbed into Lotor’s lap, and had sucked him off, and ENOUGH. Lance had enough of those thoughts and those memories.

Lotor stirred again.

Lance stiffened, and stared at him, waiting and hoping that Lotor wouldn’t wake. He wasn’t ready to deal with this yet. He needed to come to terms with the fact that he’d done things with Lotor, and then he could face the prince.

Perhaps he could hide in the bathroom? No, no. That hadn’t worked last time for long, and Lance doubted it’d work for long this time either.

Lotor continued to stir, and with dread Lance realized that he was going to wake.

Quiznak. What to do, what to do, what to do? Lance’s mind was a whirlwind, and he felt torn, unable to decide what to do.

Own it.

His mind stopped at that thought, everything shutting down. Own it. That was what he’d been doing lately. And he was sitting on Lotor’s bed, completely naked, the morning after that.

What else was Lance going to do? Deny it? Get drunk and have this repeat over and over again? This outcome was inevitable. It was going to happen. Even if Lance kicked up a fuss now, it’d make no difference except prolong what was always going to happen.

Lance sighed heavily. He hated not having a choice sometimes. He laid back down, and cupped Lotor’s cheek carefully, then he leaned over and pressed his lips to Lotor’s.

Lotor was slow to respond, but returned the kiss. Lance kept the kiss slow and sweet, holding it for a moment before pulling away. The prince blinked wearily up at him, and Lance grinned.

“Up and at ‘em.” Lance chirped.

He patted Lotor’s cheek softly, almost patronizingly, before sitting back up and sliding off the other end of the bed. He walked over to the closet, the door sliding open and then pressed the button for the clothes to pass by Lance on their hanger conveyer belt.

Some of Lance’s clothes were from dates. Most were Druid cloaks and body suits. He was pretty sure today he didn’t have anything particularly planned. Maybe have a lunch with Corral if he was up to it. Or maybe he could swing by one of the Druid common areas.

Hmmm, yeah, he’d do that. He’d been wanting to talk with Xana or someone about some theories about quintessence and crystals. He knew Haggar had done some work into that, but Lance had found the recordings and reports of her work in that field to be lack luster.

The only reason Lance had been able to read Haggar’s research on the matter was because the research in question had been declared futile and useless. Lance begged to differ, to be honest. Anyways, his plan to see the Druids in mind, he pulled out one of the bodysuits, and the corresponding robes to wear.

“L…lance?” The prince sleepily slurred. He sat up, still blinking as he followed Lance’s movements across the room.

“Yeah?” Lance looked over his shoulder, and quirked an eyebrow at Lotor.

Lotor stared at Lance. The prince’s face was blank, but Lance understood a look of ‘what the quiznak’ when he saw one. So, the prince had expected Lance to freak out, and yet he’d done stuff anyways. Interesting. Way to show value of character there, Lotor.

Lotor didn’t respond and Lance turned back around, expecting him to maybe say something soon. He took the clothes from the closet, closing it, and put them on his couch. Once he finished with Lotor, he could go take a shower.

Lotor still hadn’t replied. Lance rolled his eyes. He’d throw the prince a bone. He spun back around to face the bed.

“Do you have any pain meds?” Lance asked after a moment. “My headache is killing me.” Because it still was, no matter how much Lance was trying to ignore it. “It’s probably from all the wine I had last night.”

He paused, looking Lotor over. The prince didn’t seem sheepish despite what he’d done. He probably didn’t feel that he’d done anything wrong, despite the fact that he’d expected Lance to be reacting differently.

Lotor still didn’t have a response, and Lance mentally sighed, exasperated. “Next time don’t let me drink so much. No one likes to wake up with a headache.” He gave Lotor a significant look, as if to say, ‘I know what you did.’

Lotor was still staring at Lance with the blank face. Alright, time to ramp up the ante for getting Lotor to respond.

Lance turned back around gathering back up the clothes and taking them to the bathroom. He deposited them on one of the benches in there before standing in the door way and leaning against it. He watched Lotor for a moment, who was still just kinda staring at Lance blankly.

Lance was fully aware that he was standing, completely naked, against the bathroom door. He crossed his arms, more so to show he was upset than to hide his body.  He was unashamed of his body. Lotor looked him over, his gaze slowly dragging from Lance’s face down his body before going back up.

Lance rolled his eyes again. He’d had it with this silence treatment.

“Fine, don’t speak.” Lance snapped. “But next time you want my mouth on your cock,” Lotor reacted to that, his whole-body flinching. He opened his mouth to speak, probably to drop silver excuses that Lance didn’t want to hear right now. “Then try asking instead of getting me drunk. Okay? Okay. Thank you.”

Lotor opened his mouth to speak, but Lance cut him off, holding up his finger. “Maybe then you’d be getting an invite to the shower with me.” Lance turned around, and stepped through the door, hitting the lock switch as it shut.

Lance enjoyed his shower, taking as long as he wanted. He didn’t respond when Lotor knocked on the door, although it could have been Sonali. He spent as long as he felt he needed to rub the violation he’d been dealt off his skin.

Honestly, no amount of time was long enough to do that. But, it’d given Lance enough time to help collect his thoughts.

As much as he was… perturbed by Lotor’s actions the night before, he needed to let it go. Thanks to his stupid comment he’d made before getting in the shower, Lotor now thought that Lance would be open to sucking him off.

Which he was, in a way. Lance already had, and if he didn’t want Lotor getting him drunk every time, then he’d have to just start offering it. It was that simple. If he didn’t want to force Lotor to use drastic measures, then Lance needed to be more… accommodating.

Which evidently meant using his mouth for more things than just talking.

Lance brushed his teeth about four or more times once he was out of the shower. He knew it was his imagination, but he swore he could still taste the sticky sweetness of Lotor in his mouth, and he was not interested in that reminder right now.

Lance threw on his Druid wear, feeling mildly better now that he was in clothes, and opened the door.

To be honest, he’d hoped that Lotor wouldn’t be there. He’d hoped that Lotor had sheepishly crawled off to his harem, and would avoid Lance, especially since Lance had made it very clear that he knew what Lotor had done.

Lotor was not gone. Instead he was lounging on the couch, looking as unruffled as he had this morning. He stood when he heard Lance come in, and gestured to the table.

Lance eyed the table, narrowing his eyes at the breakfast spread on it.

“We don’t usually eat breakfast together.” Lotor winced at those words, but it happened so quick Lance barely caught it.

“I thought it may help your headache.” Lotor’s smile looked tense. Good. Let him worry about whether he’d fucked things up with Lance or not.

Lance eyed the tray again, this time being more critical, and ah, yep, there it was. A small napkin with the requested painkillers. Huh, so Lotor was listening to him this morning.

“After your silence this morning, I didn’t think you’d speak.” Lance crossed the room, and took the pills, chasing them with a glass of water which had already been poured. He eyed Lotor, who’s silver mouth seemed to have been broken again.

“I…”

“Wasn’t expecting me to remember? Or were you expecting me to freak out?” Lance interrupted. He pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing his legs.

He debated heavily on scolding Lotor about consent. Lance hadn’t given any, but even if he had, consent under the influence was dubious at best. The only reason Lance wasn’t scolding him was because it wouldn’t matter. Who was he to scold a prince? Besides, it wouldn’t stop Lotor from doing it again, and again, and again, until Lance was miserable.

The only way Lance could see them both being ‘happy’ would be to just ingrain into Lotor’s mind that Lance was willing even if he wasn’t really, and didn’t need to be ‘influenced’ into those kinds of acts.

After a moment of silence, Lotor walked over and took a seat at the table next to Lance. He cleared his throat. Lance didn’t say anything, but looked out at the spread. He paused, picking up an apple, or what the Galra equivalent was. He thought it might have been called a quig, or something like that.

He grinned to himself, as he knew these were particularly juicy, and grabbed a napkin as well. He looked over at Lotor and purposefully bit into it. The juices of the fruit gushed, dripping down off his chin onto the napkin. He let out a small noise of enjoyment, although he actually hated the sticky feeling.

Lotor shifted in his chair, his eyes stuck on Lance’s mouth when he moved the fruit away.

Lance wiped away the juice. While the fruit produced a lovely crunch when it was bit into, the flesh of the fruit was actually quite soft. Lance sucked on it for a moment before swallowing. Lotor shifted again.

Lance rinsed and repeated his actions until the fruit was gone, and then slowly licked his fingers, sucking each one. He moaned around his fingers, being purposely sensual as he cleaned his hand of the sticky juice. He didn’t look away from Lotor as he did so, and in fact, arched his eyebrow as if to ask if Lotor had a problem.

Lotor finally adverted his eyes after another shifting. Good. Let him be uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asked after cleaning his mouth with the napkin. “You didn’t have a problem with this last night.”

“You’re an insufferable tease.” Lotor replied tersely. Lance shrugged, and surveyed the table to see if there was anything else he could use to further make Lotor uncomfortable.

“So, I’ve been told.” Lance replied. “It’s one of my winning qualities.” He flashed Lotor a smile, and reached across the table to grab another fruit. At the movement Lotor looked up from his plate, only to immediately look back down when he saw what Lance was reaching for.

Lance grabbed a Galra form of a banana, and peeled it slowly and carefully. Then he looked up to Lotor, and nudged his chair with his foot to get his attention. Lotor looked up slowly.

“Intoxicate me for that again, and this is what’ll happen.” Lance informed him before taking a sizable bite out of the fruit. Lotor visibly and physically flinched, his face twisting as he stared at Lance. Lance chewed the banana and swallowed. He put the half-finished banana down on his plate, and stood.

“I wanted to do some things with the Druids today. If you need me, you know where to find me.” Lance headed for the door, and pulled up the hood as he exited.

Sonali half turned, almost entering the room before they realized that it was Lance who left first, not Lotor.

They looked at the closing doors, and then at Lance, who was already half way down the hall, before catching up with him. He knew they had questions but thankfully, they couldn’t ask them in the halls. Good, Lance wasn’t in the mood to answer anyways.

Sonali stopped following him outside of the doors which led to the Druid’s common area. Lance was able to scan his hand and be allowed access with no difficulty.

Most of the Druids on the ship – totaling three, not including Lance– were working on specific projects, so they weren’t usually in the common area. Today was no different, as there was only one Druid present, sitting on one of the couches, idly flipping through a book.

Perfect. She looked bored, which probably meant that her experiment, whatever it was, needed some time to process.

“Hey, Nik.” Lance called out to them.

Nik held up a hand, one finger extended. Lance waited patiently. Once they’d finished reading their line or their page, they flicked their hand. The floating book they’d been reading from snapped shut and then flew back onto the bookcase it’d come from.

Lance arched an eyebrow, as if to ask if she really needed to be that extra.

“Yes, Lance?” Nik’s voice was as smooth as her scales. They hadn’t quite yet started to flake, as she was still young, but older than Lance.

Her mentor was Petyr, a Druid not quite as old as Xana, nor as powerful. Both had red based quintessence, although, if Lance had a choice between Nik or Petyr, he’d prefer to speak with her.

Petyr was nice and all, but he had a habit of staring at Lance like he was some interesting experiment. Which Lance wasn’t.

“You got some time?”

“If you ask something I don’t have time for, I’ll let you know.” She replied.

“Cool. So, I was reading through Haggar’s research on quintessence, and I was wondering about what happened to the crystals that are drained entirely?”

Nik was very silent, and Lance got the feeling they were judging him. “The crystals die.” They replied after a moment, in the most basic ‘duh’ tone to ever exist. Lance rolled his eyes. He knew that, but he supposed she wasn’t understanding what he was asking.

“What if they were reintroduced to quintessence?” Lance clarified.

“It wouldn’t make a difference. The only thing that can create a crystal full of quintessence is a Balmera, since Project Crystal busted. We can only refine or drain that quintessence. Drained quintessence fuels non-imperative operations, as well as the majority of the universe. You know this?”

“Okay, but what if we could refill a crystal?” Lance elaborated, taking a seat across from Nik. Once again, Nik fell silent for a while.

“You can’t. High Priestess Haggar has deemed that research as useless and unlikely to progress the Empire. She’s moved on to project Robeast.” Ah yes, the bane of Lance’s existence while he’d been with Voltron. Ugh, he was so happy not to be dealing with that anymore.

The Voltron team was probably still dealing with the remains of that project, and perhaps once Lance would have cared. He didn’t anymore. They could all die and he’d be more upset at losing Blue than anything else.

Blue was his, after all.

“Yeah, yeah. The act of introducing refined quintessence and other outside stimuli to force a mutation. I know.” Lance waved his hand, as if to wave that away. “But I’m focusing on crystals, right now. Would it theoretically be possible to… inject… a dead crystal with an alternative quintessence source? Similar to the refinement process, except not actually refining the quintessence.”

“From my understandings, High Priestess Haggar was only able to inject quintessence into creatures for Project Robeast with the assistance of her disciples, of which, she is missing.” Nik paused there to look at Lance for that.

He shrugged. He hadn’t been with Allura and the Blade of Marmora when they took out the Druids of the Four Directions. “With assistance, it may be possible.” Nik continued.  

Lance was quiet as he chewed over that. He didn’t want someone else’s assistance to just inject a crystal with a different form of quintessence. Haggar needed assistance because of the monumental project she’d taken on.

This was just crystals. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard to do what Lance was wanting.

“Quintessence can’t be just shoved into a crystal like a liquid into a bottle.” Petyr’s voice came from the doorway. “It was only through hard effect that we were able to create the usable form of quintessence that we have; and through exhausting work that High Priestess Haggar was able to create the Robeasts.”

Lance twisted around to give him a flat look.

“So, we can drain crystals, but not fill them; and we can fill creatures, but not drain them?” Lance asked. Both Druids froze, staring at Lance. “Has High Priestess Haggar looked into that?”

“The Kumar project deals with the draining of quintessence from lifeforms.” Petyr admitted after a moment. “But once drained, there is no ‘refilling’ something, Lance. Whether it be living or crystal.”

That was… actually kind of important. So that was the basis of Project Kumar. That explained so much! Like how the Kumar had been able to put Voltron out of commission for a short bit. That was something he needed to pass onto the resistance.

He wanted to ask further on Project Kumar, but he got the feeling that asking further about the project wouldn’t yield him answers. He needed to just move the conversation along.

“So, the only quintessence that could be found in a crystal is the refined quintessence, or the natural quintessence?” Lance asked.

“That is correct.”

Lance hummed, tapping his finger against his chin as he considered this information.

Nope. Even after a moment of consideration, it still didn’t make sense.

The robot arms that Lance had seen the empire use were powered by the corrupted quintessence, including Shiro’s arm. Shiro’s arm should have ran out of its quintessence ‘batteries’ by now unless they’d figured out a way to tie it into Shiro’s personal quintessence.

Which they were now saying was impossible. Then again, Shiro’s arm had been a one of kind prototype designed specifically by Haggar.

Huh. Maybe Lance could try to get into Shiro’s project file. If push came to shove, he was sure he could convince Lotor to get it for him, but that would require Lance knowing the project name. Which he didn’t.

Petyr cleared his throat, and Lance shook himself out of his thoughts. “How are your studies going?”

As if to answer him, Lance held up his hand, willing the quintessence in his body to manifest a sphere there. Petyr blinked, his mouth dropping open just the smallest amount.

Lance wasn’t going to say he took satisfaction from that, but he totally did.

“I’m getting there.” Lance replied, dismissing the sphere. “I’m still figuring things out. Xana thinks I may be worse at the speed and teleporting thing than him.” Lance shrugged. “But what I lack there, I more than make up for in manipulation.”

Neither of the Druids reacted, but Lance knew they were both unnerved. And why shouldn’t they be? Lance was the Prince’s favorite, and Xana’s student. He was progressing quicker than most thought possible.

He’d finally found his skill, and he was excelling. Hunk had engineering, Pidge her computers. Shiro was a leader, and Keith a fantastic fighter and pilot. With them, Lance couldn’t have even hoped to understand his potential. With the Galra, however, it was clear. He was meant to be a Druid.

It ran in his veins after all.

Besides, the more terrifying he was to them, the less likely they’d want to look into him and realize he was a traitor to the Empire, selling their secrets to the resistance for his life. For the good of the universe, really.

“Getting back on topic… do you know where I might find some dead crystals?”

Petyr shook his head, but Nik was still.

“The prince may be able to get you some, if you asked.” Nik replied after a moment. Petyr shot her a look, but Lance grinned.

“Thank you, Nik.” He nodded his head, stood, and then turned towards the doors. Petyr practically teleported out of the way. Lance paused, and looked back at them. “Have either of you seen Xana? I wanted to ask him some questions.”

Petyr didn’t look like he wanted to answer, but he stepped forward. “Last I saw him, he was down in the quintessence bay.”

“Thank you.” Lance nodded and turned back to the doors, exiting quickly. Lance paused as the doors shut, contemplating on where to go.

He still felt a bit irritated towards Lotor, so he turned towards the quintessence bay. He’d bother his mentor, and see if he had any suggestions.

Chapter Text

If he was honest, Lance didn’t actually care about trying to ‘refill’ crystals. Okay, so that wasn’t completely true. Lance did care about it, if only because he wanted to test some theories out on it.

First, he wanted to revisit his ideas about using other forms of quintessence in the crystals. Which started with first seeing if he could tap into his own quintessence to create a ‘blue’ crystal. Once he finished that, he would have hopefully figured out how to tap into his own quintessence instead of the corrupted shit. Which led him to his next point.

Lance wanted to see if he could manipulate his personal quintessence. Haggar’s research had been lacking on that topic, but that was probably because she wanted the Druids to use the corrupted quintessence.

The corrupted quintessence was a knock off black quintessence, and so far, all the abilities it had given to the Druids was based off that fact. Teleportation, the lightning abilities… those were all things mirrored to Black quintessence, and more importantly, abilities that the Black Lion could presumably do.

Lance already knew that having a different base quintessence could affect how those abilities manifested. That said, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what he could achieve if he could use his personal quintessence.

Although, it made sense that the Druids would use the corrupted quintessence instead of their own.

It helped keep them inline and obedient to the Empire. Also, the Emperor had been the Black Paladin once, which Lance was sure was why the corrupted quintessence had been made at all.

Still, only using the corrupted quintessence left so much room for potential.

What if he could eventually manipulate his own personal quintessence the way that they did the corrupted? What if instead of lightning, he could use ice or water?

He could basically become a water bender from Avatar, if he wasn’t limited to only using the corrupted quintessence. And since he could use the corrupted quintessence, did that mean he could use other types of quintessence?

If he had a source of the other types… like say they were stored in a crystal… then could Lance tap into that and use that quintessence?

If so, then Lance could basically become the Avatar.

Which would be pretty bad ass. But, he had to start small, and work his way up to that, and the best place to start? Crystals.

And if this pet project of Lance’s happened to get him other places, like say on Project Robeast or another ‘big name’ project where he could get information to sell to the resistance, then that was just icing on the cake.

Alternatively, if this whole idea flopped and Lance unfortunately couldn’t become the Avatar, then he’d resume his original goal of attempting to create the Ice Bats from Zelda.

Either way, both goals started with quintessence and crystals. And there was no one better to ask about that than the best Druid on the ship: Xana.

Lance stayed quiet, watching Xana as he worked on refining the quintessence. There was no doubt that he was aware of Lance’s presence, but this work required concentration.

Once he finished, he looked over to Lance, tilting his head forward as a greeting. Lance returned the same, and approached.

“You don’t usually come here.” Xana stated.

Lance shrugged. He usually didn’t have a need to. Plus, seeing all the quintessence in the jars made Lance feel weird. That was life energy from now dead planets and things. It might as well as been dead energy, now.

Although, it always interested Lance that when all the quintessence was grouped together, the colors blurred and blended into a shade of not quite baby blue, but not quite pale green either. Pure quintessence was weird like that, and then when refined the first time, it became yellow… and then after a second time, purple.

But, he wasn’t here for that. Not today.

“I wanted to talk to you about some stuff.” Lance replied.

“Stuff?” Xana’s face was hidden by his mask, but there was definite curiosity to his tone. If Lance could have seen his face, he probably would have been trying to arch a brow.

“Besides my mother, were there any other Blue based Druids?” At Lance’s question, Xana shook his head.

“The most common in our ranks is Red, although occasionally a Yellow or a Green show up. Your mother was a rarity.” Xana answered after a moment. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason.” Lance smiled thinly under his hood, not that Xana could see it. “Anyways, I was wondering about Crystals.”

Call him paranoid, but he’d heard of other Druids stealing each other’s projects and ideas. Lance wasn’t keen on giving Xana credit for his project should he be proven correct.

“Crystals?” Xana repeated. “What would you want to know about them?”

“Well, pure quintessence is found in Balmera Crystals. We refine it into the yellow fuel-like quintessence used by most of the universe, and then refine it either inside the crystal itself or outside in its liquid form to make the quintessence we use.”

As Lance spoke, Xana nodded.

“But what if we could have a base color crystal?” Lance continued. Xana stopped nodding.

“High Priestess Haggar has deemed that research as folly.”

Lance shrugged. “Maybe, but it’ll at least help me further manipulate and become familiar with my quintessence.”

Xana hummed, clearly thinking something over. “So, you want to practice what, exactly?”

“Well, first, I want to try to bring a dead crystal back to life.” And once he could do that, then he could work on injecting it not with the corrupted quintessence, but with his own.

“If you wish to waste your time on this, then I cannot stop you.” Xana shrugged. “But then again, you haven’t been given a project yet. This could be good practice for you.”

Well, that was good, not that Lance needed his permission. But, it would make things easier. “Sooo… Can I get some dead crystals to play with?”

Xana nodded. “I’ll get some, if you wouldn’t mind taking over here. I know we’ve gone over quintessence refinement, so this would be a perfect chance to practice.”

Lance eyed the large crystal that was currently being used for the refinement, and scrunched up his nose. “Should I start with something, IDK, smaller?”

“Nonsense. You’ve been progressing so well, I fear that wouldn’t even challenge you.” Xana was probably grinning under his mask. Ugh, he just wanted to get out of work. Lance sighed and reluctantly nodded. “Excellent. I’ll stay here through the first batch. I’ll be sure to have some dead crystals for you by morning tomorrow.”

Lance groaned, but switched places with Xana. He held out his hands, and took a deep breath to center himself, and then started the work.

Corrupting quintessence was a lot like being lost in the static. To some degree, Lance was acutely aware of everything going on around him, but to another degree, it was all distant. Xana was right, however, Lance didn’t need to practice on anything smaller.

The door slid open, but the lack of alarm from Xana and the general flow of quintessence assured Lance that all was fine. He continued as he was.

“He’s a natural.” Petyr’s voice brushed against the edge of Lance’s concentration, but it wasn’t demanding anything from Lance.

“So, it would seem.” Xana replied. Lance was aware of him moving, circling around the room, careful to avoid the range of the sphere of quintessence and its arcs of energy.

Petyr was quiet for a moment. “Would you like to me to stay and keep watch? High Priestess Haggar called and was requesting your presence.”

The sphere faulted for a moment as Lance’s concentration broke to think for a moment of what Haggar could have wanted.

“Focus, Lance!” Xana snapped. “Concentration is key.” The sphere reformed, and the process continued. Xana turned to Petyr. “Do you think you could handle that?” Xana asked, referring to Lance.

“I don’t think you have much other choice.” Petyr replied. “She’s very interested in your ‘project’.”

Once again, Lance’s concentration slipped. However, he was able to quickly regain it without further incident or scolding. Xana tutted, but didn’t say anything to Lance about it.

“Very well.” Xana replied to Petyr. A few ticks later, the doors slid open again, and Lance was left with Petyr. Thankfully, for the rest of Lance’s task, Petyr did nothing to further distract Lance.

The thing about quintessence was that it had a really shitty side effect of basically drugging someone. It was intense on the body and mind, which Lance supposed made sense considering it was life itself.

The other Druids had a home field advantage of tolerance from years of training and messing with quintessence. Lance had the whole Paladin of Voltron thing going for him, but that was it. So, suffice to say, finishing felt like a drug high.

Everything was in too much clarity. His head swam with smoky static, but felt clearer than ever. He swayed as he stepped away, blinking as Petyr steadied him. He blinked as the other Druid studied him and then snorted, looking away.

“Talent does not equal endurance.” Petyr informed Lance quietly. “You’ve progressed so far without working on that. Presumably since as a Yellow base, Xana’s endurance is hard to test.”

Lance nodded slowly, waiting for the high to abide. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Lance replied after a long moment.

“You’ve been at it for most of the day. I would suggest returning to your quarters and getting some food and rest.” Petyr pulled away, and watched Lance for a moment to make sure he truly didn’t need further support.

Lance nodded again, and slowly turned, heading for the doors. “I’ll do that.” He called over his shoulder.

He could feel Sonali’s concerned gaze on him as he walked back to the room, and sighed as they followed him inside. Lotor must have been out and about.

“I suppose if I say I don’t want to talk, you won’t listen?” Lance asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed before mentally saying ‘quiznak it’ and flopping back.

“That is correct.” Sonali confirmed. “I’m worried for you.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about.” Lance replied, staring dully up at the ceiling. His whole-body low key ached, and he was heavily debating if he wanted to try to take a shower or a bath.

Not to mention, there was still that irritating under the skin itch that occasionally arose when he was messing with quintessence. Usually Lotor could soothe that itch, but he wasn’t around currently. And even if he was, Lance wasn’t sure he’d want to spend all that much time with him.

“Lance.” Sonali huffed. “You’re losing yourself. I’ve been watching you slowly be chiseled away.”

Lance sat up, glaring at Sonali. “I’ve been loyal to the resistance!” Lance hissed. “I haven’t betrayed you or them.”

Sonali took a step back, holding up their hands in the universal sign of ‘peace’ and ‘calm down’.

“I’m not doubting that you have, Lance.” They tried to calm him down. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think you ever will without just cause.”

“But?” Lance prompted, because there was no way that was the end of it.

“But there is no doubt that you are not the same as when you came.” Sonali continued. Lance snorted. “When was the last time you used a… what do you call it? A me-me?”

Lance rolled his eyes, not bothering to correct their horribly wrong pronunciation. Besides, Lance had meme’d internally just that morning. So, they could shut their quiznak.

“People change.” Lance replied. “People adapt. They change to better suit their surroundings or they die. I’m doing what I have to do.”

“You were scared of losing yourself, and you are.” Sonali countered. “Are you controlling the corruption, Lance? Or is it controlling you?”

Lance glared at Sonali. “I’m in control of it.” He tilted his head up, locking his jaw as he’d often seen Shiro do when he was sticking to his guns.

Sonali was quiet, meeting Lance’s look dead on for a moment before turning away.

“If you say so.” They muttered. “I’ll go order some food for you. The Prince won’t be back till much later, so you have free reign until then.” Sonali paused. “Also, Xana added some private practice time to your schedule for tomorrow, as well as ‘quintessence refinement’ in two quintants.”

“Thank you.” Lance’s voice was softer. He sighed, and shook his head. “I’m going to go take a bath, let me know when the food is here, I’ll go over some stuff I learned today with you then.”

Sonali nodded, and with that, Lance slid off the bed and into the bathroom. About two vargas later saw Lance eating his food after explaining to Sonali about what he’d learned from Project Kumar.

Once finished with his meal, Lance stood, slightly swaying as he considered his options. He eyed the couch, his longtime bed in this room. It was as comfortable as a couch could be, and wasn’t bad. He had a pillow, and a blanket that he could sleep with.

Or… there was the bed.

Lance eyed the bed. He’d slept in it only a few times, most of which were not strictly by his choice. It was a good bed, if not a bit too tall for him. Sleeping in the bed willingly would probably push a point across to Lotor, although Lance didn’t want to make that point.

Yet, if he wanted to avoid another mess like last night, then it was unavoidable. He had to make that point.

“Oh, Lance.” Sonali whispered as Lance dredged his way over to the bed. Lance ignored them.

His choice was made. His choice had always been made. Lotor had just allowed Lance the luxury of thinking he had one.

The bed was as soft as it’d always been, feeling like a cloud as he climbed in. The sheets were smooth and light against him, barely catching on the clothes Lance wore to bed.

“Dim the lights.” He half asked, half demanded of Sonali, and then buried his face into the pillow. He took a deep breath. The thought that the pillows smelled like Lotor was his last coherent thought as sleep overtook him.

At least until a few vargas later, when something soft and light tickled his nose. There was warmth touching his temple, which pulled away as Lance scrunched his nose. He whined as he turned his face into the pillow. A warm chuckle responded above him, and then the tickling sensation was gone.

Lance slowly blinked a few times before opening his eyes. The lights in the room were still dim, but Lance could still recognize Lotor.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Lotor whispered. He was sitting on the bed next to where Lance was laying. He reached down, and stroked Lance’s hair, his hand sliding down to Lance’s cheek and then to stroke one of his scales.

Lotor’s emotions swam into Lance’s sleep hazed mind. While the sliminess of possession and obsession was still prevalent, Lance could feel a definite current of apology and fondness. Lance chose to focus on Lotor’s fondness, and sighed, snuggling into the bed.

Lotor chuckled again, and removed his hand. He stood, and then tucked Lance back in, ensuring he was covered. Faintly, Lance could hear the noises of Lotor getting ready for bed.

He was just drifting back off when Lotor returned, and was woken again, this time by the bed dipping as Lotor climbed in. He waited for the moment when Lotor would press up against him, or drape an arm around him, or try to spoon him or something.

But nothing happened. Lance sighed, a sleepy smile on his face as he drifted back off to sleep.

The first thing Lance registered upon waking was that his pillow had been once again replaced with something soft yet rather firm. The second thing he noticed was that all he could smell was lilacs and sunflowers.

Lance didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to put two and two together and get Lotor. He sighed, stretching out his body as best he could without disturbing the prince. Like before, there was an arm wrapped around him, securely holding him to Lotor.

The hand that arm belonged to was resting on his hip, and when Lance stretched, the thumb slipped under his shirt to stroke gently at Lance’s skin.

“Morning.” Lotor whispered.

Lance blinked as he looked up at the very much awake prince. Well, so much for not bothering Lotor. He yawned, hiding his face in Lotor’s body. Once done, he laid his head back down on Lotor’s chest, idly listening to the quiet thump of his heart.

He should probably be concerned about using Lotor as a human pillow, but he was warm, and comfortable. Besides, the hand lazily rubbing tiny circles into his hip felt nice. Lance could have purred.

“I see you’re still not quite awake.” Lotor commented. Lance glanced up to give him a blank look. “Or you’re still upset at me.” Lotor quickly amended.

Lance snorted quietly.

Lance could remember last night, although it was vague and somewhat hazy. Lotor had been the perfect gentleman. He hadn’t asked anything of Lance, nor had he forced anything on him. But as sweet as that had been, it took more than that to return to Lance’s good side.

Although this perfectly sweet morning was quickly adding on brownie points.

Quiznak, Lance loved moments like this. Now, if only he was on a beach, with the sea breeze coming through an open window, and the sun warming his back… then this would be perfect.

Lotor’s free hand came up to stroke Lance’s hair for a tick before running through it. Lance hummed, relaxing further at the soothing motions.

“Beautiful.” Lotor breathed.

Lance wasn’t sure he was meant to hear that. Lance wasn’t even sure Lotor meant to say it. Still, the word filled Lance with warmth blossoming out from his chest.

Lance didn’t know how long they stayed there. Long enough for Lance to start to doze back off before Lotor’s tablet beeped with his usual wake up alarm.

One of these days, Lance was going to take the tablet and throw it against the wall.

Lotor sighed, his hands stilling as the tablet beeped. He was gentle as he slid out from under Lance, careful not to jostle Lance too much. Lance echoed Lotor’s sigh, and turned over, sprawling out on the bed, trying to soak up the remaining warmth of Lotor’s body before it faded.

Undoubtedly, Lotor had left to take his morning shower. Part of Lance was mildly offended that he hadn’t been asked to join in, but another part of him was just slightly relieved. Lotor still wasn’t forcing him into anything.

But how much longer until he was?

How much longer did Lance have to be miffed before Lotor expected him to be over it? How much longer did Lance have until Lotor was trying some other way to get Lance to give him what he wanted?

Lance didn’t know, and that was what spurred him into action.

Lance slid out of the bed, stretched languidly before slowly sauntering over to the bathroom. The door wasn’t locked, which Lance figured was pretty much an invitation if he saw one.

The door slid open, and Lance was hit with a wave of steam. The shower was running, and Lotor was standing under its spray, his back to Lance, water running down his face, and body. Clouds of steam drifted by, temporarily hiding parts of Lotor’s body from sight.

Subconsciously, Lance licked his lips, his gaze sliding down Lotor’s body before traveling back up to the prince’s face. Lotor was looking at him from over his shoulder, and when he saw he had Lance’s attention, quirked an eyebrow as if to say, ‘enjoying the view?’.

Lance replied with an eyebrow quirk of his own. “You’re the only one allowed to look?” He asked, teasingly.

Lotor laughed. “Not at all.” He paused, grinning at Lance. “But if you wanted to look closer, you’re allowed.”

Lance matched his grin, and stepped into the room, stripping out of his clothes. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Text

There were a thousand thoughts screaming at Lance as he stepped into the shower with Lotor.

The most prominent of them being ‘what the quiznak?!’ regarding his own actions. However, he swallowed those thoughts down, and shoved them to the back of his mind.

Besides, Lotor was really good looking, and he’d already shown to Lance that he didn’t just chase after his own pleasure, and was willing to take care of Lance too. The fuzzy memories Lance had of that night was enough evidence to support that. And to top things off, he’d even provided some basic after care.

Lotor could have been much worse. He could have just used Lance, and tossed him off to the side. He could have taken further advantage of Lance’s intoxicated state instead of the mild way that he had. He could have left Lance on the floor, covered in their mixed fluids.

But he hadn’t. Lance was lucky that Lotor wasn’t like that… that he cared for Lance.

Lotor’s gaze moved up and down Lance’s body as he joined him in the shower, but surprisingly, the prince made no movements towards touching Lance. Well, if Lotor wasn’t going to instigate anything, neither was Lance. He’d made the first move already by joining Lotor in the shower. It was Lotor’s turn now.

The shower passed without incident, and Lance wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Part of him felt disappointed and somewhat let down. His stomach dropped as Lotor exited the shower, wrapped himself up in a towel, and left the bathroom.

Was there something wrong with Lance? Did Lotor not like him anymore?

No. No, that couldn’t be it. After all, there was no way that Lance could have imagined the heat in the prince’s gaze yesterday when he’d eaten the apple, or today, when Lance first entered the shower.

So, what had caused this new behavior in the prince? Lance sighed as he exited the shower, wrapping a towel around himself before exiting into the main room to change.

He didn’t look at Lotor, but he swore he could feel the prince’s eyes on him as he dressed. Once finished, he joined Lotor at the table, where another breakfast spread was laid out. Twice in a row, must be Lance’s lucky movement.

Lance’s plate seemed to have been premade, with all of his favorites. Lance raised an eyebrow, and the prince adverted his gaze.

Interesting.

If Lance had displeased the prince like he’d been thinking, then Lotor wouldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t be acting this way. Lance’s gaze fell upon an apple on his plate, and realization dawned on him.

Lotor was still under the impression that Lance was mad at him. Even after Lance joined him in the shower. That was cute. Lance took a seat, and together they quietly ate their breakfast.

“Did I pass the test?” Lotor asked once he’d finished his plate.

Lance hummed, sucking on his spoon as he debated answers in his mind. “Test?” He finally asked. He put the spoon down, and bridged his hands, resting his head on them.

“That’s what the whole shower thing was, wasn’t it?” Lotor asked, leaning forward. “A test to tempt me?”

“If that’s what you wanted to believe, then sure, I guess you passed.” Lance paused. “What did you think the test was for?”

Lotor was silent for a long moment as he considered his own words. “To test my control, and your forgiveness. I don’t feel I’ve sufficiently earned it yet.”

Well, neither did Lance. He’d just gotten in the shower because he didn’t know how long he was allowed to be miffed by what Lotor had done. But, Lotor was showing him that he was allowed to be miffed. He was allowed be annoyed at the prince. He had a choice still, in a way.

Lance hummed again. “So, what’cha gonna do to earn it?” He asked.

“I was thinking, I could take you to dinner tonight?” Lotor requested, his tone somewhat hesitant. “If that’s fine with you?”

Lance leaned back, dropping his hands to the table as he considered Lotor. As far as he could tell, the prince seemed sincere about wanting to earn Lance’s forgiveness. It was touching, and sweet. And Lotor was such a gentleman.

Lance had practically given him permission to molest him in the shower, and Lotor had done nothing. Lance could throw him a bone.

“That’d be nice.” Lance replied after a few moments. Lotor smiled, relief settling into his features. He leaned forward and took one of Lance’s hands, and pressed a warm kiss to the knuckles.

“I look forward to it.” Lotor murmured, looking up to meet Lance’s gaze.

Lance felt his face heat up, and looked away, ignoring Lotor’s responding chuckles. Lotor dropped his hand, and pulled away, standing up and heading for the door. “I’ll be back later.” He promised before he left.

Lance nodded, and once he was sure Lotor was gone, moved his plate so he could drop his head onto the table.

“You have private practice with Xana in about a varga.” Sonali informed him quietly from the door. “And I believe Princess Corral has requested that you have lunch with her either today or tomorrow.”

Lance turned his head so his cheek was pressed against the table and stared blankly at Sonali, who was scrolling through their tablet.

“Oh! And you have another date with the Prince, I see.” They paused, and looked up at Lance. “You don’t need to do this to yourself, you know.”

Lance laughed. “Do what? I’m enjoying myself.” His momma had always told him that if he told a lie enough times, it’d come true. She must have been telling the truth since he couldn’t tell if he’d just told Sonali a lie anymore.

Sure, he had his problems with Lotor, but everyone had problems with people occasionally. For the most part Lotor was loving, attentive, and very attractive. He’d never done anything to Lance that he didn’t like.

Mentally, he had to refrain from the urge to squirm, that whole body itch resurfacing for a moment before dying back down.

He stood, unable to stay sitting for much longer, and tossed on his Druid Robes. “I’m gonna go ahead and get to the training now.” He informed Sonali.

He pulled up his hood and bowed his head, hiding his face as he walked through the halls. It was moments like these that Lance wished he had a Druid mask. However, as he was still a noob, he had not yet been given one.

Lance headed for the practice room he usually shared with Xana. The door slid open with a quiet hiss, and Lance would have just walked into the main part of the room if he hadn’t heard Petyr’s voice saying something interesting.

“I can’t believe that you’re indulging him like this.”

Lance paused mid step, and then took a step back so he was hidden in the door’s alcove.

“If it keeps him occupied and sated, then yes.” Xana replied. “This is a pointless endeavor, and one that is sure to keep him content.”

They had to be talking about Lance’s dead crystal project. Which meant that they were talking about Lance.

“You went too far. You've created a monster.”

Petyr thought Lance was a monster? That was rich, and kinda funny.  But why did he think that?

Was it because of the thing Lance had done yesterday? He’d only been trying to scare him a little. It wasn’t Lance’s fault that Petyr was intimidated by Lance’s rapid progress.  

“I did no such thing.” Xana denied. Lance let out a mental sigh of relief. At least Xana had his back.

“You’ve succumbed to trying to tire him out with the refinement, and entertaining him with futile projects. If it wasn’t for the prince’s influence on him, I don’t think you’d be able to control him anymore. He’s a loose cannon, much like his mother.”

Control him? Xana never tried to control him, only teach him. He was Lance’s mentor, his teacher, and his friend.  And what was that line about his mother?  And Lotor's influence on him?  

“I’ll admit, the Blue Quintessence was proving to be more difficult to chisel and mold than I had hoped, but there is no denying the progress that I, and he, have made. The prince, in particular, is very pleased.”

Lance furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand the words that he was hearing. Of course, Xana was molding him… that’s what happened when someone taught another person. They molded their skills, and helped them grow as a person.

Lance’s advancements must have been what they were talking about. After all, Lotor was pleased with Lance’s progress.

“The prince is the only one who could control him anymore, and most of the time he’s content to let him be. I know the signs, Xana. He treats…”

Lance shook his head. He didn’t want to hear anymore. He pressed his hand against the scanner, opening the door again, and very loudly taking a step in. The conversation immediately went quiet.

“Hey, Xana?” Lance called out, as he exited out of the alcove. “Hope you don’t mind me stopping in early.”

Xana smiled tightly, although it didn’t reach his eyes. Petyr stood off to the side, staring at Lance the way he usually did. Lance’s stomach twisted, and while he didn’t regret interrupting the conversation, he couldn’t help but to wonder what else Petyr would have said.

“Of course not, Lance. You are always welcome here.” Xana replied, although his tone was lacking the warmth those words generally required.

Petyr shifted, and then inclined his head. “I have my own projects to see to. Thank you for the talk, Xana.” He brushed past Lance on his exit.

Lance half turned, and watched him leave before turning back to Xana. “What’s his problem?”

Xana chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head. “I have those crystals you asked for.” He redirected. He gestured to behind him, where a small collection of dull gray crystals sat. “Have at them.”

Lance didn’t even remember to give his thanks as he bee-lined to them, sinking down onto his knees to look them over better. Most were the size of Lance’s hand, although there were a few outliers. There were a couple which were very small and narrow, about the size of one of Lance’s fingers.

Those, Lance made the mental note to pocket later. As for the hand sized ones, he looked each one over, picking them up and examining them.

Whenever people talked about using Crystals on Earth, they talked a lot about finding one that ‘called’ to the person, and Lance was looking for that now. Although, to be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what that all meant.

“Is there something you’re looking for?” Xana asked after a few moments of Lance picking up various crystals and putting them back down.

“I’ll know it when I find it.” Lance replied. He’d narrowed his choices down to two crystals, and then shrugged, deciding to take them both. “I want these two.” He announced.

“Is there a reason?” Xana asked.

“They feel right.” Lance picked them both up, after swiping the smaller crystals and pocketing them. He carried them over to the pillows and put them down in front of the one he’d claimed as his before sitting down criss-cross.

He stared at the crystals, trying to think of the best way to try to ‘reinfuse’ them with quintessence. Obviously, he only wanted to try one for now, and if he succeeded, then he could move onto the second.

If Xana didn’t like Lance’s vague answer then he didn’t let that show, and instead took a seat not far from Lance. He was watching Lance, and Lance tilted his head, looking at him from under his hood.

“Yeah?”

“I just thought it was time for you to get your mask. Outside of a few skills, you seem to have progressed quite nicely.”

Lance felt like he couldn’t breathe. Getting one’s mask was a huge thing. It meant that the Druid had truly become a Druid instead of just a trainee.

“Are you sure?”

“There’s little more I can teach you.” Xana commented. “You’ve been a quick study, and I’m impressed. But, if you ever needed guidance or assistance, know that I will be there for you.” From out of his robes, Xana pulled out one of the masks that the Druids wore, and handed it over to Lance.

“That means a lot to me.” Lance accepted the mask and looked down, running his fingers over it.

“Normally Haggar would present this, but, she’s been a bit tied up with our emperor.” Xana explained. Lance’s mouth tightened to a thin line at the reminder of Zarkon. If it was up to Lance, then Lotor would be their emperor now, not Zarkon.

“That’s fine. I’d rather it was you, to be honest.” Lance looked up and offered a smile. “It means more coming from you then Hagger. Thank you, Xana.”

“No, thank you for being my pupil. Never before have I had the pleasure of teaching someone like you. While I would like to teach you more, I feel that I’ve reached the end of what I can do with you. It’s up to you now to forge your own path.”

Lance nodded.

“But, if you ever need me to reinforce some of my trainings, I won’t hesitate to assist. Even pros need to take remedial classes every so often.” Xana added after a moment.

Lance laughed, and shook his head. “Not me. I’m gonna be the very best. Just you see.”

“I expect great things from you, Lance.” Xana stood, and nodded at the crystals. “I’ll leave you to this, but remember, if you ever feel like you’re slipping, or you need a little help, don’t hesitate to seek me out.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

Xana nodded, and Lance watched him take his leave before turning back to the crystals and sighing.

He pulled up a sphere of quintessence, wincing at the energy that it pulled. Refining the quintessence the day before had been like doing an exercise on a seldom worked out muscle, and it hurt to hold the sphere for long.

Perhaps Petyr had been right about Lance needing to work on endurance. Well, no better time to start then now.

He held the sphere up to the crystal, and readied himself for a long day. After all, the Balmeras infused their crystals through long-term exposure to their latent quintessence. Perhaps it was the same for this.

The only problem was that Lance couldn’t provide a constant source of quintessence for deca-phoebs. That just wasn’t viable for what he was needing to do. He’d try this in the meantime, and mediate while he did so to see if he could think of anything else he could do.

He shifted his position, taking his chosen crystal and dropping it onto his lap. With both hands, he pulled up the corrupted quintessence and held it there, barely touching the crystal. He closed his eyes, and let himself drop.

Lance opened his eyes to a gray slate sky. The ocean was quiet, and had been for a while, ever since it’d been buried under the muck and oil that was the corruption.

He probably should have been worried about it, but Blue worried about it enough for the two of them.

Speaking of Blue… Lance turned his head to look at her. She was trying to make her way over to him, but was half submerged in the quietly bubbling goo that’d become Lance’s astral plane.

After an unknown amount of time – it worked differently in the Astral Planes – Blue made her way to Lance. Her nose bumped against Lance’s hand, and for a moment, she swept him up and away into her memories and thoughts.

They were in their hangar, looking down at Keith as he talked about trying to find Lance. They were out in space listening to Coran’s voice in their head and wanting the fight over as soon as possible so he could leave. They were in their hangar again, watching as Allura and Keith spoke about mythical bonds.

There were in their hanger, listening to Coran try to plead with them, begging them to let him in and help. Through strained bonds with the others, Green cursed, screaming in pain. Of the bonds, the tie to Red was the strongest. She asked them for assistance, screaming as she too took a hit. They allowed Coran entrance.

They were in the hangar, watching Allura and Coran.

“I don’t understand!” Allura huffed, shaking her head. “I just cleansed the Blue Lion less than a quintant ago.”

“Well, if Keith’s theory is correct, then it’s possible she won’t remain cleansed until we fix the root of the problem.” Coran replied. He was playing with his mustache between his fingers, which usually meant he was trying to think of something.

They were in a battle. Nothing was going right. Coran was in their head, shouting. They weren’t listening, and they turned on Red, slashing at her with their claws.

“Coran!” Keith’s voice echoed through the connection. “Watch it!”

“She’s fighting my control.” Coran replied. They could feel him trying to control them, but he should know better.

They were back in the hangar, roaring at Allura. She stood, unbothered by their threats. She reached out, and touched their paw, and they surged forward, meeting her quintessence with their own.

“Bitch.” They snarled at her, and she gasped, her eyes wide in horror. But there was a disconnect. Where Lance was speaking, Blue was pleading, asking for help.

Like metal hitting metal, sparks flew.

Lance opened his eyes back in reality as Blue roared in the back of his mind. His hands were shaking, and sweat was literally running down his face. His body burned, but not like he’d been in a fire, but like he’d been outside for too long. Like a freezer burn.

He couldn’t breathe, the air in his chest frozen.

He inhaled despite that, and then lunged forward, nearly sick to his stomach as it twisted. The crystal he’d been using rolled to the floor, but he didn’t care as he fell to his hands and knees, dry heaving.

Once he was done, he sat back on his heels, and took several slow deep breaths. For a couple of doboshs, he sat there until he was sure he was fine, and then he stood. He picked up his crystals and his mask before heading back to his room.

His mind was a flurry of thoughts as he tried to process what had just happened. His hands were still shaking, even as he tried to hide that in the folds of his robes.

“Lance?” Sonali called out, but Lance brushed past them, heading immediately into the bathroom and locking the door. “Lance?” They called out again, before apparently letting the matter drop.

Lance’s grip on the counter was so tight that his knuckles were turning white. Agitated quintessence energy surged through him, offering a brief respite as he distracted himself with trying to calm it back down.

There was too much going on for him to worry much about everything, including what he'd just heard. He had a date with Lotor later, after all, and he needed at least a varga in the bathroom to calm down after all of this.

Sonali was waiting for him when Lance exited out of the bathroom. They were tapping along on their tablet, and didn’t bother to look up when Lance exited, presumably because they knew Lance would be naked.

Lance dressed in some of his nicer date clothes, and only then did they look up from the tablet. “Looks like your dinner with Lotor is in the Gardens again.” They commented. “It’s been a while since your last date there.”

“When is it?”

“I’d advise that we leave now. You spent a long time in practice and in the bathroom. Princess Corral was still wanting a lunch, so I scheduled it for tomorrow, by the way.”

“Great, thank you.” Lance left the room, un bothered by the groups of Galra walking out in the halls. Thanks to the necklace that he wore, most recognized him as being their prince’s. While most of the rest of the empire didn’t seem to have much respect of Lotor – or at least, they didn’t the last Lance had known – most of the Galra here respected and adored Lotor.

And why shouldn’t they? Lotor was a better leader than his father. He listened to them, and wasn’t constantly berating them or instilling fear into their hearts. Lotor inspired loyalty. He promoted his people.

Lotor helped people grow, like he’d helped Lance.

In any case, people saw the necklace that he wore and instantly recognized him as belong to their prince. Which meant they didn’t bother Lance out of respect to Lotor.

Lance entered the Garden, smiling at the beauty of it all. He started off towards the Gazebo, having come here often enough with Lotor to know that the dinner would be there.

“You look lovely.” Lotor greeted Lance as he turned the corner. Lance slowed to a stop and smiled up at Lotor, already feeling more at ease in his presence.

The shower had helped to wash away some of the stress Lance felt from his experience with Blue, but seeing Lotor was like an elixir.

“Not too bad yourself.” Lance replied as Lotor took his hand, dropping to his knee to kiss Lance’s knuckles. Lance laughed and shook his head. Playfully he tugged on Lotor’s hand, attempting to pull him up to his feet. “Oh, enough of that, you.”

Lotor used the momentum to stand up and step closer to Lance, pulling him into a hug. Lance wrapped his arms around him, and sighed, turning his face so he was resting his cheek against Lotor’s chest. He sighed, relaxing into Lotor’s hold.

For as tough as things could be with Lotor, there was no denying that these moments were worth everything. Lotor was kind, tender, loving. He was a great leader to his people. Lotor was perfect.

Lance might actually love him. Sure, there were kinks to work out – like the whole getting Lance drunk thing – but so long as Lance didn’t step out of line, so long as Lance took care of Lotor, then it wouldn’t be a problem.

Lance had brought what had happened upon himself. If he’d been more… open? available? willing? then Lotor wouldn’t have resorted to such measures. Lance should have taken care of his prince sooner.

Especially since Lotor was being so perfect now. He was a balm to the sore that’d been his day so far. Lotor was just what Lance needed.

“Rough day?” Lotor asked.

Lance hummed slowly. “You could say that.” He looked up to Lotor. “But I’m looking forward to this.”

Lotor grinned, and the itch that had been lowkey under Lance’s skin all day faded some. He leaned down and kissed Lance. Lance reached up, wrapping his arms around Lotor’s shoulders and neck. He played with Lotor’s hair as he languidly kissed him back.

When he needed air, they broke away, and Lance grinned up at him. Or he was until Lotor literally swept him off his feet, ducking down to pick him up bridal style.

“Lotor!” Lance laughed, tightening his grip on the prince. “Put me down!” Lance demanded, laughter escaping between every other word.

“Nope.” Lotor grinned at him, and popped his ‘p’ as he said the word. If Lance were able to, he would have brushed away a tear. Lotor was learning from him, how precious! “You deserve this. Relax.”

Lance rolled his eyes, grinning like a loon. “Fine.” He shook his head slowly. “You spoil me.”

“I believe that’s already been established, pet.”

Lance rolled his eyes again, and resigned himself to be being carried. Although, it was totally cool that Lotor could carry him like this. He rested his head against the prince’s shoulder, and relaxed.

The walk to the gazebo was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. It was the type of silence that grandparents had during breakfasts before they’d fully woken up, or that of two friends sitting in the same room working on their own things. It was an enjoyable silence; the type Lance didn’t mind all that much.

Lance was almost sad to be put down when they reached the gazebo, but he was happy to be back on his own two feet. He gave Lotor a small peck on the cheek, and smiled as Lotor pulled out Lance’s chair for him.

Dinner was the usual affair as it’d always been, but instead of returning to their room like usual, Lotor pulled out a box from seemingly nowhere. Lance blinked at the box, déjà vu of the first time this had happened hitting him like a train.

Unlike last time, however, he wasn’t going to burst into tears. He wasn’t going to be the mess that he’d been last time. He’d come to accept that this was his life. He was a Druid of the Empire, a spy for the resistance… and Lotor’s pet.

He was fine with this. He’d accepted this. There were worst people he could be stuck with, and he could actually probably grow to love Lotor; he already thought that he might.

Then again, could what he felt for Lotor really be anything like love? Especially when he was so hesitant to sleep with Lotor? Maybe he was so hesitant because he was betraying Lotor by being a spy.

No, he couldn’t think of that now. Not at a moment like this. He’d leave his personal crises for later.

“I hope you’d accept this as a peace offering.” Lotor’s hand grazed Lance’s as he handed over the box.

Like the necklace, it was a small plain black box, although unlike the necklace, this box was more square than rectangular. Lance opened it and inhaled sharply as he looked down in it. Very carefully, Lance lifted the bracelet out of the box to get a better look at it.

Like the necklace, the bracelet was comprised of the same dark metal and glittering quintessence jewels. He wasn’t an expert on jewelry, but he was pretty sure the style of the bracelet was called a bangle as there was no clasp, and instead a seamless band of metal.

Delicate swirls and designs in the metal occasionally had nail sized jewels in them, and occasionally, the swirls made up the Galra emblem.

“You can’t buy my forgiveness, Lotor.” Despite Lance’s words, he slid the bracelet on.

He moved his hand around, shaking it slightly to see how the bracelet would react, or if it’d fall off. Based on how tight it’d been to put it on, Lance was fairly certain that the only way it was coming off was if he was trying to remove it.

Sufficiently pleased, Lance examined it again, a stupid smile stuck on his face as he brushed his fingers over the designs.

“Can’t I?” Lotor replied. “You seem to like it.”

“It’s very beautiful.” Lance shrugged before looking up at Lotor from his lashes. “I tend to like pretty things.”

“Are you calling me pretty?” Lotor purred. He leaned forward, and was watching Lance, not that Lance minded Lotor’s gaze on him.

“I don’t know, am I?” Lance teased. “I mean, you’re not bad looking.”

Lotor laughed, leaning back as he shook his head. “Not bad looking?” Lotor repeated, quirking an eyebrow. He was still shaking his head. “I remember a time where you once called me handsome.”

“Mmm, definitely above average. Not so sure about handsome anymore.” Lance continued to tease.

“Oh, this just gets worse and worse.” Lotor sighed. “I just can’t win with you, can I?”

“Nope.” Lance popped the ‘p’.

Lotor shook his head, a fond smile on his face. “No matter, but I suppose then that you forgive me?”

Lance weighed his possible answers carefully, and then grinned, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand.

“…If I say no, would you take the bracelet back?”

“Of course not.” Lotor replied instantly. “I would never take back anything I’ve given to you.”

Lance laughed. He hadn’t expected Lotor to take such offense to the question. “Then yes. I suppose I forgive you.”

Lotor’s expression froze, and he blinked at Lance. “…That was a test, wasn’t it?” He asked.

“Maybe.” Lance replied. At Lotor’s miffed expression Lance giggled. “But if it was, you passed.” Lotor’s responding sigh of relief was with his whole body.

“Good. I don’t care much for your ire. I prefer you happy, and smiling. You look beautiful when you smile.”

“Just when I smile?” Lance asked, teasingly.

“All the time.” Lotor quickly amended. “You’re beautiful all the time.”

“How about when I’m shifted into a Galra form?” Lance had to ask. He knew that Lotor didn’t care for the form, but he wanted to know what he’d say and how he’d respond. “Am I still beautiful then?”

“Because it’s you, yes.” Lotor sighed, scrunching up his nose. “But there are definitely more pleasing and beautiful forms you could take. Like your natural one, you have no reason to hide from me.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Lance laughed.

“Why would I want to go anywhere when you’re right here?” Lotor countered. Wow, okay, Mr. Smooth-Operator. What could Lance say to that? He flushed, looking down and away from Lotor. Even when he wasn’t looking at Lotor, he could still feel the prince’s intense gaze on him.

A sentry showed up, excusing Lance from having to reply. Part of him was thankful, but another part of him wasn’t.

Their dessert was brought out by a sentry not even a few ticks later. Lance was happy for the further distraction. Even better, it was a light fluffy cake like dessert which was often served with fruit syrups, slices, and whipped cream.

Lance could be down to torture Lotor a little with those things. It was the least the prince deserved for rendering him speechless before.

Perhaps it was Lance projecting his own thirst upon Lotor, but by the time dessert was finished, Lotor’s gaze was heated anytime he looked at Lance. Now, that last part was important because about half way through, he’d stopped looking at Lance because he realized he’d been staring.

Of course, any time he glanced back up at Lance, Lance was sure to lick his lips or a cream filled spoon, or suck on a piece of fruit; which inevitably would cause Lotor to stare again for a moment before looking back down.

“See something you like?” Lance asked after the fifth time of catching him staring.

“I thought we were past the tests?” Lotor’s voice sounded slightly strained. It was good to know that he could affect the prince as strongly as Lotor could affect him.

“Who said this was a test?” Lance half sung out. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”

“Is that so?” To his credit, Lotor was very calm and smooth in his delivery of the line. Lotor was even smirking as he spoke, quirking an eyebrow like he didn’t care about what Lance said. Hmm, perhaps Lance had to try harder to ruffle his feathers.

Lance hummed an affirmative around a spoonful of dessert. The prickle under his skin seemed to be worsening, but it was still ignorable.

“Keep testing me like this and I don’t think I’ll be the one squirming.”

Lance pulled the now clean spoon out of his mouth. “Is that a threat?” Lance asked, dropping the spoon onto the plate with a quiet clatter. He leaned forward, resting his cheek on his hand again, as he gave Lotor an obvious look over. “Or a promise?”

Lotor inhaled sharply, the pupils of his eyes dilating as the heat in his gaze grew. Oh. So, the prince liked that, huh? Well, that was fine, Lance was rather enjoying how the Prince was looking at him.

“It can be any way you want to take it.” Lotor replied after a moment.

“So, this is about what I want?” Lance mused.

Lotor scoffed. “When have I ever denied you your desires? If you want something, all you have to do is ask.”

Oh, look at Lotor being a gentleman. He was making damn sure that Lance couldn’t get upset at him for ‘tricking’ him or anything. He was waiting or Lance to make a move, to basically spell out what he wanted so there’d be no doubts later.

Smart man.

Plus, seeing Lotor restrain himself like this was pretty hot. Like, it was so obvious that Lotor was interested – and that alone was super hot – but then he was holding himself back for Lance’s comfort. Like… Damn.

Lance hummed and gave Lotor another look over.

In his chest, his heart felt ready to explode. He felt kind of sick, but it wasn’t the bad type of sick. More like the type of sick a person felt before getting on a roller coaster. It was excitement, but also anxiety. He felt out of his element.

“All I have to do is ask, huh?” Lance repeated. Lotor nodded, and Lance smiled slyly at him. “Then… I suppose…” Lance was purposely dragging out his words, watching Lotor’s expressions. “…that I can ask for...” Lance trailed off.

“Yes?” Lotor prompted, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Ask for…?”

Lance took a deep breath. There was no turning back. Not really. Not when he’d strung Lotor along out like this. He wasn’t sure he wanted to turn back anyways. He was too invested, and that itch under his skin had been steadily getting worse the more he’d teased Lotor. Good thing he knew how to fix it now.

Lance smiled and bit his lip lightly, worrying it between his teeth. Lotor’s eyes immediately snapped to the movement, and Lance saw him hard swallow.

“Well, for some…” Lance barely dipped the tip of his finger into some left-over cream of his dessert. He watched Lotor’s gaze as it dropped to his hand, and then followed Lance’s finger up to his mouth as he pressed his finger against his slightly parted lips as if he were kissing it. “…Us time.” Lance finished.

Chapter Text

Keith stood in the doorway, watching as Allura, once again, cleansed Blue. There was no doubt that there was a problem now, just as there was no doubt in Keith’s mind the cause was Lance.

Unfortunately, finding further information was… difficult.

They didn’t have the capability to actually take down a Galra battleship at their current time, and while Pidge was fantastic, there was only so much she could do. She’d been running herself into the ground with the multiple projects they had going on.

And it wasn’t like she could just stop since her projects had already returned something. It wasn’t much, but it was able to at least confirm for Keith that those rumors he’d heard from the Blade of Marmora were at the very least possible.

Not that it helped much since no one seemed to know where Lotor’s favored ship was, let alone how to get someone onto it.

The only good news lately was that the amount of Robeasts being sent out seemed to have decreased drastically. However, for every bit of good news, there was bad news to follow it.

They were still down two paladins, and therefore, still unable to form Voltron. Which meant they were just leaving Robeasts in their wake unchecked.

Keith frowned as he pulled out the smallish tablet that Pidge had given him and pulled up the star charts. He looked over them, or more specifically, at the colored dots on the star chart indicating the Robeasts they’d left behind.

He was about to shift the chart around when he faltered, feeling off all of a sudden. He furrowed his eyebrows, and stiffened. The feeling crept over him, like he’d walked through spiderwebs, and they were settling into his skin.

It was almost unnoticeable, and had he not been used to mental sensations from Red, he might not have noticed it at all.

Red rumbled inquisitively, having caught the same thing Keith did. The sensation occurred again, and this time Keith was able to more accurately define it a waver in the bonds between them all. Red growled lowly, tugging forth memories of Shiro, Zarkon, the Black Lion, and how their bond worked.

He wasn’t given time to question her further before Allura screamed. He dropped the tablet at the noise, his eyes widening as he took in the image before him.

The quintessence energy that Allura had been using during the ritual had changed to the sickly purple-pink that the Galra used. It was sparking, flashing bright lightening that reminded Keith a bit too much of the Druids he’d encountered.

Blue snarled at Allura, and there was no doubt in his mind that he was about to witness something horrible unless he did something. He didn’t even care that he was stepping on the broken remnants of the tablet as he lunged forward, grabbing Allura around the waist and yanking her backwards, away from Blue.

He twisted as they fell backwards, moving to cage Allura in between him and the floor as quintessence exploded out from Blue. Static crackled in his ear as it passed over him, and he felt like he’d stuck a fork into a plug outlet. He couldn’t imagine what this would have felt like if he hadn’t been wearing his Paladin armor.

He didn’t see what happened, but he felt it. He felt Blue shudder and then just collapse, falling to the floor. Keith sat up and rolled off Allura, before turning to stare at the downed Blue Lion. Her eyes weren’t quite dull, but they were far from fully lit.

“What was that?” Keith demanded. “That’s never happened before.”

Allura stared up at the lion, her jaw set in a way that worried Keith. Her looking like that never meant anything good for anyone.

“Keith.” She looked from Blue to him. “The plan you and the others have been doing, the one you think I don’t know about… how successful has it been?”

Keith blinked at her. In all honestly, he wasn’t surprised that Allura knew about what he’d been doing with Pidge. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much success to report to her.

“Not so well.” He admitted after a moment. “Pidge thinks that if she can get onto a ship with Druids that it’d have the information that we need.”

Allura nodded.

“I do not know the specifics of what has led you to this, but, it has come to my attention that perhaps I should stock more faith in the Paladins.”

Wow. If Lance was here, Keith was sure he’d be making a comment about how much that must have hurt her to admit. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Lance was difficult for Keith to understand at times. Maybe that was just Keith’s natural ‘salty-ness’.

Keith remained silent, and Allura frowned, looking down at her lap before standing. She offered her hand, and he accepted her help to stand.

“I hope you’ll brief me later, but do you trust whatever has led you to these choices?”

Keith thought of the video clips he saw with Pidge of Lance at the Space Mall. He thought of Lance’s body crumpling in that alleyway. He thought of the rumors that he’d heard, and Slav’s advice of following his instincts.

“I do.” Keith nodded.

Allura nodded again. “Very well.” Once more she looked at the crumpled form of the Blue Lion. “It’s time to bring Lance home. Thank you, Blue, for showing me. I do believe I can help with that.”

“Allura?” Allura turned on her heel, and marched for the doors. Keith chased after her. “You aren’t going to try to cleanse Blue?”

“There’s no point with the hold Lance and Blue have on each other.” Well, Allura just about confirmed Keith’s suspicions that it was Lance that’d caused the change. “If we want this to end, we need to find Lance and cleanse him.” Allura continued.

“You think you can do that?”

“There is no thinking about it, Keith. It is imperative that we recover Lance. I cannot allow a Lion of Voltron to be poisoned against us like this.”

Of course, she only cared about Lance because it was hindering Voltron. He should have known better than get his hopes up for a change with her.

Allura entered the bridge, Keith following behind her. “You two!” She barked out at the Blade of Marmora members who were there. “The closest Galra ship with both the Blade and Druids, where is it?”

The two looked at each other before Myklar spoke. “In orbit around Planet Demos.”

Keith noticed Slav was standing off to the side, which was fairly unusual. Usually Slav didn’t come up to the bridge for no reason… unless he wanted to see how something was playing out in this reality. The realization hit Keith like a brick in the face, and immediately he tried to follow the creature’s gaze.

Something uncomfortable settled into Keith’s stomach when he reached the ‘end’. Slav was staring at either Pidge or Hunk, and the expression on his face was not promising anything good.

“Coran, set a course. Pidge and Hunk, get ready. You two are about to infiltrate a Galra ship. Hunk, you’ll be keeping Pidge safe while on the Ship. Keith, if they are caught, you’ll need to be a distraction and their back up.”

Everyone stared at her, surprised. Well, almost everyone. Slav remained staring at either Pidge or Hunk; and Keith looked at Allura with a tinge of horror. Oh no…

He couldn’t let something happen to Pidge or Hunk. They’d already lost Shiro, and Lance. They couldn’t lose one of them too. It’d be too much. The team wouldn’t be able to take it, as a matter of fact, the Team wouldn’t make it. Two people hardly qualified as a team.

But it was too late to do or say anything. Once Allura was set on something, there was little that could dissuade her.

While she’d stated before that they needed to find Lance, all of her attempts in doing so were lack luster at best. She definitely put more effort and energy into replacing Paladins rather than finding the existing ones.

However, now she was showcasing nothing but pure determination to find Lance. Presumably because she’d finally accepted that Blue was not going to give him up so easily. If she wanted Voltron, then she’d have to recover the team, not create a new one.

Allura turned back to the Blade of Marmora people. “If one of the Paladins is caught, can we rely on the Blade of Marmora to get them out?”

Slav looked away, and left the room, slinking away without a single word spoken. That sinking feeling in Keith’s stomach grew worse.

“Of course.” Azur answered this time.

“Good.” She nodded. “Then let’s get one of our Paladins back.”

Chapter Text

Lance yawned, and nuzzled into the pillow – unfortunately not Lotor’s chest – that he’d claimed once Lotor had left and Lance had finished with his shower.

There were few things better in the world than flopping onto a nice clean bed after a nice long relaxing shower and bath.

Although, he was pretty sure that he needed to get up soon. He had a lunch with Coral at some point, and most of his morning had been taken up by Lotor. Not that Lance really blamed him, as Lance was just as equally guilty of wanting to resume their previous night’s activities.

Besides, Lotor was off doing something for or at Galra Command and wouldn’t be back for a couple quintants at the soonest. How could Lance blame him for wanting to spend as much time with Lance before he had to leave?

It wasn’t like Lotor had much choice in whether or not to go. He needed to speak with High Priestess Haggar, and she was refusing to speak with him unless it was in person at Galra Command.

In any case, regarding what happened last night and this morning, Lance had no regrets.

Actually, wait, scratch that. His only regret was not sleeping with Lotor sooner. The man was fantastic in bed. 10 out of 10, would recommend. Would fuck again.

There was some pain, but most of his body’s aches were pleasant. In any case, it wasn’t anything that a few drops of quintessence wouldn’t fix. A glass of wine – or two, depending on how white girl wasted he wanted to get – during his lunch, and he’d be fine.

Besides, he was pretty sure there was quintessence in some of the lube that Lotor had used, which had definitely helped things along in terms of dealing with pain down there.

Quintessence was a beautiful healing agent and Lance loved it.

He sighed, stretching out one more time before rolling over and sliding out the bed. Languidly, he walked over to the closet and flicked through his options before deciding on exactly what he wanted, and carrying it to the bathroom, where he tossed it on the bench in there.

He yawned as turned to the mirror, and for the umpteenth time that quintant admired the lovely marks Lotor had left on him. Man, who could have guessed that Lance had such a thing for Lotor’s sharp little kitty fangs biting him and marking him up?

Guess he was a furry. Oh well, there were worse things to be.

And, if being a furry was the price to pay for Lotor’s attention like that, then Lance was willing to pay that price as many times as it was needed.

Man, Lance had issues. Lotor hadn’t even been gone a whole quintant and Lance was already thirsting back after him. Maybe it was the whole ‘honeymoon’ thing since they were in that stage of their ‘relationship’; where everything was sexy and fun and beautiful.

He kind of hoped this stage never went away. He loved this happy high he was feeling right now.

He freshened himself back up and put on his clothes, heading back out to the main room.

He picked up his tablet and idly scrolled through the ‘texts’ loaded on it, and then after a moment, pulled up the database to scroll through that.

If he wanted to get into any recent Druid files, he’d need to go to a terminal in the Druid areas, which was a shame. But, he did have some older Druid files stored here. He pulled back up the ‘text’ he’d bookmarked with Haggar’s research.

There had to be some way to infuse the crystals without needing up to five Druids, or long-term quintessence exposure. He tapped his finger against the holographic glass of the tablet as he tried to think of a way to achieve what he needed.

There were ways to ‘introduce’ quintessence to a living source. Submersion, injection, inhaling, drinking, eating, etc. Lotor drank almost a glass of quintessence infused wine once a day. Sometimes if he drank more a day before or something, then he’d skip, but for the most part he was fairly consistent.

It was only when someone was introduced to too much quintessence that problems started occurring. Like, mutations… or in Lance’s case, his Altean heritage showing up. Thankfully, as a child of Druids, and a Druid himself, Lance already had a moderate resistance to quintessence, and it was only growing.

But, he couldn’t introduce quintessence into a crystal like that.

Crystals didn’t eat, drink, or breath. He could try submersion, but that was basically the same as just letting the crystal soak up latent quintessence exposure; and it wouldn’t be easy to get the amounts of concentrated quintessence he’d need for that.

Lance sighed, flopping back against the couch. He needed something else to think about. He looked down at his nails and paused, tilting his head. The last manicure he’d done was a while ago with Corral, and if he was going to lunch with her, then he should probably do another.

Lance had only a few stress relief methods, like braiding hair – something Corral was adamant he would never do for her – or giving himself a manicure. It was a way to relax; and maybe a break thinking from the quintessence nonsense would help him out.

He jumped over the back of the couch, and headed to the bathroom. “Hey Sonali,” He called out. “Let me know when I should probably head off for my lunch with Corral.”

“No, I was planning on letting you miss the lunch and deal with her royal bitchiness.” Sonali crossed their arms, as they probably looked at him flatly.

“Thanks, Sonali! Love you!” Lance blew them a kiss and then ducked into the bathroom. He hummed his song to himself as he got the items needed, and started his manicure.

Thankfully, Lotor seemed to be as vain as Lance in some respects, so he had everything Lance could ever want. Face creams, hair products, nail stuff. It was beautiful compared to where he’d been last, where his only source of facial products had been expired food goo.

Gross.

It would have been better to have another person helping him, but unfortunately, Lance didn’t have that luxury. Sonali would probably rather bite his head off than help, and besides which, it wasn’t like Lance couldn’t do it on his own.

Back at the Galaxy Garrison, he used to manicure his nails every time he stressed about a test. A few times, Hunk had even allowed Lance to give him a manicure. Ah, the simpler days. He actually kind of missed Hunk.

Hunk’s only crimes had been not taking his side and talking about Lance behind his back. If given the chance and time, Lance probably would have forgiven him.

It was hard to stay mad at Hunk, especially since he was pretty sure that all he would have needed to do was sniffle, maybe even blink away some tears, and the big guy woulda been trying to make Lance some garlic knots.

Man, Lance would kill for some garlic knots. His ultimate comfort food, not that he needed them right now. He was pretty comfortable right where he was.

He had… friends… here.

Lotor’s generals weren’t horrible. He liked Ezor certainly more than he liked Acxa, Zethrid, or Narti. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t like the others, because he did. He just spent the most amount of time with Ezor.

Sonali was... okay. They had a horrible habit lately of nagging him about choices he’d made and battles he’d chosen to lose. He knew they were just worried, but, he wished they’d lay off a bit. They weren’t his mom, and he didn’t appreciate them trying to be.

He didn’t spend much time with the Druids outside of Xana, so he didn’t really speak much with Nik or Petyr. So, that left Corral on his list of people that he could talk to that he tentatively considered friends. Corral was just… a Mean Girl™, but even Corral was Lance’s… friend.

They totally had the frienemy thing going on, okay?

And Lotor… well, Lotor was amazing. And Lance just wasn’t talking about their relationship either. Thanks to Lotor, Lance was practically living in the lap of luxury.

He had a prince doting on him, giving him beautiful jewelry. He lived with said prince, and got to use and enjoy all the benefits of such. He was a powerful Druid – although he had his drawbacks, like his stamina and endurance. But he was working on that.

Why would he ever want to leave?

“Your lunch with Corral is in the gardens.” Sonali informed him quietly from the doorway, and Lance shrugged. Guess that was their way of telling him that it was time to go. He looked over his nails, checking them over a last time before nodding to himself.

Perfect.

Their trek to the Gardens was quiet, and Lance headed straight for the gazebo as soon as he entered. It was the most likely spot for any activity.

“You’re late.” Corral huffed, standing and coming over to welcome Lance. He plastered on a smile and accepted her hug, kissing her on both cheeks as was customary for her culture for when friends met.

“My apologies, I was… preoccupied.” Lance replied, ducking his head slightly as he pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mmhmm, preoccupied, huh?” Corral rolled her eyes before pointedly looking at the marks on Lance’s neck above the necklace. “He’s good in bed, isn’t he?”

“Corral!” Lance flushed.

“Oh, in your primitive culture do they not talk about that sort of thing?” She asked, resting her hand on her hip as she arched an eyebrow. “Shame.”

She spun around, a mini slow tornado of swooping glitter and sheer, and sauntered over to the table. Lance followed behind.

“You know, I’m glad I was wrong about you.” She informed him as she took her seat.

“Oh?” Lance raised an eyebrow. “You’re wrong about many things, care to elaborate?”

“Rude.” She splayed out her fingers as she pressed her hand to her chest. The perfect picture of ‘offended’. Lance shrugged, not fighting her on her accusation. He was kind of rude, after all. But, it was the truth, and sometimes the truth hurt.

“I meant about you breaking, you heathen.” She continued when she realized that Lance wasn’t going to take her bait.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Lance protested. “Just because I’m from a pre-warp planet doesn’t mean I’m a heathen.” Lance paused, and grinned. “And I’ll have you know that I can’t break as I’m very flexible.”

Corral rolled her eyes, scoffing at him. “Oh, so you’re allowed to talk about it.” She muttered. “Your culture is weird.”

“Says you.” Lance grinned. Corral rolled her eyes again.

She grabbed a grape and popped it in her mouth, chewing on it as she gave Lance a flat level look. Lance laughed, and poured himself a glass of wine, taking a small sip. He got white girl wasted way too easily, so he probably couldn’t do more than a glass before he’d get tipsy… then again, it could have been the quintessence in it.

There were reasons people intentionally introduced quintessence to themselves, and it had nothing to do with the intent of mutating. Some people genuinely like the high quintessence helped produce.

“Wait a moment,” Coral leaned across the table and tugged on Lance’s sleeve, grinning when she revealed the bracelet. “Look at you!” She cooed. “A necklace and a bracelet… what’s next?”

“Corral! I’m not with him for the jewelry!” Lance replied, scandalized, before laughing and continuing. “But I think he’s planning on giving me some earrings next.” Lance winked, and she laughed.

“Dangles, hoops, or studs?” Corral asked after a moment. “Ooo, you’d look good in some cuffs.”

Cuffs? Like the earrings that went in the upper part of the ear? Hmm, yeah. He could see it. Lance shrugged.

“I honestly don’t have any clue. I wasn’t even expecting the bracelet.” He sighed. “Like I expected something, you know, cuz he was-”

“…hinting at it.” They both spoke at the same time.

“Oh my, he does it with you too? Where he’s all like ‘How do you feel about…’” She trailed off as Lance broke out into laughter at her mimicry of Lotor.

“YES!” Lance cried. “I’m all like ‘this ruins the surprise’, but I can’t really say that, ya know?”

Corral shook her head. “I know! I’m all like, you can talk the masses into circles, but you can’t even keep gifts a secret!” She sighed dramatically. “I just don’t know what to do with him.”

Lance shook his head, and was going to reply, but something caught his attention. He paused, putting his glass down as he looked to the path entrance, his eyes narrowing as Xana stepped into view.

“Lance?” Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw Corral raised her eyebrow, looking the other Druid over.

“What do you want?” Corral sneered, scrunching her nose up at Lance’s mentor. Lance sighed quietly, resting his hand on her arm to ‘calm’ her.

“I understand you’re having your lunch, but I need your assistance with something time sensitive for the empire.” Xana ignored Corral, and then gestured towards the exit.

Lance hummed, narrowing his eyes. What could Xana need Lance’s specific assistance on that was time sensitive? He wasn’t part of any major projects, he wasn’t important – except to Lotor. He was still, in some ways, just a newbie.

Lance tapped his finger against the table for a moment as he ran through possibilities in his head before he stood up, and turned to Corral.

“Corral, would-”

“Go ahead. The needs of the empire come before my own.” She interrupted. She leaned forward stealing his glass of Kanki and taking a sip of it. “I expect you to make this up to me, though.” She smiled around the glass. “Maybe we can talk.”

And by ‘talk’ she meant gossiping about Lance’s ‘adventures’ with Lotor. Which, if she wanted the juicy details she could go bark up another tree. He didn’t particularly like sharing his ‘love’ life, and he wasn’t indulging Corral just because she was bored.

Lance snorted, and rolled his eyes. “As if.” He threw back at her as he walked to Xana.

“So, what was so important that you interrupted my lunch?” Lance asked once they were away from Corral.

“Something that I believe you will be very interested in.” Xana replied. “Tell me, Lance, how do you feel about seeing one of your old teammates again?”

Chapter Text

Keith had known from Slav’s initial reaction to Allura’s plan that things would go south, but he’d had no way of knowing just how south things could go until they were already there.

Everything had been going fine, at first. Pidge was downloading everything on the ship – after all she wasn’t just trying to find their missing Paladins, but her family as well. It was hard to say when things went wrong exactly.

The only definite was that everything went wrong after Pidge tried to download the Druid files.

Unfortunately, with how things were, he didn’t have much of a chance to understand what had happened. Keith was away from his team and attempting to distract the Galra battleship with his presence, forcing the Galra to attack him instead of his teammates in the belly of the ship.

Which would have been considerably easier had he another person to assist him. If they had their sharpshooter, or their team leader with them, then things might have ended differently. Heck just another person piloting a Lion would have helped.

One Lion by itself wasn’t enough to take on a Galra battleship and its fleet; even with the added assistance from the Castle.

It was too risky for Coran to try to pilot Blue. Despite Allura’s near constant purifications of her, the Lion seemed  to just become more and more agitated as the days went on.  Now that they knew the Blue Lion was being corrupted, there was just too much of a risk to involve her in anything like this.

In the end, team Voltron had to cut their losses with the battle, not that Keith had truly known that at the time.

Communication had been frantic, which wouldn't have been too terrible if things had been going smoothly.  As it were, however, nothing was going right. Red was in pain, and she was tired, much like Keith was. But nothing could have prepared him for when the green lion opened up in the Castle and revealed only one Paladin.

Keith had lost another person. It was just him and Pidge now.  Some Defenders of the Universe they were.  They'd already lost three of their number, and two Paladins weren't enough.  

Keith felt numb as Pidge threw herself onto Keith, wrapping her arms around him like she could prevent him from disappearing as the others had.  He wasn't a hugging type of person, but he returned the gesture.  

She was hugging him like he was going to leave her too. He knew the feeling. First Shiro. Then Lance. Now Hunk was missing. Who was next? Who else would the universe toss away?

Pidge had already had lost so much. Her father, her brother, Shiro, Lance, Hunk. Would he be next? Or would she be next?

For as long as Keith had known Pidge – which admittedly hadn’t been too long – he hadn’t known her to cry.  Yet now he had the feeling she was.  His biggest clue had been her sniffles.  “It’s all my fault.”  She muttered. 

“Pidge, no.” Keith didn’t usually do gentle either, but for Pidge, he could make an exception. He normally didn’t do hugs either, but once again, for Pidge…

After all she’d lost, Keith could afford some discomfort to give her comfort. Especially since he didn’t know the circumstances that had led to Hunk being captured and Pidge returning alone. Had hunk sacrificed himself for her? Keith could only guess based off of intermediate transmissions that he’d been able to catch during battle.

“We’ll get him back, Pidge.” Keith promised. “We’ll get them all back.”

Keith wasn’t planning on leaving anyone out in space. Not Shiro and certainly not Lance. He didn’t really know the Holts, but he wasn’t going to leave them out here either if he could help it.

“I should have been more careful, I should have…”

“You can’t live in ‘should haves’.” Keith interrupted. “We can only live with what happened and move on, hopefully towards a solution.” He took a breath and tried to steady himself. Steady his own racing heart and racing thoughts.

He still didn’t know what had happened, but it was clear that somehow, Hunk had been captured. Well, they’d sort of planned for this, right? He rubbed Pidge’s back, and sighed, using all of his self-control not to run to the bridge and demand what had happened.

Pidge needed him, and if he wanted any chance of getting the others back, then he’d need her help. He couldn’t do it alone.

Red rumbled in the back of his mind, purring at his thoughts. She was pleased with how he was growing, although he still had more to learn. She was also trying to comfort him; to tell him that everything would be fine.

“Allura planned for this, Pidge. The Blade of Marmora will take care of Hunk, alright?” He pulled back and wiped away her tears. She sniffled before batting his hands away and wiping her face off on her sleeve.

“I’ll go through the data I got then.” Her voice warbled, but Keith wasn’t going to point it out.

She turned to her workstation in Green’s hangar, which Keith supposed was her way of telling him to leave. She probably wanted some time to come to terms with what had happened. While he didn’t blame her, he wasn’t sure if being alone was what she really needed right now.

But… she’d basically dismissed him, and Keith didn’t do the whole comforting thing well. Or at least he felt like he didn’t.

“Let me know if you find anything.” Keith requested.

He headed for the door, and took exactly one step out before the doors shut behind him. He sighed and crossed his arms, glaring down at the creature in his way.

“She won’t find anything.” Slav informed him. “She almost never does. There’s usually only about a 2% of her getting the information that you need.”

Keith’s fists clenched, his dull nails biting into the flesh of his palms. His hands shook with the restraint of punching Slav. It was a good thing his arms were crossed so that he couldn’t act on that desire.

‘Patience yields focus’, He mentally muttered to himself.

“And why,” Keith grit out, “Didn’t you tell us this sooner?”

“If I did, then you would have been on your own, and then you’d fail. Hunk had a 99% chance of getting caught.” Slav shrugged. “I like living, and I want this to be the reality where I continue to do so.”

He skittered around Keith, forcing him to take a couple steps away. Slav opened the door and turned to Keith. “I’ll take care of her. You’re needed elsewhere.” He added before he continued through to Green’s hangar.

Well, that was… not really reassuring. Keith sighed, dropping his head. Why couldn’t things be simple or easy?

Red prodded at him, reminding him of Slav’s words. He was needed elsewhere. Probably the bridge, he’d best get there and see what was up.

“Allura?” Keith called out once he was on the bridge.

She turned to look at him, her lips pressed firmly in a thin line. At a distance, she seemed fine. But, when he walked closer, it was clear that she was as equally distressed as everyone else by this failure.

Probably best not to mention Slav’s words to her then. Especially since she’d been the one to make the call to send in Pidge and Hunk.

For the umpteenth time that day, Keith sighed.

Shiro would have been better than him for all of this. Shiro would have known what to do. He would have been able to fix this whole mess. Shiro wouldn’t have allowed for any of this to happen in the first place.

But Shiro wasn’t here. Keith was.

Shiro had left Keith in charge. And what a wonderful job he was doing. He’d already lost two people and left a mini army of robeasts scattered out in the universe.

But, like he told Pidge, he couldn’t focus on ‘should have’s or ‘what if’s. He needed to focus on how he was going to fix all of this. He needed to fix all of this. He needed to find out about Hunk, and then find Lance… and then get Shiro.

“The Blade of Marmora will take care of him, Allura.” Keith assured her. Because he needed to believe in something. He needed her to believe in something, because he was pretty sure that she didn't believe in them. He rested his hand on her shoulder, and squeezed, smiling at her.

“No one blames you.” He informed her quietly. “And you prepared for this. The Blade of Marmora will take care of it,” Keith assured her.

Coran looked up from his console and nodded. “As a matter of fact, we just got a transmission.”

Allura nodded and stepped away from Keith. She raised her head, and took a deep breath. “What is it?” She asked.

“One moment, the system’s decoding it.” Coran informed them. Keith smiled and nudged her, as if to say ‘see?’ She returned a half smile, but he’d take what he could get.

“Oh dear.” Both Keith and Allura’s attention jumped back to Coran. “It appears Hunk has been set to be transferred to another ship. The Blade are recommended letting the transfer happen for now. They’re insisting that he’s safe in their hands.”

The first thing Keith wanted to do was protest. He wanted to protest and say that the Blade needed to bring Hunk back now. But he didn’t need to as Allura stepped in to do that for him.

“Hunk needs to be returned immediately.” She demanded. Coran nodded and went to type the reply.

Slav had said that Keith was needed elsewhere. If the bridge was elsewhere, then why was he here? He wasn’t needed. They had everything under control. He was missing something.

What was he missing? There was something here. Some reason Slav had sent him here. What was it?

“Wait.” Keith stepped forward. The sound of the typing ceased as Coran paused, turning to look at Keith with knitted brows. Allura turned to stare at him, her gaze boring holes into his body like she couldn’t believe Keith was questioning her order to Coran.

Keith couldn’t figure it out. Slav said he was needed here, but why? Allura, while distressed, didn’t seem to want nor need his comfort. For all intents and purposes, everything seemed to be under control here. So why was he needed? What did Slav want from him?

Slav had been telling him to trust his instincts. If he wanted the best outcome, he needed to trust his intuition. And it was telling him that there was something more in this scene then what he was seeing.

He was needed here. Why? What could he do? What could he say? What could he… ask? Whatever it was, it’d need to be fast. He couldn’t imagine they’d wait long before transfer...

“Where is Hunk being transferred?” Keith asked. Both Coran and Allura blinked at him. “Where is he going?”

Coran turned back to his console. All was silent for a couple of moments while Coran typed a reply and waited for not only the response but also the decoding of said response.

“By the Ancients,” Coran muttered. “Prince Lotor’s Central Command.” He answered Keith.

Prince Lotor’s Central Command.

Where the rumors about the prince’s new pet project were from. Where the Blades had been trying to get into for years. Exactly where the Voltron team needed to go. It was as if fate was smiling down on them, giving them this opportunity if they’d take it.

And they would take it. They wouldn’t get another chance, not like this.

Pidge almost never grabbed important information in this scenario, but Hunk was almost always captured. Keith was needed here. Slav had been trying to tell him about this from the get go.

If Keith hadn’t been here, Allura would have demanded Hunk’s return. In how many realities did his concern for Pidge basically condemn the rest of the team? How many realities did Keith not realize the question to ask, and instead demand that the Blade bring Hunk back? How many times did Keith inadvertently doom the Voltron team in this one moment?

No. He couldn’t focus on that. He needed to focus on this reality, and the fact that he’d caught this opportunity. He dipped his head, and looked at Coran. “Leave Hunk with the Blade.” Keith demanded.

“Keith!” Allura shouted his name. He turned to her, and shook his head.

“He’s going exactly where we want to go. The Blade will most likely be going with him.” He reasoned. “We won’t get an opportunity like this again.”

“But the information Pidge downloaded….” Allura started.

“Is useless.” Pidge interrupted from the doorway. “When I failed to get the Druid files, it corrupted everything.”

Ah. And that was why Slav had given him clues. If Slav had said nothing, then Keith would have just believed that Pidge had gotten information. They would have demanded Hunk back, and everything would have failed.

It would have been nice for Slav to just tell him things, but if Slav believed this to be the better way, then no matter how annoying it was… Keith would follow along.

“I got Hunk captured for nothing.” Pidge slowly walked over to her console and slumped down in the seat.

“No.” Keith shook his head. “We might not have gotten any information from there, but, we know where Hunk’s going.” Keith informed her. “And he’s going exactly where we need to go. We’ll get him back. We’ll get everyone back.”

Chapter Text

Lance stared at the empty cells.

Lotor didn’t usually have much use for prisoners for long, so these cells seldom saw use, but today they would be.

In less than a Varga, Hunk would be in one of them. In less than a Varga, Lance would be joined by Hunk. Xana wanted to see if Lance could perhaps trick Hunk into talking to him. Into spilling secrets.

His stomach twisted, and thoughtlessly, Lance’s hand rose to play with the jewel of the necklace. Sonali caught the movement and cleared their throat. They’d never approved of Lance wearing the jewelry but had agreed that there was little choice in the matter.

Lance’s hand dropped, and he crossed his arms under the robe sleeves, spinning the bracelet around his arm with his thumb, running over the jewels on it.

He felt too full of energy. He felt like a child, being told to go to bed the night before a major exciting event. He couldn’t stop fidgeting, and playing with his jewelry gave his fingers something to do.

“You don’t have to do this.” Sonali repeated their words from what felt like so long ago.

Lance would have responded, but Xana walked into the hallway, carrying a set of prisoner clothes. Lance accepted the bundle, a tangle pit of emotions sinking into his stomach. He felt… nervous, anxious, sick, tired, excited… just a mess of feelings. He licked his lips, and looked down at the bundle.

“He’ll be here soon, right?” Lance asked. Xana titled his head forward in an affirmative. “Then I guess I better change.”

Xana held up a hand, stopping Lance in his tracks. “Your jewelry.”

Right. It’d be noticeable in the prisoner clothes, and prisoners didn’t wear jewelry as pretty as this. Yet, for some reason, the thought of being without either his necklace or his bracelet made him feel sick. They were his. Lotor had given them to him.

They were a sign that he belonged. That Lotor owned him.

They needed to be removed, but he didn’t… he didn’t want them gone. “I…”

“You’ll get them back after a quintant. If this fails, then at least we tried. If this succeeds, then by the time a quintant is over, you’ll have your jewelry back.” Xana rested a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I’m not taking it away from you. At least, not forever.”

Lance nodded, and Xana took that as permission.

He slipped behind Lance, and did something. The necklace sagged and then was pulled away. At the same time, Lance removed his bracelet. Thankfully, he hadn’t been wearing it for that long, so he didn’t immediately notice it’s disappearance, but he did notice the necklace’s.

Lance choked on nothing. His neck felt too light, too bare. He felt… naked. He wanted his necklace back. No, he needed it back.

No. No. He was fine. He didn’t need it. He hadn’t even wanted it in the first place. He was fine. He was fine. He was not fine.

“Let’s get this over with.” Despite how he was feeling his words were fairly steady. He was proud of himself for that. He went into a separate room and changed into the prisoner clothes. Then he shifted, taking on his human form.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d taken it. It felt wrong. It felt foreign. He felt like the Lance that he’d been before he’d been rescued by Lotor. He felt like the Lance that was useless and unable to do anything. He felt like…

“A failure.” He muttered.

He looked into a mirror that was in the room for exactly the purpose of his shift. He watched his reflection follow his movements as he touched the now blank space where his scales should have been.

He was going to be sick.

Why did he feel so nervous? So anxious? Why was he so scared? Lance was a Druid. He was safe. He was one of Lotor’s favored. There was nothing for Lance to be concerned about. There was nothing that Hunk could do to him here.

It wasn’t like Lance was scared of Hunk, was he?

No. That was silly. Hunk wouldn’t hurt him. Except he had. He’d hurt Lance when he’d talked about Lance’s uselessness behind his back with Pidge. When he hadn’t defended Lance. When he hadn’t spoken up for him.

“Lance?” Xana knocked on the door before it slid open. The Druid was quiet as he looked over Lance, and Lance shivered. Xana shook his head and entered the room. “We shouldn’t be putting you back with one of your abusers.” Xana muttered, approaching Lance before pulling him into a hug.

Lance froze at the motion. The only people who touched him like this was Lotor and occasionally Ezor. Corral only hugged him as a greeting. But, it wasn’t like Lance could push Xana away, especially since the Druid was Lance’s mentor and kinda like his uncle.

Lance patted him awkwardly on the back. “It’s okay, Xana. For the empire,” For Lotor, Lance mentally amended, “I’ll do what needs to be done. Vrepit Sa.”

Xana half chuckled and then pulled away after a moment. He cupped Lance’s face, his thumbs stroking the place where Lance’s scales should have been. Lance flinched, but nothing happened. The scales were hidden, and Lance couldn’t feel anything.

“Vrepit Sa.” Xana echoed back at him.

“Besides. I… I can do this.” Lance took a deep breath and nodded to himself. “I just need to make Hunk talk to me, right?”

He felt like he was going to be sick. He felt like he was going to faint. He felt like he was going to fall out of his skin because his bones were rattling so hard.

Wasn’t this a moment that he’d been waiting for? The moment to see his previous team? Except, he’d been hoping to flaunt in their faces his new power, his new strengths, his new… usefulness. Perhaps that was his problem. He didn’t want to meet Hunk again in a prisoner cell.

He’d rather meet Hunk and the rest of the team on a battlefield. Where it was unexpected, and Lance could take latent rage out on them. Not that Druids tended to see battle that often.

Lance wanted to scream, but that wasn’t an option. He pulled away from Xana and looked back in the mirror.

“I still don’t look much like a prisoner.” Lance muttered. Lance watched Xana’s reflection nod for a tick before he looked down at his hand. He pulled quintessence to his hand, and watched through his other vision as the purple ran through his veins to pool in his hand.

“I’ve been trying to think of ways-“ Xana started to explain.

The quintessence he’d pulled to his hand burned. Lance looked up to meet his reflection’s gaze. His hand twitched, and he braced himself as he lifted his hand, shifting his nails into Galra claws before digging them into his shoulder and pulling down, clawing through the cloth and ripping into his skin.

“Lance!” Xana shouted. He reached out and grabbed Lance’s hand, preventing him from further hurting himself.

Glowing purple oozed out of the wound. Lance watched the wound in the mirror. Some part of him was impressed. This was the first time he’d actually succeeded in inflicting a wound like that before.

Everything felt surreal. He didn’t even notice it. He knew it was painful, but it was like there was a disconnect somewhere. Where he knew should be pain from the quintessence, he felt only a tingle of the burn. This cut, this tear, this wound… it wasn’t on him.

It was on his reflection. It was on this ‘human’ Lance. This failure. This useless piece of trash. He twisted his hand out of Xana’s hold, and snarled at him. “Punch me.” Xana hesitated, staring at Lance. “The only way we’re going to fool him is to have things be as realistic as possible.” Lance explained.

“Lance.” Xana shook his head.

“Like I said, Xana. Whatever’s needed.” Lance replied. “He won’t believe it otherwise.”

Lance kept returning to that excuse, but some small part of him wasn’t convinced. Some small part of him thought that he deserved this. He wanted this. He wanted to be attacked. He wanted to be hurt. He deserved it. After everything he’d done.

His hand rose to his neck, and found nothing there. He wanted his necklace back.

“Besides, any injuries I receive can be fixed with quintessence.” Lance continued to argue.

“Very well.” Xana finally conceded before he threw a right hook strong enough to knock Lance off his feet.

Pain blossomed on Lance’s jaw, and he spat out blood. “Your prisoner clothes should hide your body, so no further injuries are needed.” Xana informed him. Lance shook his head.

“If you can’t finish the job, then have Sonali or one of the sentries come and do it.” Lance demanded.

“I don’t approve of this self-destructive behavior, Lance.” Xana shook his head. “There’s no need to hurt yourself further for them.”

“I don’t care.” Lance replied. “Finish the job, or I will find someone who will.” He started to try to stand, but suddenly Xana’s foot was in his stomach. He was kicked against the wall, before Xana grabbed his head and yanked him to his knees.

Xana’s knee met Lance’s face, and once again, pain blossomed as he felt his nose crack. Well, quintessence should fix that…. Hopefully. But, it’d definitely help sell their idea to Hunk.

Xana yanked on his hair again, pulling him up to his feet before shoving Lance against the wall. There was a burn of quintessence against his neck, where Xana dug his claws in, although Lance could tell he was trying to be careful not to damage Lance too much.

The hand in his hair loosened its grip, and then petted him briefly before Xana stepped away. “Do not ask me to do that again.” The Druid demanded. Lance nodded.

He felt… better, in a way. Some of that energy from before was gone now that he had the beautiful distraction of pain. He shook as he followed Xana out to the cells. Sonali was nowhere to be seen, which was probably for the best. He didn’t want them to see him like this.

Quiznak, no matter how much he wanted Lotor right now – because he did, he wanted one of Lotor’s reassuring smiles, he wanted one of his kisses, he wanted one of his hugs – he didn’t want the prince to see him now either.

He practically dropped onto the floor in his cell. The cool metal of the ship felt fantastic against his back, and his wounded body. The lights in the cell blurred as his vision doubled. He closed his eyes.

“-ance? Lan… ud…..you?” Lance’s mind distantly filtered in noises. He opened his eyes, blinking at the glowing lights of the cas… ship. He was on Lotor’s ship, and he’d probably passed out as a physical reaction to the pain he knew he had to be in.

“Lance?” Hunk’s voice was coming from his right, the cell next to him. Right. They’d done that on purpose. Lance was supposed to get information. The world around him spun as he sat up.

Purple flared into his vision, alongside something painfully bright yellow. His hand rose to his head, and he winced, closing his eyes. His body swayed.

“Lance!”

Lance blinked his eyes open. The world wasn’t as bright, and looked up into Hunk’s concerned gaze. Lance’s hand slid from his head to his neck. He scratched where the necklace should have been. Xana had his necklace. He needed to pay attention to Hunk.

He shook his head, and forced himself to ignore the nausea that the action created. “H-h..unk?” Lance’s voice was hoarse from when Xana had squeezed.

“Lance, thank goodness! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Hunk cried out.

Well, nothing cleared up Lance’s head better than that. Looking everywhere for him? HA! Don’t make him laugh. They never cared for him. He bet they just wanted him because he was still connected to Blue.

Well tough luck. He was in a better place now, with people who actually cared about him!

“Like, you have no idea, we’ve been checking all these Galra ships, and we went to some planets, and what have they done to you? Are you alright? Where are we?”

“Where no one wants to be.” Lance replied. He coughed, spitting up dark brownish red into his hand. He rotated his jaw. When he’d told Xana to punch him, he hadn’t meant in his face. If any of his teeth were ruined, Lance was going to be so pissed.

Hunk didn’t seem to like Lance’s response because he whimpered. Lance turned to him, and reached out, trying to touch him through the bars. Hunk grabbed his hand, and squeezed. He looked Lance over, and sniffled.

“I’m here buddy.” He reassured Lance, squeezing his hand again. “Are we gonna be put in the arena?”

“As if we’d be so lucky.” Lance muttered, leaning against the cell. He closed his eyes, and suddenly Hunk’s hand was against his cheek. Lance instantly flinched, pulling away from the bars and Hunk’s hands.

He didn’t like people who weren’t Lotor touching his face like that. It was rude as hell to touch there without permission. Even though his scales were hidden and didn’t work while hidden, he didn’t like it.

“Shh, Lance, I just wanted to check your injuries. It’s okay.” Hunk tried to sooth. Lance shook his head.

“Don’t touch me there.” Lance muttered. “I don’t like my face being touched.” Lance curled up in a ball, wincing at the pain.

“I gotcha buddy.” At Hunk’s words, Lance’s head snapped up. Buddy. How could Hunk still call him that when he’d abandoned Lance?

“If you’re here… are you guys finally going to rescue me?” Lance asked. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” Tears ran down Lance’s face. He didn’t know if they were real, or caused by the pain, or what.

He felt sick again. How could Hunk be acting like nothing happened? How could Hunk just… not care? Didn’t he know what Lance had been through? Didn’t he know how badly he’d hurt Lance?

He could feel the heat as quintessence pooled in his hand, reacting to his emotions. The world swirled and spun around Lance as he tried to swallow everything down. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry. This wasn’t right. Nothing was right. It was driving him insane.

He managed to dismiss the quintessence before his hands reached his neck. There was no warmth. No secure weight there. No jewel to play with.

“Lance,” Hunk whispered. He pressed his body against the bars, trying to reach out for Lance. “What have they done to you?”

“I… I don’t know.” Lance sobbed. His hands fell. There was no necklace for him to play with. No reassuring warmth of quintessence reminding him that he was wanted. That he was needed. That he was useful.

What if all this time had just been an illusion? A hallucination?

No. No. It hadn’t. Lotor had been real. And Lance was letting him down. Lance was failing. His body stiffened at the thought. He didn’t move, not even to blink or breath. He was failing. He was in a failure’s form now, but that shouldn’t change who he was.

Just because he looked like the failure didn’t mean Lance was one. He was successful. He was a successful Druid, and a successful spy for the resistance, and he could do this.

“Lance?” Hunk questioned. Lance released the breath he was holding and looked over at him. “Are… are you… I mean you’re obviously not okay, but are you… okay?”

“I’ll be okay when I’m back at the castle with Blue.” Lance replied. “You guys are going to rescue me, right?” Lance crawled back to the bars and sat on his heels staring at Hunk like a kicked puppy. “Don’t abandon me again.”

“Don’t worry, Buddy. We’ll get you out of here.” Hunk assured him. Lance really wished he’d stop calling him ‘buddy’. He wasn’t Hunk’s buddy, he wasn’t his friend. All Hunk was to him right now was a little oyster that needed to be cracked open for the pearl of information he held. “We planned for this just in case.”

“What?” Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “Planned for what? Please tell me you have an idea of how to escape. Have you guys found Shiro yet? What’s been happening?”

It was easier to think when he wasn’t moving. The world didn’t spin as much. Errant thoughts didn’t run as crazily through his mind. He could focus more, not that he needed to focus. The world keep blurring and then sharpening.

His heart felt like it was beating too quickly. How long had it been since he’d been put here with Hunk? A varga? More? Lance wasn’t going to last a full quintant. He was going to go crazy. But, he needed information. He needed information, and Hunk would give it to him.

Why couldn’t they just interrogate Hunk like normal? Why hadn’t the Druids just used their typical methods? Was it because Hunk was yellow? Yellow was harder to ‘crack’? Lance didn’t know.

Or maybe this was a test for Lance.

…

Lance quiznaking hated tests.

“Keith,” Lance flinched at the same. He couldn’t help it. Just Hunk mentioning Keith brought up memories that Lance would rather stay forgotten. “and Allura have a plan.” Hunk continued as if he didn’t even notice Lance’s flinch.

He didn’t answer any of Lance’s other questions.

“What is it?” Lance asked. “How did you get caught?”

Hunk shifted, seeming to chew over his words. “I don’t want to say too much. What if they hear us?” Hunk whispered.

“They?” Lance laughed bitterly. “They who? The Galra? They don’t listen in here… they don’t like to hear the screams.” He pitched his voice lower at the last word. Hunk shivered with his whole body.

“I don’t know, man.” Hunk shook his head. “I don’t want to risk not getting you out of here.”

As admirable as that was, Lance needed Hunk to talk. The sooner he talked, the sooner Lance could leave, and the sooner he’d be back in his nice warm bed, and in Lotor’s arms. A wave of nausea passed over him.

In the back of his mind, he could hear Blue’s roar.

He hadn’t heard Blue like that in a long time. He mentally reached out for her, and then Hunk’s hand was in his face, reaching for him. Lance flailed backwards, smacking Hunk’s hands away.

“Don’t touch my face.” Lance hissed. “Why do people always want to touch my face?” He questioned. “Always fucking touching me.” He could hear Hunk apologizing, but the words swam in his mind, not making any sense. “Just stop. Just stop. Just stop. I don’t want to feel it!”

“LANCE!” Hunk shouted.

Lance fell silent, and stared down at his hands. When had he become such a basket case? What was wrong with him? He was better than this. If this was anyone else other than Hunk, then Lance would be fine. He’d be fine. He would have been able to act perfectly without a hitch.

Lance wanted to reach through the bars and… and what? He wanted to wrap his hands around Hunk’s neck and squeeze and squeeze, and squeeze. He wanted to reach through the bars and wrap his arms around him and sob into his shoulder. He wanted…

He wanted out of here.

“Take a deep breath, man, okay? I’m not going to touch your face, I swear.” Hunk had both of his hands out, patting the air in the ‘calm down’ motion.

“If you want to help me, you’ll get me out of here.” Lance snapped.

“I don’t know when that’ll be, Lance.” Hunk shook his head. “You know how the Mar… how Keith’s acquaintances are.” Hunk shrugged.

Mar… Keith’s acquaintances? Oh! The Marmorites. Heh. There weren’t any here. Lotor’s screening process was usually too good for them to get past. If Hunk was relying on them, then he’d put his faith in the wrong people.

“There aren’t any here. If they were, they would have gotten me out by now!” Lance growled. “You don’t understand. We need to get out of here, Hunk.”

Hunk’s lack of physical reaction to his statement was interesting. Hunk knew something. He knew something interesting, something that Lance wanted to know. He needed to know. If he got just the right bit of information, then maybe the Druids would come and take him back.

He wanted Lotor. He wanted the peace of his routines. He wanted to be away from Hunk, unless it was to hurt him. To peel him apart, layer by layer and see what made his mind tick. Lance would have had the information by now if the Druids hadn’t wanted him to do this instead.

This was sick, and upsetting, and he was failing.

“Then I guess we’re waiting for Keith and Allura.” Hunk replied. He was watching Lance carefully, and had stopped reaching for him. As a matter of fact, Hunk was hugging himself, his arms folded tight against his chest.

“Allura? She’s the one who abandoned me! I waited more than a movement in Blue, Hunk. No one came for me!”

“Lance. I don’t know what else to tell you.” Hunk shook his head. “Keith and Allura will find us, and they’ll make sure to get you out of here.”

Lance scoffed.

“Keith won’t let her leave you.” Hunk tried to assure him. Lance shook his head.

“What were you doing when you got caught?” Lance asked. “Why didn’t they help you?”

“We were looking for you.” Hunk replied quietly. “And I’d rather not talk about that.”

Lance laughed bitterly. “Congrats. You found me, and now you’re stuck here with me. We’re going to die here, Hunk.”

“I don’t know what you want from me Lance! All we can do is wait!” Hunk hugged himself tighter. “And before you ask, I don’t know how long!”

Lance glared at Hunk, before crawling over to one of the corners of the cell and curling up in a ball there. Fine then. He’d wait and see when either Keith and Allura, or the Marmorites would be coming to rescue Hunk.

Maybe they could rescue him too, he wasn’t in his right state of mind.

Then he could be pulled out of this test by the Druids. Hopefully, he’d passed. He was pretty sure he hadn’t, but that could have been his crippling self-doubt.

He didn’t know how long they sat there together in silence. Lance was pressing his face into his knees. They were just waiting, waiting to see who would come to rescue Hunk. Lance’s money was on no one. Or perhaps they’d once again wait until he was gone.

They’d abandon him again.

Perhaps the Druids had abandoned him as well. He’d upset Xana and Lotor. And they were leaving him. Except, he couldn’t see Lotor leaving him. Lotor wouldn’t do that. He was Lotor’s favored, his pet, his…

He was Lotor’s replacement for Corral. And who was to say that Lotor hadn’t found a replacement for Lance yet? After all, Lance had finally given him what he wanted. And now Lance was being kicked to the curb.

Quintessence burned through his veins. He could see it when he switched to his other vision, not that he was trying to. Hunk was blindingly bright compared to someone like Xana. But watching the purple run through him was something to pass the time.

He reached up to grab his necklace once, and his fingers came away bloody from how often he’d scratched there looking for it. He wasn’t wearing his necklace. He wasn’t wearing anything that could bring him comfort.

“Lance?” Lance looked up at Hunk’s alarmed tone, blinking at the Druid mask watching him from beyond the cell.

Lance shook his head. “No.” He muttered.

No, he hadn’t gotten any information. Nothing except that either the Blade of Marmora, or Keith and Allura would be rescuing Hunk. Which wasn’t really much help considering Lance was sure neither would be able to rescue Hunk.

Lance switched back to his other vision. Against the bright yellow of Hunk, Xana’s gold was almost hidden. There was something almost threatening about it when Lance was in this state. Flashes of memories of shining teeth and broken promises about it not hurting drifted in his mind.

His hands went to his head, and he curled up tighter. He didn’t want that pain again.

“Leave him alone!” Hunk screamed. The door to Lance’s cell slid open, and Lance heard the footsteps of the sentries enter.

Red, and red and green. He didn’t know the one, but he’d recognize that inverted watermelon anywhere. Sonali.

Sonali’s hand gripped his shoulder, and together with the other sentry, pulled him up to his feet.

“I can’t do this.” Lance muttered, repeating the words louder and louder as he chanted them. “No.” Was intermediately mixed out.

“I said, leave him alone!” Hunk yelled. He tried to grab Sonali through the bars, but they moved out of his way. Lance was dragged down the hallway, until he was taken to the room where he’d changed his clothes in before.

“Leave the room.” Xana commanded Sonali and the other guard once they’d dropped Lance in the middle of the room. Lance automatically curled back up into a ball, and stared blankly up at Xana, muttering his litany of ‘I can’t do this’ and ‘no’.

He felt stuck and trapped. Like he was present and listening to everything, but he wasn’t understanding any of it. He couldn’t control himself, he was just… stuck.

“You exposed him to too much quintessence too fast.” Petyr stepped out of the darkness of the room as the guards left. He crouched down to look at Lance, but thankfully didn’t touch him. “Withdrawals this bad are…”

“Rare. Yes. If I’d known he’d react his badly…” Xana sighed and shook his head as he trailed off. “I should have known from the moment I’d taken the necklace off and he was acting strange.” Xana stepped closer, and shooed Petyr away.

“And yet you continued on anyways.” Petyr drawled as he backed away.

Xana ignored him and knelt down. He tapped Lance’s knee to get his attention. “Lance?” Xana’s voice was softer than Lance had ever heard it before.

“Careful. Lady Haggar had to have the prince present when he was like this during his initial conditioning.” Petyr advised. “He’s calmer with him present.”

“Well, the Prince isn’t here now, is he?” Xana replied, turning to glare at Petyr. “If he was, he wouldn’t have authorized this. And unless you want to be the one to tell him that we broke his pet, I suggest you let me fix him.”

Lance flinched at the tone that Xana was using. He flinched at the words, which didn’t make sense. What were they talking about? Had Lance passed or not? When was he getting his necklace back? He wanted Lotor nearby, nothing bad ever happened when Lotor was near.

“Lance,” Xana’s voice was soft again. “Lance, I need you to touch my scales, okay? Is that okay? Can you show me how you’re feeling?”

Petyr made a noise, and Xana turned his head to glare at him as if to say ‘what?’. “Why not just have him touch you?” Petyr asked.

“I don’t feel like being thrown across the room by him. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he has power, and I’ve already experienced that more times than I ever wanted to. He requires a delicate touch.” Xana explained before turning back to Lance, and once again adopting the softer tone. “Lance?”

Lance had no response. He didn’t want Xana near him. Anytime Xana was like this, it hurt, and it hurt, and it hurt. And he wouldn’t remember, and he didn’t want to remember anything anymore.

He wanted Lotor. He wanted to be safe. He wanted to be back in his ignorance and happy.

“We’ve broken him. I told you we should have pulled him out sooner. The moment we saw his quintessence spark, we should have pulled him out.”

“Will. You. Shut. Up?” Xana snapped. He took a deep breath. “Hand me the glass of wine.”

“You can’t be serious.” Petyr replied, but he was already handing Xana a glass. The glass glowed bright purple, the same purple as in Lance’s veins. He wanted to scream and crawl away. He wanted it out of him.

Instead, he uncurled some when Xana brought the glass closer. He allowed the Druid to pull Lance towards him. He curled around Lance, practically cradling him.

“It’s too diluted to do anything.” Petyr muttered.

“It’ll be enough for him.” Xana replied. “I’ve noticed he’s like his mother… he’s a sponge for quintessence. As much as he can manipulate it, just a little bit can manipulate him.”

When he finished speaking, Xana hummed, the song familiar and comforting to Lance. Xana pressed the glass to Lance’s lips, slowly and carefully pouring it into his mouth before coaxing Lance to drink it. Almost instantly, some of the wounds that he’d been inflicted with started to heal.

“That’s it.” Xana cooed.

He pulled away the glass, and put it down on the floor. “Now, let’s see what damage you’ve wrought upon yourself and your conditioning.” Xana took one of Lance’s hands, and pressed it against one of his scales.

His other hand went to Lance’s head, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the bright purple flare of the quintessence. Lance whimpered, and closed his eyes as static filled his head.

Chapter Text

Hunk would never forget the first time he ever saw Lance. Then again, it was hard to even imagine forgetting Lance, and Hunk had marveled over the fact that Keith had been able to.

After all, even at the Galaxy Garrison, Lance had been a spot of brightness in that otherwise dull place. He was a spark of laughter in an otherwise strict environment. A break in the boring monotony that was Galaxy Garrison life.

Lance had been the person to break Hunk out of his shell by dragging him out on his wild unauthorized ‘bonding’ activities. He’d been the one to try to spice up Hunk’s bland vanilla life.

It was easy to say that to some degree, Hunk loved Lance. Perhaps it wasn’t romantic or sexual, but it was love none-the-less. Hearing Lance’s shouts as he was dragged off and then hearing his screams later might as well as been a knife being stabbed and twisted into Hunk’s heart.

He’d fought the Marmorites trying to rescue him so hard that they’d been forced to knock him out to rescue him. He hadn’t wanted to leave without Lance, no matter how weird or strange things seemed to be.

Manicured nails or not, Lance’s screams were real. Hunk couldn’t just let his best friend suffer like that.

Except he had. He’d had no choice. He’d been unconscious until he woke up on a shuttle ship, having passed through several Blade of Marmora’s hands before finally being on his way to the Castle. Nothing about any of this sat right with Hunk, but it was too late to change it.

“If we find the Blue Paladin, we’ll do our best to rescue him.” One Marmorite had promised him, but…

But what if they couldn’t find Lance? What if they couldn’t rescue him? What if Hunk escaping had only made things worse?

These thoughts kept plaguing him through his reunion with the others and the following team meeting. Keith, he knew, had noticed something. There was no way that he hadn’t given how the Red Paladin’s gaze had yet to leave Hunk through the entire meeting. It was kind of freaky if Hunk was being completely honest.

Hunk thought that he finally could understand some of Lance’s complaints about the guy, especially since Lance was certainly right about Keith’s glare having a ‘feeling’ to it.

Allura finished up a recording from Kolivan, the words of which Hunk had missed completely. How could he listen to Kolivan and congratulations when all he could hear was Lance in his head? His screams, his shouts, his tears.

It’d all been too weird. Too real to the be fake, but too strange to be real. Nothing was adding up. ‘Two plus two’ was supposed to equal ‘four’, so why was Hunk getting ‘five’?

He stared at Lance’s spot on the couch, twisting his hands in his lap. He wanted to imagine a happy smiling Lance there, but all he could see was…

Hollow eyes and a bitter smile. Lance scratching at his throat until his finger’s turned red. Curling up into a ball, or freaking out whenever Hunk tried to touch him, especially around the face.

“Don’t touch my face. Why do people always want to touch my face? Always fucking touching me. Just stop. Just stop. Just stop. I don’t want to feel it!”

Feel what, Hunk wondered. What did Lance not want to feel? What had they done to him?

“I… I don’t know.” Lance had sobbed when Hunk had asked him that very question.

Hunk crossed his arms, slightly curling in on himself. He heard Allura say his name, but her words were completely lost on him, so he nodded, and muttered a quiet, “Yeah.”

“Hunk?” Allura’s called his name again, although it was Pidge who was suddenly touching his shoulder.

He flinched, shying away from the touch at first. In his mind, he saw Lance flinch, his eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Lance’s hands scratched at his throat, and he was shouting, no… he was screaming.

Hunk felt sick to his stomach. What had they done to Lance? How could they have done it to him, whatever it was?

Hunk bit his lip, and looked down away from where Lance should be.

He needed to tell the team. He needed to warn them so that they didn’t experience what he did. Or if they did, they were more prepared to deal with it.

“I…” He hesitated. He looked up and made the mistake of meeting Keith’s gaze. The guy was intense; he could see why Lance had been into him for so long, not that he was Hunk’s type. “I saw Lance.”

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room changed. Keith crossed his arms, his fists curling into balls before he gripped his upper arms tight enough that Hunk could see his knuckles turn white under his gloves. Keith’s intense look worsened, becoming a glare which burned holes into Hunk’s soul. He could feel Keith’s judgement all the way from across the room.

Hunk had to look away.

He heard more than saw Pidge’s reaction. She gasped, and then scrambled, coming closer to him. He didn’t see or hear Allura’s reaction until a few seconds later when she was the first to break the silence.

“Well, that settles the rumors of a Paladin being caught.” Her words sounded tense and stiff.

“Pidge and I could have told you that!” Keith snapped.

Hunk bit his lip, choosing not to comment on how Keith and Pidge had been keeping things from him, from Allura, from the rest of the whole team and Castle. Not that there were many people there.

Then again, once Keith had told Allura and Hunk about the rumors – but not that they’d confirmed them – he supposed that to some degree they’d all expected either Lance or Shiro to be there.

He meant, it just made… sense? Like, it made sense in the same way that smelling snow or rain made sense. It was just something that clicked like an ‘aha’ moment or a ‘I shoulda known’ thing.

Still, he could relate with Allura on how it was irksome that Keith and Pidge hadn’t told anyone about this. He understood that Keith was new to leadership, but this was just unacceptable. Especially since if he’d known, then it would have been some sort of warning.

He supposed what was happening with Blue should have been warning enough, but… it hadn’t prepared him for what he’d seen. Lance’s eyes once more flashed in his mind, and Hunk fought the urge to flinch at the mental picture.

“Next time please keep us informed.” Allura’s words were tense and tight. “Although good job on your theory being correct.”

Ha. Which of Keith’s theories hadn’t been correct lately? The Red Paladin hated Lance, and yet he was doing more than Hunk to get him back. Hunk shook his head, curling into a ball at the thoughts of how he’d failed Lance.

Keith had been correct about Lance not being in Blue. He was correct about Lance being involved with Blue’s aggression. And now he was correct about Lance being in that… that place. Quiznak, Hunk wished Keith had been wrong.

He wished Lance had been living it up on some nice beach somewhere, enjoying his life. Not… not…

“Why isn’t he here?” Pidge’s question was exactly that, a question, but Hunk heard it as a demand. He flinched as she continued. “You saw him, and you didn’t bring him back?”

Hunk shifted, uncomfortable with her questions. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. He’d tried to stop them from dragging Lance out. He’d tried to fight the Marmorites and demand that they save Lance too. He tried.

But trying hadn’t been good enough.

“I…” Hunk wanted to say all that, but he couldn’t.

“Don’t abandon me again.” Lance’s words haunted him, mostly because he’d done exactly that, although he still wasn’t sure what Lance meant by ‘again’. They hadn’t abandoned him… he’d left. But then again, maybe he had abandoned Lance. He hadn’t done anything when the other’s… during that fight. He hadn’t done anything.

Hunk should have done something. He shouldn’t have left Lance then, and he definitely shouldn’t have left Lance now. He clenched his hands and then released them.

“You what, Hunk?” Keith’s voice was sharper than the swords and knives that he seemed to collect like dust on antiques. It was sharp enough for Hunk to momentarily meet his gaze, although he instantly regretted it.

Fire burned in Keith’s eyes, and Hunk immediate adverted his gaze, looking anywhere else but there.

“I tried.” Hunk finally managed to get out. “The Blades said they’d look for him… but…. Lance was…” Hunk trailed off for a moment before finding the words to continue. “They couldn’t find him.”

Allura took a seat next to Hunk and rested her hand on Hunk’s other shoulder. “Could you tell us what happened?”

Her tone was softer, gentler, than what she’d used on Keith, but it still left no room for argument. It was worded as a request, but he knew it really wasn’t. He couldn’t decline it.

And it wasn’t like it wasn’t reasonable. It was something Hunk needed to tell them about. But…

Every time Hunk opened his mouth to speak, all he could see and hear was Lance in that place. Those screams echoed in his mind, forever playing in the background of his mind.

“I… I don’t know.” Hunk mirrored Lance’s words as he shook his head. “Things didn’t seem... right, ya know? Like, most of the cells were empty, so why would they put me next to…. And he didn’t look… I mean…” Hunk threw up his hands, unable to convey properly what he was trying to say.

He could recall with crystal clarity the bruise on Lance’s jaw, how it was blossoming under the red purple light of the Galra ship. He could recall the glowing wound, which looked so painful, yet Lance seldom reacted to.

He could also recall how healthy Lance looked. His hair was nice, if not a bit mused. His nails were manicured, and recently so. He didn’t smell or stink, and he was a decent healthy weight. Despite the obvious mental strain Lance was under, there were no bags under his eyes. He’d been sleeping well.

But there was no faking that mental breakdown that Hunk had witnessed. There was no faking that look in his eyes when he slapped Hunk’s hand away and screamed at him not to touch his face.

Too real to be fake. Too strange to be real.

“How did he look?” Keith jumped on Hunk’s words. “Was he alright?”

Ha. ‘Alright’ would be the absolute last word Hunk would use to describe how Lance was. Well, physically, he was sort of alright? He was... healthy? Well taken care of despite being tortured. It was just all so very…

“I don’t know, man. Contradicting, I guess.” Hunk answered after a moment. He was still trying to process through it all himself.

Pidge made a noise of confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

Hunk opened his mouth, and then shut it. He thought of Lance, both as how he’d known him and how he’d last seen him.

“Like… I don’t know… he was beaten and bruised, and he had one of those glow-y wounds that Shiro had, ya know? But he… he didn’t look like a prisoner if you actually looked him over. His nails were manicured, and trust me, I know manicures.”

He laughed hollowly, recalling all the times Lance would either give himself or give Hunk a manicure. It was one of Lance’s stress relievers.

“Lance used to do them all the time whenever he was stressed. He even gave me a few. And he wasn’t thin enough. He was a healthy weight, and there weren’t bags under his eyes, and he just…” Hunk trailed off, putting his head in his hands.

Lance’s screamed echoed in his head, and he wished they’d stop. He didn’t want to hear them anymore.

“I can’t get the sounds of his screams out of my head.” Hunk admitted after a moment.

Again, the atmosphere in the room shifted at Hunk’s words. Silence followed them as everyone took their time to process exactly what he’d said. Hunk didn’t blame them. He hadn’t meant to drop a bomb like that on them.

“What happened?” Pidge was the first to break the silence. Funny, he had expected Keith to do that.

“I don’t know.” Hunk didn’t mean to shout, but he did. He threw his hands down. “I don’t know! Some terrifying alien with a terrifying mask – I hope it was a mask – came and Lance freaked out, I mean, he was freaking out before, but now it was like 100 times worse, and he just kept shouting ‘no’ and ‘I can’t’ and then he was being dragged away, and I couldn’t do anything, and then Lance started screaming, and screaming, and screaming, and then it stopped, and…”

Hunk ran out of words, panting quietly as his mind raced. He took a deep breath and continued.

“Physically, besides the bruises and the cut and stuff… he was fine. Mentally…” Hunk sighed. As much as he didn’t want to go into this, he needed to. “He was… manic. Frantic. He kept… he kept asking when we were going to rescue him.”

Keith audibly sucked in some air at that. Hunk didn’t blame him. He hadn’t known how to react when Lance had started asking about it and talking about being ‘abandoned’.

“This doesn’t make sense.” Pidge muttered, readjusting her glasses. “Why would the Galra give him a manicure and take care of him? Unless he was only recently captured, but that doesn’t match up with anything.”

Hunk shrugged. He didn’t know. It didn’t make sense to him, but all he knew was that mentally, Lance wasn’t as fine as he was physically there.

“It doesn’t matter.” Allura replied to Pidge. “The Galra are poisoning the Blue Lion through Lance, and that cannot be allowed to continue.” Of course, she only cared about the Blue Lion. That was all she had ever cared about since Lance had left.

When they got Lance back, her toxic behavior towards him wasn’t going to make anything better. As a matter of fact, Hunk had nonexistent money on it hurting things.

“I’ll be getting in contact with Kolivan to find out when his operatives will be able to return Lance.” Allura announced as she stood.

Hunk looked up at her, shaking his head. “They couldn’t find him.” He argued.

“So, we’ll go there ourselves.” Keith replied.

Hunk shook his head again. That wasn’t a better plan.

“With only three functioning Lions?” Hunk asked. “We’ll be murdered, Keith. Or worse, we’ll be thrown in a cell next to… I talked with the Blades when I was rescued. This Lotor guy is bad news.”

“I’ll ask Kolivan to give us what he knows about this ‘Lotor’.” Allura paused, looking to Keith. “Keith, we need to speak after this.” The look she gave Keith was hard, and Hunk mentally winced. He did not envy Keith, or the chewing out he was probably about to get about withholding information.

After a moment of silence, Allura turned back to Hunk. “We’ll be stealthy.” She suggested.

Beside Hunk, Pidge laughed dryly.

“Oh, because that worked so well last time.” Pidge argued. “I’m with Hunk. As much as I want to get Lance back, if we go storming in there, nothing good will happen.”

“So, what?” Keith growled. “We just wait? Lance is being tortured, Pidge!”

“You don’t think I know that?” Pidge replied almost a second following Keith’s outburst. “I just don’t think we should jump straight in. Things aren’t making sense with Lance. What if it’s a trap?” Pidge shook her head. “With only three Lions, we can’t do much!”

“We’ve successfully completed missions with less Lions.” Keith argued. “Hunk and I took on a Weblum with only Yellow!”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea to dive in without knowing more!” Pidge argued back. “We knew what we were dealing with, to some degree, during those missions. This is us attacking Lotor’s Central Command. You can’t seriously be suggesting this, Keith.”

Hunk couldn’t take this anymore.

“I’m the one who heard him, Keith.” Hunk interjected. Keith and Pidge both fell quiet at Hunk’s words. “I want to get him out just as much as you, but rushing in isn’t going to help him.”

Allura cleared her throat in the silence that followed Hunk’s words. “Then we wait for the Blade of Marmora to give us something.” She announced. “Whether it be an opening, information, or even Lance himself, if they can manage it.”

Chapter Text

It was hard to explain the state that Lance found himself in. His memories were colliding with each other, and what he could recall was foggy and hazy, like a distant dream. He was conscious, but not.

His eyes were open, his body alive, but his mind was muddled with static. He’d been in a state similar to this before, possibly. Quintessence tended to do this to a person. It was hard to think like this. It was hard to experience anything like this.

It was like every time he blinked, he saw and witnessed something different.

“Once the fight goes out, he’s not that hard to manage.” Lance knew that he knew the Druid who commented, but the name wouldn’t come to mind. It floated in the colorful haze of quintessence. Maybe it started with a ‘Y’? Or was it an ‘X’?

“You think you can fix him?” Odd, Lance knew this Druid too, but like the first, his name escaped Lance, except unlike the first, no letters came to mind.

The first Druid frowned, the faint purple glow of quintessence fading as he was distracted by the other’s words. “As I’ve said, if you let me work. I have todo some repair, and then he will be like new.”

Lance blinked.

“You’re doing so well,” A Druid cooed as more of the sticky sweet liquid was poured into Lance’s mouth. Lance’s tongue was coated with it, and it pooled thickly, sliding down his throat into his veins and burning through him.

He coughed, choking on the syrup of quintessence, and the Druid shushed him. “I am almost done.” He promised.

Lance blinked.

There was the sound of a sliding door and the beeps to accommodate it. A hooded masked Druid looked over him and the Druid holding him. Lance was reaching up, his hand held against flaky scales by the other’s grasp.

He should have been concerned about that, but all he could feel was the warm apathy of static quintessence. It crackled in his ears, and burned through his veins, filling the voids in his body, replacing blood and marrow and bone.

“You might want to hurry. I just received news that the Prince returned considerably earlier than scheduled.” The masked Druid informed the unmasked one.

Something about what he said flooded Lance with fuzzy fluctuating emotions which broke through the static like whales breaching the surf.

The Druid who was holding Lance looked up at the other Druid’s words, although he was careful not to let Lance’s hand fall. His face twisted into a snarl. “Quiznak.”

Lance blinked.

“I did not authorize this!” Lotor – Lance would recognize his voice anywhere – snarled from somewhere Lance could not see.

A pretty pink alien with blue green eyes appeared in his vision. She studied him for a moment, her eyes widening as Lance flinched at Lotor’s tone. She looked over her shoulder for a tick before looking back down at Lance and pursing her lips.

She felt familiar, but he couldn’t place her. He knew her from somewhere, and he knew that she was… safe. Yes, that was a good word for her. Safe. Not as safe as Lotor, but still safe.

“You’re scaring him.” She called out. She smiled, and Lance was relieved to see it was kind. “Don’t worry. We’ve got you. Lotor doesn’t like people messing with his things without permission.”

“He’s not mentally present, Ezor.” A different feminine voice spoke, sounding both annoyed and exasperated. “He won’t be for a while. Go give him to his guard and then investigate the priso…”

Lance blinked.

A hand carded through Lance’s hair as Sonali spoke. “…wish I was an alchemist, you know? Then maybe I could-”

“You did what you could. I mean? You contacted Price L'Oréal about it, right? And he stepped in. Lance’ll be fine.” Lance could faintly hear Matt’s response as he interrupted Sonali. He sounded distant and small, like his voice was coming from a communicator.

Sonali replied in a noncommittal hum and Matt continued. “Thank him for the info he gave us about that prisoner ship near the Karthulian System, will you? We saved about twenty prisoners thanks to that intel.”

Sonali hummed quietly. “Will do.” They replied after a moment.

“And see if he can get any more information on the Robeasts. They’re really starting to get annoying.” Matt added just before an alarm resounded through the device they were using.

“Quiznak, look Sonali, I've got to go. There’s a problem with that space straggl-”

Lance blinked.

He watched a hologram of crystals floating. Chimes and instruments echoed through his head and in the room. It took him a moment, but he realized that someone was humming along to it. It was Lance’s song, and he’d recognize the voice humming it anywhere.

Just like he’d recognize the hand carding through his hair anywhere.

He still felt dazed and hazy, but there was a change. A shift. He felt… anchored. He felt warm and fuzzy and safe. There was still static at the edge of his mind, in his memories and thoughts, but physically he was content.

Lance blinked, and he didn’t go anywhere. That was… pleasant. Good. That was… good.

Slowly he strung his thoughts together, feeling like he’d been dissembled and then reassembled again. Perhaps he had been. Quintessence could do that to a person, although, the last thing he really remembered was the lunch with Corral.

As much as he wanted to just slip back into sleep, he had priorities. He needed to find out where he was, and what happened. Obviously, he was with Lotor, so he had to be somewhere safe.

Maybe he’d over exerted himself in training again? Or while working on his crystal project?

Whatever. The sooner he found out, the sooner he could take a nap. He was exhausted. But… it was so comfortable where he was. And the music was so relaxing. His eyes almost threatened to shut as he laid there, trying to find the motivation and will to do anything except lie there limply.

“I still can’t believe Haggar pulled that.” A bright bubbly voice complained from somewhere. Lance didn’t recognize the voice, except he did. It was very vaguely familiar in the aspect that he’d heard it a lot.

He blinked again, and It took Lance a moment to place where he was, but he realized the hologram was playing from a device on Lotor’s nightstand.

“He’s been out for nearly a quintant!” The voice continued. The name was on the tip of Lance’s tongue. It started with an ‘E’… and he knew her.

“This takes time, Ezor.” Another feminine voice replied.

Ezor! He knew Ezor. She was… she was Lotor’s general. The colorful one. And the person who just spoke was another of Lotor’s generals. She liked spy and kid movies and didn’t care much for explosions.

Their presence paired with Lotor’s hand and voice meant he was definitely safe. He was safe and sound and he could rest. Lance sighed and felt himself relax. Tension he didn’t know he had leaving his body as his eyes slipped shut. The hand in his hair stilled, and the humming stopped.

“Lotor?” Ezor immediately asked. “Everything okay?” Hearing the name confirmed the hummer’s identity, which he’d already known. But hearing a confirmation helped to remove any lingering nonexistent doubt.

He was so tired. Why was he so tired? It felt like he’d just woken up. He wished Lotor would continue to touch him. He felt better with Lotor.

His thoughts were fragmenting again, but Lance refused to allow that. He clung onto them like a shy child clung to their mother.

“I believe so.” Just hearing Lotor’s voice filled Lance with a rush of relief. It was like he’d been a dehydrated man and someone had given him water. It was one thing for a confirmation through Lotor’s name, but hearing Lotor’s voice was a balm to a burn Lance hadn’t known he’d had.

“Acxa, could you hand me the light?” Lotor commanded.

There was the sound of shuffling, and then a hand was on his cheek. A finger brushed along his cheek bone, and Lance felt the tingle of a connection before the hand was removed.

That was feedback from his scales, so, he wasn’t in his human form anymore. Wait… why had he been in his human form? He’d been at lunch with Corral and then… and then…

“Lance, could you open your eyes for me?” Lotor asked as he stroked Lance’s cheek, distracting him from his thoughts. For once, Lance wished that Lotor would touch his scales. He liked the feeling. His own feelings felt… raw.

Which probably wasn’t helped by his exhaustion.

Regardless of how Lance felt, his prince had asked him something, and who was Lance to deny him.

Slowly Lance opened his eyes. His vison blurred before sharpening, and the first thing he saw was Lotor’s smile. There was an unusual emotion swimming in his eyes but when he granted Lance’s silent wish and brushed over Lance’s scales, Lance could identify it. Concern. The prince was concerned for him.

Lance would have asked about it, but a bright light was shined into his eyes before he could. Lance winced.

“Shh, I know, I know.” Lotor soothed. The light was taken away, and Lance tried to blink the spots away before giving up and closing his eyes, turning his face into Lotor’s hand and letting out a quiet whimper.

“His pupils are responding again.” It took Lance a moment to recognize that as Acxa’s voice. She’d been the one talking to Ezor in the beginning too. “He seems to be more physically present now.”

“That’s promising, right?” Ezor asked.

Lotor’s hands ran over Lance, stoking his hair or brushing against his cheeks. At one point, the hand in his hair slide down to his neck, massaging above where his necklace was. It must have been returned to him. Lance was glad for that.

“Physically, yes.” Acxa replied. “Mentally, it’s hard to say. For as much as we use it, quintessence is a dangerous substance. Those with addictions quickly deteriorate mentally while on it and coming off it.”

Part of Lance was curious about why Lotor wasn’t joining in the conversation, but then again, Lotor tended to be an observer with them. Besides, he was probably distracted with petting Lance, and Lance wasn’t going to complain about that.

Although, he was worried about what Acxa was talking about with ‘addictions’. He wasn’t addicted to anything, least of all quintessence.

“Is it cuz he used to pilot a kitty that he’s been good so far, then?” Ezor asked. “That’s so cool.”

“We can only theorize what effects being a Paladin of Voltron has upon a person and their response to quintessence, but yes. That is the… current theory.” Acxa paused hesitated as she spoke, almost as if she was omitting something from her statement.

Not that it mattered what she was omitting. She mentioned Voltron, and a flash of a memory appeared in Lance’s mind of Hunk sitting in a cell reaching out.

That was right. Lance had been pulled out of his lunch with Corral for an experiment with Hunk. They’d finally caught one of the Paladins and Xana had wanted Lance to try to use their previous friendship and… and…

There was the sound of a door sliding open distracting Lance from his thoughts and pulling him back to the present. The conversation in the room died.

“Have you located the traitors?” Lotor asked.

Traitors. Traitors… Was Lotor talking about Sonali or… no! He remembered! Hunk said that that the Blade of Marmora or the Voltron team was going to rescue them. And then…

Lance knew he lost his cool, but the more he tried to think on it, the more hazy and foggy the memories became. He didn’t know how he’d ended up in Lotor’s room with the prince and his generals. He thought Xana might have been involved. Vaguely he could recall the sound of Lotor shouting.

Which was odd because Lotor didn’t usually shout. The angrier he got, the quieter he became. He only really shouted when he was surprised, and even then, he was quick to regain control of himself.

He could worry and wonder about that later. Lotor was asking about traitors which meant either he’d discovered Sonali or… Or Hunk had been rescued as he said he would be. And if Hunk was rescued, and Lance was in Lotor’s room then…then that meant…

That meant…

Lance had been abandoned by the Voltron team again.

Well, quiznak them! He didn’t need them!

He was working with a different resistance now to bring down the Galra empire. He was working with Lotor, who would provide a better Empire. He wasn’t Zarkon, he was better. Voltron wasn’t needed; not by the universe, and certainly not by Lance.

“There’s a few missing personnel from the attendance logs, but everyone who’s here seems to check out for now.” Lance would recognize the low growly pitch of Zethrid anywhere. “If there are any left on the ship, then they’re hiding away like cowards.”

That sounded like the Blade of Marmora.

Lance hadn’t really planned on doing anything with them if he’d come across them. Which was really a favor to them considering that if he wanted to, he could really fuck their shit up. He knew where their base was, he knew roughly how their bases were made and hidden, and most importantly, he knew how to find members.

But no, Lance had been content to leave them be. They hadn’t done anything to him to warrant him messing with them and, although their very existence annoyed Lotor, they hadn’t threatened either himself or Lotor.

The Blade of Marmora’s main priority seemed to be just Zarkon and dismantling Zarkon’s empire, and Lance could respect that. After all, if Zarkon was still emperor, then Lance would have been thrown in the Gladiator rings, or been used as a Druid experiment, or both. Lance didn’t blame them for wanting to take down Zarkon; even his own son didn’t like him.

But now they’d made things personal with Lance, and that was something Lance couldn’t just ignore. They’d taken Hunk away from him, and they’d even had the audacity to leave Lance behind.

…

Not that Lance wanted to leave. No. Just the thought made his chest tighten, like someone had buried him in sand which was crushing his lungs. His hands were shaking, or perhaps it was his whole body, and his mouth felt dry like someone had shoved cotton in it.

No. He didn’t want to leave. He was happy here. He was happy with Lotor. He was safe, warm, content, and most importantly, wanted here. Why would he ever want to leave?

And he might have been able to show that to Hunk. Or at the very least, dissuade Hunk from continuing on with the stupidity that was Voltron. Despite all that’d been said and done, Hunk was still his friend, sort of.

Except, Hunk had truly left him this time. And that was something Lance couldn’t ignore either. He’d deal with the Blade of Marmora first, and then when he came across the Voltron crew, he wouldn’t go easy on any of them.

“How was this not caught?” Lotor’s voice was a low growl, jerking Lance back to the present.

He shivered and not even a tick later there was the soft warmth of a blanket draped over him. For a moment he was confused about the source of it before he blinked up to see Acxa nod at him.

“Narti’s doing her thing.” Zethrid answered. “But there’s only so much she can do, and you said I’m not allowed to threaten to shoot the crew anymore.”

“We’d use the Druids but…” Ezor chimed in.

“We don’t think it appropriate at this time.” Acxa finished. “Given the circumstances of recent events.”

Lance took a moment to orient himself and see exactly where he was. He was in Prince Lotor’s bed, using the prince’s lap as a pillow. He blinked up at the ceiling – his favorite lightning effects was on, how sweet – and then moved, slowly sitting up.

If he hadn’t known it was all in his head, he would have thought that the room was suddenly on a carousel, spinning around. Lance blinked the dizziness away, not that it did much help.

He felt like a kid, spinning around on his mom’s office chair until he threw up. He could taste the bitterness of bile in the back of his throat, could feel what felt like his cheeks being shrunken, like his mouth was suddenly too small.

He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to not be sick. He was fine. He was fine. He was with Lotor and his Generals. He was safe here. He was fine.

“Lance,” Lotor chided quietly. “You should rest more.” Lotor was right, Lance should rest more. Already he could feel exhaustion creeping up on him, but the longer he waited to tell Lotor about the blades, the more of a chance the traitors had to escape. And after they took Hunk away, he wasn’t going to allow them that opportunity.

“… A blade.” Lance sighed, leaning bodily against Lotor. The prince immediately moved to best accommodate him, wrapping an arm around Lance to help steady him.

Ezor’s mouth slacked, making a small ‘o’ shape, likely because she hadn’t expected him to speak. Which made sense based off what he’d heard about him ‘responding physically now’. Acxa’s smile had fallen and was replaced with one of her calculating cold looks.

“A blade?” Acxa repeated. Her hand rose to her mouth as she knitted her eyebrows in thought. “Most of the sentries and guards wouldn’t have a blade…” She mused aloud.

“Ahhh. That would make sense.” Ezor added in. “I mean, they’re called the Blade of Marmora.” She grinned, resting her hand on her hip. “No brainer, right?”

Lance wasn’t sure how they hadn’t known about the blades to begin with. It was like Ezor said, no brainer. Besides, that one spy was caught. Then again, Haggar was probably distracted with Voltron kicking Zarkon’s ass, and it just slipped her mind.

Or she was purposely keeping it from Lotor for some reason. Hm, things to think on later when he wasn’t so exhausted.

Acxa hummed, still deep in thought about something.

Ezor rolled her eyes and leaned over to pat Lance twice on his head. “Thanks for the info.” She praised.

Any normal time Lance would have tried to bite her hand for such a patronizing display of affection, but he was too tired to protest it now. So long as she remembered to stay away from his face, more accurately his scales, then he was fine.

He didn’t like people other than Lotor touching him there, and even then, he didn’t particularly care for it unless it was one of the rare moments where he liked it.

Lance allowed the petting for a moment before he turned his head away. She beamed at him and patted his head before spinning around to face the other generals.

“So,” Ezor dragged out the vowel of the word in a singsongy way, “We’re gonna go through everyone’s stuff?” She arched an eyebrow. “That’s gonna take some time to do.”

“It’d be faster if I could just jettison the crew out to space. We can get a new one.” Zethrid offered.

“And risk more infiltrators?” Lotor returned. “I think not.”

It might have been the exhaustion speaking, but Lance’s brain automatically changed Lotor’s statement to ‘I think the fuck not’.

Lance sighed to conceal a yawn. His head dropped against Lotor’s shoulder, and on a whim, he nosed Lotor’s jawline in a soft nuzzle.

He told himself he’d just be resting his eyes, but that was just a lie people told themselves when they needed sleep but didn’t want it. He heard the others respond to Lotor, although their words were fuzzy, like he was listening to them with cotton in his ears.

By the time Lotor replied, Lance felt the response more than he heard it. Lotor’s voice was a quiet rumble, remind him of velvet and honey like usual. The smallest smile curled at Lance’s lips and once again he sighed.

He’d done what he’d needed to do. He’d done as Xana had asked, and furthermore, he’d told the Generals and Lotor how to best find the Marmorites. Now it was up to them to use that information. It was all out of his hands. Lance could rest now, like Lotor had wanted him to.

Chapter Text

For as much faith as she appeared to have in these humans, Allura did not expect much of them. She never had. These humans would not have been her first choice, or even her second choice, as Paladins. She’d only chosen them as they’d been the only options available to her at the time.

It was a hurtful truth, but then again, painful described most unspoken truths.

The only reason these Humans had survived as long as they had was by the grace of luck. It was only a matter of time before things were falling apart like they were.

These humans were no Paladins. They lacked the teamwork, the relationships between them, everything. Compared to the images of the Paladins in her memories, these humans paled considerable in comparison.

They were argumentative, loud, and disobedient. And now, Keith – the worst of them, although that may have been his Galra genes showing through – was holding back information.

Which, she’d admit, she had to some degree allowed. But that didn’t excuse his behavior as of late. Keith had been nothing short of a pain in her side lately, always up on the Bridge disturbing her work, asking on her progress. It was a shame that they had lost Shiro, truly it was; but they didn’t need him – or Lance – anymore. They were just… temporary Paladins. Placeholders.

Yet Keith kept pushing and pushing. Always trying to find any sign of his missing ‘teammates’.

And then he conspired with Pidge to endanger them all by remotely hacking Galra ships. She’d allowed it under Coran’s advice, but, she just didn’t understand. They could try to find Shiro – and Lance – after she located two new proper Paladins.

If only the Lions would cooperate with her.

Everyone depended on her. The universe depended on her. But it just seemed like nothing wanted to work out for her. She just couldn’t understand why. Why couldn’t Keith, or the Lions, understand that she was trying to help universe? That she needed to help the universe.

She was only trying to do what was best, what was needed. She couldn’t just stand idly by watching as this team fell apart, time and time again. Sure, there were moments when they were great, when they seemed to be the Paladins that they needed to be.

But more often than not, these Humans weren’t. Allura didn’t think that Keith and Lance could even stand being within five feet of each other before breaking into a fight, and Shiro, as great of a leader as he was, tended to play favorites with Keith and Pidge. Not to mention, Hunk tended to gravitate to either Pidge or Lance.

In any case, this lull in activity – beyond the Robeasts plaguing them – paired with the missing Humans was the perfect opportunity to locate true proper Paladins of Voltron. The people who could truly come together and form a team that could push Voltron to its full potential.

The people that these humans clearly were not.

Yet Blue was attached to Lance for reasons beyond Allura, and Black might as well as been a sculpture. A memorial to the failure that this ‘team’ was.

Keith was the acting leader now, something she was tolerating. It certainly wasn’t helping his case that he’d been keeping information from the team. His tunnel vision on finding Lance wasn’t appreciated either, and there was no better time to bring it up than now.

“Keith.” She called out, following Keith into one of the small hallway rooms connected to the lounge.

Of the humans remaining on the ship, he was the one that the others seemed to listen to the most. He was almost the most pragmatic currently. If she wanted to get anywhere with them, then she’d need to appeal to him first.

Keith was waiting for her, his arms crossed, and mouth turned downwards sharply. She took a breath, taking a tick to mentally prioritize the list of things she had to speak with him about – starting with the disrespectful act of not sharing relevant information.

“You wouldn’t have listened!” Keith cut into her thoughts with a shouted growl. His eyes flashed as he took a step forward, threatening her presence and authority. Allura took another breath, pulling herself up and squaring her shoulders to look him down. “You never do!”

“I do what is best for Voltron.” She replied, hoping to appeal to his sense of logic. Honestly, there were times when she got on perfectly with Keith, and then there were times where he was like this. Shiro would have been best for this situation instead of her, but, she’d do what she had to.

Keith laughed, shaking his head. “Best for Voltron.” He repeated. “Like any of your choices have ever been what was best for Voltron.”

She bristled at his words, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Oh? I suppose you have a specific incident in mind.” She prompted.

“Lance.” Keith hissed out.

Lance. Of course, this was about Lance. She sighed sharply through her nose. She’d had this conversation with Keith before, and there was no reason to rehash it. They were all to blame for what had happened, Lance included. She would not take the blame for that.

“This is not about him, Keith.” She tried to steer him back on track. “This is about you, and your behavior.”

“No.” Keith argued. “This is about you, and how you never listen!” Keith shouted. “I’ve been saying that we need to find Lance since this all started. I’ve been saying that we should have tried to talk to him before he disappeared.”

She had tried to talk to Lance! She had tried, and he had run away like the guilty coward that he was.

“Everyone agrees but you, Princess.” Keith sneered out her title, like it was an insult rather than a sign of respect for her ranking.

“Lance,” Allura ground out, “was spying on us for the Galra.” Honestly, how many more times would she need to point that out? How many more times would she need to point out how Lance’s actions had put all of them at risk? “The only reason I’m allowing him back on this castle is for Voltron.”

“And that’s the problem!” Keith shouted as he threw his hands up. “That’s all it ever is with you. Altea this, Galra that, Voltron everything! There is more to us than Voltron, Allura. I thought you understood that!”

She understood that these were not the proper Paladins of Voltron. Why would Red willingly chose a hybrid of its Jailers, one of the race that killed her father if not because there was no other option? Keith was nothing like her father, like a true Paladin of the Red Lion.

“Meaningless words from one who kept information from us.” Allura replied, trying yet again to pull Keith on track for the conversation she’d had planned.

She could not let these Humans know of her lack of faith in them. It would only make things worse.

“Like you didn’t keep information from us.” Keith rebuffed. “The Black Bayard was lost with its original Paladin, huh? Might have been nice to know that Zarkon was said Paladin before you know, he kicked our asses when we were trying to save you.”

Allura did not flinch, even as Keith brought up one of her worst regrets and used it against her. How was she to know that Zarkon still held the Black Bayard? How was she to know that the Humans would try to rescue her? She was not to blame there.

“And why did we need to save you again? Oh right, because you wouldn’t listen when you were told to stay on the castle. And when we met the Blade of Marmora, you tried to stop us every step of the way.”

She was just trying to protect them! Nothing about the Blade of Marmora screamed friendly to them. Each and every one of the situations where they’d encountered them seemed like a trap. She could not be blamed for being cautious.

“You refused to listen to us when we said they might be good. You think that just because you’re a princess that you’re entitled to do whatever you want. Or that we have to listen to you. Well I have news for you: we don’t.”

She’d had enough.

She’d had enough of this. Keith was not her father or her advisor. He did not get to criticize her choices like a parent scolding their young. Just because he held her father’s position did not give him power over her, nor did it give him the right to blame her for the things he was holding against her.

Her hand smarted where it’d made contact with the side of his face, but at least it’d gotten him to stop talking.

“Don’t you dare presume that you can lecture or command me.” She snapped at him. “You are not my father, nor are you my advisor.”

Keith’s mouth – which had opened in shock from her action – snapped shut. He stared at her for a few ticks before speaking again. “It’s no wonder Voltron won’t listen to you.” Allura inhaled deeply at his comment, and was fully prepared to defend herself when he continued. ““If you aren’t going to listen to anyone but yourself then why should anyone listen to you?”

Air escaped out of her mouth in a quiet ‘whoosh’ as he pushed past her, heading for the door. She turned around and froze at the sight of Pidge standing there, peeking over the doorframe where Keith had stopped.

He looked over his shoulder at her and frowned. “I don’t blame Lance or Shiro for leaving. At this rate, I might just leave too.”

Then he turned back away and stalked out the door. Allura watched him leave, and it was only afterwards that she realized her hands were shaking. Her throat felt like someone had their hands around it, and was squeezing. The pressure getting increasingly worse as she stared at the closed-door Keith had departed through.

“Are you alright?” Pidge asked a moment later.

Allura swallowed thickly. “I’m fine.” She snapped as she turned away. She attempted to exit through another door, but it slid open before she was anywhere near it.

“Princess?”

“What?” She snapped again, looking up to glare at… Coran. His mustache twitched as he looked her over. “What?” She repeated, softer this time.

“The Blade of Marmora have reached back out to us.” He informed her quietly.

She inhaled deeply, holding it for a tick before releasing. Of course, they had. “What news do they bring us?”

“The operatives still on the ship have not yet located Lance. They are being hunt down, so they need to lie low for a while.” He paused as if debating to continue. “We have a location of where the ship was and a way to track it, if we decide to try an attack.”

Well, Keith would love that, wouldn’t he? “We have decided that that is not in Voltron’s best interests, Coran.”

“I understand.” He nodded. “But the Blade of Marmora believe that Lotor’s stay on the ship will be a swift one. He is expected at Galra Command for a movement at least. Kollivan believes that this window of time would be your best opportunity if you were to try anything.”

“He would leave his ship knowing there are Blade of Marmora members on it?” Allura questioned.

“He could believe that they left with Hunk. Most of them did, losing their cover in the process.” He paused. “There are Druids on board. Kollivan advised extreme caution due to them. He was unable to say how many there were.”

Allura nodded.

“If we could find out when exactly Lotor leaves, we could infiltrate the ship. At the very least, I could try to hack it.” Pidge – Allura had almost forgotten she was still in the room – pipped up.

“No.” Allura shook her head. “It’s too dangerous.”

If they lost a Lion, then that was it. It’d be the end of the Universe. Voltron was the last hope of the free Universe. She could not allow Voltron to fall into Galra hands again.

“But what about Lance!” Pidge asked.

And there was the problem: Lance.

If Allura was unable to convince the Blue Lion to let Lance go then he would continue to corrupt the Blue Lion. He would turn her – and Voltron – against them. If they did not rescue Lance, then Voltron might as well as been already lost.

She pursed her lips and exhaled sharply through her nose. Why couldn’t anything ever be easy? Why would nothing work in her favor? She was trying to help the universe, so why was it fighting against her so strongly?

Her father had said that ruling was difficult, but she hadn’t expected it to be like this. She didn’t even rule anything anymore!

“We wait, Pidge.” She spoke to Pidge but she was looking at Coran. “Until the Blade can tell us when Lotor will be leaving.”

“Or we can just go to the coordinates and track them and wait to see when Lotor leaves.” Pidge argued.

“There is no way we could be certain which ship Lotor would be on. We do not know the full situation, and I will not risk more lives because of that.” Allura took a deep breath and continued out the door, ignoring Coran who side stepped to let her pass.

“What happened?” She heard Coran ask as the door shut. She didn’t care to find out how Pidge would explain.