Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Day one: Garrison

Within a second of Lance entering his dorm, he crashes face first into his bed. Groaning into the sheets. Earning a foreseeable remark from Pidge, casting down a knowing look from their bunk.

“What happened this time? No, actually, let me guess. Iverson compared you to Keith again and gave you detention for getting pissy about it?”

Slowly rising from his smothering position in his bed, Lance fronts a dejected little frown. Feet already carrying him to his side of the closet as he begins to complain. Voice partially muffled as he shrugs his garrison uniform off over his head.

“I just don’t get it. Seriously, what did that guy have that I don’t besides an outdated haircut and some anger issues? Who knows, maybe if I grow out a mullet and punch James three times, I’ll magically win Iverson’s approval. Like some messed up version of the wizard of Oz. Honestly, I do think I’d look good in red. Blue though, I’m not entirely sure-“

“Alright, we get it. You’re pathetic. Now shut your yap and find something else to occupy yourself with.” Pidge grumbles, continuing to complain even after Lance turns his focus to Hunk, sketching away at the singular table in the dorm. Desk-light illuminating the whole room.

Sauntering up behind him, Lance peeks over Hunk’s shoulder. Ogling at what looks to be a sketch of a redesigned fighter pilot. Except it looks, in Lance’s humble opinion, about ten times cooler. Paired with scale measurements along each edge and angle, in particular Hunk fashion. Never missing a single detail. The nimble hands settling on his shoulders momentarily snagging his attention away from his sketchbook.

“Looks good, how long did this one take you?” Moving his hand away from Hunk’s shoulder, he lets his fingers brush over the edges of the page. Careful not to smudge the fresh lead as he awaits a reply. Hunk seems a little flustered over the gentle praise. Getting sheepish as he murmurs out an answer.

“Just a couple hours. I started it this morning, but classes kinda got in the way.” Eyes flicking up, he meets Lance’s pleased gaze, tilting his head with an eye-creasing smile.

“Impressive. You’re getting better. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be building fighter pilots too. Ooh! Or maybe some sort of war ship once Earth gets invaded by aliens or something. But whatever it is, I think you’re gonna end up as something more than just a mechanic. I’m sure of it.”

Another piercing groan is heard from across the room. Pidge rubbing their eyes as they emerge from the thin covers. The lack of duvet allowing the light to seep right in from underneath. “If you two are done making out over there, could you turn off that God awful light? Some people are trying to get some sleep around here.”

“Sleep? At seven in the afternoon? Yeah, that’s not happening. If you wanna nap that bad, you can learn to deal with it. Besides, we can take this time to have some fun! Like a game or something.”

To no avail, Pidge just grunts and tugs the covers back over their head. Lance letting out a sigh as he wanders back over to his bunk. He always preferred the bottom one. It felt safer, less risky. Especially after that fatal first night at the Garrison when he made the mistake of choosing the top bunk. Ending up with a sprained leg, and newly installed barriers to each of the beds.

Rummaging through his haphazardly dumped backpack, he pulls out a game disc, clad in a bright plastic cover. A smug grin gracing the corners of his lips. “Well, I was gonna let you try out my copy of kill-bot phantom two tonight. But , if you’re so adamant about not getting up, I guess me and Hunk can play just the two of us.”

Now that grabs their attention. Quickly scuttling down the rickety ladder and hopping onto the ground. Legs crossed like a kid waiting for story-time.

“Well, why didn’t you just start with that?”

——————————————————————

A defiant huff leaves Pidge’s lips as they set the controller on the ground. Crossing their arms as th try flop back onto the carpeted dormitory floors. “Oh come on, again?”

“Looks like you just need to step it up a notch.” He snorts, winning for about the fifth time in a row. A proud smile on his face. If there’s one thing he could rely on, it was shooter games.

He’s always had a knack for aim. Maybe from all the archery he did as a kid or just a combination of sheer genetics and luck, but whatever it is, he just knows he can beat just about anyone.

Maybe even this Keith guy everyone keeps comparing him to.

Chapter Text

Day two: Curse

“Why did we come here again?”

“We’ve been over this, Keith. All we’re looking for is some extra means. Ways to scrounge up a couple extra pieces, if you will. And according to the guild, we’ll be rewarded handsomely if we carry out this bounty. They didn’t really tell me what it is, but I doubt it’s any match for us.” Shiro preaches, pressing a hand to his chest as he mimics the inn keepers kooky voice. Raising a brow as he takes in Keith’s surveying expression. Pressing his eyes closed in dismay. “What now?”

“Nothing, nothing. This place just seems a little.. Sketchy, is all. Can’t you feel it?” He couldn’t quite explain it, but something was off with this place. His mind felt full, hazy. Like something, or someone, knew he was here. Don’t get him wrong, he loved some good treasure. He really did have a soft spot for shiny things, he was a dragon after all. But this all just felt so wrong. Like they were trespassing more than they were adventuring.

Cobble meets his dragging nails as he feels at it under the pads of his fingers. Feeling the ridges of the engraved carvings on the wall. Overlapping lines and circles forming symbols foreign to the both of them.

Air soon thick with a smell, as they traversed deeper. One of lavender and spring. A tickle at his sensitive nostrils, eliciting a quick twitch and a sneeze. Flushing the tip of his nose a rosy hue. Shiro quickly pulls his cloak to his face, shielding his senses from the dizzying scent. Eyes flicking to Keith’s with a sudden look of agreement.

Quickly following suit, Keith brings an armoured arm to his face. Suppressing the  sudden burning of his sinuses. Gods, was that shit strong. A cough heard from his now crumpled brother to his left.

Hands grounding into the earth.

Befalling to his knees, Keith reaches an arm out, trying to ignore the ringing filling his ears. That clouding coming back full force. Vision focusing in and out, blotches of colours spotting his peripheral as he begins to stumble. Eventually succumbing to the overwhelm with a slump. A blurry hand entering his line of sight before his vision falls dark.

——————————————————————

“Well, it’s about time you got up, sleepyhead. I’ve been waiting for quite a while now.”

Keith rises to a curious sight, bleary eyes refocusing as he watches a figure leaning over him. A lean, tall man coming into his line of vision. Long, white curls brushing against his face. Smelling familiar in a blinding mix of herbs and lavender.

Two cold, slender hands cupping the sides of his face. Thumbs caressing his cheeks as he bends down to meet as eye level on his crouched position on the floor. Tone demeaning as he parts his supple lips to speak.

“Let me guess, you came looking for something. For a bounty, a head. For me.”

Keith’s mouth runs dry. This was their target? He was expecting a beast, some sort of war-torn rouge at most. Not a downright spectacle. Silky and sheer fabric loosely wrapped around his frame. Adorned with jewels, and gold. Hanging from the tips of his pointed ears to the lobe, laid across his collarbone. Encrusted with the azure and cerulean of his irises. But there was only one gem Keith had his eyes on right about now.

So enthralled in fact, that he almost missed a crucial detail. Where was Shiro? Looking up, he switches. Letting his nostrils flare, and his canines clench. Uneasy at this newly discovered predicament. Shiro wasn’t one to let himself get into trouble so easily. Fronting a guarded persona, he puffs out his chest. Eyes slitted in a cagey glare. “What did you do with him? What did you do with my brother?”

“Ah, your swordsman companion. He awoke earlier, certainly not in the brightest of spirits, I must say. I dealt with him accordingly.” A grin spreads across his face, summoning a grimoire with a wave of his hand. Muttering to himself softly as he crooks his finger forward with a sharp crack.

The echo of metal footsteps soon approaches, the rustle of leather and the clinking of armour. Sounds Keith can recognise with minimal effort. Staggering into the alcove, Shiro moves sluggishly. Limbs snapping up and down, in every direction except the one he’s looking in. Seemingly unaware of his own next move. It didn’t seem autonomous, it seemed controlled. Like a puppet to a puppeteer, with a magical little book for strings. Gleefully sneering at the sight.

Snapping the grimoire closed, he lets Shiro fall to his knees. Clutching at this heart as he stays stuck on the ground. Face strained with effort as him body stays locked in place. “A punishment befitting for an intruder, don’t you think? You can be next, if you so wish. Give me any reason to make me believe you deserve to suffer the same fate as your kin, and I will not hesitate to do so. Scaled scum. And do not entertain the thought of your escape just yet. Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped foot into my territory, and now you must live it.”

Heart beating in a sporadic pattern, anxiety finally settling in, displacing his pride. Voice meeker. “Who.. Are you?”

Content with his captive’s change in demeanour, he steps forward once more. Grabbing him by the horn with a yank. “Since you finally learnt some respect, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. The townspeople often dub me ‘The mage’, but I much prefer Lance, little less demeaning if you ask me.“ The silence doesn’t do much to entertain the magic wielder, frowning as he takes in the despair circulating the room. So palpable he can practically taste it. And what a bitter taste it was. With a sigh, Lance waves his hand once more. Watching the once paralysed man buckle down to his knees. Thumping onto the ground, before slowly steadying himself back onto his feet.

“There. Have him back. He was a buzzkill anyways. Just consider this a warning. And perhaps an invitation. I get a little lonely here sometimes, your company would not go unappreciated. Though I suppose I owe you now, I was a tad harsher than warranted. For causing such a weak thing like you distress. If you ever need to recruit the help of the arcane, or if you’re ever under duress, you know where to find me, uh..”

“Keith. Im Keith. And yeah, I’ll take you up on that one.”

A giddy smile makes its way to his lips. Not entirely devoid of malcontent. Nodding curtly nonetheless. “Very well, Keith. Though upon your return, maybe come with an offering, or perhaps even knock first, before entering my abode? Besides that, I suppose it’s until next time, wanderers.”

Chapter Text

Day three: Earth

Home is a funny word, isn’t it?

Even if it sounds like it, it’s not necessarily as much a place as it is a feeling. A sense of belonging and meaning. Built with love and bond. Lance felt good knowing there was always a place he could turn to in crisis. Home.

Binging movies in the basement, or building pillow forts in the living room. His family always nearby. Always ready to call if he was ever too far away. He doesn’t know how he would’ve gotten through the Garrison as far as he did without that lifeline.

No matter how lonely middle school got, he felt comforted knowing he could return home at the end of the day. Curl into bed, with the familiar smelling sheets and the walls he had decided he wanted painted blue when he was six. His favourite colour never changed, even after eleven years or so. All the posters he stuck up, and old comic books collecting dust on his shelf. Every stain on those carpeted floors a reminder of all his silly mishaps as a kid, every drawing in sharpie on the wall a reminder of every time he’d gotten reprimanded by his Mom right after.

But now, everything was further away than ever. As much as he hates to admit it, none of the team really feel like home to him. He thought him and Hunk were pretty close, but sometimes he feels a little bit too dumb to keep up with him. Pidge and him are pretty close now too, closer than Lance ever was with either of them, by the looks of it.

Growing up, Shiro was Lance’s idol, his hero, and that never changed. Working with him sounded like a dream come true, but he didn’t take much interest in helping Lance with anything, or entertaining any of his ideas during team briefings.

Lance was truly taken for Allura when they first arrived in the castle-ship, she was all he’d ever dreamed of. Elegant, beautiful, assertive, and way out of his league. Which he came to realise far too late into his pursuit. Besides, she doesn’t seem to have too much patience for him either.

Coran is actually pretty nice to him, treating him like a son or a nephew more than anything. Though aside from cryptic advice or anecdotes about the old Altea, he’s a little guarded. In the sense that he doesn’t talk about much else besides the positive side of the past. It stopped Lance from getting closer to him, which upset him a little, since Coran was more welcoming to him than most other people on the ship. But he didn’t give Lance much room to reciprocate the familial rapport he was offering.

And then there was.. Keith. He’s, in Lance’s words, a bit of a douche. Sure he gets extra cool points for having a neat backstory and a cool cheek scar, but that’s about it. Compared to Keith, Coran was an entirely open book. With two sequels and an entire prologue to boot. Honestly, that guy is a whole other level of private. Never letting anyone in, shutting everything out when he gets upset, pushing aside all of the bonding Shiro had attempted to weld between the entire team. Despite softening up a bit over their journey. And he seemed impartial to Lance especially. It hurt a little. Someone you were constantly compared to, pitted against, eventually not giving two shits about you or your existence when you finally meet face to face.

He’d be lying if he didn’t feel a little humiliated when he realised that Keith didn’t think about Lance as much as he thought about him. Eventually he gave up on the whole rivalry thing. Only occasionally sliding in the occasional remark to him during missions, which was usually met with a, ‘focus, Lance’! Or the occasional snicker and eye roll if he was lucky.

His disconnect from the rest of the team was starting to get to him. It felt like school all over again. Spending his days being invisible, sitting in the library or the bathroom during break and lunch. Alone with his thoughts, believing he was condemned to a life of loneliness forever.

But that’s not what he told people. His family believed that he had a lot of friends at school, that nobody was giving him dirty looks in the corridor, or spreading rumours about the kid that always spent his day alone. Before the Garrison, he didn’t really have many friends outside his family circle.

That’s why his and Hunk’s relationship was so special to him. That was his first proper friend in a long time. He meant so much to Lance, but maybe he didn’t mean as much to him after all. In the end, he didn’t really feel like—

Home. He just wants to go home. Back to Earth. To his Mom, his family, his home. He wants it all back, he would take his loneliness back over all this. It felt better knowing that those kids at school were only ignoring him because he didn’t wish to be perceived. But here, now, when he’s so begging to be heard, everyone turns a blind eye again. Can no-one hear him? See him? Feel his discontent? Wasn’t Voltron supposed to bring them all closer together, not further apart?

No, no. He shouldn’t be complaining. If anything, he’s probably had an easier life than everyone else on this ship. Pidge lost so much, and sacrificed everything to get it back. Hunk just wanted a comfortable life, and gave that up to help save the universe with his friends who dragged him into this mess in the first place. Allura and Coran lost everything, their families, their home, their planet. Shiro got captured by the Galra and thrown into an arena, and lost his arm in the process. Keith lost so much over and over again, and never seemed to get a break from it all.

But Lance? Lance was just a lonely kid looking for problems. Looking for reasons in his life to be upset. To have a reason for feeling the way he felt. The way he feels. Things to warrant all the things he wants to do to himself, all the things he has done to himself in desperation. For someone to notice and take pity on him. Notice him. For once in his life, he just wants someone to notice him. Is that too much to ask for?

When he realised he’s feeling the same way he did all those years ago, he gets scared. He doesn’t want to push away the people he cares about, he doesn’t want to risk not being able to form Voltron because of him. If he lets his mistrust evolve into something it never should’ve become, if he lets it consume him, eat at his heart until all it can do it simply beat, he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself. He was always made to love, to be the one to everyone turns to. But how can he be everyone else’s rock, their anchor, when he’s the one who’s sinking?

Somewhere along the way, he just started wishing for his own demise. Becoming haphazard during stealth missions, messing up shots on purpose to raise the stakes. Giving the enemy an opening at every turn to ensure he gets hurt. So that not a moment goes by where something doesn’t hurt. To feel the pain everyone else has already gone through.

Home is a funny word, everyone around you can play the roles of one big happy family, with a gap right in the middle for you to fill, and you can still feel out of place. Unwanted.

Invisible.

Chapter Text

Day four: Greatness

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to live. That blow should’ve ended him for sure. He ensured that he was inside whilst the bomb went off, he should’ve died. But no, Keith just had to be a hero and swoop in last minute for the praise, to front the face of a doting teammate. Save him last minute all heroically and ruin his perfect ending.

He had done it. He’d finally found the perfect strategy to leave all this behind. Escape from his self loathing. Why does nothing ever go his way?

Now he’s living with the consequences. Sitting in the med-bay with his knees pressed up to his chest. Unable to answer Shiro’s questions. Most of them pertaining back to the simple ask of: ‘why’? Why would he go out of his way to take down the Galra fleet with him when he could’ve escaped in time with minimal effort?

Hands over the sides of his head, he strokes the edges of his earlobes in an effort to self-soothe. Tremors rattling through his body as he mumbles the only words he can muster.

“I don’t know.”

He feels watched, and he hates it. Usually when he’s this vulnerable, he’s away from all the prying eyes. Hidden away in his room under a thick duvet and the calming blast of the air-con. But he doesn’t have that comfort right now. Only the displeasure of having to hear his team’s disappointment in him. Clouding any worry they might’ve held for him before all this.

Anxiety was starting to set in, avoiding eye contact with the blurred faces crowded all around him. All merging into a manifestation of his worst fears. Trying to refocus his bleary eyes. A mounting ringing in his ears, muddling up his senses. No longer able to identify who’s taking, let alone what’s being said.

Only able to hear faint traces of noise, mutters and mumbles. Curling into himself. Head tucked into his knees, hands clutched into his hair.

And then, it stops. The noise ceasing as he comes to. Gargled sobs ripping from his throat. Body racking forward with each ugly cry.

If Lance ever did cry in front of the team before, it was pretty. From happiness, or whenever they decided on an awfully sad film for their monthly movie nights. But this? This wasn’t pretty. This wasn’t the Lance he wanted people to know.

He wanted people to see him as a paladin of Voltron, equal to the rest of them. The pretty and charming one. One who people saw as heroic, great.

That’s what his family used to call him. Great. Or at the very least, destined to be. That they knew one day he would leave home, get into a better school, and live out his wildest dreams once he got old enough. And his dreams never changed, like his favourite colour, or his favourite animal. Always dreamed of reaching the stars, cradling them in his hands. Because he thought maybe, up there, he wouldn’t be so alone. With the sky and planets all around you, at the brush of your fingertips, how could you ever be?

Though acclimating to space definitely took some time. More challenging than he thought it’d be. Voltron was something he thought he’d only ever see on Tv, or in his geeky little comics. Never once did he think he’d genuinely be living a fantasy. It still didn’t feel entirely real.

Not to say he never dreamed of it. The opposite, in fact. Escapism was something he had learned to savour. Letting his thoughts always wander to the ‘what ifs’ in times of crisis. All of the possibilities of a better life. Where he’s worth more than all the silence, than all the nasty sneers.

The lives where he wasn’t a lonely kid in his room, where he was a space traveller, praised across the universe for his grace and kindness. His humility, and his greatness. That’s all he ever wanted to be. But he doesn’t feel great right now. He feels.. Less than. Like a scared cub separated from its mother.

As his vision clears for a moment, it clouds right back up as he sees everyone’s pitying faces. He needs to hide. Forget all this ever happened, and go back to how everything was before. When he was invisible, when people didn’t see the parts of himself he tried to shun. Why didn’t he just do something sooner-

“Lance? Can you hear me?” A hand on his shoulder. He recognises that annoying voice. Except this time it’s a little softer. Gentler, caring. So much in fact that he can’t help but lean into the touch. As a stray kitten trying to beg for food would. The hand reaches up to hold his cheek, and then his head. Soothing him as he lowers himself onto the examination table next to him. Apparently not caring about the rest of the team still very much present in the room. Just talking to him, softly. Never expecting an answer from the tear ridden boy.

Soon enough, he’s pulled out of his rut. Rubbing at his now clear eyes. Puffy, but clear nonetheless. Keith’s touch not letting up, to Lance’s.. Pleasure? Surprisingly? It felt nicer than he thought it would. It had been so long since someone just sat down and cared for him. Not since he left Earth, left behind the times when his Mom would place kisses and bandaids to his scraped knees and cheeks.

Looking up, he sighs. Fiddling with the clinging fabric of his under-suit. Already standing up, reaching for his jacket, neatly folded at the edge of the table. Feet carrying him to the door as he departs a shaken reply. Words ground into his clenched teeth.

“It.. Won’t happen again, promise. I was just being reckless. I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

Day five: Family

Peace and quiet was something Keith and Lance have grown accustomed to living without. When they weren’t at work, they were watching their kid, or cooking her dinner, or putting her to bed, putting her back to bed after she woke up in the middle of the night, then waking up in the morning to do it all over again.

They love her to pieces, that’s for sure, but ever since Mira was born, it’s like they haven’t had a second to themselves. Wanting to do nothing but sleep after dealing with an awfully fussy child all day. Lance partially blames Keith for that. Apart from her having Lance’s curls, she was basically all Keith. Already as picky and temperamental.

But today was different. Hunk and Shay graciously offered to let Mira stay a little late for their kid’s birthday. Leaving Keith and Lance to their own devices for the evening. And by the time they picked her up, she was out like a light.

Right now, the three of them are curled up on the couch. Mira balanced on Lance’s lap. Clutching at his shirt with her clingy little hands.

Lance yawns, rubbing the tip of his nose against Keith’s neck. Tenderly combing through his hair as he does so. A soft smile lingering on his lips. Keith dips his head down, planting a peck onto Lance’s lips. Grinning into the kiss, before the two of them press their foreheads together. A moment taken to just look into the other’s eyes.

“I missed this.” Lance mumbles, “Spending time together. It feels like it’s been forever.” Keith sighs in turn. Nodding as he brings up a hand to his cheek.  “I know. I wish we had a little more time for this type of stuff. More time for us.” He murmurs, lazily dragging his thumb across the planes of his face.

Lance hums in response, working out the knots in Keith’s shoulder almost absentmindedly. “Mh.. Yeah. This is nice, isn’t it? Some peace and quiet for a change. Even if it isn’t just the two of us.”

Cooing down at Mira, Lance pulls her closer. He hated being away from her.  Always fretting when she wasn’t around. Keith would be lying if he said he didn’t get jealous of her now again. But he still loves her to pieces.

It’d been so long since they’d unwinded with each other after a long day again. Like they used to. Running fingers through that long head of dark hair, he feels at it between his fingers. A thought flickering through his head.

“Keith, what do you think.. If we had another baby, what do you think they’d look like?” That definitely got his attention. Shooting up, he begins to stammer. And even in the dark, Lance can tell his cheeks are completely flushed.

“Well- I, uh.. How about we save the second child talk for when Mira gets a little older, yeah?”

Silence. Save for the pout on his husband’s face at his quick dismissal of the thought. Swallowing, Keith props Lance up to lay against his chest. Thumb brushing across his cheek as he sighs. “Hopefully just like you, my love.”

A smug smile replaces Lance’s frown. Pressing a tender kiss to his temple. “That’s better. Hopefully my genes stand a chance next time. Mira’s basically your carbon copy. You even act the same. Just as needy, except she’s barely three and you’re a grown adult.”

Keith seems to take offence to that. Gently nipping his neck in response, though smiling all the while. Murmuring into his nape. Tone growing softer.

“I can’t believe we’ve made it this far. We’re a proper family now, aren’t we? Stable jobs, a house, a kid.. And a dog, if Kosmo counts as one, that is.” Yeah. They technically are a family now, huh?

After a beat of silence, Lance responds. Voice holding so much love that it begins to waver. Stroking his daughter’s cheek as he drops to almost a whisper. “I know I always talk about wanting a big family, but for right now..”

“This is fine too.”

Chapter Text

Day six: Altean

Chill air flushes against my face as the mechanical doors peel open, a soft whirring accompanying the action. Trailing after my family as they waltz in, attempting to keep up. Simultaneously trying to not to stumble over my own feet. Eyes glued to the ground, keeping watch of every step I take, guiding myself along the polished floors.

I come to a quick halt as I almost bump into my father, realising we’ve stopped walking. A steady, commanding voice filling my ears. “Queen Melenor, King Alfor. It’s a pleasure to finally meet face to face.” Looking up, I let my gaze pander over to the person speaking. Who’s now dipped down into a courteous bow. Not that my inspection necessarily helped me identify who it exactly was. Neither did it help me understand the purpose of this visit.

She’s a Galran woman, with the identifiable stark yellow eyes, and purplish skin. Another Galra standing next to her, only an inch or so shorter. Resembling her almost exactly, apart from him having the more typical Galran ears. The prehensile kind that are lined with fur, and sit at the top of the head rather than the sides. Occasionally twitching or flicking to one side.

A jolt elicits my body as I hear my father speak up, waking me from my trance. “Krolia. The pleasure is ours, truly. An official meeting was long overdue.”

Both of them share a firm handshake, before she leads us over to a long dining table. Taking a seat at the head of it. The second unfamiliar face, who I can only now assume is her son, sat next to her. Father and Allura mirroring the pair on the opposite end of the table.

Shadowing myself to her side, I begin to let my mind wander, listening to all of them ramble about stuff that cant be all that interesting. Traces of random words making their way past the barrier I’ve built up to block out their chatter.

As the word ‘Marmora’ filters its way into my guarded conscience, the bits and pieces of scattered conversation I’ve overheard in the past quintants click into place. So that’s who they were.

I’ve heard an awful lot about this ‘Blade of Marmora’ over the last couple movements, and from what I’ve gathered they’re our most recently ally. Or something of the sorts. I don’t exactly pay all that much attention to our ‘family chats’ at the rare dinner we share once in a blue moon. Which basically consists of the three of them talking about something I barely know about, and Allura dropping me a pitying look somewhere near the end.

My thoughts are swiftly interrupted by the soft whoosh of the door, two sets of heavy footsteps drumming across the floor. Followed by a voice that snaps me out of my trance entirely. One that I recognised, as Zarkon. One of father’s closest allies, but it wasn’t Zarkon that caught my attention. It was his son. Prince Lotor. Who just so happened to be standing right at his father’s side. I’ve held a gripe with that half-breed for a while now.

It wasn’t always this way, in fact, I once held Lotor close to my heart. A little too close. But that was long forgotten. Countless fights and altercations leading to something I can only describe as a ‘messy breakup’.

To make matters even worse, he decides to take a seat right next to me. A coy little smirk gracing the corners of his lips. Looking right at me, too.

“Lance. What a lovely surprise. I’m sure you’re as delighted as I am at the prospect of this.. Convenient little reunion.” I suck in a sharp breath, digging my nails into the linen fabric of my clothes. Repeating the same words in my head a couple times over.

I’m not going to make a scene, I’m not going to make a scene.

Well, not whilst Father is here anyways, he’d bash my head in for sure. For now, the best thing I can do is keep quiet. Responding to his playful visage with a curt nod. In turn getting a childish pout back. Clearly bored by my disinterest.

Meanwhile, some more Galra come and go from the room, each and every one of them wearing identical onyx bodysuits with fluorescent lavender markings. Placing platters and organising cutlery on the table. My stomach twisting at the thought of eating in front of anyone. Already preparing to refuse anything brought its way by sending it right back up.

Eating in front of others has always been a little… Anxiety inducing. Maybe it’s the way my parents will always give me that judgmental look whenever I pile something onto my plate, or the constant dread of feeling like I’m being monitored, watched. Just the thought is enough to make me recoil. My palms already beginning to work up a sweat as I begin to worry at my lip.

Before I know it, everybody’s already starting to load food up onto their respective plates. I muster up enough courage to reach my hand out towards the spoon stuck in one of the appetiser dishes. Something that looks like a cluster of thin greens, littered with slices of a citrusy looking fruit.

My hand pauses midway, suspended in the air. Nerves overtaking my muscles as my hand begins to cramp up. Not enough strength in me to even look up at any eyes that might be on me. Tentatively, I draw my hand back. Swallowing as I fold my hands back onto my lap. Deciding against choosing anything to eat.

A soft ringing fills my ears as I tune out any remaining noise, setting my focus on the first thing I can lay my eyes on. The empty plate sitting in my line of sight staring back at me. Its presence almost taunting, the bright ivory of the ceramic gleaming against the harsh lights. After a good ten doboshes of letting my thoughts fester, my focus is once again redirected. My attention now on the small amount of food on my plate, a fork being stuck in it by a gangly, pale purple arm off to my left.

Lotor. Of course.

“Eat,” He ushers, “I don’t like seeing you go hungry.” I offer a weak smile. Looking back down at the food that was now on my plate. I gently lift the fork, scooping up a small piece of something that looks like the meat of an animal, but in the vastness of space, you can never be too sure of what you’re eating. With an unsure grimace, I shove the utensil past my lips, forcing myself to swallow. Barely letting myself taste it before it slides down my throat.

I set the fork back down onto the table. Folding my hands back on my lap. Honestly, it wasn’t horrible, but you wouldn’t catch me doing it again. I don’t even make an effort to look over Lotor’s face. Already knowing he has that proud, simpering smile on his lips.

Krolia begins to speak from the other side of the table. Her words directed at the boy to her side, but her voice loud enough to indicate that she wants everyone else to hear it too. “Keith, why don’t you go show the rest of kids around. Give all of us the chance to talk about some more private matters. Show them to their quarters whilst you’re at it.”

Keith. So that’s his name. My eyes follow him as he stands up. Watching him nod at the three of us whilst making a rising motion with his hands. Trying to get us to stand up without having to verbalise it. Who knows, maybe he’s just a little shy.

I promptly stand up, watching Lotor and Allura do the same. Trailing behind him once he’s started walking in the direction of the doors. Posture straight, with hands poised behind his back.

Eventually, we end up in some hallway, which has the same metal walls, with lavender lights running through the middle. I never really liked the colour, reminds me too much of Lotor. But it doesn’t look too shabby. A little like a military base sure, but to my knowledge it technically is one. He stops in front of a set of doors. Placing his palm up against a small screen positioned onto its left. Some type of reader, I’m guessing.

With two quick beeps, the doors slide open to a spacious room, with two large curved couches in the middle. Forming a circle. A tech-y looking panel in front of it, placed against the wall. Paired with a mounted screen above it. Keith clears his throat. Finally speaking.

“This is, uh, the common room. We have meetings and briefings in here. Not all that exciting.” His voice is gruff, but still awkward sounding. And If I’m being honest, pretty cute too.

The next varga or so is spent listening to Keith give a brief description on some of the rooms in the ship. Absently watching as I let my mind wander. Nodding every now and again to make it seem like I’m actually listening.

Somewhere along the way, Allura and Lotor try their hand at trying to converse with the awkward guy. And when both of them fail miserably, they take it upon themselves to turn it into a challenge. Who can crack his little hermit shell first?

I find it slightly amusing. Watching as he delivers those unenthused responses and quips from in front of them. A giggle managing to pass my lips as I watch the three interact. Which snags a sparing glance and a soft grin from Keith.

Score, I basically just won.

—————————————————————

After what feels like a couple millennia later, Allura and Lotor are escorted into their rooms. And just as he’s showing me to my door, I hold up a hand. Spinning on my heels to face him.

“Why don’t you show me around a little more? I know there’s gotta be something you haven’t shown me yet.”

Pausing, he presses a finger to his chin, before nodding. Swiftly motioning forward with his hand, before walking straight down the hall. Veering to the left side of the hallway to leave room for me to stand at his side instead of tailing him. This boy seemed to be taking a liking to me already. And before I can even think about asking where we’re going, we’ve made it.

Exactly as before, he lets the pad scan his palm, before stepping inside in time with the opening of the doors. The room looked different to the other ones I’d seen prior. A slight concave dip in middle of the floor. Filled with duvets, and all sorts of fluffy blankets and throw pillows. Relatively dim inside, apart from the constant glow coming from the window directly above the circular decline. Planted on the ceiling to give a starry view from below, where I’m sitting. Gazing up, before looking over at Keith. Who’s completely zoned out. In his own little bubble.

Clearing my throat, I move to tuck my legs under my thighs. Hands clasped in my lap. “This.. Certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. But it’s nice. Cozy. What is this place anyways?”

“Just a little something I put together. Nobody was using the room, so I decided to make myself a spot. Nobody else really uses it, so it’s pretty much all mine.”

Right. Peculiar guy, but I can’t he but feel like there’s something more. Something I haven’t found out about him yet. Like I’ve just scratched the surface of a gold mine. And if there’s one thing I love more than gold, it’s people watching.

I’ve always been an observer. Picking people apart as I first lay eyes on them. But this guy has some walls up.

And I’m determined to crack them down.

Chapter Text

Day seven: Pilot

Well, shit.

Everything was going just fine, the mission was going as planned. It was supposed to just be a simple in and out. Sneak in, load up some data onto a drive, and leave. A quick two man job, featuring what Lance likes to call ‘the dream team’, him and Hunk.

Until it wasn’t. Lance looks away for one second, and suddenly he feels a sharp pulsing in his leg. Armour completely punctured, and a bullet lodge into his calf. A guard crouched off to his left. Rifle in hand. Now how the hell did he miss that?

Before the guy can finish standing, a blast is sent right through his head. Hunk hurrying on over, ignoring the man falling to his knees behind him. USB drive in his hand as he minimises his bayard. Slipping his arm under Lance’s to prop him up. Entirely unprompted and without question. He can always count on Hunk, can’t he?

“God, I’m so sorry, Lance. I had no idea there were people out there. If I had known I wouldn’t have left you alone for so long, I-“

Interrupted by a smothering hand to his lips, Lance shushes him. A slight limp to his walk as he sucks in a breath. Trying his best to be reassuring as his leg begins to tense up.

“Hush, hush. It’s fine, my leg is just a little shot up. Besides, I should’ve been looking in my blind spots anyways. Not your fault, bud.”

As they reach the pod they came in, Hunk soon realises something. See, for missions like these, they never really see the need to bring their lions, since they’re so quick and go. Opting to use the old Altean shuttle pods once Coran got them up and working again. Thing is, Hunk never really got around to learning how to pilot them. The old mechanics a little too complicated for him. Ironic for a literal mechanic, which he’s aware of.

Lance had flown it on the way here, and planned to take them back, but he couldn’t make him pilot it right now. Not in this condition. Setting him on the ground, Hunk wearily sits down in the seat. Securing the awfully flimsy seatbelt as the doors whir closed. Hesitantly reaching for the controls, grimacing at all the different panels and buttons. Extending his arm out to pull a lever, which looks like it starts up the engine, until he feels a hand squeezing down on his wrist.

Looming over him, the still very much injured boy flips a small switch with Altean writing on it. The uncoloured strip surrounding the walls and interface lighting up in a soft blue glow.

“There you go, Einstein.”

Sitting himself down on Hunk’s thigh, Lance proceeds to bring the pod up and forward. Setting in the coordinates for the castle-ship, before leaning back. Hissing as he gets a painful reminder of the open wound in his leg. Both of them cringing as he brings his leg up onto the chair. The skin around the bullet seemed to be breaking down. Exposing more musculature around the wound.

“How convenient. The one time we actually need a medkit we don’t have one.” Head turning to Lance, about to lay down some poorly planned joke to lighten the mood a little, Hunk pauses at his pained expression. Eyes gleaming with unshed tears, lips pursed into a thin line. A couple whines managing to slip past. Anxiously shuffling in place.

Hesitantly cupping his hands around his hips, he manages to make Lance still on his lap. Manoeuvring his legs back onto the ground. One hand in his hair, and the other planted on his waist. Feeling him occasionally move around to change gear, or check that they were still on their charted course. A smile ticking up the corners of Hunk’s lips.

“Well, look at you. Little star pilot. Always impressing me.” Pulling his back to rest against his chest, Lance sighs. Bouncing his non-injured leg. A hand settling onto the metal plating, thumb absentmindedly tracing patterns onto the scuffed armour. Eventually, he just slumps down. Allowing his hair to be toyed with by Hunk as stares out the window panes of the cockpit. God, could time move any slower?

Second by second, his eyes grow heavier. Ushered back down the second he tries to reach for the controls. Gentle words being whispered to him as everything starts to fizzle out.

“Sleep. You can always reach for the stars tomorrow, dreamer. But for now, rest.”

Chapter Text

Day eight: Anxiety

“Yikes, looks pretty snug. Anyone able to fit in there? Pidge?”

Currently, the five of them are in some Galra base. Where exactly they are or why they’re there, Lance isn’t exactly sure. all he’s sure of right now is that there’s some panel stuck down into some air vent, and one of them is gonna have to climb in. 

And it sure as hell isn’t gonna be him.

Tight spaces have always made him antsy. Scared, afraid. The thought alone was enough to make his palms sweaty, and his legs shake. He wouldn’t be caught dead going in there-

“Lance? How about you?” Shiro suggests, cocking his head to the side. As if he hadn’t just heard Lance’s inner monologue, which he didn’t. Right. 

“Me? Why me? Make Pidge go, they’re the shortest.” Okay, if he keeps his cool, no one will suspect him, and no-one will make him go in just for the sake of ‘conquering his fears’. Which he’d been told far too many times. If anything, the fears were always the one conquering him. 

Huffing, Shiro rubs his temples. Eyebrows creasing. “If you were listening literally two seconds ago, you would’ve.. Yknow what, even more of a reason for you to go. Get on in, we have like thirty minutes tops to get out of here. Consider this a reprimand, for not listening. Go make yourself useful.”

Shit. Okay then, maybe he can just grin and bear it. After he finds out what he’s supposed to be doing. But before he can even ask, a cold metal hand thrusts him forwards. Now leaning over the entrance. Sighing, he slides in. Back arching to crawl in, nails clutching at the seams between the slabs of steel. 

Breathe. Just breathe. It’ll be fine.  Cringing at the scrape of his armour against the steel. As he approaches the end of the passage, a small board with exposed wires and levers becomes visible against the wall of the dead end. Though a he traverses further, he swears the walls get narrower. Finally reaching the end, he activates his comms, relief clear in his voice as he tries to reach out.

“Hey, I made it. What do I do now?” Silence. He tries a second time. 

“Guys?” Static. All he can hear is static. There must be something blocking his signal in here, or whatever it is that Pidge would say in a situation like this. If he just goes back, eventually he’ll get some service, right? All he needs to do is turn around. Go back to where he came from. Whether he had enough time to, he was unsure. Though there was a lingering fear that time was running out.

Recalling back to Shiro’s words. Thirty minutes. But he was unsure if it had already been ten or a hundred. Time had already escaped his grasp, and now he was suffering the consequences. God, he feels so dumb, maybe if he was just paying attention, this wouldn’t have happened-

Drawing him out of his own head, he hears the whine of metal. Followed by a heavy clank. The air became heavy, limited. Light fleeting from the passage, only provided by the control board’s flashing lights. 

That sound was the entrance. His only way out was boarded off, and now he was trapped. Holy shit, he was trapped.

He doesn’t quite remember when his legs started to shake, or his heart started to pound, but it definitely wasn’t doing that before. Locked into place, unable to move autonomously. Pants running down his neck, turning into trickling sweat. Beaded on his nape. 

As much as he wants to tell himself to not panic, he definitely already is. Already fallen in the downward spiral that’s so hard to claw out of. Static fuzzes in the background of his turmoil. Maybe the team were trying to reach for him, maybe help was on the way.

All he can do now is wait. Tucking his legs into his chest, he buries his nose in between his knees. Tears welling up in his eyes. Slowly blinking them away with a sniff. Head cloudy with all of his thoughts and fears. Static no longer around to keep him company. Only the whistling of the air shafts, and the occasional choke of a stifled sob. 

It felt suffocating. Like air couldn’t enter or exit his lungs. All trapped inside of him, only tumbling out in quick huffs, hands cradling himself for any semblance of comfort. Reassurance that he’ll get out somehow. But right now he’s stuck. He’s stuck in here and now there’s nothing he can do about it. Before he could’ve, could’ve gotten all of them out of here. If he listened. 

After that point, he stopped his trail of thought. Fingers moving to yank his hair. Pain, he needs pain. To distract himself from his current predicament. Nails dig into his scalp, picking at himself anyway that manages to make him jolt. It felt refreshing, exhilarating. But at the same time, it made it all so much worse. 

So deep into his panic, he can’t seem to hear the broken words and voices filtering int though the comms. Now simply background noise to this living nightmare. Eventually tiring himself of the tears. His sobs producing nothing from his eyes, as a soothing ring fills his ears. White filling the corners of his vision. Fading in and out.

All the fear, all the sting, pilfering into a calming dark. Lulling him to rest, to calm.

Chapter Text

Day nine: Star of the show

“So? Was I good?”

“Cmon, you already know the answer to that one, Lance.”

I giggle, flopping onto the chaise lounge. Turning onto my stomach, legs swaying in the air.

“I know. But you know I enjoy the praise.. So, fifty thousand. That’s my biggest audience yet. Maybe next time it’ll be a hundred thousand. Now wouldn’t that be exciting, huh Lotor?”

With an eye roll, Lotor stands. Blazer draped over his arm as he takes a stand. “That is sir to you. Don’t start acting so casual with me, I’m your manager. Not your friend. Now, if you excuse me, I need to get going-”

Before he can leave, I grab him by the hand. Thumb rolling over the most definitely overpriced watch on his wrist. Looking up at him with a persuasive pout. Pulling him down by the tie to be face level with me, whining into his ear.

“Why don’t you stay the night? The trailer gets a little lonely after a while. I could use some.. Company. Please, sir?” As much as he tries, I know he can’t say no to that face. Slowly settling down onto the chaise beside me. Fingers crawling up my spine to tug at the overgrown tufts of hair falling over my nape. Earning a small yelp.

“I suppose I can stay the night. As long as you promise to put on a show for me, my star performer.”

—————————————————————

That was.. Okay. I think. Last night was a bit of a blur, but all I know is that it didn’t feel horrible.

Lotor’s dead asleep, arm heavy around my waist. Clearly sated. As frugal as he pretends to be, he’s no more of a dog than.. No, I’m done thinking about that bastard. I’m over him. I was over him the second he dumped me.

Everything is going great for me now. I’m a star, as Lotor put it. Not to say that Keith and his buddies aren’t doing well off either. A little trio band with their arguably good music. But maybe that’s just because I was their producer. They would’ve been helpless if I wasn’t the one helping them from the start. I guaranteed their success, and what do I get in return? I get kicked out of his apartment, and get left behind.

Not just by Keith, but by Pidge, and Hunk- people who I thought were my best friends- but apparently not. The second they didn’t need me anymore I was thrown away. When I was the one who needed help, all he could do was run, and take my whole life with him.

That didn’t stop me from making a new one. That didn’t have them in it. Where I’m the main character, the centre of attention. And does it feel good to be noticed. Maybe Lotor will treat me well. Pamper me more than he already does.

But will it be better than him? Better than the care and the passion? It wasn’t perfect but it was ours, and honestly, that’s a little better. He’s charming, but Lotor isn’t all that nice when he doesn’t want to be. Unless he has something to gain. Harsh, spiteful. Life with him would be nice, but I’d feel a little like.. An accessory. Nothing more than a means to an end.

Maybe that the life I want. The life I deserve. Tucked away in a penthouse, spending my hours either on stage or in bed. Which doesn’t sound too bad. It sounds comfortable. Safe. That’s what he wants. To feel safe, to be assured that nothing will change. Above all else though, I just want someone who’ll listen.

Someone to listen to me like I listens to them. How come people always leave when it’s time to share my peace? My struggles. My feelings. It’s just not fair. The only reason Keith left was because he wasn’t ready to deal with my problems like I dealt with his. I told him I wanted to get better.

For him.

Not for myself, for him. So that he could stay, and we could just be happy like before. All I wanted was a break. To stop pretending like I was perfect all the time, to have him lift me up every once in a while when I got too bad again. Was that too much to ask for?

Stirring awake, Lotor yawns. Stroking at my stomach. “Well, you sure are up early. This is definitely a first.”

I chuckle at the comment, turning over to face him. Trying to move closer. Nose digging into his neck, mumbling softly. “Sir?”

“You can drop that for now. Right now I am your lover, not your superior. My name is just fine. I like hearing you say it anyways. What is it you need, hm?” God, was he always this sweet? If I’d known he’d acting like this if I loosened him up a little, I would’ve done it a lot sooner. Trying to suppress my smile, I pull my head back. His face was so.. Loving. Doting. All for me. Acting so nice around me. I don’t deserve all that. I don’t deserve someone like him.

“Lotor, right. Just, feel free to leave anytime. I know you’re a busy guy and all. Three days before the next show, you can rest for now. You shouldn’t be spending all your free time with me. I feel bad for asking you to stay the night, but you best get on your way.”

Without another word, with seemingly no trouble at all, he nods, and shuffled out of bed. Slipping back on his clothes in a hurry, before carding a gentle hand over my hair. Pushing it away from my face to press a peck to my forehead. That was over quick, wasn’t it?

Before I know it, I’m alone again. Scrolling on my phone, before a familiar face appears on my screen. With the same, outdated mullet, and annoyingly attractive eyes. On a poster with a set-list for his upcoming concert.

Well, he’s not the only one touring now. In fact, I think I’m well on my way to becoming on par with him and his little group. In fact, it looks like I’m pretty darn close. He’s performing at an event. Some big festival out in the west coast, exactly where I’m gonna be headlining next week. And wouldn’t you know..

His performance is right before mine.