Archive of Our Own ^beta

A flash of light was all the warning Keith had as a searing bolt of electricity singed the hair near his ear. He could hear the crackle of energy as the bolt whizzed past from somewhere behind.

He reacted way too late, gasping and jumping to the side long after the bolt had struck its intended target: not him, but his Galra attacker; leaving a smoking, cauterized hole right between the eyes.

Keith gaped for a moment, watching as the assailant fell to his knees, then crashed to the floor, dead long before he even hit the ground.

Keith had been alone, detached from the rest of the group to search the now desolate prison cell blocks for anyone left behind. Despite the protests and assurances from Pidge that all the prisoners had been accounted for, Keith had elected to ignore them, and search for himself. He wasn’t going to leave that ship until he knew every single non-Galra was off of it.

He combed each block thoroughly, scanning the darkened cells for any lifeforms that might be left, unable to walk for themselves. Even if he wasn’t here, even if he didn’t find anyone, it was better to perform one final sweep than be left wondering if he had done everything he could.

That’s when he had been caught by a commander, a tall and lean Galra, wielding two swords. He had lept from the shadows and caught Keith off guard, putting a giant gash in the chest piece of his armor.

He was fast, faster than Keith, and just as skilled when it came to sword fighting. Keith could barely block one blade before another was threatening to cleave his head from his shoulders.

The Galra sneered at him knowingly as he advanced Keith down the hall. The Red Paladin was winded and weary, having used all his stamina at the beginning of the fight, thinking he could simply attack in a flurry and make a run for it.

But there had been no making it around the intimidating Galra commander, who, despite his lean form, blocked the width of the entire corridor with his agility and weapon proficiency.

He was trapped like a rat. The way behind him led deeper into the ship and further away from his teammates; turning and making a run for it would likely bring him more problems and even more Galra to stand in his way.

Running wasn’t an option anyway, as his assailant would run him down in just a few bounds of his long, powerful legs. And by that time he would be done for.

He couldn’t even call for help. The comms had been jammed by something on the ship, another reason why his friends had insisted he not run off. But he had. And now he was lost, alone, injured and too tired to defend himself.

The commander seemed to know this, his grin growing sickeningly wider at the dismay evident on Keith’s face. This Galra was about to kill him, and enjoy doing so, and there was nothing he could do to stop him.

He wondered if his team had begun to search for him, he wondered if they would find him dead, or find him at all. He wondered who would pilot Black, if they’d find another paladin, or find Shiro finally. He wondered if they’d find him , the one Keith had been after in the first place. He wondered where he was, if he was alive, if he knew Keith had never stopped searching for him, if he knew that Keith was willing to die searching.

And then it all happened so fast. The sound of plasma fire, the bolt, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as the air filled with hot energy, the sound of the Galra’s flesh sizzling as it burned and the subsequent sound of his body falling limply to the ground.

One moment Keith had been readying himself for the inevitability of his own death, and the next he had been saved. Or had he?

He whirled around, expecting to see another Galra or drone, ready to attack despite the aid they had provided. That bolt had come from someone, and no one else on his team had plasma rifles. At least not anymore.

Despite the improbability, he couldn’t help but feel a strange jolt of excitement and hope well within him briefly as he turned. He knew it was impossible, and foolish to expect, but for one sliver of a tick he half expected to come face to face with the missing Blue Paladin.

Lance had been gone for months, captured by Lotor’s generals in the heat of battle.

It had been a heart-wrenching moment for the whole team as Red was the last to land on the grassy plain of the planet they had just liberated. One of her “eyes” was shattered and her maw looked as if it had been ripped apart, hanging open and threatening to fall off entirely.

Inside she was empty, devoid of her pilot. The only thing indicating he had been there at all were the smears of dried blood on the seat and console, implying he had been injured. Perhaps from the shards Red’s shattered eye which coated the entire floor of the cockpit.

“How could you lose him?” Keith had shouted at his former lion, “How could you just let him go?”

Red responded with an anguished roar of her own, understanding the paladin’s fury and knowing his words were born out of pained impulse rather than real hatred.

They took the time for mourning, and then it was back to business as usual; liberating planets from the destructive hands of the Empire, and searching high and low for the --now 2-- paladins that were missing in action.

Meanwhile, after Lance’s disappearance, Coran was chosen by the Red Lion to fly her, making it clear to him that it was just temporary, and that they would find her pilot. She was just as, if not more tenacious, in her desire to find Lance than anyone, even Keith.

And even though Shiro was missing as well, and Keith needed to find him too, he desperately, desperately needed to find Lance.

A blackness swirled around the outer edges of his vision and it swam when he moved too fast, but he could still see the figure at the end of the hallway, running towards him as they seemed to sling a long rifle over their shoulder. They came closer and closer until Keith could make out the glowing motif and the traditional uniform of a Blade of Marmora soldier.

Keith relaxed, glad that he had been wrong. They may have been Galra but they certainly weren’t with the Empire. And they certainly weren’t here to finish him off themselves. His relationship with the Blades had been strained after his initial meeting and trials with them, but they had since then formed an alliance with Voltron, and often aided each other on missions- much like this one.

This Blade soldier wasn’t one he recognized though- Not Kolivan or even Antok- just one of the nameless and faceless soldiers behind a mask. But Keith hoped that, before all was said and done, he would get to thank his savior face to face, and know their name.

He was yanked up posthaste and Keith slung an arm around their neck. The Blade gripped it tightly as their other arm wrapped around his waist, pinning Keith to their side and transferring the majority of his weight to his ally.

Before Keith could utter any words of thanks they were already walking, limping down the corridors of the cell blocks at a brisk pace.

He was panting now, trying and failing to keep up with the swift gait of the Blade, hoping that he wasn’t causing his partner too much frustration. His hand was pressed against his chestplate, over the gash that had begun to leak with his own blood. And it was painful now that his adrenaline was starting to wear off, throbbing painfully under his armor and flight suit and stinging from his sweat.

The blade seemed to take notice, quickening his pace into a light jog that Keith could barely keep up with. He wasn’t sure how the Blade knew the way, Keith himself had gotten completely turned around in these identical looking cell blocks. But they ran with a confidence that quelled any of Keith’s worries over them getting themselves more lost.

Even in his haggard state, Keith noticed something strange about the Blade carrying him. They were slight in stature, shorter than any other Blade he had come in contact with, but still taller than himself. There were no claws on his fingers and no strangely-shaped, clawed boots on his feet. In fact, if Keith didn’t know any better, he’d almost think this Blade was...

Suddenly they turned a corner and nearly collided with a squad of three Empire soldiers.

“Oh look, a little traitor,” one of them sneered at the Blade. Then his yellow eyes fell to Keith and he grinned, “And he has a paladin with him.”

“An injured paladin,” another added.

“The one who flies the Black Lion,” said the other.

The first one, seemingly the commander, smiled even wider at that, revealing a set of gleaming, fanged teeth, “Oh, this is a treat. The Prince will be so pleased. Not only did we catch a dishonorable, thieving traitor of the Empire, but the pilot of the Black Lion of Voltron as well.”

“Two birds with one stone,” one commented.

“Too easy,” said the other.

The Blade beside him drew a plasma pistol so fast Keith could barely process the action. They pointed it directly at the commander, right between his eyes, while tightening their grip around the injured paladin.

Keith’s grip was quickly slipping from the Blade’s shoulder and he was sagging pathetically against them.

The two subordinate Galra drew their plasma arms as well and they all stood for just a few moments in a deadlock standoff.

Again, he wondered if this was it. If he was staring death in the face once more; his rescue cut short by unfortunate circumstance. His impulsivity and brashness had gotten not only himself into trouble, but now another as well.

The comms were still out, and Keith wondered if the Blade was having the same issue. No Voltron, no Blade of Marmora to save them. Just one Blade and a paladin already on death’s door against three highly trained Empire dogs.

Keith didn’t think they stood a chance.

Despite the circumstance, the Blade beside him stood their ground confidently as the Galra began to advance on them. There was no shiver, no fearful tremble as the soldier retained their readied pose. They were like a stone statue, unmoving and unwavering in the face of defeat.

“Now, isn’t this cute? Did you think you were going to just… walk off this ship?” the commander spat.

“Probably still thinks so,” one of the lesser said, and the other just laughed.

The commander chuckled as well and glared at the Blade with a slick smirk, “End of the line, traitor. You and your precious paladin won't be getting off this ship unless it’s in restraints. And then you’ll be shipped off to be dealt with by the emperor's son, Lotor.”

There was a shiver that time, at the name of Zarkon’s heir. Keith felt the Blade bristle and stiffen beneath his suit and he concluded that this Blade must have had a bad run-in with Lotor to have such a visceral reaction to even just his name.

It was no secret that Zarkon’s son was infamous for his relentless torture practices, and this Blade seemed to know that all too well.

Keith felt a jolting, stomach-curdling pang of pity run through him for his ally… just before he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor as the Blade sprang into action.

Suddenly the Blade was wielding another pistol in his free hand and firing off the first bolts.

The lesser two Galra yelped and dropped their weapons in a clatter on the floor, cradling their smoking and charred hands. The commander charged the Blade, and the fight began.

Keith could barely sit himself up from where he had been dropped, vision swimming in and out as as he lost more and more blood from the injury on his chest. But he did manage to prop his upper half up against the closest wall, getting himself out of the way as he watched the fray, wishing more than anything that he could lend his ally a hand instead of bleeding out on the sidelines.

Not that they needed it, the Blade seemed to be handling the situation on their own just fine; dancing around the Galra with liquid fluidity and agility, landing powerful attacks of their own with swinging arms and legs. The Galra towered over them, all intimidating muscle and zealous cruelty under purple skin and fur, and yet the Blade fought with striking confidence and poise.

The Blade landed a kick to the face of the commander, sending him crashing into one of his cohorts and into a pile of angry, growling fur on the floor.

The third Galra snarled and lunged for the Blade, coming centimeters away from the soldier as they ducked and dodged his attacks in an elegant dance. It only furthered to infuriate the Galra, his attacks becoming sloppy and desperate, reaching out with lethal, clawed hands to grapple at the little Blade anywhere he could reach.

Something moved in Keith’s peripheral vision and he looked to see that one of the lesser two Galra goons had retrieved their weapon and prepared to take the Blade the surprise.

He cried out, his voice strained and garbled, “Behi- AH!”

The commander appeared suddenly, lifting Keith off the ground with relative ease by his neck. He was ashamed of the way he could only let this Galra manhandle him, struggling uselessly against the stronger alien with what little energy he had left. The Galra brought him up to eye level and smirked as he reveled in the fear in the Red Paladin’s eyes.

“You’ve lost, little traitor,” the Galra purred to the Blade.

Keith turned just in time to watch as one of the lesser Galra unsheathed a sword and swung it at the Blades head, who had been momentarily distracted by Keith’s capture. The sword struck them across the face with such force that their head had been jerked to the side. Their mask fell the floor in two pieces.

The other Galra grabbed the blade by their arms and held them still as the first one struck them in the stomach with a swift fist. The blade fell to their knees and the Galra roughly moved them to face their commander. Languidly, he glanced over as he still held Keith by the throat, dangling off the floor like a rag doll.

“A commendable effort, but all in vain,” the commander spoke.

Keith could hear the Blade as they panted, clearly exhausted. Still, their face was obscured by the angle at which Keith was hoisted in the air.

“You will look at me when I speak to you, traitor!” the commander hissed.

The Galra gripped the Blade by the back of their hood and yanked their head up. Both Keith and the Galra commander were surprised by what they saw.

It was hard to discern anything in the dim light of the Galra ship, but Keith would have recognized that blood-smeared face anywhere. Even under the mess from the fresh cut that ran across his right cheek and up above his left eye, Keith recognized his long-lost friend.

“-ance,” Keith whined, struggling against the grip of the commander once more in a hopeless attempt to find release.

“Oh,” the commander cooed, “Oh, this is turning out to be quite the turn of events. He’s not a Galra traitor at all. He’s human. And you know him,” he turned back to Keith and tightened his grip, “He was the Blue Paladin wasn’t he?”

Keith gritted his teeth and said nothing, glaring daggers at the Galra commander who, unphased, turned back to Lance with a feral grin and a sick gleam in his eye.

“Lotor will be delighted to have you back, little paladin. You,” his wild eyes came to Keith again, “And your friend.”

Lance jerked in the grip of the Galra and scowled up at the commander. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to. The savage look in his eye alone was enough to say that the two big Galra on either side of him, holding him down, were the only things saving the commander right then. It sent a shiver up Keith’s spine, and he wasn’t even the recipient.

The commander laughed and pulled Keith intimidatingly closer, “It’s going to be so much fun watching you break,” he hissed.

Once again, everything happened so fast. Lance roared and broke free of the Galra’s grip on him, stealing the two swords out of the scabbards at their hips and slashing at them in a flurry of flying metal. The commander didn’t even have time to react. His henchmen were dead: throats slashed and bleeding out like fountains of red water.

Stunned, the commander just gaped at the display. But Lance didn’t give him long before he too became the target of his rage, and he brought the sword down on the arm that held Keith in the air.

Keith landed with a grunt and got to work on prying the fingers of the dismembered arm away from his neck. Once he had, he threw the hand away and rubbed at his exposed throat, breathing deeply between ragged coughs, savoring the air in his lungs.

The commander had fallen to his knees, roaring in pain and cradling the remnants of his arm. Keith watched as Lance came to stand in front of him, lowering his dual swords and crossing them at the commanders throat.

The commander huffed and gazed up at Lance with pleading eyes. Pleading for what, Keith wasn’t sure. If it was mercy he was looking for, he was going to be hard-pressed to find it. Lance’s eyes were hard and unrelenting, no mercy for the Galra in question lingered in those eyes.

His lips trembled, moving as if to speak but not a sound came out. Keith was surprised the commander had lasted this long, that Lance hadn’t yet killed him. But just as Keith was thinking that, and just as the commander had found the voice to make a plea, Lance decapitated the Galra in one swift motion.

His head fell from his shoulders and hit the floor with a sick squelch before the rest of his body followed suit with a heavy thud. He too became a fountain of blood as it spurted from his neck and coated Lance’s boots in the thick liquid.

Lance threw down the two swords in the puddle of blood and turned to walk towards Keith. Keith watched him, every question in the universe on his tongue, ready to just open his mouth like floodgates, but too exhausted to form the words. All he could do was form the beginning of his name, repeatedly, before his voice gave out on the rest.

He wasn’t sure how much of it was emotion and how much was sheer exhaustion.

“La- … La- …” Keith chanted. His eyes stung as they welled up with tears, gazing at his friend through his warping, watery vision.

“Shhh,” Lance hushed him gently as he kneeled down before him, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

He took Keith by the arm and pulled him forward, scooping him up into his arms in a carry most comfortable to Keith. His arms and legs dangled, and his head lolled against Lance’s chest as he continued the trek back to the evacuation point.

To his surprise, and relief, their journey was swift and without any more Galra obstacles. Keith attributed that to the fight being taken elsewhere, perhaps the bridge of the ship was crawling with them now that cell blocks had been emptied and no longer needed tending. The Galra they had encountered must have been a fluke, not knowing he, or even Lance, would be there.

Lance. He was here, carrying Keith to safety after he had spent months fearing the worst fate of the Blue Paladin. But he was here, at long last, Keith had found him, or… he had found Keith. Either way, the Red Paladin felt a elated wave of relief wash over him.

But… he was dressed like a Blade. He fought like a Blade. Keith had thought that all this time he was at the mercy of the ruthless Galra Prince, and perhaps for a time he was judging by his reaction to the name. But somehow he had escaped, somehow he had found the Blade of Marmora and for some reason… he didn’t return home. Instead, he must have stayed with the Blade and trained with them.

But… why? Why wouldn’t he come home? Why wouldn’t he want to?

As they neared the hangar bay his comm began to spark to life, and he could hear the voice of the Green Paladin repeat a message for him through thick static.

“-eith, come i-. Ke- … do you- .. me?”

“Pidg- … I hear… I hear you, Pidge,” he replied with a raspy voice.

“-eith! Wh- … you?” she cried, the relief in her voice evident.

“I’m at the hangar bay… where… where are you guys?” Keith asked, looking around and not finding his team.

“-e ha- … -o bail! I’ll- …. -ere in a tick!” she said.

Lance kneeled again and set Keith down gently on the floor, easing him back against the wall by the open bay door. They gazed at each other for a moment, unspeaking, taking in the details of each other. Keith couldn’t see much under the dried blood, but Lance looked almost exactly the same, save for the very new cut across his face that would most likely scar.

The fight was still raging in the air above the planet they were liberating. Galra ships chased Blade ships and lions as laser fire cut through the air. The wind whipped Keith’s hair around and threatened to blow the hood off Lance’s head.

“You… you were with them… this whole time?” Keith asked after awhile.

Lance looked away, almost ashamed, and it took him a couple of ticks to answer, “Not exactly…”

Keith shook his head, not understanding, and the floodgates burst open as he found renewed vigor to speak, “I- When- how did you escape? Where were you? When… did they find you? Why didn’t you… Why didn’t you come home?”

Lance laid a calming hand on Keith’s, the one that was once again pressed over the gash on his armor, “Keith… it’s… it’s complicated, alright?”

Keith swallowed thickly, “I’m… listening.”

Lance smiled at him, and it was then that the Green Lion appeared in the opening of the bay door, with her maw open and ready to receive the Red Paladin.

“Keith, come- … is that… is that Lance?” Keith heard over the comm.

Lance glanced at the Green Lion, then back at Keith and gave his hand a soft squeeze, “Another time, okay?”

Keith leaned forward, reaching out and trying to grab at Lance as the boy stood and backed away from him. Protests were forming on his tongue but he was just too weak to articulate them.

Lance gave him another sweet smile, “We’ll see each other again,” and then turned and jumped out of the hangar door and plummeted to the planet below.

Keith, with all his might, scrambled to the edge of the drop off and watched as Lance fell. His heart raced inside his ribcage, and he thought for sure he would fall the whole way down. But then a ship appeared under him, flying by at just the right time to catch him right out of the air. It was a Blade ship, and Keith watched it fly off till it disappeared around the other side of the ship he was on and out of sight.

And just like that, Lance was gone. Again.

But Keith held on to the promise he had made, that they would see each other again. There was hope now, that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Lance was alive, but he wouldn’t rest until he was home.