#vidawrites

In the five phoebs they've seen each other, Lance could tell that this was different. They were different. Better different. The girls he dated (however brief), couldn't hold a candle to what Keith made him feel, the connection they had. Granted, those girls never piloted a Lion Mecha to save the universe with him.

Keith, although shy with initiating intimacy, never turned down a chance to smooch.

And damn, if he wasn't a good kisser.

Their not so secret rendezvous in supply closets or empty rooms before missions and briefings were intense and passionate.

In one of these rendezvous, Lance sensed the air in the room and felt Keith’s pulse racing. He kissed his impossibly soft lips and pulled away to admire the way his black hair was tussled, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes blown out. Lance gently brushed his thumb over Keith’s lip, light enough to mimic a feather and smirked when he sent a shiver down Keith’s back. He moaned with the shiver and the noise he made turned Lance inside out.

He wanted more, so much more, and knew Keith felt the same.

“Let’s head to my room.” He whispered low and softly in Keith’s ear.

Keith immediately stiffened and untangled himself from their hold on each other. “U-umm, I don't…” He turned his face away from Lance. “Maybe some other time?”

Lance flinched, feeling like his hands had been burned by his words, but knew better than to pull away from his boyfriend.

“O-oh, yeah! ‘Course, no pressure, babe.” He caressed the side of Keith's face with a shaky hand. He kissed his forehead and hugged him before guiding them out of the room and saying goodnight for the evening.

When Lance went to his room, to his bed, he curled up in his blanket. He didn't think too much about the sting in his heart, because it's not unusual to read a situation wrong. If Keith wasn't ready to move to the next step, the last thing Lance was going to do was try to push.

Over the next few phoebs, Lance would think he read Keith's signs correctly and every time, Keith would turtle up and shy away from his touch. It didn't help that his empathy radar was apparently busted, because he would only try to initiate something after he was sure Keith wanted to. But every time, Lance scrambled to recover and convince Keith he wasn't a horndog. Because he wasn't!

He just wanted to feel every inch of his body, feel it pressed against him, hear him cry out his name.

‘Calm down. Take it easy Lancey Lance.’

“This is gonna sound a little weird, but… are you, like, would you call yourself a sexual person?” He asked Keith one day after training.

Keith choked on the hydration packet he was drinking and turned a furious shade of red. “Not really!” He yelped out. Lance saw his shoulders hunch up slightly and knew the telltale signs of Keith becoming uncomfortable, but needed to get this sorted out.

“So like, would you call yourself asexual? Which is like, not a problem at all! I'm just… wondering, is all.”

Keith laughed nervously and responded with, “Who could really say?”

It did little to soothe Lance's anxiety, but it was better than nothing.

--

Until it wasn't.

Lance woke up from a nightmare one night and went to the showers to clean the sweat off. As he approached the showers he heard one of the shower heads on. Curious, he didn't call out to the person, but silently walked over.

Then he heard Keith moan.

His heart skipped a beat and wondered if he should just turn around and go back to bed, but the need for confirmation go the best of him. Lance turned the last corner for the shower room and saw Keith, in all his glory with his back facing Lance and making a stroking motion that was impossible to doubt. Lance felt his blood rush and hurried out before Keith saw him.

The anxiety that was building up since Keith first sidestepped his advances was reaching critical mass.

So, at the very least, Keith did have some type of active libido.

Then why didn't he want to do anything past intense makeouts?

He found he couldn't wait long to confront Keith. The next day, as they laid in his bed, Lance asked, “When's the last time you jerked off?”

“Whu- Lance!” Keith shrieked out, and scrambled out of the covers they were cuddling under.

“Dude, chill, I'm just wondering!” He sat up with the young Asian, acting like he was as relaxed as he could be. “I feel like as your BF for almost a deca-phoeb, I can ask something like that.”

Keith stammered to find a retort and tried to cover the blush on his face with one of his hands. “I- I guess? Umm… I don't even remember the last time, I really couldn't say.”

Wow. That hurt a lot more than he thought it was going to.

“Let me jog your memory.” Lance snipped. “It was last night. In the shower room.”

Keith's jaw dropped and Lance knew he wanted to counter with something along the line of 'you were spying on me?’, but he curled into a ball against the wall of his room and continued.

“Do you, do you think I'm ugly? Am I not attractive enough to turn you on?”

Keith jumped up and crawled over to his boyfriend. “Are you-? No! Of course not Lance, you're gorgeous!”

“Then why?” Lance heard his voice crack and the blur of tears covering his eyes threatened to fall. “I've been going crazy trying to think of what I did, or didn't do to make you not want me! Sex isn't the end all be all for me, but I need to know what's going on in your head, truthfully this time!”

Keith stared at his boyfriend on the brink of tears and felt a deep ache in his chest.

“I… you drive me up the wall.” He finally said after a dreadfully long moment of silence. “Sometimes, I can't tell if the things you do are to get a rise out of me, or if you're really just that irresistible. Almost everything you do makes me want you like crazy.”

Lance's face twisted into incredulous confusion. “What? Dude, I’ve been sitting at the edge of my seat trying to figure out if you even thought I was cute or thought I just had a 'nice personality’! Now you're telling me you wanna jump my bones as much as I do? What gives?!”

Keith didn't respond, but used a trembling hand to pick up Lance's and slowly placed it over his pants.

“Oh, fuck.” Lance wheezed out.

Keith continued to say nothing, and nodded, with his lips sealed shut, his face turned away and the blush on his face so apparent, he was pretty sure he could match Red's paint.

“I don't get it, are you not emotionally ready? Is there something I could do to help?” Lance slowly gripped through Keith's pants.

Keith took a sharp breathe in and shook his head. He squinted his eyes open and looked at Lance with such cautious, vulnerable eyes. “I-it’s not that I'm not ready. I've been ready, I've been dying for your touch. But… I'm scared.”

Lance loosened his grip slightly, “Scared?” He repeated. “Of what?”

“Well… I'm not. I'm not human like you are! Not fully anyway. I've never done anything before so, so I don't know if anything is… different between us. Or what being half-Galra means when doing stuff like this. I don't want to- I don't know how you'd react to seeing me and doing anything with me. If anything we did would even be safe for you. I- I-”

Lance softly ran his hand down the zipper of Keith pants, earning another beautiful cry of ecstasy. “But… you do want me?”

“Quiznak, yes.”

Bubbles and butterfly danced around in his chest. The Blue Paladin smirked and crawled on top of his boyfriend and ground their groins together. Both teens made a shuddering groan and were panting furiously.

“Then that’s good enough for me.” Lance whispered in his ears. “We don’t have to go all out tonight, but your ass is mine, Kogane.”

Stars exploded behind Keith’s eyes and he couldn’t trust anything he said right now to make sense, so he reached up and kissed Lance with as much passion as he could convey, hoping it could say what he wanted to.

They puffed out an exasperated sigh.

“You think Lance wants to come out of there to a bag of bones?” Their eyes gave him a once over and frowned. “You're practically emaciated. If you keep this up, Shiro is gonna throw you in a pod again, and what would be worse? Not being there to greet Lance when he comes to, or how sad you'll make him when he finds out he put you in that pod?”

Keith felt his stomach lurch at the thought and hesitantly picked up the spoon on his plate.

Pidge sat down with their legs cross and propped their head with their hands. Sharp brown eyes followed his motion of picking up tiny bites and forcing them down.

“No one thinks it's your fault, you know.”

The spoon fell with a loud clatter and Keith is honestly too scared to see what kind of face their making.

Pidge continues, “The mission went South. It happens. We're all equally to blame. Shiro and Allura should have gotten more Intel from the Blade before sanctioning the mission. Hunk should have gotten there faster. I should've scanned the room schematics rather than focus on the computer architecture.”

Keith looked down at the plate.

“You weren't there.” He said, just above a whisper. “If I was faster, he wouldn't have needed to hold the door open. His hand wouldn't have gotten magnetically bonded to the room. He wouldn't have…”

Images of the flames being extinguished by a furious Blue came to mind. Flying into the charred room after Yellow clawed a hole into the room. Seeing his crumpled body, partially melted armor.

The smell.

Allura had told them that Blue used so much residual quintessence to keep Lance alive long enough to make it to a pod, that the moment she landed in the dock, she powered down.

Lance was alive, somehow, and was hanging by the frailest string.

Four quintants later, Coran had informed the team that it isn’t clear when the pods would release him.

His body, the burns (quiznak the burns) were patched up without an issue, but Lance's body had been thrown into such a large state of shock, that his mind was completely unresponsive to the pod’s treatment and at this point, Lance's fight was his own to finish.

Vargas after Coran broke the news, Keith wandered into the kitchen in a daze. Hunk was making cookies to try to lighten the mood and was happy to see the Red Paladin in the dining hall. Keith opened the oven baking Hunk's cookies and felt the puff of heat hit his face. The thought that Lance baking in the heat of the room like those cookies disgusted Keith, and compelled him to place his hand directly on the rack.

The pain was enough to tear a scream out of Keith and cause nothing but white to flood his vision.

But Lance had felt worse, he knew he did, so Keith persisted. What was a few seconds of heat on your hand compared to your entire body being broiled, wrapped in metal armor for almost a quarter varga?

Hunk almost fainted when he pulled Keith away from the oven and saw that nasty boils were already littering his hand.

It took both Hunk and Shiro to drag him into a pod and when he came out, they threatened to start a rotation of permanent Keith Watches.

He pushed the plate towards Pidge the moment he ate more than half and sat up to view Lance's slightly troubled face.

The youngest Holt glanced at the plate, then Keith, and sighed again. They picked the plate up and walked away.

Since the incident two movements ago, Keith has spent every waking moment by his side. There were many moments in between where he woke up in his bed and his back had Shiro, Hunk, and the occasional Coran or Allura to that for that.

The team was kind enough to give him as much time alone with Lance as he wanted. They were handling their own pretty well without him, which was hardly a surprise. Outside of piloting their Lions, he never really put himself out there for them to miss his presence.

Not like Lance.

“You’re so stupid.” He said to the pod, his forehead pressed against it. “So, so stupid.” The ache in his chest ebbs and flows like waves, and he's reminded of the Cuban in front of him, and his love of the sea.

All the promises they made about what to do after the war echo in his mind. Seeing the sunset on Veradero Beach. Meeting Lance's family. Going to the Fire Festival. They were spoken under the pretenses of friendship, but after their kiss, Keith sees them in such a stronger light.

And it hurts.

So much.

A phoeb after placing Lance in the pod, Keith began to understand what was really happening. He woke up and under the pain he has felt for so long, was an eerie calm.

“I can't stop thinking about that mission, and even though I hate that you did it, I'm so proud to have someone like you on our team. I don’t-” A lump forms in his throat thinking of the fierce kiss Lance gave him before sacrificing himself. “I don’t deserve your love, but I want it so bad. That’s, that’s pretty selfish isn’t it?”

Keith locks his sight on the cords connecting the pods to their power source.

“Coran said he doesn't know when you're going to wake up.” He's staring at the cords, fixated on what they truly mean. “But, I don't think that's true. I think he doesn't know if you're going to wake up.”

He remembers Lance gloating one day that he was the first Cuban student accepted in the Garrison. “You've been fighting an uphill battle since before we met. I can't even imagine what kind of battle you're fighting right now. You've fought so hard. You've done so well.”

The emotions he's feeling are impossible to describe, they leave him dizzy and his mind in a swirl.

“I would do anything, anything, to trade places with you. To see you out of that pod.”

He breaks his trance from the power cords and looks up at Lance.

“But… Sometimes what we want, isn't necessarily what we get.”

“If this battle is too hard to beat, you can let go. It’s okay to let go. Give me a sign, anything, to tell me what you want, and I'll respect it.”

No matter what Lance chooses, Keith will follow him.

It's the least he could do.

Loud beeping emits from the pod, startling the young teen. He grips the pod’s glass, looking at the digital windows popping up on it's screen. Keith knew very little written Altean, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what it meant.

His knees shook and went weak, folding at the base of the pod. He covered his mouth to suppress a sob and cried out what felt like the last of his tears.

—

There's nothing around him, or maybe everything.

Lance can’t recall the moment he entered this realm, or how he got here.

His feet were firmly planted on a non-existent plane, but it still felt like he was floating.

To his left, was blinding light. To his right, darkness. He stood at what felt like directly in the middle where they bled into each other with a murky grey.

How long has he been here - hours, weeks, years?

Was he dead? In limbo? In hell?

If this was Heaven, he'd like to file a complaint.

He hears distorted voices now and then, they feel so close, he tries to reach out into the nothingness to grab hold of the sound. Sometimes, they’re loud and angry, but for the most part, it's soft and sad.

Lance would chew his foot off to understand what they say.

It's at that point that Lance figured the only way to get out is to make a decision.

Left or right. Right or left.

Does he do what the movies say, where running to the light meant death and concurrently, darkness meant coming back to life?

Or is it the other way around?

Should he ignore all of that and just follow his gut?

What was his gut trying to tell him?

God, was he tired. In the beginning, he felt no need to rest, but the exhaustion was creeping in more often than not. Sleep had yet to grace him in the undetermined amount of time he spent here, and it sounded so tempting.

What would happen if he just… closed his eyes?

“Sometimes what we want, isn't necessarily what we get.”

What the-?

“Keith?” He shouted into the void. “Keith, is that you?”

“It's okay to let go.”

The disembodied voice wraps itself around his soul. Ripples of sadness and resolve were echoing in his mind. Lance screamed and tugged at his hair. “I don't understand what you're saying!”

“Tell me what you want, and I'll respect it.”

A strong force slammed his chest. Lance fell to the non-floor and choked out a cry.

His heartbeat.

He gasped for air and realized that in his entire time in nothingness, he had not once felt his heartbeat.

A strangled noise escaped his throat as he felt the pound in his chest again.

And again.

Something instinctual tells him that the void is ejecting him, and it's time to decide.

Gathering his strength, Lance stumbles back up, clenches his fist over his chest, and starts to walk. Step by step. The harsh sound of bells ring over and over again in his ears. Lance still can't tell if where he's going leads to life, death, or nowhere at all.

But he thinks about the team, his family, everyone on Earth and everyone in the Universe depending on them. On him.

Lance feels Keith reaching out to him, like a beacon, and that's enough to move forward.

It's the general that attacked him.

There’s so much anger, so much fear coursing through his veins, Lance can’t tell if his blood is boiling or freezing. This monster attacked him in his sleep, kidnapped him, took him away from his family. They're the reason why he's been tortured for God knows how long.

The general rolls her eyes and grumbles “This is such glorp, why did I get stuck kit watching.” She tries not to complain out loud too much. Lotor had trusted her to keep an eye on his Altean prisoner - why Lotor had said it had to be done in one of his guest quarters was beyond her, but if he instructed her to do something, it had to have been for a good reason. She glances at Lance who's seething and she can see the bloodlust in his eyes. Unimpressed, she lightly press his shoulders to the bed. “Calm your little heart, Altean. You're safe.” She leaned back in her chair before adding, “for now, anyway.”

Lance's anger is far from gone, but the way she said that so factually is… confusing to say the least. “What are you talking about? I'm not Altean, I'm human!”

“Right," she mocks with a slow nod, "and my mother was a Balmeran.” She rolls her eyes, reaches blindly backwards, and grabs a hand mirror from a dresser behind her. She hands it to Lance who warily takes it to looks at his reflection.

He gasps. His fingers shake their way to his cheekbones, both marked with a swooping teal scale. They inch to his ears, now elongated and pointed, then to his hair (while still flawless) is completely silver. He finds himself staring into his eyes, which are still his beautiful ocean blue, but now have a lavender diamond shaped outline around his pupil.

He looks like Allura.

He looks Altean.

Even the most plausible reasoning he can think of leaves him sick to his stomach. Lance feels like his heart is beating so fast, it's going to shatter through his chest. He throws the mirror across the room as if it burned his hand and it bounces to the floor with a resounding crack.

The general uncrosses her legs and raises an eyebrow.  Whatever reaction she had expected, this clearly was not it. “H-hey,” she half-heartedly reaches out to him.

Lance pays no mind to her actions. Instead, he curls in on himself. He grabs fists full of his hair and tugs on it. “What- What did you do to me?” He repeats it, over and over again, “What did you do to me!” He screams. He tries to pull on his hair and his ears. He scratches at the marks on his cheekbones, hoping, praying it'll come off as a sick joke. It does nothing but send sharp, shooting pain across his face, but maybe he's not trying hard enough. Maybe if he sucks up the pain, he can scratch it off and look human again. Be Human again.

“What are you- are you crazy?!” The general leaps across his bed and grabs his wrists. Lance screeches for her to get off and feels terror creeping in his bones. He thinks of his mama y papa. His hermanitos, all waiting for him to come back safe and sound. He always knew how to explain a scar or even a missing limb, it's war, that's what happens in war. But this? He's not human anymore, he doesn't belong anymore. To the one place he's called home, to his family, to Voltron, to anywhere.

The tall pink general appears from the upper corner of the wall and rushes to crawl down next to him. “I got the straps Axca! It's okay little guy, it's gonna be alright!” She tries to soothe him as she restrains him, which Lance thinks would be hilarious if they hadn't just taken everything away from him.

Lance feels his wrists locks down to both sides of the bed, but still tries in vain to wrestle out of them. A few more attempts and he's reduced to erratic panting.

Axca sits back down in her seat to the right of Lance, where as the pink general has pulled up a seat to the left of him. “You could have come in a bit sooner, Ezor.”

The pink general, Ezor, sheepishly smiles, “Sorry! I thought you had it under control.”

His body is heavy with weariness and denial. Lance takes this moment to try to calm his breath and look around. While the two generals are watching him closely, he sees that the room he's in is more of a bedroom then a surgeon’s room or an interrogation area. It's painted and furnished with dark red and brown accents. Colors he frankly wasn't aware the Galra were knew existed outside of bodily fluids. The bed he's in is comfortable, plush, even. The bedroom is a decent size, it would be easy to fit in 7, maybe 8 people.

Axca clears her throat. He glares at her and see how uncomfortable she is, her eyes darting around the room. “For what it's worth, I… I’m sorry for attacking you as you slept. Prince Lotor wouldn't have sanctioned such a dishonorable or reckless abduction, but the mission came from above him.” If she thinks he’s acknowledging her half-ass apology, she was sorely mistaken. He didn't know what she expected from him; A smile? A 'no probs, I hated being human anyway, this is so much better’?

Ezor puts a hand on his bed and pats it softly, causing him to direct his attention her way. “Don't worry, buddy. If anyone can figure out what's going on, it's Prince Lotor!”

Axca hissed Ezor’s name out and gave her a pointed look.

The doors swish open and bring both generals to their feet.

Prince Lotor enters with his hand neatly tucked behind his back and stopping at the foot of Lance's bed.

“Hello Paladin, how are you feeling?”

Lance stares at the Galran Prince. “Are you serious?" He scoffs. "You kidnap me, torture me, shove your fucking hand in my gut, turn me into an Altean, and you ask me how I'm feeling? Go quiznak yourself!”

Axca visibly bristles and seethes out “How dare you speak t-”. Lotor places a disarming hand on her shoulder.

“Now, now, Axca.” He shakes his head as if teaching her how to care for a child, “Almost everything he said is true, he has a right to be upset.” Lotor turns back to Lance, “But I did not 'turn’ you into anything. You were and have always been an Altean. Judging by your hair and eyes, I would say probably more than that.”

“Bullshit,” Lance spits out, “Altean’s haven't existed in 10,000 years.”

Lotor leans his head to the side, contemplating his words. “Not… quite. While Altea was certainly destroyed approximately 10,000 deca-phebes ago, not all Altean's were lost. There were Altean's living outside of Altea, there were Altean's in orbit around the Galaxy. Our Druids are almost exclusively Altean. I, myself, am half Altean. Even your dear Princess managed to live.” Lotor sits at the base of Lance's bed, slowly removing the straps his generals fastened. “Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury to piece together how you came to be where you spent most of your time or how you didn't age. We cannot keep you here for long. In healing and studying your body, your human camouflage fell, revealing your Altean nature. Once the Druids saw you, they refused to touch you any further. Word of this inevitably reached the Witch and when she saw you with her own eyes she ran to inform my father. Unsurprisingly, she left his chamber's shortly after, arriving with the decree for your execution.”

Lance felt his heart skip a beat. “Whu… what? Execution? You just said that Alteans are still around! Why does that mean I get executed?”

“It’s to be expected.” Lotor simply states. “The Galra empire still harbor animosity to the Altean's Kingdom for ordering the destruction of Daibazaal. If we had Princess Allura in our possession, the order would be the same.”

After all the pain and suffering he’s felt over since being taken, Lance is ashamed to feel tears prick the corners of his eyes, “But I'm not Princess Allura!”

Sentry drones enter the room and Lance sees all three half-Galrans tense up.

“The High Priestess demands the prisoner is brought to his holding cell.” One of the drones vocalizes.

The sentries approach his bed and Lotor stands up. “No,” he concedes, “but you are Royalty.” They make their way to the door and leave with a final message. “Believe it or not, My father and I have different ideas, I'll do what I can for you. From one prince to another.” He pauses, at the door’s threshold. “I would not be surprised if your team is able to access our communication channel for the event - you may wish to use that time to make your peace.”

The sentries roughly grab Lance out of the bed and drag him to the hall in the opposite direction of the Prince.

They throw him into a small cell in what must be their holding cells and slam the door behind him. The floor is cold and damp, but Lance can’t bring himself to stand or even sit. So many thoughts were bombarding his mind, that it all just felt like a storm was pushing and pulling him in every direction.

Lance has always prided himself in having good judge of character and being able to read people - it’s what allowed him to be as social as he was.

And as much as he wanted to deny it, or chalk it up to some crazy Galra experiment, he could tell Lotor wasn’t lying.

Altean and a Prince.

Even he can put two and two together.

If he wasn’t about to die, he’d be more than a little grossed out with how much he hit on his (older? younger?) sister, but that’s probably the wrong thing to focus on right now.

There’s also no real point to wonder why the same guy that spent the last whatever pheobs torturing him would even bother being so nice to him all of a sudden, even though it’s clear what his brief appear meant. Lotor didn’t specify when the execution was, but if he went so far out of his way to get Lance that comfy room, it must be right around the corner. Lance crawls to the bench/bed of the left side of the room and uses it to pull himself up.

He sighs.

His hope has just about depleted, but there’s no time to resign to it. If they’re going to make a show of his death, he need to prepare himself.

The bench is bumpy, hard and unforgiving, and exactly what he needs to focus. Lance thinks back to when Allura shapeshifted to look like a Galra. He doubts he could get that good in such a short amount of time, but at the very least…

He grabs a lock of silver hair dangling over the end of his brow. He focuses (on what, he’s not exactly sure), until there is the tiniest sensation tugging up his spine to the base of his neck. Pushing, harder to channel that feeling, he smiles - a genuine smile, when he sees the bit of hair wash over in the comforting brown hue he’s used to seeing.

It wasn’t a lot, but in time like these, any victory is a good victory.

Lance sighs, and nods to himself.

They can kill him all they’d like, he’s going to make sure he can’t die.

Logistically speaking, that would be terrible.

But he still wishes he could see him one more time.

The guards stop suddenly and take his cloak off. A shiver travels through his body. He’s behind the stage of some large platform in the town’s plaza.There are several Galra crew members working on sound and camera shots that are noticeably watching him. It almost feels like being backstage of his junior high theater, which makes him feel a little bit better about the ever-present fluttering nerves.

Haggar’s voice is echoing throughout the curtains he’s positioned in front of. Lance can hear her hype the crowd up and introduce him as the ‘Prince of Altea’ as if he hasn’t spent the past deca-phoeb as a Paladin. The chains around his arms are yanked forward by the sentry in front of him, and he’s able to see just how grand a spectacle they’re trying to make of him. There’s easily maybe 2,500 in the public space. All the purple faces in the crowd were clapping and stomping their feet at the sight of him.

It was terrifying.

He’s pulled past Haggar, who curled her lip at him in disgust, and is brought downstage - front and center for the masses.

His legs were trembling fiercely, he’s too stunned by the scene to move. Camera drones were zooming past him and recalculating their lens on him.

One of the sentries cuffs the side of his head when he doesn’t respond to them ordering him on his knees. Lance cries out and sharp pain explodes from the hit. He can feel both blood trickling down his face and the feeling of his hair changing back to silver.

His heart, already working so fast (the poor thing) is drumming so fast all he can hear is the thumping rhythm of babump-babump-babump, but he needs to get back on track.

Voltron must be watching, he's sure of it.

Haggar announces his execution, claiming this to be a sure step closer to eradicating the threat of the Altean Witch's clutch over Voltron.

Keith feels his blood go cold.

“I'm gonna puke,” Hunk groans out. He fumbles for a bag and begins to breathe in it.

“We have to go down there, we have to stop this,” Pidge demands. She looks at Shiro desperately, like he held a secret plan that he was waiting for the right moment to reveal it.

“We can't,” Shiro began, gritting his teeth. “It's a Central Command planet, if we tried, we'd just be decimated by the hundreds of fleets nearby. We have to trust in the Blade.” He stood beside Allura, hands on her shoulder for support.

In the distance, roaring and whining travel throughout the halls of the Castle.

They seem to snap Allura’s trance on the screen. She turns to Shiro, panicked and shouts, “I can't let him die again. We have to go!” He tries to calm her down and restrain her, but she easily flips him on his back and runs out of the room and into the Lion's hanger.

She sees that though Red is screaming his head off, he has not moved from his standing position. Blue, on the other hand, has fallen to the ground, limp and uncaring of how she's splayed on the ground. Low, pitiful, whimpering is rumbling from her.

Allura climbs into Blue's mouth and runs to the pilot seat. Full of reckless determination, she surges the controls forward, ready for whatever the Galra can try to throw her way.

Nothing happens.

Allura is baffled. She stares at the controls waiting for them to come to life.

They don't.

Allura surges the controls forward again, and again. She curls in on herself and screams.

“Why aren't you helping?” She cries out. “He's your paladin! Your true paladin, we need to save him. I need to save him!”

Blue lets out another sad moan, rumbling her seat. Allura hears Red roaring still outside. It doesn't make any sense. They both feel so frustrated, so resigned. They want to help, so why aren't they? Red did for Keith, why aren't they doing the same for him?

A video link pops up on her screen, the work of Pidge no doubt. It's the feed. Lance is looking around feverishly, a sentry guard pushes him forward and he growls as he stumbles forward. He's brought to the middle of the platform and forced to his knees with a hit to his temple. His hair changes to the beautiful shade of silver Allura thought she’d only be able to see again in her dreams. He looks out to the crowd and up at the cameras. Realization flickers across his disoriented face and he becomes sickly pale.

Allura has never felt so utterly useless. Princess to a people no more, leader to the last shred of hope in the universe who couldn't stop her paladin from being abducted from the palm of her hands, and a big sister who could do nothing but watch as her baby brother was captured and paraded by the same monsters that destroyed their planet.

She hears movement from behind her and sees Shiro at the cockpit door. He seems unsure of what to say, but in the end, says nothing but walks up to her seat and leans down to wraps Allura in his arms.

Keith's eyes darted across the rooftops and no longer sees any movement. His heart is racing seeing Lance petrified on the platform.

Haggar is giving some spiel about Lotor's 'brave task’. Lotor is standing beside her, his eyes scanning the area.

Their eyes meet.

Lotor looks like he understands something Keith doesn't, because he smirks once he sees him and continues to scan the area.

Keith wants to kill Lotor for taking Lance, for hurting Lance. His hands clench into fists. The agents by his side (he can't help but think of them as babysitting) pulse their grip on him to remind him to follow orders. He grits his teeth as he sees Lance’s eyes furiously darting around the plaza. He's looking for them, no doubt, for the Blade - for Keith.

Haggar brings out a tall Galran wield a broadsword.

When Lance sees it, an odd sense of understanding finally breaks through.

Voltron isn’t coming, the Blade isn’t coming, there’s no secret group of town rebels that are going to break him free.

This is it.

When he thinks about all the torture, pain and fear he’s gone through, he thinks about his team. Coran, and Allura. Shiro, Hunk, Pidge. Keith. In a way, he’s glad things worked out the way they did, because he’s so relieved none of them went through this (in Shiro’s case, went through this a third time.)

She asks Lance if he has any last words. The mic source is switched. A smaller drone appeared before Lance waiting for his words. The crowd begins to boo, but it’s quickly shut down from a single hand raise from Lotor.

He gulps and closes his eyes with a deep inhale, and opens them with a slow exhale.

“I, um.” He laughs, shallow and nervously. “Pidge,” he calls out.

Pidge covers her mouth, tears threatening to fall.

“You're the smartest, person I know, I'm glad to have you as a lil' sis, I know you'll find Matt and your dad soon.” The tears start to fall and she crumples to the ground.

Hunk kneels down to comfort her and snaps head up when he hears his name. “My man, who needs a soulmate when you've got a soulbrother? Don't stop cooking your awesome food, don't stop giving out your awesome hugs, and if you see my family before I do, tell them I love them, I love you man!” Hunk’s curled his arms around Pidge and they're both sobbing profusely.

“Coran, and Shiro, thanks for managing our ragtag team. I know I haven't always been the greatest paladin,” Coran gasps at the screen.

“No, my dear boy, you are the greatest paladin I have had the pleasure of meeting.”

“But I'm glad I was able to help where I could. You guys got this. Allura, I wish we could’ve talked about this.” He gestures to his body. “I can’t even imagine what’s going through your mind, but it’s not your fault. Keep fighting the good fight.”

Her face is twisted with grief and anger, although her gritted teeth stop her from wailing, tears are streaming from her squinting eyes.

Lance scans the crowd once more and in the sea of Galra, finally finds Keith and the two agents restraining him. He can’t stop the small smile that blossoms on his face. Keith stills, realizing Lance can see him. His gut wrenches, wondering what could be going through Lance's head seeing Keith there not doing anything, especially given the last time they spoke.

Lance looks so sad, but is smiling nonetheless. “They can kill me, but I won't die. I can't die as long as hope is alive.” He takes a deep breath, eye locked onto Keith’s. “Keith,” He looks like he wants to say so much. Haggar signals the executioner, tired of the paladin’s rant. Keith feels his mouth open, and frustrated, angry, scared tears fall. What was the Blade doing? Why haven't they leaped to the stage and saved him? Why wouldn't they let Keith leap to the stage to save him?

“Keith, I love you.”

A choked out moan leaves his mouth. Keith's never felt anything like this before. He feels both the happiest and most heartbroken he can ever remember being. His heart feels like it's soaring, flying straight to the sun. His insides feel so shriveled and there is a fire burning inside him.

The executioner approached the kneeling Lance.

Keith's getting on that stage if it kills him.

He jumps up in place and swoops each leg around one of the legs of the agents. He brings all three of them down and gets up just as quick. He rips the thin mask covering his mouth off and pushes forward, shoving anyone from the crowd in his way. Lance is still looking at him, hasn't taken his eyes off of him and Keith refuses to break that contact.

The executioner raises their broadsword.

“Lance! Lance!” Keith screams over and over again. Just a little more time, he's almost there. Lance slowly closes his eyes.

The executioner swings down, cutting through Lance's neck with ease. The crowd goes into a wild roar, yelling and cheering louder than before.

Keith feels like a knife has plunged itself into his chest. He screams louder than he's ever screamed before.

Sobs wrack Allura's body, and Shiro holds on to her as if she were a lifeline, turning to shield her from the screen.

Pidge burrows herself into Hunk's arms. Coran Is still locked onto the screen. The sound of metal cutting through Lance's flesh is sickeningly wet and when his body to slump, Coran sinks down to his knees, arms still fiercely gripping the rails. His head lobs forward and looks at the ground. His chest feels so hollow. He covers his mouth and wails so freely that his nose begins to leak. Slav, who has kept himself apart from as much activity as he could, is to the wall and refuses to blink, keeping his eyes glued to the screen, scanning, searching for something.

As Lance's body falls on the platform floor, explosions rip throughout the open space. Cheers turn to terrified shouting as the crowd begins to run in different directions. Keith is flung back from the explosion and everything hurts. It hurts so much, he begins feels numb. Shock, some part of his mind suggests. He props himself on his elbows and sees the agents he knocked down earlier running to the platform site.

Lance, Keith thinks, getting to his feet. He stumbles toward the platform, still covered in dust and smoke. Four Marmorans jump out of the smoke, with sentries following close behind, one Marmoran is tackled by a guard and turns to fight him off. The largest Marmoran grabs Keith by his waist and flings him over their shoulder.

The Blade of Marmora informs the team that there is an insane amount of chatter coming from their network about an important captive. They say that an announcement is scheduled in 2 quintets on one of the planets closest to the Central Command Ship.

“How sure are we that this isn’t another trap or bad intel?” Hunk asks wearily.

“The information has been pulled in from at least 40 various sources in our network - if it is malformed information, it means that the Blade itself has been compromised.” Kolivan assures the team, “We will be planting several agents across the region where the chatter was heaviest on the planet. If possible, their orders are to extract the Red Paladin, assuming he is the captive.”

Without hesitation, Keith steps up to volunteer for the mission.

“Wait, Keith, we shou-” Allura immediately begins to express her concerns, except Shiro places a hand on her shoulder.

Keith subtly sinks into his body, fighting off the impulsive piece of his mind that’s eager to pick another fight with them for trying to stop him. He turns to Shiro and allows him to speak before saying anything.

Shiro is facing Allura, but projects his voice loud enough for the room and the device comms to listen. “I agree, it’s extremely risky to place one of us on a planet so close to Central, but the access that Keith would have as a front line support would be critical.” He then gives Keith a once-over. “Be careful out there. I trust the Blade can accommodate this arrangement, Kolivan?”

The leader of the Blade examines Keith closely. They both recall the hasty note Keith left behind when he first learns of Lance’s abduction. The conversation they last had before Keith left the Blade. It wouldn’t be shocking for Kolivan to insist that Keith’s feelings on the mission would be dangerous.

He really hopes Kolivan will say ‘yes’ anyway.

A few more ticks pass, then, “We will send a shuttle out in 10 vargas. If you wish to join the squad in Xeoun, you will need to familiarize yourself with the data gathered so far.” Kolivan thumps his chest with his right arm twice before ending the transmission.

-

Keith doesn’t have much to pack or prepare for embarking on the mission, so in wandering around the Castle, he finds himself in Lance's room once more. With a deep inhale, if he concentrates, he can still smell Lance’s scent and it brings him a degree of comfort.

The doors open, and he’s surprised to see Allura standing at the threshold - she walks in with a proud stance, but strained expression.

It’s no secret that Allura has never been easy on Lance. Something about his demeanor was both foreign and familiar at the same time, which constantly puzzled the princess and always left her on guard around him. His easy going and flirtatious behavior always came across as not taking this job seriously, even though she knew when push came to shove, Lance was a great support system for the team.

In more ways than one.

Allura grips the hem of her skirt and she meets Keith's eyes. What she wants to say is how much she misses Lance. How much she worries about him, and how worried she is about Keith going on this mission. She can't bring herself to say any of that, but she does say, “Bring him back home, Keith.”

She hopes everything she couldn't say comes across.

Keith wordlessly nods.

It does.

He heads into the mission shuttle with the other agents and they begin their journey towards the planet. In the shuttle, they go over the papers in each others hands and discuss the geographical layout. Most of their espionage is provided through doctored documents and paperwork, but things like regional dialects and typical behaviors of locals versus visitors and tourists are important in order to avoid drawing too much attention.

They arrive at the outskirts of the city rumored for the announcement and the other members of BoM strip from their clothing to civilian wear. In missions such as this one, Keith wears looser clothing, gloves, and a thin facial mask to hide his skin. They break out and Keith walks through the vendor square. He keeps an ear out for any gossip that seems like it might be about the announcement today, but it's not difficult to do as it's anything anyone is talking about.

“What do you think it could be?”

“I heard it's a new habitable planet announcement, Zarkon knows it's been getting a little crowded lately.”

“My food merchant heard Lord Zarkon’s fleet rescued a Lion from that witch, Allura.”

“I heard the Prince recovered a priceless artifact from Daibazaal and is receiving a medal for his valor!”

Keith eventually discovers that the announcement is going to be broadcast through any available Galran channel on the network. He relays an encrypted message to Pidge so that she can tune the castle to the broadcast.

A group of Galran children run past him, giggling and shouting, “Hurry, hurry! The plaza is gonna fill up if we're slow!” Keith quickly realizes that's where the announcement will be and rushes after them.

In the plaza, there is a large platform with a stand on the far right. There is a crowd of hundreds swarmed into the open space. Keith's small body allows him to squirm forward until hand lock on to both sides of his forearms. He exhales and is already inching his blade out from the folds of his sleeve. He flicks his eyes to his left and right.

It's two of the Blade agents he came with. Their full Galra heritage has them easily tower over Keith. They signal that they will go no closer, and as a result, neither will he. While Keith would prefer being front and center, they are 25 yards from the stage and have a clear, close view of it.

A silence spreads as the cameras fly and buzz around, signaling a start to the broadcast. The camera's focus to the podium.

Pidge is able to secure a communication link into the broadcast just as the sound of feet slowly making their way to the stage is the only thing that can be heard.

Until Haggar reveals herself to the crowd, which immediately bursts into whispers. “The High Priestess? Making an appearance? What for? Is it about Zarkon? Voltron? New technology?” She raises her hand, effectively hushing the audience.

Allura stands behind pidge's chair and grips it fiercely. “Haggar,” she hisses.

“It has been 10,000 deca-phebes since the cowardly King Alfor of Altea attempted to murder our Lord Zarkon. It's been 10,000 deca-phebes since he ordered the destruction of our homeworld of Daibazaal, and it's been 10,000 deca-phebes since Lord Zarkon established the Galra Empire in order to ensure no planet would fall to Altean madness or madness of any kind. It's been 10,000 deca-phebes, far too long for anyone living to remember the betrayal felt from Altea breaking the peace with Daibazaal. But even today, the feeling of homelessness rings through every Galran as does the yearn for a homeworld that will never exist again. As great as our leader is, his greatest regret is not being able to save his people's planet.”

The entire audience is enthralled with Haggar’s skilled weaving of words.

“But! Today is indeed a glorious day. Under the orders of Zarkon, our brave Prince Lotor was able to bring a war criminal from hiding on their knees and face justice! I present to you, our proud and faithful denizens… The Prince of Altea.”

A loud crack emanated the control room in the Castle. Pidge yelped and fell to the floor. The entire team turned and saw that Allura, with wide eyes still glued to the screen, had shattered the back of the chair with her hands. Her lips trembled and sweat began to form on her face.

“No, no, that's not possible. He was a child, he's dead, he died, it can't be.”

Shiro’s face scrunched up in confusion. He tries to ask Coran for insight, but the older Altean is in just as bad a state - One hand was fiercely holding onto the control podium for balance while the other was clenched over his chest.

“What happened to Lance?” Hunk shouted, bring both Shiro and Pidge’s attention back to the screen. Five sentries had come onto the stage and dragged a prisoner up with them. That was definitely Lance's face but, his cheeks, his ears.

“No way…” Pidge whispered in a horrified awe. “Genetic mutation? What else do the Galra have up their sleeves?”

“The-they don't. They couldn’t know.” Coran corrects, eyes still glued to the screen. “No one does. Alfor had something similar to it in the works to advance our diplomatic outreach in the war efforts, but the technology was held under close wraps and destroyed with Altea. There’s no way Haggar could have retrieved that technology.”

Pidge's gears were working in overtime, “but- so, Lance… is Altean? That’s crazy, he’s from Earth! And 'Prince’? Did Altea have more than one kingdom?” She treats the silence as a 'no’. She glances at Allura, who appears to be on the brink of tears. “Then that means…”

“No way,” Hunk breathed out.

“It makes sense when you think about it, though.” Pidge furrows her eyebrows and bites her lip. “He was the first of us to bond with a Lion, he’s the only person outside of Allura that was able to perform a wormhole jump, the next Lion he bonds with was Red, who was initially Alfor’s.”

The crowd gives a thunderous applause, cheering and rooting at the Prince brought to his knees before them.

Keith is watching rooted to his spot, eyes wide with disbelief. Prince of Altea? That was Lance up there. Sharp ears, blue scales, and two-toned eyes be damned. Lance was alive, and right there. On stage. So close, he swears he can smell the same scent that lingered his room. The sharp sensation of being punched in the gut ripples in his stomach when he sees how Lance was so scared and out of it. He shouldn’t be there, he should be in the Castle with everyone else, joking around and making milkshakes with Hunk.

He snarls when one the sentries cuff Lance in his temple, cause Lance to yelp and blood to start dripping down the side of his face. The hit causes a ripple reaction and Lance’s brown hair shift to a silver hue almost identical to Allura’s. The crowd is riled by the spilled blood. They cheer again, and Keith is close to seeing red. Instinctively, he tries to surge forward but feels the agents hold him back with a vice grip. He snaps his head to them, getting ready to claw his way out but their piercing gaze focuses on him, then darts up to the roofs surrounding the square. He squints to follow the line of sight and sees a few agents leaping across building rooftops.

Another growl involuntarily leaves his throat. “They need to hurry.”

They nod as if they understand.

They don't.