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Chapter Text

Lance

As he was hurtling at high velocities through space, screaming his lungs off, and reciting all the spanish prayers he knew Lance realized what a fucking idiot he'd been. Nothing quite makes one appreciate all things previously taken for granted like a good old' near-death experience, and this was certainly not Lance's first. Since discovering his blue paladin status and joining the elite group of pilots known as Voltron, Lance had experienced many moments where he was pretty damn positive he wasn't going to make it out alive. The first real experience was getting blown up by a hacked robot, but does it really count as a near-death experience when you're unconscious the entire time until you come out of a coma to shoot your enemy's arm off to save your really jerky teammate? He was pretty sure you actually had to experience death closing in on you for it to count, but he had come pretty close to death according to his teammates. Also, how come nobody had properly thanked him for shooting Sendek's arm off? What the hell guys. Literally no one acknowledged it, least of all the asshole he'd actually saved, Keith. Lance would have appreciated just one 'woah Lance that's so brave for you to wake up at just the right moment and shoot Sandek despite the fact you were immense pain and save me and our entire team from dying and by extension Voltron and the entire universe' but all he'd gotten was the cold shoulder after he'd forgotten that Keith cradled him in his arms or something. The jerk had sulked for days. It was actually really annoying. In general Keith was annoying, but right now that didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact that Lance was probably going to fuckin’ die. For real this time.

Now that he thought about it he realized just how much danger he and his teammates put themselves through just about every day. It He wondered what his mother would say. Actually no, he didn't need to wonder, he could practically picture his mama, hands on hips, that scowl she always wore when Lance had gotten himself into a heap of trouble. She'd give him a lecture then probably put him under house arrest.

"And don't you use that 'defenders of the universe' excuse with me! Tu eres mi hijo, mi niñito. (You are my son, my little boy!) I cannot have you chasing after aliens with guns and lasers. Jesu Christo ayudame… (Jesus Christ, help me)" She'd say in that tone that as a child Lance had always detested. Her incessant nagging had driven him absolutely insane. But at this moment he'd give anything in the world just to hear her voice again, even if it was merely punishing him. Now that he was unsure of his survival Lance suddenly realized that her nagging hadn't been to annoy him, she'd been trying to protect him. Tears came to his eyes at the thought of never hearing her voice again. If Lance's 5 foot 3 latino mother saw him now, panicked, scared, and crying like a toddler in the cockpit of a giant psychic alien robo cat, she'd be ashamed of him.

"You are hurtling through space? Me importa tres pepinos," (his mother’s favorite saying, literally meaning 'It matters three cucumbers to me’) "Get a grip! I did not pay for that expensive Garrison school for you to die an airship crash!"

Thanks for the encouragement mom.

Wait, the Garrison. He'd taken numerous courses on emergency landings to prepare him in case he ever had to actually perform one. While a giant lion was not the same as the fighter jet or cargo ship he was used to flying, there was probably something he could take out of those lessons and apply to this situation. What had his instructors told him? He racked his brains desperately, trying to recall his tedious Garrison guided simulations but he was too stressed to remember much of anything, only vaguely aware of imminent doom and that fact that his heart was beating like a surprised hamster. 

Suddenly, a piercing robotic shriek broke Lance's already weak concentration. The Lion lurched violently and Lance nearly lost his food goo lunch. He let out a hurk, gripping the dashboard. Now he was barely inches away from the screen and could see that his inevitable impact with the hard earth (well not EARTH Earth but now is not really the time for technicalities) was not far off. He was too close to the ground at a nosedive, and from what little he did manage to recall from the Garrison, those were the worst kinds of crashes a pilot could be in. The survival rate was low and the chances of salvaging a pass on the simulation tests even lower. (Apparently calling it a 'botched emergency landing' didn't help)

'Pull up'

The voice rang through his head, artificial, calm. For a moment he thought it could have been Blue, but no. Ever since they'd fallen through the wormhole Blue had gone completely silent and besides, Blue didn't speak. Blue communicated with Lance just as the other lions spoke to their paladins; through purrs and hums, a sort of mental connection none of them entirely understood. This voice was familiar to Lance, something he'd heard countless times before.

'Pull up'

He knew it now. This was the artificial guided simulation teacher. The knowledge he'd gained at the Garrison, previously locked to him before, flooded into Lance all at once. His mind grew still and he stopped screaming the 'Padre Nuestro'. He grasped the throttle and yanked it back like his life depended on it, probably because his life did depend on it. Miraculously, he felt the ship shift, the nose lifting upwards out of a nosedive and if Lance wasn't in some adrenaline fueled trance he could have whooped. But instead he tightened his grip on the controls and ran through the emergency crash landing drills that he did in school with Pidge and Hunk.

Pidge.

Hunk.

His crew, his closest friends. What if he never saw them again? His eyes felt a little watery at the thought of his friends. Shiro, Allura, and Coran… even Keith was making him a bit teary eyed now.

'Direct your crew to brace for impact' The voice interrupted his thoughts.

Lance was alone on his ship, but it didn't matter. He was in autopilot mode now. He slammed his hand into the intercom button as he'd been trained to do and began to yell at the top of his lungs the chant he'd learned day one of Garrison training.

"Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay down! Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay down!"

As he shouted he looked around for something other than this flimsy leather strap to tether him to the seat. As a child he'd despised seat belts and the way they chafed against his skin. Now he would gladly give up one of his arms for one. Had the Alteans taken so much pride in their handiwork they hadn't installed some sort of belt or harness or SOMETHING to keep their pilots from smashing through the windshield in the event of a crash? Finally he found it, a thick fabric contraption not like the Garrison 5 point harness, which back home he called his ‘emergency sex swing’. Praising a god he thought fake he strapped that fucker on.

"Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay down! Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay down!"

What next? Garrison procedure stated to set flaps at 50 degrees and set out landing gear (unless over water), but Blue didn't have flaps or landing gear. All that was left was to fly the airship through the entire crash. You never took your hands off the controls, you just kept yelling and flew until you either stopped moving or you died. That's exactly what Lance did, staring down the planet he would be crashing onto, daring it to rip him and his lion apart.

"Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay down! Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay down!"

Lance was putting his natural talent of a loud voice to work, screaming louder than he ever had before into this head piece. It was so loud he didn't hear the weak cries for help.

"Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay down! Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay d-"

Keith

Keith felt pathetic. Here he was, the red paladin, defender of the fucking universe, lying broken and crying from the pain of his landing on the floor of his destroyed lion. The seemingly impenetrable metal shell of the great beast had crumbled as easily as if it were a flimsy soda can beneath somebody's foot. The metal siding hitched up in peaks and valleys where rocks had scraped away at its base, ripping it easier than tissue paper. Keith could hear the sparking and hissing of his ship's electrical wiring as it had been shredded and ripped from sockets. He had no idea if Red would ever fly again, and that thought made his stomach lurch.

Red.

A lump rose in Keith's throat. Over the past few days Red had become Keith's closest friend. When his emotions had gotten tough he could always take his ship out for a quick fly and simply talk. The first time he did it he felt absolutely insane, but he'd been so desperate for an outlet that would just listen. Of course he knew Shiro would have been more than happy to listen and Shiro was great and all, but it would have been weird to talk to Shiro. Shiro was more or less the dad of the team and he would have tried to give Keith unwanted advice. But Red, Red didn't ask extra painful questions or give worthless suggestions. Red simply purred under his touch, moving with his mental will. Red was simply there whenever Keith had needed him most, but now? He could tell Red was damaged beyond repair. And it was his fault.

The crash had not been kind to Keith either, and early on in the jerking and turbulence of his rapid descent he'd slammed his head into the dashboard, leaving him to disorientated to even prepare himself. After his ship's side had slammed into the ground it had bounced like a ball, twisting and turning like one of those awful car crashes you see on TV. Inside Keith's leather strap had snapped clean off on the second bounce, sending his body flying into the metal walls of the ship. Keith had no idea if he would even be alive if he hadn't had his armor on, but even with it shielding him the injuries sustained were very severe.

The first genuine feeling he'd registered after the initial shock of adrenaline had faded away was pain. Pain greater than Keith had ever felt before. He had no idea exactly where the source of his pain was, he just knew he hurt all over. He couldn't move it was so intense, not that he wanted to. Just breathing made him wish he was dead, who knew what he'd feel if he'd actually sat up. So instead he lay in a pool of his own blood, crying and screaming and wanting to bleed out or die or something to end the pain.

Then something short of a miracle happened.

"Br… zzzz….! Heeadssss doooo…. Stt… a…!" A distorted voice called through Keith's earpiece. It was so broken up Keith could have sworn it had been a hallucination brought on by his blood lost, but nevertheless he suddenly fell silent. All was silent in the cockpit of the disheveled Red paladin except for Keith's heavy, labored breathing. He felt a hot tear roll down his cheek, and was ready to let out another sob, until his earpiece buzzed again

"Brace! Brrrrrr….! …ace!! He..zzz down… ay down!" The voice was more distinct now, and Keith never thought he'd be so happy to hear Lance's stupid voice as it screamed that damned Garrison training drill into his ears. The quality of the intercom was rapidly improving as new pathways of electrical wiring were formed. Allura had said that when damaged Altean technology was programmed to find new ways to get the job done, and it seemed that Keith's helmet had found a way.

"Brace! Brace! Brace!" Lance yelled into Keith's ear with sudden distinct clarity. "Heads down! Stay down! Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay down!"

Keith cried out into his helmet for help, hoping that if his helmet could receive wireless signals it could also send them. He sobbed into his helmet, begging for help. But all that answered him was Lance's repeated brace drill.

"Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay down! Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay d-"

There was a loud smashing sound. A screeching, scraping of metal against rock as the Blue ship skidded across the vast expanse of rock, then silence. A silence so loud Keith would never forget it. He lay there, heart counting the seconds as he waited and prayed for a response. He never thought in all his years living this cursed life that he'd ever be depending on that dumbass of a paladin Lance. Lance, with his stupid brown hair and stupid smile, and even stupider sense of humor. The thought of Lance usually made Keith's stomach churn with rage, but in his current predicament he couldn't help but think of the moron fondly. A burst of static broke through the silence as the heavenly sound of Lance's goofy laugh sounded through the speaker.

"Ahaa… ahahaaaa… WOO!"

Pidge

Pidge had wasted no time after crashing on her planet. She'd regained control after the initial shock, and had found a way to land with almost no injury on this planet. Almost no injury. Somehow, she couldn't quite remember how, she'd torn a gash about six inches long on her calf. It was probably from when her legs had slammed back into the sharp bottom part of her seat from the initial jolt of impact and boy did it sting. She'd patched it up with the rations stored in the back and took stock of her surroundings. The landing and really busted up Green's paws. The mechanics were all but shot and barely hanging on. Pidge knew she should be thankful that was the only damage her ship had suffered, but was annoyed about how long it'd take for her to repair it.

As soon as she'd landed and bandaged her leg she got to work. First she'd set her helmet to long range scanning hoping to find radio waves of anyone. Then she'd rolled up her sleeves, set the paw up so it was off the ground, and began to fix the ripped wires. Fortunately the tool box had contained electrical tape and just about all the tools necessary for repairs. She hummed some tune she'd made up as she straightened the delicate tubing. She was almost finished with the first power box when she heard a static signal and shrieking of her helmet. A watery voice, distorted by the crappy connection and distance between them called unintelligent sounds that were definitely words, she could even make one or two out. Something about down and heads. Was somebody injured? Were they close by? Pidge had to know. She sat up so quickly she almost whacked her head into Green's paw. Undeterred by her close call with a concussion she scampered over to the helmet, holding it like it was quite possibly her most treasured possession, and maybe for the moment it was.

She fiddled with the dials to get a clearer reception, her nervous fingers shaking a little. She let out a swear word that would have earned her reprimand from space dad back on the castle as the choppy voice began to fade away. After a few seconds of tinkering the voice boomed out loud and clear.

"Brace! Brace! Brace! Heads down! Stay down!"

Pidge nearly dropped the helmet and assumed her standard brace position. The voice was so urgent and commanding she felt panic rise in her throat as her days at the Garrison flashed back to her. It was her squadron's pilot, Lance, screaming the brace for emergency landing drill. They'd practiced that drill a thousand times. What Pidge wouldn't give to be back, safe and sound at the Garrison. She clutched the helmet to her chest and slumped against the side of her lion, listening to Lance's voice.

"Help… please! Somebody…" Another voice called out. It was strained, labored, as if the speaker had barely any energy left to utter those 3 words. Pidge could barely hear it over Lance's yelling, but she knew what she'd heard. It was Keith. She could have cried for happiness. That was 2 teammates-and from the clarity of both of their signals they were close by each other- she could pinpoint. While the helmet was in long range mode she couldn't respond, and she had no idea if she'd be able to pinpoint their coordinates, or even hear their voices, if she risked setting it back to normal range to respond. With trembling hands she hooking up the helmet to her portable laptop and letting her fingers tap furiously over the plastic keys. If she could find them that'd be 3 out of 5 paladins. That's 3 robotic Voltron limbs closer to reforming the team. Their coordinates… if she could just…

Lance

"Ahaa… ahahaaaa… WOO!"

Lance punched the air, letting out a victory screech of delight. He'd survived! He'd fucking survived! Lance 1 Galra… wait. Galra had been conquering the universe for over 10,000 years. So the score would not be 0… but Lance refused to let that dampen his spirits.

"Crew this is your pilot speaking," He said gleefully into his intercom. "We have successfully landed… crash landed but you know wh-"

"Lance!" A high pitched cry interrupted his victory speech. It was a voice that Lance had never hoped to hear again.

"Pidge?!" He gasped. "Pidge! Jesucristo! Where are you? Are you close by? Are you hurt?"

"Stop talking like your mom I have something important to tell you!" Pidge said, but Lance could tell by the tone of her voice she was glad to see that he was safe. "I'm on another planet, but the same solar system as yours, but that's not what I wanted to tell you."

"Alright, lay it on me sweet cheeks." He said, lounging back in his chair.

"First of all never fucking call me that again." Pidge grumbled. "Or I'll slip a laxative so power in your goo you'll be shitting for 3 weeks."

"Noted." Lance said, unable to stop grinning.

"I picked up your brace drill call from my helmet and I about shat my fucking pants."

"That I survived?"

"That you actually paid attention in class."

"Oh," Lance deflated just a wee bit. "So you aren't glad to see that I'm alive?"

"Of course I'm glad to see you're alive!" Pidge exclaimed. "I'm fucking ecstatic!"

"Geez, if Shiro could hear your mouth," Lance laughed and Pidge joined him.

"Only good part about this trip is that he can't." She snickered.

Suddenly the call was interrupted by the buzz of radio static and weak voice.

"L….lance…."

Lance would recognize that voice anywhere. That voice was usually full of some deep teenage angst Lance couldn't understand, and had no desire too. Keith. Usually Keith's voice made him groan, but now he didn't care.

"Keith!" He cried out. "Keith! You don't sound good, where are you?"

"Oh shit, I forgot about Keith," Pidge said. "I have his coordinates. That's why I called you,"

There was a loud pop, and the sound of crashing metal from the other end, accompanied by a swear that would have put Lance's mom into cardiac arrest.

"Uh, Pidge?" Lance called out tentatively. "You okay?"

After a few seconds of silence Pidge responded.

"I'm fine, more or less." She huffed. "Listen, I'll send you the coordinates and you go find Keith. I need to get back to work. I'll call back later, shout if you need me."

"Thanks a bunch Pidge," Lance said, than remembering his recent near death experience decided to say something else. "And Pidge?"

"Yeah Lance?"

"Uh…" Lance paused thinking of what to say. "Pidge… I'm really glad you're alive… thanks you, you know putting up with me."

Pidge sighed. "Just go get Keith. Here are the coordinates."

Pidge hurriedly gave him the string of numbers that indicated Keith's last radio call and signed off. There was a click of disconnection, then silence, and Lance was alone again. He plugged the coordinates into the system and found Keith's location. He wasn't even a… whatever the Altean unit that was closest to a mile was. Coran had taught all of Voltron the conversions for each Altean measurement, but Lance hadn't bothered to memorize them. He just figured that he'd always be with Pidge or Hunk or someone who would. Now he was really regretting it. Both at the castle and at the Garrison he’d always goofed off, relying on his squadron to drag his ass with them to victory. The biggest reward with the minimal effort was his life path. He had no idea that he’d need that valuable information and thought it was just worthless junk teacher’s filled up the extra time with.

This planet was kind of similar to Earth at least, and by kind of similar it wasn't at all. The terrain was kind of like a meadow with lush wildflowers that Lance would have never imagined. They were up to his knee, their lush heads were adorned with vibrant crowns of petals. Their velvety smooth surface tickled the pads of his tips of his fingers as he brushed them. He didn’t have any rashes or burning pains, so he assumed they weren’t too dangerous. Maybe they were even edible, though now wasn’t exactly the time to try. They did give off an alluring scent. Lance wanted to reach down and bury his nose in one but he had more pressing matters and couldn’t stop to smell the roses. That saying, stop to smell the roses. Ha. Could he even call these blooms roses? Seeing as how they were on another planet he doubted they were a part of the rose family. They didn’t really look like roses either, they were more like-

It really didn’t matter now.

The sun (was it a sun? It was big, but not yellow, more reddish orange, like a sunset but all the time) beat down on Lance, making his hair stick to the back of his neck and sweat drip down his forehead. He swiped it away, looking upwards at the sky. There were no clouds to float lazily against the bright purple (yes, the sky here was bright purples) sky and give rest from the harsh rays. Hills and rocks jutted out against the horizon and further beyond them was some kind of forest, but the trees were… weird. Lance supposed that since they were alien trees they should be weird, but he didn’t have time to really reflect on that as something else caught his attention. Just peeking out over the crest of a hill was a large, red rock. Not, not a rock. The rocks here didn’t catch the sun’s (sun??) rays and reflect them back. That was metal. That was Keith’s lion.

Lance tried to run to the familiar red air ship, but the vast plants and the muddy ground made it hard for him to move, but he did it any.

“Keith!” He called out. God, if someone had told him yesterday he’d get so excited at the prospect of seeing Keith he probably would have laughed, but good lord he was just so happy just thinking about that greasy mullet. He’d give anything to hear Keith give him some disparaging comment. He planned how the conversation would go in his. He’d probably bust in and Keith would be sitting there in his wrecked lion and say something like ‘wow i could have gotten 2 u twice as fast haha ur so slow!!’ and he’d be the big guy and just hug him and say ‘wow im so thankful ur alive!!!’ Then he’s say something rude and Lance wouldn’t even care. He might even kiss the guy. No, wait, that was going to far, not that Lance wasn’t okay with that, was he? He knew he liked girls. Girls were soft and pretty, so he was straight right? But he’d also had crushes on guys, so did that make him gay? It was confusing as hell. He was pretty sure you could either be gay or straight, not both or at least that’s what he was always told. He tried not to think about it too much and…

He was getting side tracked. His focus should be Keith. And Red.
Red.

He was standing right in front of the lion now, except it wasn’t much of a lion anymore. Rocks jutted out on the side, slashed through the hard exterior. It must had skidded over the ground as mounds of dirt, crumbled flowers and rock were piled up on the sides. One paw was completely unhinged, wires sticking out at odd angles. The glass window to the cockpit was shattered, completely and utterly shattered. Something large must have slammed against it. Lance prayed to god it hadn’t been Keith. There were deep dents and gashes that were cut deep into the bright red armor giving the impression that the great lion was bleeding. It looked like a wounded animal, lying on its side in the dirt, its jaw gaping open as if it had utter one final mighty roar in its dying moment. It was a pitiful sight. It reminded Lance of those animal documentary where the lion takes down the prey, ripping it to piece, ravaging its carcass to nothing but bone and shredded flesh, and leaving it in the dirt to rot under the blistering sun. The remains would slowly be eaten away by birds of prey and flies until there was nothing but bone. But now the lion was the decaying heap on the savanna (was this a savanna?) floor. If this was the state of his ship who could say what the state of Keith was.

“Keith!” He yelled running up into the ship. He smelled the blood before he saw it. The sharp metallic odor filled the air, making Lance’s stomach churn. He suppressed a gag, trying to prepare himself for what he might see, and opened the door to the cockpit.

Trigger warning begin: semi graphic injury descriptions. Short summary to follow.

Keith.

Keith lay sprawled out awkwardly on the ripped apart metal floor.

Blood.

Blood was everywhere. Splattered against the walls, pooling on the floor around Keith’s mangled body. Dripping from the cracks of the windshield where Lance was positive Keith had smacked into. The flimsy leather strap was ripped in two on the floor, covered in Keith’s blood. On impact it must have snapped, causing Keith to fly forward, his head shattering the smooth glass. He must have been slammed into the side of the console and then slide off from how there were scarlet drag marks over the controls. Keith lay in crumpled mess on the floor. His arm was definitely broken. It stuck out at an angle far too unnatural for any human. His cracked armor and slashed body suit reveal a gash over his chest. Blood trickled out of his nose and dribbled down his chin where it had begun to congeal on the floor. Lance rushed over to his fallen teammate, scared to touch him. Up close it was even worse. The impact had left no part of Keith unscathed. He couldn’t see through the mass of black mullet but was sure his head was bleeding profusely. His lip was cut, bruised, and swelling up. As Lance began to pull off the armor it fell to pieces in his hands revealing a bruised and swollen collar bone, or as he remembered the doctor calling it, the clavicle. Lance remembered how his clavicle has looked when he’d broken it and was almost positive Keith’s was as well.

Trigger warning end

Summary: Lance discovers his injured teammate and is certain that Keith has broken his collarbone.

Lance had once broken his collarbone which was the only reason he knew the official term for the bone was clavicle. He’d been in a sling for weeks, unable to run around like he used to and he hated every minute of it. Lance hated being cooped up indoors or being restricted at all. He always had so much energy, so many plans, so many urges that he just had to act on them. Being unable to made his skin buzz and his heart race. It bothered him so much he’d act out in just about anyway he could. He wouldn’t pick up his shoes, sort his laundry, or do his homework. When his mother would scold him and call him lazy he’d cry, but not out of shame, but out of frustration. She didn’t understand how difficult it was and no matter how he phrased it he could never find the right words to explain it to her.

But now he was getting side tracked again.

“Keith, say something.” He said, kneeling down over his teammate.

Keith coughed, his eyes fluttering open. He let out moan of pain. Lance could tell from his red, puffy eyes he had been crying, and now that he was awake he could feel the pain of his injuries again. He began to let out a soft whimper. Lance needed to do something, he couldn’t let him suffer. Were there pain medications in the first aid packs? He was pretty sure there were...

“It’s going to be okay Keith, just stay with me,” He said, trying to keep his voice steady. Keith didn’t look good at all, and Lance didn’t like how exposed to the elements he was out here. He decided he’d stabilize Keith, gather up the extra supplies, then take him back to the Blue lion.

He lunged for the storage and yanked out the emergency kit. An array of brightly collared packets spilled out. Coran and Allura had gone over what each packet contained, but Lance didn’t really remember. Thank god Keith  had labeled each one in english. His fingers fumbled over a plastic package labeled ‘tranquilizer’ in Keith’s messy scrawl. It looked like a mini squirt gun, except the end was a covered needle and the chamber was capsul of green liquid. He pressed the end of it to Keith’s arm and was about to pull the trigger when Keith suddenly grabbed his wrist.

“No…” He breathed, looking at Lance with teary, desperate eyes. “Please…”

Keith’s cut up hand felt rough against Lance’s wrist, and his hands were shaking, but his tone was firm.

“I don’t… don’t want to be knocked out.”

Lance could hear the pleading in his voice and lowered the tranquilizer.

“Keith, you’re in immense pain,” He tried to reason with him, hoping he could get Keith to cave in. “It’ll be easier for me to patch you up as well if you don’t feel any of it.”

“Use a p-pain killer…” He managed, his face contorting in pain. “But please… just don’t put me out…”

The way Keith looked in that moment reminded Lance of when they’d first met Shiro. He’d just escaped onto Earth and was quarantined. He’d begged the med techs not to knock him out but they had anyways against his will. That violation of consent had made Lance so angry at the time. It still made him angry. He couldn’t do that to Keith.

He set the gun back in its casing and rummaged around for pain killers. There was a bottle of red gummy like capsules labeled ‘Extreme Pain killer’. They looked just like those gummy multi-vitamins, they were even star shaped. Keith instructions said to give 1 to 2 gummies per person according to weight. Lance poured out just one gummy for Keith, not wanting to risk overdose. The gummies smelled like cherries, though Lance was pretty sure Altea did not have cherries. He made a mental note to ask Allura what it was if they ever made it out of here.

“Here,” Lance said, gently holding the gummy out for Keith. Keith opened his mouth as much as the swelling would allow and Lance set it on his tongue. Keith’s tongue felt like sandpaper and Lance wondered if he was dehydrated. He found a pouch of water and opened the little tab. He gingerly lifted Keith’s head up, tilting the water into his mouth. He only let a little trickle in at a time to avoid wasting it. Who knew when they’d encounter fresh water on this planet, if at all. Watching the cool liquid fall into Keith’s mouth made him aware of his own thirst. He could really use a can of soda right about now.

“More,” Keith rasped out after he swallowed.

“Let’s get you patched up first…” Lance said. Despite his own parched tongue he sealed the tab, promising himself a drink after he tended to Keith.

The first aid kit came with a guide, but it was written in Altean. Fortunately it had clear enough illustrations that Lance could follow them with no problem. There was a small machine for reading vitals. The sensors were small wireless pads. He stuck the sensors where the book indicated, smoothing them over with his thumb. A large, light gray circular pad went on the left temple to measure temperature, another inducal looking pad went over the jugular to read pulse and blood pressure and a rectangular white pad was folded over the thumb for oxygen flow. A fourth, large yellow pad went directly over the heart, but Lance was unsure of its purpose. Once the sensors were placed the machine whirred to life broadcasting Keith’s rapid and thready pulse in short quick beeps.

It seemed that the bleeding had slowed and that Keith was in no urgent danger of blood loss. Lance slowly began to remove the rest of Keith’s armor. Most of it cracked and damaged beyond repair. Bit of it and splintered, pushing straight through the body suit and digging into Keith’s skin. He wanted to pull the shards out but decided that the large gash on Keith’s chest was more important. He got a wonderful view as he cut Keith’s shirt free from his body.

Trigger warning begin: graphic injury descriptions. Short summary to follow.

It started towards the top of his rib cage and traveled in one deep, long slash down his chest and abdomen. It was a gruesome sight that Lance would never forget. The blood had congealed now around it, but it was still oozing blood in places. Lance could see ivory colored ribs peeking out behind hunks of shredded flesh. If Lance had pulled enough at the edges he would have seen slimy intestines miraculously undamaged by the injury. Lance nearly lost his lunch again. Though Lance was no doctor it was obvious Keith needed stitches, badly, but Lance’s hands shook so badly he didn't know if it was wise for him to even try. But what choice did he have.

Trigger warning end.

Short summary: the gash is rlly bad and my smol angry red child needs stitches

“How are you holding up Keith?” Lance asked in a voice much calmer than he truly felt as he searched through the kit. He came up with a surgical needle and thread, ripping into it.

Keith’s breathing was a bit slower now as the pain medication began to take effect. He only let out a weak whine of pain in response to Keith’s question.

“I’m going to have to stitch this cut up, okay?” He said as he threaded the needle. Keith was pretty sure you were supposed to sterilize the area first, but he had no time for that now.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. He wouldn’t be doing anyone any good by freaking out now, and besides, he’d worked a thread and needle before. Back home in Cuba his mother made all her children learn how to sew. He’d grown up repairing holes in his pants. Being the adventurous little Lance he was he always had torn up pants. He almost never went a day without sewing up something. As a kid it was tedious, but he appreciated having to go clothes shopping less often. Plus he’d gotten faster than even his mama in repairing holes. Skin could not be much different than his shirt or jeans, and it wasn’t. His adept hands flew in one fluid motion over the wound, stitching it closed in a neat, tight seam. His nimble fingers were practically made for this job. He tied up the seam when he had finished and tossed the needle in the bag.

It seemed that the majority of Keith’s injuries were in his upper body and besides a few minor cuts and bruises he was okay. His hip was swollen and his leg sprawled out awkwardly. When Lance’s hands even lightly touched it Keith would suck in his breath sharply. It was just bruised, but horribly so. Keith would not be walking for a while that was for sure. After Lance had immobilized Keith’s collar bone and finished bandaging up his other cuts he gave the small boy a second sip of water, then took another for himself.

He draped an emergency blanket over Keith to keep him warm. Most of Keith’s clothes had been removed so Lance could treat him properly and night on the planet was rapidly approaching. The temperature had dropped dramatically from earlier. Lance shivered a bit as he pulled the quilt up to Keith’s chin. He needed to get them back to his lion as soon as possible or risk being frozen, but how was going to get Keith and everything back in one trip? He looked outside the ship's shattered glass screen, searching for something, anything that might help them. Then he saw it. It was a large piece of scrap metal that slanted up at the end. It reminded Lance of a dogsled. He’d heard stories of people who harnessed dogs and rode on these sled through icy terrain. Maybe he could push Keith and the supplies back to Blue. It was farfetched but worth a shot. He gathered up the extra supplies, the rations, medical kits, tools, water, blankets, everything, and bundled it together in one of the large tarps. Outside he loaded the supplies onto the sled then went back in for Keith.

Keith must have been dozing under the effects of the powerful painkiller because as Lance gingerly scooped him up he suddenly gave a jolt. He opened his eyes a bit and looked up at Lance, bewilderment flashing across his face. Lance couldn’t help but notice that his usually soft pink lips (not that he really paid much attention to his lips before) were chapped horribly.

“What are you doing…?” Keith asked in a soft voice.

“Taking you back to Blue…” Lance replied trying to give him a reassuring smile. He gently set Keith down on the makeshift sled, giving him the vital sign reader to hold. He began taking soft strips of bandage and tied them around Keith to secure him to the sled.

“Tell me if this is too tight.” He said as he finished fastening it. After a pause he let a sly grin spread over his face. “And don’t forget the safe word!”

Keith shot him a mean glare, but was too weak to really respond. Lance chuckled and began pushing his metal sled forward. It glided easily over the surface, cutting a clear path to walk for shivering Lance. He praised god he remembered the way back to his own lion. His teeth chattered as the wind blew against his face. It was fucking freezing out here now, too cold to waste time examining colorful flowers, not that he could if he wanted too as darkness was settling over the planet.

But it was too quiet for Lance now.

“You know,” He began with a sigh. “These flowers remind me of my mother’s garden back home. We lived in Cuba and my mother grew flowers and vegetables in our garden out back. Sometimes she used them for cooking and sometimes she sold them at the market for extra cash.”

He glanced down at Keith to see if he was listening. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be asleep, but Lance kept babbling anyways. He didn’t need an audience.

“When I told her I wanted to join the Garrison she reminded me how expensive it was. She said I’d have to earn the money myself, so I did.” He looked up the deep indigo sky. The face of the heavens was now dotted with freckles of starlight. “I was only 8 at the time but my mom refused to help me earn this money. She and my father built me a garden all my own and it was my responsibility to care for it. I don’t think I ever worked so hard with something more in my life. I was in there everyday after school, wrestling with the weeds or overturning fresh earth for new plants. The first year I didn’t do too well. There was a drought that killed most of my crops. I didn’t make too much money that year and I was ready to give up, not just on gardening but on my dream of going to the Garrison.

“I’ve never really been a stick it through to the end person. If things don’t work right the first time I usually just let it go. Awful, I know. However, this time I didn’t give up. I decided that I just had to go to the Garrison even if it killed me. I began researching the plants I was growing and how to get the best results from just one small seed. I had a farmer’s tan all summer. You know the one, where your entire body is dark except for where you were covered. Mama wouldn’t let me work shirtless, she said it was indecent, so I had on shorts and a tank top. I got made fun of every time I went to the community pool but I didn’t really care. I was making something happen, something big happen. When are that crazy about a dream nothing anyone can say to you will change your mind. That second summer I made so much money from selling crops and flowers as well as doing odd jobs around that tiny village. I kept doing that every year until I did save up enough money for my first year at the Garrison, after that mis padres-parents I mean, sorry about slipping into Spanish there on you- paid for the rest of it. My mother was so proud me. I wonder if she’d be proud of me now… She was never very proud of me when I was growing up. I gave her very few reasons to I suppose. I have always been a problem child if you haven’t noticed. I guess it made school hell, fitting in hell, everything a bit hellish. But when everything is hellish it makes you savor those moments where everything is heaven.”

Lance kept his eyes trained forward on the blue lion steadily growing larger on the dark horizon. Keith had yet to make a sound on the sled, but the soft beeping of that machine let Lance know he was still there, still alive.

“I really miss her…” He found himself saying before he can stop himself. “I miss her and my big, ridiculous family. And my dog, Poca Luz. That means little light. He’s just a small little terrier who sleeps on my bed every night. I miss our cramped house and all my hyper brothers and sisters. I miss the smell of my dad’s cologne when he goes out on dates with mom. I miss the view from my bedroom. I even miss, if you can believe it, the way my mom used to scold me… I just really miss them.”

A lump was rising in Lance’s throat, making it hard to swallow. Fortunately he didn’t have to talk anymore, they were at the lion. He carried Keith up to the cockpit, laying out a bed of emergency blankets as a small mattress. Once he was sure that Keith was comfortable and the vital sign sensors were still hooked up he brought all the supplies in. He hummed softly as he put away the extra rations, finding his entire body immersed in his memories of home and family. All his senses were a thousand miles away. He could smell the fresh soil in his garden and his mother's bread cooling on the windowsill.  He could feel the heat of a cuban evening and the humidity making his shirt stick to his body. He could hear soft music floating on the breeze from the town’s main square as local artists played traditional songs. The air around him seemed to taste of the clean breezes that ruffled his hair. His village was so small a rural, not at all like the city the Garrison was in. If Lance closed his eyes he could see his small childhood home, nestled in the crook between two hills and endless country.

He slipped off his dented armor and undershirt, turning over the hard outer shell and sleek fabric in his hands. What he wouldn’t give for his familiar well worn jeans and one size too small jacket right now. His feet ached from trekking through foreign terrain and he wished he could wear his old sneakers again even though they were falling apart at the seams.

He felt homesick, unbelievably homesick. That kind of homesick you feel in your bones, in your soul. The horrible pining ache for the place you know so well. He took a few deep, shuddery breaths to calm himself. It’ll be okay, Lance… It will be okay… He could feel the buzzing in his ears and willed himself to make it go away. Now was not the time, he needed to calm himself down. Deep breaths, in and out, in and out. He closed his eyes, gripping the undershirt. He focused on the texture of the fabric. What was it made out of? He had no idea, but it felt like smooth silk as it passed through his open fingers. It was strong too. He could feel it stretch easily as he tugged at the edges, the seams pushing a little into the pads of his fingers. As he let go of one edge the tension caused it to spring back to its original shirt shape.

And Lance was calm.

Chapter Text

Keith

Trigger warning begin: Implied sexual assault

He was 9, his little body was buried in the sheets of his bed in his foster home. His blanket was speckled in a starry pattern that in any other circumstance he would have adored. He’d climbed into it an hour ago and hadn’t taken his eyes off the door since. He could still hear the TV blaring the breaking news of the day downstairs and usually that meant he was safe for the time being, but the past few weeks his foster-father’s routine had been unpredictable. Right now all he could do was breath and pray that the door to his room never opened. Suddenly he heard the all too familiar click of the TV turning off. In his chest he could feel his already rapid heartbeat begin to speed up even more as fear pulsed through his veins. His stomach was in knits. He wanted to run, to jump out the window. He wanted a way to escape because he knew exactly what turning off the TV meant for him.

“Martha,” The familiar gruff voice said. He was downstairs still. “You take a shower first, I’ll go check on Keith.”

That phrase confirmed Keith’s worst fear. He felt an icy stillness fall over his body. He was paralyzed with dread. He heard his foster-father’s heavy footsteps come pound like an ominous drum beat up the stairs. A tear fell down Keith’s cheek because he knew what was coming and knew there was no way out for him, no way at all. The door creaked open and the large figure entered his room, quietly shutting it behind him. Keith’s eyes flickered to look his foster-father in the face. It was too dark to make out the feature but Keith would know that ragged breathing anywhere. He felt his stomach tighten in fear.

“Please don’t,” He whispered in vain, feeling the tears already form in his eyes. It didn’t matter if he begged or screamed, crying out for mercy. Nothing ever worked and Keith hated himself for it. He hated being small and helpless, unable to fight back.

The figure was coming closer to him reaching out for him. Any second now those cold fingers would reach Keith waistband and begin to slide it down and-

Trigger warning end.

Keith’s own screaming woke him up. Well, it was actually his and Lance’s girly, high pitched shrieking that woke him, not that it mattered.

“KEITH!” Lance cried, scrambling to his feet. “HOLY FUCK ARE YOU OKAY?”

Keith tried to sit up, but his attempts were halted by a shock of pain through his body. He fell back onto the blankets, chest heaving. Lance was over him now, fiddling with some box that beeped rapidly.

“I-I’m fine!” Keith managed through a haze of pain.

“Are you sure about that?” Lance eyed him, eyebrows raising slightly. “You just woke up screaming…”

“You were screaming too,” Keith managed, glowering at Lance wishing he had heat vision.

“Hey, I only screamed because you screamed.” Lance sniffed, narrowing his eyes. “And don't change the subject! Why were you screaming?”

Keith took a few deep breaths of cool air, calculating a response that would get Lance to shut up and leave him alone. As he began to calm down the machine’s beeping began to slow and he realized it must be a sensor of some sort.

“It was… just…” His voice faltered off as he began to take stock of his surroundings. The only light was the moonlight filtering in from the window. It was a small compartment like room and from Keith’s position he couldn’t see much of it. The walls were made of some metal, melded together evely. It looked familiar, but through his confusion and pain Keith couldn’t really figure out what it reminded him off. Where the hell was he? His confusion must have showed on his face because Lance answered the question.

“You’re in Blue,” He said, and when Keith still looked confused he added quickly, tone growing sarcastic. “Uh, my lion? Remember? Don't tell me you've got anesthesia from that fall."

Keith scowled. His head was already pounding he didn’t need Lance’s snarky ass comments.

 "It's amnesia, not anesthesia Lance." Keith snapped. “I know Blue is your lion. Jesus Christ Lance, I’m not a moron.”

A sudden flash of pain in his hip had him letting out a sharp hiss of pain. The walls of the Blue swam a little in his vision. Fuck.

“That’s up for debate, but one thing is for sure and it’s that you’re beat to shit.” Lance said matter-of-factly, uncapping a small bottle. He shook the bottle gently, letting a single star shaped red gummy fall from the bottle into his hands and pressed it into Keith’s lips. “Chew.”

Keith recognized it as the painkiller provided in his emergency first aid kit and had absolutely no problem putting it into his mouth. He relaxed into his makeshift bed of blankets, closing his eyes for a moment. Behind the cool, dark curtains of his eyelids he felt his headache began to subside. That was one fast acting painkiller. Pretty tasty too. Cherries? No, couldn’t possibly be cherry...

“Do you remember… anything?” Lance asked slowly. Keith opened an eye. Lance was standing over him, arms crossed over his chest. Was that genuine concern on his face?

“Er… a bit…” Keith mumbled trying to recall what had happened through the painkiller brain fog that had already begun to set in. “I remember you finding me… and you talking to me...”

Silence.

“I… uh… liked the story.” Keith said fidgeting a little with his fingers. They seemed to be the only part of him that wasn't broken.

Lance chuckled sheepishly. “I thought you were passed out, wouldn’t have told it otherwise.”

“No, really,” Keith said trying to sit up again. “It helped take my mind of the pain-agh,”

His body seemed to be committing mutiny against him for putting himself through this, which Keith felt was unfair. He didn’t exactly choose to crash land on a foreign planet and break what felt like every goddamn bone in his goddamn body. Lance gently pushed him back down onto the bed. For once Keith didn’t protest as moving made the pain even worse.

“It did?” Lance asked tentatively.

Keith let out a huff. “Yeah…”

“Do you uh… want to hear another one?” Lance asked, scratching the back of neck.

“Okay,” Keith murmured, feeling the familiar heavy sensation fall over his limbs as the painkillers began to take affect.

“Alright, well,” Lance sat on the blankets next to Keith. While Keith would never admit it to himself or anyone else, he was thankful for the warmth. “I call this one ‘The only time Lance screwed up a date’.”

Keith snorted. “The only?”

“Hey!” Lance exclaimed indignantly. “Are you implying I can’t have a good date?”

“I’m implying that you can’t get any dates at all, good or not.” Keith retorted with a smirk.

“You’re talking like a man who does not want a story.” Lance grumbled.

“Fine, just tell it,” Keith sighed, rolling his eyes.

Lance squinted at him for a moment with those sharp ocean blue eyes. “Scooch your hooch.”

“What- Lance!” Keith asked as Lance lifted the covers and slipped inside. It was now that Keith realized that both him and Lance were only wearing boxers. He couldn’t stop the heat creeping into his cheeks and perhaps other areas.

“Lance why the hell are we both only wearing boxers?” He hissed furiously, feeling heat rising in his cheeks. 

“Your clothes were ripped and bloody.” He said simply, settling himself next to Keith who was practically seething at this point. “And mine were sweaty. The least you can do is let me sleep in a warm bed after saving your life.”

“I didn’t fucking ask you to save my life.” Keith managed through gritted teeth. If Keith had been able to move he probably would have strangled the blue paladin already, Voltron be damned. Lance was pretty much the most replaceable paladin. Anybody could crack jokes and annoy the hell out of Keith. Nobody on the team would even miss him. In fact they might think Keith had done them all a favor.

“Well too bad lemon drop I did and we’ll both have to get used to it.” Lance let out a breath, grinning.

Keith could not believe he was sharing a bed with Lance. Fucking Lance. He had always thought God was cruel but not out right malicious. He just had to be stuck with the weakest, stupidest, and most senseless member of the team. Lance couldn’t tell you the difference between venomous and poisonous and Keith knew that under Lance’s care he was probably going to die. It could have been any of the other paladins to crash with him. It could have been Pidge, Hunk, or… or... or Shiro. The thought of Shiro’s big body next to his made him shiver a little. If he closed his eyes he could almost pretend it was Shiro’s warm skin, pressed up against his after they’d had-

“It’s cold enough to freeze hell over.” Lance’s voice interrupted Keith’s thoughts yet again.

Keith gritted his teeth in annoyance. This was going to be a very long, very painful time together. The other paladins simply wouldn't be able to rescue them fast enough.

“Whatever, just tell your story.” Keith grumbled, cusing his luck.

“Right,” Lance chuckled. Keith could feel the air leave him as his chest expanded and contracted with that small sound.  “I was in 8th grade and there was this girl by the name Kennedy Ferguson. She had dark hair she wore in braids and the prettiest brown eyes you’ll ever see. She was the beauty of my class and every guy had a crush on her, but I was the only one with enough balls to ask her out.”

“Was it that you had enough balls or was it on a dare?” Keith asked.

“Okay, maybe it was a dare, but I did like her,” Lance voice carried the trace of a smirk. “So I saved up a little and took her to a nice restaurant. Wore my Christmas day mass suit. Even combed my hair.”

“Wow she must have been special if you practiced basic hygiene,” Keith said. Now he was just trying to get a rise out of Lance, but the lanky boy seemed to be lost his nostalgia.

“I guess she was.” He sighed. “And my mother liked her because she dressed modestly. A rarity at that time. My father picked her up at eight and she was wearing this skirt with a daisy pattern and a bright blue blouse. It was had made she said. Her mother had made it for her for mass too. I had a bouquet of white lilies from my garden for her. She said that pressed one into a scrapbook when it died."

“We arrived at the restaurant and took a couple’s table. Everything was going great. She was laughing at my amazing sense of humor and I wondered if maybe this date had been a blessing in disguise. Then it happened. I made a joke about the new chickens my brother was helping me raise and laughed at my own joke way too hard. Sprite came shooting out my nose all over her face. I don't know if you’ve ever had Sprite shoot out your nose but that shit fucking burns. I started crying like a baby and Kennedy, bless that girl, used her napkins to clean me up. Needless to say the rest of the date was very awkward.”

Keith chuckled a bit. “Didn’t get her number I suppose?”

“Oh, no I did!” Lance brightened a bit. “We dated for 6 months until I left for the Garrison. But it turns out she had been cheating on me a big majority of our courtship.”

“Oh, that sucks…” Keith said, not knowing anything else to say. He’d never been in any relationship at all.

“Yep.” Lance sighed.

An awkward silence filled the air between them. Keith glanced over at Lance. He could tell from his clouded over expression that his mind was not in this solar system.

“I’ve never really had a real relationship,” Lance said suddenly. “I guess Kennedy was my closest one but… it hardly counts when they lie to you for most of it.”

Keith heard the obvious self-conscious tone in Lance’s voice. Did he blame himself for Kennedy? Keith let this simmer in his mind for a few quiet moments. He opened his mouth to say something, but realized he had nothing to say. He never really knew what to say to anyone about anything at all so he usually just stayed silent.

“Why don’t we get some more sleep?” Keith suggested after a few painful moments.

“Yeah…” Lance said, rolling away from Keith. Within minutes he could hear Lance’s breathing deepen as he slipped into sleep.

Sleep rarely came easily to Keith. His memories and thoughts usually kept him awake well into the night. During the day it was easy to surround himself in his work or hobbies. On the castle he trained often to keep his mind out of the past. On days when training wasn’t an option he’d fly. His fears seemed so miniscule in the air. Everything did. But at night he couldn’t do those things. So he would lie in bed with his dark thoughts. Sometimes he’d find his eyes wandering to the door, expecting it to open and his nightmares to take the form of the shadows. Even when he was a million miles and solar system away from his foster parents he was still haunted by them.

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to focus on something, anything other than his past. When he opened them he found that thing to be Lance’s back.Unable to roll over because of his injuries, Keith found himself at eye level with the nape of Lance’s neck. Little wispy tufts of brown hair sprouted out from Lance’s skin like a dead lawn. (That comparison sounded better in Keith’s head) Lance’s tan skin was lightly sprinkled with moles, little chocolate flecks floating on the surface of a cup of hot chocolate. They looked a little like the starry constellations Keith knew so well. He had an unexplainable urge to reach out his finger and connect them to form a shape, but he resisted.

He watched Lance’s chest rise and fall in an easy steady rhythm and mulled over the stories Lance had told him. He had no idea Lance had worked so hard to get to the Garrison. Well, actually no, it shouldn’t have surprised him really. It was true that in training Lance was usually inattentive at best, but not always. There were days when Lance seemed to be hyper focused on a goal. When he was in that rare stage he could master just about anything he was tasked with. Everyone, even Shiro the veteran, avoided sparring with Lance on those days. You were liable to get a black eye or a broken bone or something. Often times it came at the most unexpected moments too. Lance didn’t seem to have any control over it, it was just something that seemed to happen to the guy. Sometimes they’d be in the middle of sparring and Keith could almost see Lance shifting into that mode. His stance would shift and he’d be more balanced. His eyes would narrow, his steps and swings would become quicker, sharper, even deadly. Keith would either have to let himself be defeated or find a way to wrap things up quickly. You simply did not tussle with Lance when he was like that.

Keith felt his stinging eyelids droop. He was tired but scared of sleep. His nightmare of earlier would surely return. It always did. No matter how many times he woke himself up, the minute he fell asleep it’d resume and keep playing until the memory played through entirely, torturing him slowly, leaving him terrified. He used to keep himself awake for days on end, but eventually he would collapse. It was inevitable and Keith just accepted it. He let his eyelids fall shut, feeling himself sink down into darkness.

He was 9, curled up in his foster-mom’s lap, his little arms not big enough to stretch around her big body. She was what some might call fat, but Keith, as many children would, just considered it the perfect size for hugs. He loved it when she wrapped her arms around him when he did something good or when she was comforting him as she was now. Her gentle hand smoothed back his hair as she hummed softly to quiet him. This was the 3rd time this week he’d woken up sobbing. On Monday his foster-father had left for a 3 week business trip. Keith thought it’d be great. He was safe from him now. It was Friday now, and the nightmares that plagued him were as vivid as if his foster-father was really there. He took a slow shuddering breath, trying to calm himself. His foster-mother cradled him close to her chest. He could hear her heartbeat, a slow, soothing pulse. Her breath was warm on his head. He could still feel the tears drying on his cheeks. When he woke up in tears she’d rush into his room to calm him down, singing softly until he’d fall asleep. She never asked what his dreams were about, and he was thankful for that. If she did he knew he would probably spill everything, and that would break her heart.

“You miss him too, Keith?” She whispered softly into his hair.

Keith didn’t move, a sense of dread forming in his stomach. To nod would be a lie. Keith did not miss his foster-father, not at all, but to shake his head would be insensitive to his foster-mother whom he loved dearly. He swallowed his pride, letting out a sleepy yawn and nodding. She chuckled softly, kissing the top of his head. He loved it when she did that. Martha was the closest to family Keith had ever had. He snuggled into her warm body. He secretly hoped- and hated himself for doing so- that his foster-father would die in a plane crash on his way back leaving him and his foster-mother alone forever. Then he wouldn’t have to watch his bedroom door every night. He could simply go to sleep after his mother read to him and not worry about what horrors might await him that night. But if his foster-father died his foster-mother would be devastated. Keith didn’t want that, so he just held her close, never wanting to let go again.

Lance

The next few days the boys fell into a steady routine. Lance would wake up before Keith and slip out as quietly as possible as not to disturb him. Pidge normally made contact with him at this time, and he’d talk with her few a minutes before their signal broke and Lance was on his own again. After talking to Pidge he usually just explored the area around where he’d crashed. There was a lush forest not far, maybe a mile, west of where they’d crashed. It was full of fruit bearing trees which didn’t seem to be dangerous. Unlike most people who encountered strange fruit, instead of avoiding it Lance just bit into it. It had been a bittersweet flavor, but not unpleasant, and since Lance was still walking the next morning he decided it must be safe to eat after their rations ran out. Not far from where most of these fruits grew there was a freshwater spring with two pools the size of your average backyard ones. One was shallower and produced warmer water and the other was ice cold. In their ration packs there were a few sets of clothes and he washed the dirty clothes from the previous day in the warmer pool, remembering that his mother did the same for their clothes back home. He’d put them out to dry over a sun warmed rock, flipping them every half hour or so. Despite the cool nights the planet seemed to warm up fast which meant the clothes dried in no time at all. Usually he was back at his lion before Keith woke up.

Other than his morning chores of washing clothes most of Lance’s waking hours were spent caring for Keith’s injuries. This included feeding him, helping him in and out of clothes (an awkward process for both of them), changing his bandages, and cleaning him up. That first morning he’d come back with a tub (one of the empty boxes which used to carry rations) of steaming water Keith was asleep. Lance had decided that after 2 days of having to share the same blankets Keith was getting pretty smelly, plus he remembered that keeping wounds clean helped them heal faster. He dipped one of the rags he’d found in the water and lifted it to the exposed cut on Keith’s forehead, wiping softly. The dried blood came off easily, dissolving and staining the previously white rag red. Keith, sound asleep, only let out a soft murmur.

Lance looked at him for a moment. Even when the guy slept he wore a subtle scowl, though it wasn’t as prominent now. Actually it was kind of cute, in a grumpy sort of way. Lance liked Keith much better when asleep. For one, he wasn’t beating Lance at something, though he supposed just existing as ‘Keith’ made him better than him. Also he was quieter, kind of. He did talk (and scream apparently) in his sleep, mostly unintelligible sounds, but at least he wasn’t insulting Lance over something trivial. When Keith was asleep his body didn’t look so tense and guarded. His raven colored hair fell loosely over his face, arranged in an almost artful way. There was a small birthmark on his left collarbone Lance had never noticed before. He found himself a little mesmerized by it, a little mesmerized by Keith in general. Lance hadn’t really given it much thought but for a guy Keith was… well… hot. And the more he thought about it, the more it pissed him off. Of course Keith was hot. Keith was practically a god at everything he did and Lance had to work so hard for everything, harder than anyone else on that team just to be average. He stared at Keith for a few more moments, hating himself a little for liking it, before reaching up for the second cut, swiping maybe a little rougher than he meant too.

This time Keith woke up, and he was not happy.

“Lance.” Keith’s sharp voice caught him off guard.

“What.” Lance said, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“What the hell are you doing.” It wasn’t even a question, more a warning, like Bitch, if you don’t set that rag down right now I’m going to bite your head off.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He asked. “Cleaning you off. You smell.”

“I can do it myself,” Keith snapped, trying to reach for the rag. Unfortunately, or well fortunately for Lance, he was still too weak to lift his left arm off the bed, and his right arm was completely unable to move in its sling.

“You sure about that?” Lance asked, trying to suppress a smirk and ignoring Keith’s feeble attempts to be independant and kept wiping his face.

“Damnit Lance,” Keith growled. “I’m fine you don’t have to do this!”

“I think it’s really for the best.” Lance said. “Pipe down sugar shack.”

Keith opened his mouth, ready to snark a reply, but couldn’t seem to think of one. He just begrudgingly laid back and let Lance clean him up, hissing a steady stream of threats and Lance reveled in this moment.Here he was, taking care of the one paladin who refused to be looked after. Keith would even snap at Shiro, the world’s best, if sometimes over-protective and perhaps pushy, space dad. Lance felt damn proud as he watched Keith get so worked up over the fact that someone was merely washing him. It was way better than picking arguments. It was probably better than sex.

After washing Keith, he awkwardly helped him into clean clothes. The spare clothes Lance had picked up from the red lion were nothing special, just a solid black shirt and red shorts. Lance’s extra clothes were identical, except his shirt was white and his shorts were blue. The fabric was breathable and easy to slip on which made wriggling Keith in and out of it every day manageable. Oddly enough Keith’s extra clothes contained a pair of his signature fingerless black gloves.

(“Did you really pack extra gloves in case of a crash like this?” Lance asked as helped slip them onto Keith’s hands.

“Shut up,” Keith growled.)

After Keith was cleaned up Lance usually prepared something for them to eat. The rations were sort of like prepared meals. Once Lance added warm water and gave it a few stirs it would take form into something edible such as soup or really fast instant baking bread. The taste was bland and a bit artificial, but certainly better than Coran’s cooking. Lance tried to supplement it with the local fruits he found around them. Keith was always suspicious when Lance brought out a new fruit.

“How do you know it’s even safe to eat?” He asked wrinkling his nose at the foreign object.

“Because I ate it this morning,” Lance said. “And look, I’m still walking. Now open up.”

“Unfortunately,” Keith grumbled and would allow Lance to spoon mashed fruit into his mouth. The fruit tended to be juicy and dribble down Keith chin. Lance would wipe it off, receiving a glare from Keith that warned him against teasing him about it. It was an empty threat seeing as how Keith was completely dependant on Lance for all his needs, but Lance decided not to comment anyways.

The days here were much shorter than they were on Earth. Keith said he measured an average day to be only 18 hours long with roughly equal 9 hour intervals of day and night. When Lance asked how he did this Keith told him to shut up. That was Keith’s response to most of Lance’s questions. Just shut up. Or if Lance was lucky he might get a ‘shut the fuck up’ or some Korean swear word. Since crash landing most of Keith’s fight seemed to have drained out of him. His words lacked their usual venom and in fact by day (this planet’s days not earth days) 5 he stopped saying words at all. Just angry grunts of frustration at Lance, at his condition, at everything. It was then that Lance decided to do something.

“Okay,” Lance said, standing up and stretching. “We need a change of scenery.”

“What are you doing..?” Keith asked as Lance gingerly picked him up. Thanks to the weird Altean accelerated healing gel Lance was spreading over Keith’s wounds he was able to sit up on his own, but walking was impossible.

“You’ve been cooped up in here for 5 days. You’re probably just as bored as I am.” Lance replied opening the door with his foot. “I’m taking you on a walk.”

“That makes it sound like I’m a dog.” Keith scowled.

“Ooo,” Lance chuckled mischievously, eyeing Keith. “I can get a leash, and teach you tricks.”

The corners of Keith’s mouth twitched and Lance took that as encouragement to keep going.

“And we could finally put that mullet of yours to use.” He continued, walking, or more like wading, through the flower field towards the forest. “With those lovely locks I’m sure you’ll garner extra points from the judges!”

He saw Keith's lips twitch upwards, just a bit, a shadow of a smile.

“Just shut up and keep walking.” Keith grumbled, turning his head away.

“You got it Fido,” Lance grinned triumphantly. An almost smile was a victory in his book. He decided he was going to make Keith smile as many times as possible, or however long it took to change his default expression to something other than a scowl.

“So where exactly are you taking me?” Keith asked after a few silent moments.

“I found a cool spot in the forest a few days back when I was looking for fruit, thought you might like it.” Lance answered him.

“Oh,” Keith responded, as if surprised by Lance’s thoughtfulness. He shouldn’t have been surprised, after all Lance was plenty thoughtful! He’d saved Keith’s life twice now and had been thanked once? No. He had not. And most importantly he didn't ask for Keith's gratitude either because Lance was humble, wise man. Besides, it's not like it mattered anyways, Keith wasn’t the type of person to-

“Lance?” Keith's voice broke Lance’s rambling thoughts.

“What is it Fido?” Lance asked. They had entered the trees now and Keith was starting to feel a little heavy in his arms. He added lifting weights to the mental list of things Lance wished he would have done when he had the opportunity to do them.

“Thanks.” Keith mumbled in a soft voice, so quiet Lance almost didn't hear it.

Lance blinked in shock.

Had Keith just-?

Did he actually-

“For… what?” Lance asked, prodding at him, hoping for him to finish that sentence.

Keith let out a sigh, as if in exasperation. “For not letting me die, you asshole.”

“Oh… uh… no problem.” Lance said. They were nearing the springs.

“And for… taking care of me…” Keith continued.

“Well I can’t just let you die,” Lance rolled his eyes. “Space dad would be very upset if I did.”

That time Keith did laugh. It was one of those rare laughs that was genuine and pure. Lance made it his new goal to make Keith laugh as often as possible. “Is that really your only reason for saving me? You’re just concerned what super dad Shiro would think?”

“Not just Shiro!” Lance added. “Uncle Coran’s thoughts are important too!”

Keith snorted. “What about Allura? The way she and Shiro are I suppose she’d be Space mom, right?”

“Allura? Mom? No way,” Lance grinned. “Maybe a hot aunt. But not related to us. I want her nice and available.”

Keith did not laugh at that. Instead he scowled. Lance felt himself deflate a little. Damnit, tough crowd.

“Er, maybe she would be mom…?” Lance tried but it seemed like he’d lost Keith completely. Fortunately, both for Lance’s tired arms and disappointed echo, they were at the springs now.

The sight of the waterfalls cascading gracefully down the edges of the cliff took Keith’s breath away. The waters filtered over softly colored crystals, spilling into their separate pools. Lance had discovered that these crystals were the source of the waters’ warmth and chill. The bright orange sun caught the droplets, scattering flecks of iridescent light like diamonds over the surface of the water. Lance looked at Keith, grinning at the expression on his face. Lance had never seen Keith truly impressed before.

“What is this?” He breathed.

“Found it a few days ago,” Lance said. He gently propped Keith up against a tree, making sure he was in the shade. Keith’s skin was so pale, Lance feared that 5 minutes in the sun might burn him to a crisp of bacon.

Bacon…

The thought of his favorite breakfast food made his mouth water. It’d been forever since he’d eaten his mama’s bacon and fried potatoes and fresh squeezed orange juice and-

A low hiss of pain brought his focus back to Keith.

“You okay?” He asked, quickly checking over his teammate. Keith nodded.

“Just shifted my hips too much…” He muttered.

“But you’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, yeah…” He grumbled, settling back. Keith closed his eyes, resting his hand on his chest. His right arm was still in its swing, though it was healing fast enough that it might not even need it at this point. His hair fluttered loosely around his face, framing it softly. His expression was relaxed, lips parted softly. He wasn’t even scowling. This was also new for Lance, seeing Keith relaxed, off guard. Just add a little coconut drink with an umbrella and he could have been just taking a vacation instead of being trapped on an alien planet a million miles from home.

“Well,” Lance said, tearing himself away and stripping off his shirt and tossing it aside. “Shout if you need me!”

“Wait- LANCE.” Keith let out a soft yelp of surprise as Lance leaped into the water, splashing him a little.

Lance came up spluttering a little. The cool water felt heavenly against Lance’s skin. He swiped the water from his eyes, swimming lazily over to the edge.

“Lance, what if that water had been toxic?” Keith asked.

Lance considered his words. “Well it might be since I’ve been washing your stinky shorts in them all week-”

“LANCE!” Keith looked about ready to lunge for him. Lance snickered.

“Well, it's safe!” He said pulling himself up on his elbows over the ledge. “So quit your worrying or I’ll start calling you Shiro.”

Keith grumbled settling back down. A bit of his black shirt had fluttered up, revealing a tiny sliver of skin as pale as the moon back home. It made Lance wonder if Keith was that pale all the time. Surely the kid did tan even if only somewhat. He tried to think back, realizing he’d never actually paid this much attention to Keith before. Lance watched him for a moment, pondering. They’d been stuck in a broken down lion together and Lance barely knew a thing about him.

“Let’s play a game.” Lance suggested. “Like an icebreaker.”

“Let’s not.” Keith snapped open an eye to glare at him.

“2 truths and a lie?” Lance asked.

“2 no’s and a fuck off.” Keith corrected.

“I’ll go first.” Lance pulled himself up onto the shore. He lay there on his stomach, resting his head on his arms, letting the sun warm up his skin. Keith was only a few feet away from him.

“Okay, I was born in Cuba… My middle name is Ryan… and I own 3 chickens.”

Keith stayed silent. Lance thought he ignoring him for sure.

“Your middle name is not Ryan…?” He said slowly, still not opening his eyes. Lance blinked in surprise.

“How’d you know that?” He asked.

“I didn't,” Keith said as if it was obvious and that Lance was just a moron, but Lance could see the triumphant smirk forming on his face. “I guessed.”

“Oh, well, you’re right.” Lance muttered. Of course Keith just had to be a good guesser. He settled his head back down, turning it away from Keith so he didn't have to look at his dumb smug face.

There was a brief pause before Keith spoke again.

“What is your middle name?” He asked. That made Lance look over at Keith. One of his eyes were open, looking at him. His expression was quizzical now.

“It’s Charles.” Lance sighed. “My full name is Lance Charles McClain…”

“Much better than Ryan,” Keith chuckled. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Lance said. “It’s your turn by the way…”

Keith frowned a little, but it was more in thought than in displeasure.

“Okay,” Keith began. “My favorite season is autumn, before now I’ve never broken a bone, and my favorite Shakespeare play is Romeo and Juliet.”

“I had to read that!” Lance groaned and made a face and pretended to stick two fingers in his mouth. “I hated that play! So sappy! No way anyone could love that stupid play.”

Keith laughed, and really Lance loved that sound.  “Me too, actually. Any man that kills themselves for a woman is a moron. I preferred Twelfth Night.”

Lance wracked his brain trying to remember which one that was. “Was that the one about cross-dressing?”

“There are five Shakespearean plays about cross-dressing.” Keith informed him.

“No! I know this one!” Lance insisted, waving him away. “It’s the one about ship wrecked twins right?”

“Yeah,” Keith grinned. “That one.”

“See?” Lance said. “I’m not that uneducated.”

“Oh sure,” Keith rolled his eyes obviously not convinced.

“Nah, I did,” Lance snickered. “My favorite book was Brave New World.”

“Wasn’t that one about orgies and drugs?” Keith asked, wrinkling his nose.

Lance nodded. “I liked the lovely descriptions.”

“I’m sure you did,” Keith snorted, then winced. Lance decided it was time to return to their game before Lance’s wonderful sense of humor reopened his stitches.

“Right, my turn.” He said, rolling over to tan his belly. Today there were a few clouds rolling languidly across the purple sky.

“I hate the smell of cooking eggs…” He began, trying think of some good ones. “My best friend growing up was a cactus named Carlos, and I ran cross country in high school.”

Keith thought for a moment his pink tongue flickering out to hydrate his chapped lips. “Was it the cactus?”

“Yep!” Lance confirmed. “His real name was Juan. Real good listener.”

Keith snickered quietly. “Nice, okay, my turn. Uh… I was born in Korea… I’m adopted… I really like the taste of artificial grapes?”

Lance snorted. “You could at least make this hard Keith. Those other ones are too ridiculous. I bet you hate grape flavored everything.”

“Er, no. I love grape flavored candy.” Keith said, looking down at his hands. “When I was little the bank teller always gave me the grape flavored suckers because he knew I liked them.”

“You mean, like the flavor of cough medicine?” Lance asked, looking Keith over curiously. This boy was confusing and Lance was not sure how to feel about it. He’d never had any urge to get

“Interesting,” Lance mused, filing this new information away. “So what was the lie?”

“That I’m adopted.” Keith sighed, staring up at the treetops. “Because technically I’m still in the foster care system.”

“Wait, really?” Lance asked, a little shock.

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled refusing to take his eyes off of his hands. “I was bounced from house to house all my life, never stayed anywhere too long.”

Lance stayed silent letting that sink in. He had no idea Keith was an orphan. He thought Keith had everything, the talent, the looks, the intelligence. He just figured that a family was a part of that. He always imagined Keith being an only child in a rich household. No siblings to compete for his parent’s praise and attention. He probably never had to share his room with his annoying younger brothers who stayed up all night giggling about fart jokes and dinosaurs. It’s nearly impossible to sleep when you get asked “how much did the dinosaurs fart during the extinction” five million times an hour. Plus they snored at a super human sound. Lance also imagined Keith had fancy gardens and an indoor pool or something. Probably a big library where he could read for hours and nobody would tell him to go feed the chickens or slop the pigs. At the very least he probably had a reliable plumbing system. Lance’s family did not. Lance grew up having to occasionally use an outhouse which was not fun in the sweltering heat of summer. It was like being locked in a sauna that was built over an overflowing sewage system. If you weren’t baked alive the stench would surely suffocate you. Not pleasant.

But now Lance knew that Keith had not had those luxurious. He probably hadn’t had any permanent home, mansion or not. Lance started to realize some of the advantages he had. Two loving parents, a big family who always looked out for eachother. A bed he knew would be there every night. He had grown up in a small village where everyone knew everything about everyone, and while it was sometimes annoying, it meant that the entire family pitched in when disaster struck. He remembered when his father had fallen off the roof, breaking his hip and putting himself out of work for several months. The mothers of the town made a schedule and took turns cooking meals for the family and looking after the children while his mother took up extra work. Lance even gave up all of his Garrison money he had earned that year to help pay for a new barn when the old one burnt down. Mysteriously he had received an unmarked envelope in the mail that repaid all his money and then some. Lance didn’t know to this day who did it.

So Keith had grown up without the love and community Lance had. Maybe that’s why he was so angry all the time. If that was the case Lance knew exactly what to do. He got up and made his way over to the small boy

“What are you-” Keith began but was cut off by Lance wrapping his arms around him in a gentle embrace. “Oh…”

Lance held him and Keith didn’t protest. Probably too shocked to do anything. After a few moments he pulled away, sitting criss cross applesauce next to him.

“Sorry… it’s what my mom would do.” Lance said, looking everywhere but at Keith, who was staring at him. “I… um… I had no idea?”

“Well it’s not like I want to broadcast the fact that my parents literally said ‘no thank you’.” Keith said, perhaps a shade too dark. Lance had no idea how to respond to that.

So he didn’t.

The silence dripped on painfully, like slow maple syrup and they let it, unsure what to do or say, but both wanting it to end. They were too new to each other to know how to navigate sticky situations. Lance coughed. Keith cleared his throat. Neither one looked at each other.

“What’s your family like?” Keith asked. Was that a hint of longing in his voice?

Lance let out a huff of air looking up. The tops of the trees framed his view of lilac sky speckled with fluffy clouds hiding a blue (the sun seemed to change colors everyday) sun. It was like looking at a painting framed in one of those cheesy jungle frames. Lance had one of those. It was a souvenir photo frame his family had gotten on a trip to Costa Rica.

“Big…” He chuckled, sweeping his wet hair back absentmindedly. “Most families I know are big. And loud. My family is really loud.”

“Do you have siblings?” Keith asked. He was flexing and unflexing his toes as if testing if they could work.

“Yeah, a lot.” Lance picked up his shirt and pulled it on over his head. The sun had warmed it up so it felt like it had come straight from the dryer. “I’m the oldest actually. I was an only child for almost 6 years until my parents had my twin brothers, Michael and Peter. Then a year later they had Corrina, then Natalie, then 3 years after Nat, I think I was 10, no 11, we had Valerie, then Hadley, and I was 16 when June came along. June-bug… man, I haven’t seen that little ray of sunshine in so long…”

“Is that her nickname?” Keith asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” Lance smiled at the memory of June’s black curls bouncing up and down as she bounced in bouncer seat, or as Lance liked to call it, baby-jail. “She’s got down-syndrome and she’s the happiest little kid, always giggly.”

Keith stayed quiet. “You guys… kept her?”

Lance just had to laugh. “Are you joking? Of course we kept her!”

Keith looked almost shocked. “When I was in foster care I saw a lot of kids who were given up for having Down Syndrome…”

“What?” Now it was Lance’s turn to be shocked. “Why?”

“A special needs kid is a lot of work I guess…” He mumbled.

“Well, she was different,” Lance said, feeling a little defensive “But just because she had an extra chromosome didn’t mean she was worthless.”

“It did to my parents.” Keith said bluntly looking away.

“Keith… what do you mean?” He asked, a little confused. Keith didn’t have any genetic disorders, at least none that Lance could see.

“Nothing,” Keith said, his voice quickly turning hostile. “It doesn’t matter.”

Lance squinted at him. It was true that Lance didn’t really know anything about Keith, but he knew from arguing with the guy how Keith reacted when he was upset. He’d scowl, not that he didn’t scowl all the time, but he’d scowl even more. His brows would knit together ever so slightly. He would refuse to make eye contact with anyone, keeping his eyes trained carefully on the floor. If escape was a possibility he’d shove his hands into his pockets and babble some excuse before exiting promptly, but that was not exactly an option for him now.

“Keith,” Lance took in a breath, for once taking his mother advice and thinking before he spoke. “If you want to talk about something, I’m here for you. I know I’ve been kind of a dick in a past, but really, I am here for you.”

“I appreciate it,” Keith said, his anger seeming to dissipate into the steamy noontime air. “But truly I don’t want to talk about it Lance. Okay?”

Lance knew he should have just let the subject drop. He should have let Keith be. Why would Lance even expect for the guy to open up to him? It’s not like the two had been very close before the crash. In fact that had been anything but close. When the two were together they always squabbled about something usually small and pointless. Shiro usually had step in and pull them apart before things got ugly. Lance couldn’t even count the number of times he’d said something just to piss Keith off and get him all riled up. Why? Keith was usually so perfect and everyone had always thought Lance was just a screw up, and a little bit of him liked being able to get a rise out of Keith, to see him get hot and flustered, to see that calm composure crack and give way stuttering and odd sentences. It was petty, but Lance was petty and right now was no exception.

“Yeah, well,” Lance said, feeling anger bubble up inside him. “You never want to talk, to anyone, ever!”

“Better than-” Keith begins in a snappy tone and Lance thinks he’s won, but then Keith stops mid-sentence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking. “Look, I know you like talking through your feelings, but I don’t… I’m sorry.”

Lance felt shocked. Did Keith just reign in his temper? He’d never done that before. Instantly Lance felt ashamed.

“Sorry,” He mumbled. “That was kind of assholish of me.”

Once again they were alone in their silence.

“Hey, when we head back, can I try walking?” Keith asked carefully after a moment.

Lance let out a sigh getting to his feet. “Sure.”

Chapter Text

Keith

Keith let out a soft sigh, feeling the ache of his limbs match the ache in his chest. It had taken them nearly two hours for Keith to walk with Lance’s help back to Blue. Lance kept offering to carry him, but Keith insisted he could do this on his own. Every step had been agonizingly painful and he moved so slow. His hips and legs simply did not want to cooperate with his mind’s agenda. He leaned heavily on Lance, who was supporting most of Keith’s weight anyways. He probably should have just let Lance carry him back but he wanted to prove to himself he could do this, that he would not be beaten by this injury. His ego had suffered just as much as his body in a way. He was just being stubborn, but his pride had suffered enough. When they had finally arrived back at the lion Keith had practically collapsed on Lance. The trip had drained him completely. Lance helped into bed, forcing him to drink an entire water pouch.

“You did great,” He had reassured him. “You’ll be back to kicking Zarkon’s ass in no time at all.”

“No, it was pathetic.” Keith had croaked out breathlessly, wincing in pain. That small trek back had really taken it out of him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay awake for whatever instant meal Lance was going to prepare for them. “And I still have a long way to go.”

“Hey, just because you aren’t there yet doesn’t mean you’ll never get there,” Lance grinned, opening a food pack and dumping the powdery mixture into a pan. “Considering just how hurt you are I think that walking back just 5 days after that crash is impressive.”

Keith clenched his hand around the pouch, feeling the water squirt from the straw into his mouth violently. The crash. If he had been hurt this badly how bad was his lion hurt? He couldn’t really remember much from the crash. His memories were nothing but vapor from jumping into the wormhole until he’d woken up in Blue.

“I think that accelerated healing gel is working wonders.” Lance noted as he stirred the pan. Soon the lion was filled with the scent of cooking meat as the powder began to take shape. “I think it’s chicken! Or the Altean equivalent of chicken. I think that’s a wing…”

Keith looked over. Lance was right, it looked like a chicken wing seasoned in weird spices that made his mouth water. “It’s some kind of poultry.”

Lance poked it with the ration spoon. “It smells like mama’s achiote chicken.”

“What?” Keith asked taking a sniff. It smelled really good.

“It’s kind of like orange chicken? But not really.” He said sticking his finger in and licking it. “Woah, tastes like achiote chicken.”

Keith sat up to do the same. He let the flavors dance over his tongue, savoring the delightful spices. Suddenly he wasn’t so tired. He could definitely stay up for this.

“It’s been so long since I had my mom’s cooking.” Lance sighed, staring forlornly into the bubbling pan on the hot plate.

“What did she make?” He asked, sneaking another finger into the pan. Lance smacked his hand away.

“A lot of traditional dishes like arroz con pollo, fritas, plantains, but she also had a rebellious streak.” Lance snickered. “Despite my abuela’s protests she’d make pizza and hot dogs. Never a dull meal in the McClain  home that’s for sure.”

“Your mom sounds like an interesting woman.” Keith said, leaning against the wall for support.

“She is,” Lance looked up at the ceiling. “When she was 16 she dyed her hair just to defy her parents. Never stopped really. When I was younger she had vibrant pinks and purples. She used to let me come to the hairdressers’ with her to pick out the color, but after she married papa she toned it down a bit. Mostly more natural colors, but never her natural born hair color.”

Lance laughed and Keith joined a bit, but a question plagued his mind.

“So, were you born out of wedlock?” He asked a little tentatively, not wanting to upset Lance. He had a little experience in the area of nontraditional families. "You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, I was.” Lance confirmed, letting out a huff of air, stirring the chicken (chicken?) a few times. “I guess part of that rebellious streak was me. I guess you could say I was the ultimate act of defiance.”

“Oh,” Keith didn’t know what to say.

“It made my grandparents so upset when she told them, my abuela kicked her out of the house. My dad’s family was more understanding, they took her in.” Lance continued. “She graduated high school and had me that summer. By then she had her own apartment and my dad was in college. They waited until he graduated to get married and have more kids. I guess they wanted to follow the path of life correctly after their mistake.”

Keith could hear the self depreciation in his voice. Did Lance really think he was a mistake? He was annoying, loud, and maybe a little bit of a jerk at times, but Lance was not a mistake, not by a long shot. Keith knew how it felt to be a mistake. His own parents, the people who supposedly loved him unconditionally, had given him up without ever looking back. He grappled with feeling like one because he was an orphan, like the world did not need him and would be better off without him. Lance did not need to feel like that.

“Hey Lance, look at me.” Keith said. Lance lifted his head to reveal the most dejected expression the blue paladin had ever worn. “You’re not a mistake Lance.”

Lance blinked as if in shock, but slowly a grin began to creep onto his face.

“Of course I’m not a mistake!” He boasted, his chest puffing out a bit. “I’m the best fighter pilot at the Garrison and the best paladin by far.”

Keith couldn’t help but smile a bit. There was the Lance he knew. “Yeah yeah, now can you check on the chicken? I’m starved.”

Now, hours after a good meal and a hard workout (for Keith at least) he should be sleeping soundly. Lance certainly was. One good thing about sleeping next to Lance, he didn’t snore, but he did mumble a lot in his sleep. It was always in spanish so Keith had no idea what the guy was rambling about. Keith’s spanish knowledge was limited to what he remembered from the wall of colors in his elementary art teacher’s room and the Dora the Explora that seemed to always be playing the lobby of the Department for Children’s Services. Currently he was mumbling something about… armor for nachos? ( “Buenas noches mi amor….” ) Keith didn’t know, but what he did know was that Lance was breathing into his fucking ear. But it wasn’t the fact that Lance was practically whispering into his ear that was keeping Keith awake, it was the thought of Lance’s skin.

The more Keith tried not to think of Lance’s skin the more it seemed to creep into his thoughts. As a teenage boy this should be normal, more or less. Keith was well aware, thanks to space dad lectures, of the changes his body was going through and how they affected his mind, but the knowledge wasn’t exactly comforting in this scenario, because this scenario didn’t exactly fit the lecture Shiro had given them. He didn’t like Lance, at least not like that, but he wanted Lance to hug him again. Not in a sexual way, not in the ‘special hug’ way Shiro tried to use to explain sex to Pidge before she made it very clear she knew what sex was. Keith remembered that talk vividly. After some ‘discussion’ Allura had decided that the paladins should have ‘Reproductive Knowledge’ of some of the alien species they may encounter. That of course meant Allura and Coran would have to learn how humans reproduced and, while Lance eagerly had volunteered his services, Allura decided that Shiro would be a better instructor, and he was. He was knowledgable and non judgemental, just like a leader should be, but even so Keith hated every excruciating moment of it, especially when Shiro got to the gay section.

Keith knew he was gay, he’d known from a young age that he preferred guys, but a part of him still struggled with it. He accepted his gay thoughts, enjoyed them even, especially the ones involving Shiro and his big strong arms and muscular body… Yeah, Keith had it bad, or used to have it bad for Shiro. The past couple of days he wasn’t thinking about the black paladin nearly as much, but listening to Shiro give sexual education had been hell. Sort of. Heaven in the descriptions and the fantasies he’d  been given, hell in knowing that it’d never happen. Not with Shiro at least, the guy was probably straighter than Lance.

Regardless, Keith knew he was gay, and a small part of him hated himself for it.

Over the years Keith focused on squashing that little voice. With every new experience he’d brush off the nagging whine of ‘what if…’ only to feel the full guilt of it later. He’d be returning to his dorm in the Garrison and feel it slam into him at the speed of light. He’d flop onto his bed and wrestle with his thoughts until falling into a restless sleep and it was all because of his foster-father. Keith wondered if he was only gay because of what his foster-father had done to him. He wondered if he was only gay because of what had been done to him at such a tender age. He wondered if his body had truly enjoyed it and that was why he was gay. He remembered how his traitorous body had reacted under those touches, the feelings that had rushed through him, and how he hated every moment of it. But what if his body hadn’t? It had taken him years for Keith to even see his body as his own, and there were days when he wondered if it would ever be his again.

So as he lay on the blanket next to a soundly sleeping Lance he hated himself for wanting Lance to wrap his arms around him again. It wasn’t even the feel of Lance’s skin against his that he longed for, it was just the warmth. Growing up he’d never really had a genuine hug, except from maybe Martha, and those hugs had always felt tainted by the knowledge that his foster-father knew these arms too. He’d grown up without real affection and the fact that it had come from Lance, Lance, of all people was just so odd to him, but he wanted more of it.

He whispered out a soft swear, turning away from Lance and closing his eyes. Maybe he could imagine it was Shiro…

He was 9. It was his birthday. He’d only just moved into his new foster home last month so his foster parents threw him only a small party. They’d ordered his favorite pizza, barbeque with pineapple (tomatoes tasted weird to him) and his new foster-mother had made him a cake and they were letting him stay up extra late to watch Harry Potter. Wedged between his new foster-parents, fuzzy quilt over his legs and a big bowl of popcorn in his lap, he felt happy. He asked himself as he watch Harry discover his father’s invisibility cloak if this is what it felt to have a real family. He’d been in and out of group homes and foster families all his life and nowhere had he ever felt like he belonged. But he liked his new foster-parents.

His first few days in his new home he wasn’t sure if he would. Most of the time he went to crowded group homes and families who were so overrun with children that they didn’t quite try to get to know Keith at all. So he usually shirked around the edges of a new home, avoiding talking to people unless he had to and hiding in his room as much as possible, but Frank and Martha Galbrathe had a large spacious home with a big backyard and lovely trees to climb in. Keith began to spend his days tucked away in a tree or a chair, reading or doodling. He was like a little ghost, floating from room to room, speaking to no one, coming into the presence of others only when he happened to cross paths with them. Besides himself only 3 people lived in this home: his foster parents, a stay at home mom and a father who worked late and went on frequent business trips, and his foster grandpa who insisted Keith call him ‘Papa’.

Papa fascinated little Keith. He was tall, easily over 6 feet, and wore glasses that he’d have to push up his nose occasionally. His hair was whiter than snow and balding. He had a whiskery white mustache, that Keith wanted to touch, but he resisted. Papa scared him a little. He’d never had a grandpa before and never one as eccentric as papa. Papa loved peanut butter everything. He put it on his toast, cereal, crackers, everything. Martha had to hide the peanut butter but papa always found it. She’d come in to see papa opening a new jar and would exclaim “I just bought that!” and papa would wink at Keith.

Papa enjoyed card games, even if he had to play them by himself. He liked puzzles and riddles and knock knock jokes. He owned an old phonograph and played old music all the time. He had boxes and boxes of old black discs of music. He took very good care of his collection, organizing and cleaning them with care. It was during one of these afternoons where papa had been selecting a disc to play that he reached out to Keith.

Keith was standing in the doorway, watching his foster grandpa run his fingers over the disc casing, searching for a certain one. He had know idea how papa had known Keith had been standing there. Papa’s back was turned and Keith had made no noise to indicate his presence.

“Keith?” His papa called out softly, turning around to look at the little boy. “Your spry eyes are much better suited for this task than mine. Would you help me find a song?”

Keith felt his toes curl in his new sneakers. A part of him wanted to run away. He didn’t know this ‘papa’ and didn’t trust him. But a bigger part of him wanted to run towards him and help in anyway he could. Papa’s voice had been gentle and quiet, and seemed to coax him. Slowly he began to shuffle forward, kneeling down beside the shelves.

“I’m looking for ‘Snoopy and the Red Baron’.” Papa said, placing a warm hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith had no idea what do with this new touch, but he liked it. He looked out at the shelves, skimming their titles until he found it. His little fingers plucked the disc from the shelf and handed it to a smiling papa.

“Thank you!” Papa beamed gently setting the disc in the phonograph and setting the needle. A vibrant tune began to play, telling the story of the great ace pilot Snoopy and his encounter with the Red Baron as papa told Keith about his own time as a pilot. Keith listened in awe to the stories of jets soaring across the endlessly blue sky. They spent the rest of the afternoon up in the attic, listening to old songs and papa’s stories and it was with great reluctance that Keith let himself be led downstairs for dinner.

That evening he came out of the shower to find his foster-parents and papa watching the news. Without any hesitation he crawled into papa’s open lap, and when papa’s stubble scratched his cheeks he let out a giggle. His foster parents looked at each other in surprise. In the 3 weeks Keith had been there he hadn’t smiled once but here he was, giggling in papa’s lap. Martha started crying.  

After that Keith began to open up to his family and here he was snuggled soundly between his parents as papa snored in a nearby armchair. Today had been a good day, Keith decided as his eyelids grew heavy. Stuffed with cake and exhausted from his big day Keith began to doze contentedly. The sound of Harry Potter began to fade away as his world grew fuzzy. He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew somebody was scooping him up. He let his small body be lifted easily, still half asleep.

“I’ll take him to bed,” Whispered the voice of his foster-father. Keith’s nuzzled into the crook of his neck, feeling the deep, soft vibrations of his foster-father’s throat. Fingers ran through his black hair and lips placed a kiss on his forehead. He had the sensation of being carried slowly up the stairs and into his room. He was being set on his bed, head lolling on his pillow. He expected for his foster-father to pull the covers over him and maybe whisper ‘good night’.

But that’s not what happened.

Keith woke up completely disoriented. His heart pounded as fear prickled at his skin. His whole body felt nauseous and he scrambled for some kind of container, ignoring the protests of Lance and his own body as the ration food crawled up his throat to make a second appearance.

“Keith…?” Lance called sleepily. “You okAY, WOAH.”

Lance’s voice lost its sleepy quality as Keith vomited spectacularly. The stench of puke quickly filled the room as orange colored chunks flew everywhere splattering everything in their path. Keith’s whole body shook uncontrollably. He seemed to lose all sense of reality to the icy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t hear Lance calling to him or see the mass of regurgitated chicken (chicken?) in front of him or feel his body keel forward. Hands were on him now. How many? Just two. He recognized the tan skin as Lance’s. They were pulling him back, back into arms that held him as he… he… was he sobbing? Yes, he was sobbing. Gasping for air, sputtering loudly into whoever was holding him.

“Keith… shhh… it’s okay.” Lance hushed him soothingly. His voice was usually so loud and abrasive, but now he had softened it into a quiet murmur.

“I’m-m… I’m okay.” He managed, still feeling the tears rolling down his cheeks. He had his face pressed into Lance’s chest. Lance smelled good, surprisingly so. Keith couldn’t quite identify them, he took deep breaths, which helped him calm down. His mind began to clear, his stomach settled.

“You just threw up.” Lance mumbled, rubbing Keith’s back softly. Keith realized what Lance smelled like. He smelled like a mixture of vanilla and rain. An odd combination, but certainly not unpleasant and it seemed to fit Lance. “And earlier this week you woke up screaming. Keith, I don’t think you’re okay.”

“It was… just a n-nightmare.” He sniffled, wiping at his wet eyes with his good hand. Damn. Keith hated when he stuttered. It made him feel so helpless. “I’m fine, quit your mama worrying.”

“Let’s get some fresh air,” Lance sighed, ignoring his comment and helping Keith up.

Lance helped him hobble outside, sitting on the steps that led up to the cockpit. The cool night air was refreshing on Keith’s skin and he let Lance wrap an arm around him, grateful for the warmth. Night here was a little different from night on Earth. For one, the moon here was red. A vibrant crimson orb among brilliant stars. And then there was the stars themselves. There were so many of them, pinpricks of light in the black canvas of night. There hadn’t been this many stars on Earth, not even in the desert. Light pollution had hidden them from view before but now, on this virgin planet untouched by man’s inventions, Keith could see so many. He wished he had a camera so he could remember this sky. After a few minutes he felt more at peace than he had in weeks.

“Crazy nightmare?” Lance asked, looking at him with those blue eyes.

Keith nodded, tearing his eyes away from the sky to glance at Lance. The moonlight illuminated half of his face, leaving the other half shaded by darkness.

“Want to tell me about it?” He asked.

Keith shook his head gently. No way in hell he was telling Lance about his fucked up past. He didn’t want or need Lance’s pity or sympathy. It wouldn’t fix the crimes committed against him. Plus it was Lance. Maybe he had found new reasons over the past couple of days to respect and appreciate Lance, even like him, but he still wasn’t about to tell him everything, and not for the first time Keith felt envy raise it’s ugly head. He’d always been a little envious of Lance. The blue paladin could make friends so easily. His humor and language might be crude but people couldn’t help but forge a bond with Lance. Lance had grown up loved, in a big family, with loving parents. He hadn’t been shuffled around from home to home, changed schools 4 times in one year, worried about whether or not tonight he’d be left in peace. Lance was so laidback and easygoing, comfortable in many situations. Keith was always untrusting and behind his cool, tough guy demeanor he held back a lot of fear.

“Is it about the crash?” Lance asked. Here it was, Lance had offered him a perfect alibi. Keith snatched it up and sprinted with it. Technically he wouldn’t even be lying. He’d had a few nightmares about the crash. They just weren’t what was plaguing him.

“Yeah,” He huffed focusing on the bright scarlet moon.

“Me too,” Lance admitted. His gaze was focused on his feet as they rested on the metal step. “I keep replaying it over and over in my mind in all the different scenarios that could have happened. I always see it through the eyes of some sort of computer too. Like a videogame, but a really laggy one... It’s kind of like watching your worst nightmare through a strobe light?”

Keith couldn’t help himself, he let out a laugh. His laugh echoed against the barren land around them, bouncing back to them.

“Yeah, a bit weird, I know.” He chuckled. “It’s still terrifying. I’ve never really had these dreams about things that happened in my past before.”

“I have,” Keith said, sobering up a bit. Keith wasn’t looking at Lance but he could practically feel Lance’s eyes squinting at him, trying to process what Keith had said. That and the smoke, he could smell the smoke of Lance’s brain hard at work.

“I feel like you’ve been through some shit.” Lance said slowly. “And not just regular shit, but shit with the tm exponential power sign after it, you feel?”

Keith fucking snorted.

“Y-you mean the trademark symbol?” He managed through his laughter. “The ™?”

Lance grinned goofily. “If that’s what it’s called, yes!”

Keith was dying from laughing so hard. It got to a point where he couldn’t even make a sound and he was just sitting there, rocking slowly back and forth and clapping his hands slowly. Lance joined him, and it took them both a while to calm down. 5 minutes later and they were still giggling.

“Oh my god,” Keith managed, his head in his hand. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.”

“Well, you’re cheered up right? Can’t be that bad!”Lance said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith said, sitting up.

Now that the laughter was over that familiar silence settled over them, but this time it wasn’t so painful. It was less ‘I have no idea what to say’ and more of a ‘I’m out of breath from laughing so hard give me a minute’ silence. A good quiet moment between friends.

That thought struck Keith a little. Friends. Were he and Lance friends? He wasn’t sure. Yes, they were stuck on an alien planet with their only outside contact being Pidge who could only speak for a few minutes and Keith was essentially dependant on him for all of his needs, but did that make them friends? Keith had cried into Lance’s shirt as Lance had soothed him. Lance had carried him to a water spring. He’d told Lance he wasn’t a mistake. Lance had told Keith about his family. Keith knew Lance’s first name. Lance knew he was a foster kid. They’d just laughed their asses off to a joke Lance had made. Were they friends? Keith had never really had many friends before Voltron, and he didn’t really consider his fellow paladins as friends. They were more like comrades. Or crewmates in the same sinking ship or a comedy of errors. He’d never really considered one a friend, least of all Lance. Lance had always been his (self proclaimed) arch-rival and they’d always butted heads over everything. They’d poke at each other, trying to make the other bubble over in anger, but as a team they worked really well together. When it came down to it their minds thought alike and once they put past their differences even Shiro acknowledged how well they could get things done. Secretly Lance had always been the person Keith would trust the most to defend him in battle. He probably wouldn’t trust him with valuable information, but his life absolutely. He wasn’t as intelligent as Pidge, as inspiring as Shiro, or as strong as Hunk, but he was unmistakably, undeniably Lance. And the only thing in the whole universe Keith was closer to in this moment was Red.

Red. The thought of his lion twisted Keith’s stomach into tight knots. Red had trusted him as his pilot, to guide him safely through the depths of space, and Keith had failed them. How would his lion ever trust him to fly again, if at all? Right now Keith didn’t trust himself. The blurry memory of the crash replayed in his mind. He remembered them slamming into the ground with tremendous force, him crying out in pain. He closed his eyes, taking a deep calming breath. He was filled with an overwhelming sense of urgency.

“Hey Lance?” Keith called.

“Yeah buddy?” The blue paladin responded, his eyes now fixed at the sky.

“I want to see my lion.” He said quietly. Next to him Lance fell silent.

“I know you don’t remember the crash,” He began, speaking slowly as if he was choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t think it’s wise for you to see your lion. I think it’d only upset you.”
“I want to see my lion Lance.” Keith said again, more firmly this time, jaw clenching. He felt like Lance was treating him like a child whose lip quivered, ready to bawl at even the smallest of slights.

“Keith-” Lance tried to protest him but seemed to think better of it. He let out a resigned sigh. “Okay, but I’m going to warn you it… it isn’t pretty.”

“I don’t care if it’s pretty.” Keith said. “I just want to see my lion. I feel… guilty…”

“For getting your lion hurt?” Lance asked gently. Keith nodded. “I feel the same. Blue hasn’t talked to me since the crash, I don’t know if they’re too injured or mad or what.”

“I don’t think Blue is mad at you,” Keith said, managing a smile. “You and Blue are so close.”

This was true, extremely so. Lance was the closest with his lion out of all the paladins. That was another thing Keith was jealous of. Lance and Blue flew as one entity, acted as one mind. Shiro suspected it was because Lance readily trusted his Lion and never doubted Blue’s ability for a second. Pidge had said that was more because Lance was clueless than anything and, as much as everyone wanted to believe it was because of some precious quality Lance possessed, they had to admit that Pidge was probably right.

“Yeah, I guess,” Lance sighed. “But I’d honestly rather have Blue mad at me… then the alternative, you know?”

Keith nodded, understanding what Lance meant. If Blue had fallen silent because of some sort of internal malfunction it was possible she could be broken forever. Keith couldn’t really imagine never hearing Red’s soft purr beneath his touch again, and it being all Keith’s fault.

“Let’s ask Pidge tomorrow if Green is responsive.” Lance suggested. “She might know a way to fix it.”

“That’s sounds like a good idea,” Keith said, growing a little impatient. “Can we go see Red now?”

“Uh, can I clean up your vomit first?” Lance asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I really don’t want to deal with that when we get back and have it be hard and crusty. I’ve cleaned up enough little kid vomit to know it’s not really ideal to have to pry it off with your-”

“Okay!” Keith cut him off, completely grossed out by Lance’s imagery. “I’ll just wait out here and try not to barf again.”

“Please don’t,” Lance laughed heading up the stairs. “I don’t want Blue more mad at me then they already are! Oh, and I’ll bring out one of those pain killer gummies. You probably need one already.”

“Thanks Lance,” Keith chuckled, adjusting his arm sling a bit. Lance was right, he did need a painkiller. His collarbone was starting to ache painfully and forget about walking anywhere with these hips.

Pidge

Pidge Gunderson was having a hell of a time on her planet. She recently came into contact with a delightful race called the Gregoric, or at least that’s what it sounded like when they said it. She was probably spelling it wrong but it didn’t matter. What did matter was the fact that they were trying to convert Pidge to their weird ass religion. Pidge didn’t really understand it. Something about the great coming evil and having to eat roaches regularly to honor the spirits. She hadn’t really been paying attention when the alien Jehovah's witnesses came knocking at the door of her lion. She’d listen to them, then make up an excuse about leaving her hot plate running and slam the door on them. Unfortunately for her they were persistent. They returned every day and always when she was trying to eat.

Besides being religious zealots, the Gregoric also had an interesting biology. They were humanoid from the waist up, and below that they were mountain goat. Their strong legs allowed them to easily jump across the rocky terrain of the planet.

The climate here was not unlike that of rain forest. It was hot and sticky all the time and rained a lot. Large rocks jutted out from the Earth providing platforms of forests. The Gregoric jumped with ease from cliff to cliff, grappling vines for extra support. Pidge was jealous. Green had crash landed on one of the smaller platforms, only a mile in diameter. Pidge learned very quickly that a mile isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and wished she could get her lion to fly so she could get the hell away from the deer people and their ceremonial bugs and lack of science. Unfortunately they didn’t really believe in clothes either, especially below the waist. The females sometimes wore some kind of breast covering… sometimes… but nobody covered their lower body. And unfortunately they were tall. Pidge was disgusted every time she opened the door and had one of those sticking in her face.

On the 6th night she had just sat down with a steaming bowl of ration, starving after a long day of working on her lion, when the dreaded knock came. She let out a groan. These Gregorics were really testing her patience. Maybe tonight she could just tell them to go away. She really didn’t want to see their you know what even though her time with Lance both at the Garrison and as a part of Voltron she’d seen plenty. She believed no one ever really got used to that. She reluctantly set her bowl down and made her way to the door, preparing herself to be grossed out with animal parts.

“Listen, guys,” She began as she opened the door, planning to keep her eyes trained on their… hooves. “I don’t mean to be rude but-”

She wasn’t looking at deer dick. She wasn’t looking at anything deer or goat like at all. She was looking at a tall, buff man with a scar over his nose, a metal prosthesis, and a tuft of hair on the very top of his head that had turned white from the stress of being a Galra prisoner. His voltron armor was scratched and scuffed up and his left eye was covered in bandages.

She was looking at Shiro.

She’d never been more happy to see space dad in her life.

Lance

Lance came out with a blanket.

“It’s cold and you’re still healing.” He said as he wrapped the blanket around a protesting Keith. “If you want me to take you to Red you have to stay warm.”

“Since when did you become my mom!” He snapped, but his voice lacked its usual venom.

“Do you want me to carry you or are you going to walk?” He asked, securing the blanket by tying the corners. Now Keith looked a little like a superhero. A grumpy superhero.

Actually Keith was a grumpy superhero. Lance remembered how he and his siblings used to pretend they were superheroes, saving the world from everything evil in the world. They’d tie blankets around the neck and run around allowing their capes to whip behind them as if they were flying. As the kids grew older Lance began to pretend to be a wicked villain dubbed ‘Mr. Man’ and let his siblings vanquish him again and again. Secretly he hated being the bad guy, but it was so worth it to hear his brothers and sisters giggle as he died in the most absurd and dramatic ways possible. Now Lance really was a superhero and Zarkon was the dastardly Mr. Man who was out to take away all things good and fun, like ice cream and cartoons. As a kid he always believed that heroes always win and that evil could never prevail, even at the Garrison he had that mindset, but now that he was part of Voltron he realized just how hard superheroes must work to actually defeat Mr. Man and in his case Zarkon. It must be easy to get discouraged too. Life isn’t just good triumphs evil. It’s unfortunately not that simple.

“I’ll walk,” Keith huffed. “Do I have to wear this? You do know that you don’t get sick from just being in the cold, right? My fucking arm won’t fall off or anything.”

“It might not MAKE you sick,” Lance corrected as he bent down a little and supported Keith. “But being cold lowers your body’s ability to fight infection.”

“Oh look,” Keith smirked as they shuffled forward. “You paid attention once. Good for you.”

“You know you’ve been so good up to now,” Lance sniffed.

“What are you going to do?” Keith teased, but this time it was playful. “Ground me?”

“Thinking about it!” He retorted. “Or maybe I should just tell space dad about your bad behavior.”

Keith let out a mock groan of annoyance. “Do not tell me you’re a tattle tale.”

Lance grinned. He liked this new, playful bantering with Keith. Before their arguments were always charged with competitive energy. It was nice to be able to interact with Keith and not feel like he had to one up him.

“Your walking is really improving,” Lance commented. “Is it still painful?”

As if on cue Keith winced, nodding. “Not nearly as bad, but painful.”

“Maybe later we can try walking on your own,” Lance suggested. “Or some exercise at least.”

“That’d be nice,” Keith said. “Don’t want to get flabby.”

“Please,” Lance waved him away. “You’re the space defender prodigy. You’ll be fine. To be honest it’s me I’m worried about. I need to get into a regular routine here if I want to keep being the best!”

Keith rolled his eyes, smiling a bit. “How much further is it?”

“Not much, you’ll be able to see it when we crest over this- Oh shit.” Lance froze, staring ahead and realizing that they were screwed. Unbelievably, irrevocably screwed.

“What is it...?” Keith asked, a little out of breath from their trek, but Lance could still hear it falter off as Keith saw it too.

There, swarming around the fallen red lion like bees to a hive, were dozens of Galra soldiers.

Chapter Text

Lance

No, not bees. Bees are too pure, too innocent to be compared to Galra soldiers. They were more like wasps. Those fuckers who literally do nothing for the ecosystem but still feel that it is acceptable to sting anyone who comes within a fifty mile radius of them. They don’t even pollinate. What assholes. Wasps even took over beehives sometimes. Though in this case perhaps the sentries could be better compared to flies, buzzing around the decaying carcass of a dead animal in the way they scurried about the shell of the fallen Red lion, but in general the Galra empire itself was more like a wasp than a fly and not just in this case. Of course the more Lance thought about it the more similarities he could find between the Galra and wasps. Both were aggressive, dangerous, and essentially the spawn of Satan. The Galra simply kicked people out of their homes, enslaved them, destroyed all other forms of life. They really were wasps. Except purple. And fuzzier. And also they had guns. The guns are kind of a problem.

“Get down!” Keith hissed half shoving Lance to the ground with his good arm.

“What are we gonna do?” Lance half whispered, half wailed. He had never been good in stressful situations and could feel panic rising in his chest and that familiar buzz under his skin. As a child Lance was easily overwhelmed. Crowded areas, loud noises, emotions, and bright colors made him feel hyper. He always reacted in one of two ways: no control or completely shutting down. He had to go to school dances wearing ear plugs so he wouldn’t freak out on anyone. The music was always so loud that him not being able to hear anyone was standard. As he grew older he had develop ways of grounding himself before he lost himself in the sensations that flooded his mind. It had been months since he was last overstimulated to the point of a panic attack, but he could feel himself teetering over the edge. He was honestly surprised he hadn’t freaked out from joining Voltron. Space ships? Daily near death experiences? Weird alien technology that went completely over his head? That should have been overstimulation central, but maybe his brain kept just rescheduling his panic attack seeing as just how important saving the universe was. Now though, realizing just how screwed they were, and knowing they had a snowball’s chance in hell of not only saving themselves but the entire universe, on this alien terrain surrounded by sights and smells and being totally responsible for Keith’s care, Lance was almost positive he couldn’t escape this one. The familiar ringing filled his ears as he felt himself detach from reality. He could feel himself floating away, shutting down his ability to think or feel, just to escape the buzzing, the itching, the loud noises, the overwhelming need to run, or cry, or scream, or die.

“Stay calm,” Keith said in a steady tone not unlike Shiro’s voice, placing a firm hand on Lance’s shoulder. “We have to stay calm. Our destruction is ensured if we don’t keep a level head.”

Lance took a deep breath, closing his eyes. If he cut off his sight, the sense that humans relied most heavily on, he could focus on something and yank himself back to Earth… so to speak as he wasn’t actually on Earth right now. Keith was right, this was not a convenient time to check out. He focused on the feel of Keith’s hand on his shoulder, taking deep breaths. He was calm now. He could think.

“Okay…” He said shakily, opening his eyes slowly. “We can’t just let them take Red,”

“We need to get back to Blue,” Keith mumbled, glaring with hate at the Galra soldiers. “If they’re here we’ll have to hide Blue somehow.”

“Pidge has a cloaking device installed,” Lance said, remembering the new software their brilliant mechanic had installed before leaving for their last mission together. “If one of us can get back there and turn it on we should be good.”

“She said it doesn’t last long,” Keith reminded him, not taking his eyes off of the waspish movements of the enemy.

“Then we’ll have to camouflage Blue using other means.” Lance huffed. “Mud, rocks, leaves, that kind of stuff. We can use the cloaking device as cover until then.”

Keith opened his mouth as if trying to find a reason to protest, but he shut it slowly. “Yeah, actually that might work.”

“See I have good ideas too!” Lance grinned despite himself and the awful situation they were in.

“Then it’s decided,” Keith sighed, rolling his eyes. “You’ll have to carry me back to Blue so we can-”

“What about Red!” Lance hissed. “You can’t just leave her to be taken by the Galra!”

“Red is a him. ” Keith corrected, narrowing his cold gray, startling  pretty, eyes. Lance had never taken time to look people in the eyes before. He didn’t like making eye contact with people unless he really liked them or trusted them. He still had trouble looking Hunk in the eyes and that was his best bro. Usually when he looked into people’s eyes he got felt vexatious. He usually just focused on people’s noses. His mother had always told him that not looking people in the eyes was a sign of sociopathy, but Lance knew he wasn’t a sociopath. Lance had ADHD, and those four letters had been raising hell for almost every aspect of his life.

“Okay! Him!” He muttered, a little exasperated, trying to push his wandering mind back into focus. “Whatever, all that matters is that we can’t let the Galra get their hands on him.”

“I know,” Keith agreed, eyes moving back to watch the Galra. “But our safety is much more important. They already know that we’re here, or that I’m here. They’ll be looking for me at the very least. Besides what can we do? Storm the lion? I’m in no condition, you know that better than anyone.”

“You can’t,” Lance nodded, an idea coming to him. “But I can.”

“You’re so not going in there alone,” Keith protested, his voice getting low and dangerous. “Do you even have your blaster?”

Lance held up his bayard which he kept clipped to his belt. He kept it on him at all times. He might throw caution to the wind when it came to trying alien fruits, but he still wanted to feel safe.

“And… and what about your armor?” He asked, a little desperately. Lance could tell Keith was only searching for reasons to not let him go.

“There is only a few sentries.” Lance argued. “Maybe 20? I can take them down easily on my own.”

“What if they’ve already alerted Zarkon?” Keith countered. “Backup might be on it’s way.”

Lance shrugged. “We’ll have to take that chance. We can’t let them take the Red lion, you know it and so do I. You on board or not?”

“Fine, do it.” He agreed reluctantly. “But what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“You head back to the Blue lion, turn on the cloaking device.” Lance instructed him. It felt weirdly satisfying to be the person in charge for once. He wondered if Shiro felt like this all the time. “See if you can get a hold of Pidge. She might be able to help.”

“It’ll take me forever to get back there!” Keith breathed, but Lance could tell he was going to do it.

“It will if you keep trying to argue!” Lance replied, getting a little annoyed. “Just go, I’ll cover you if things get ugly.”

“Fine!” Keith grunted starting to shuffle forward.

“Faster than that!” Lance whispered, his bayard forming into his familiar gun.

“I’m trying!” Keith retorted, almost too loudly. Fortunately the Galra didn’t seem to hear him.

Lance watched Keith hobble over the hill so he was out of sight. Then he turned his focus back on the Galra infested Red lion.

“Show time,” He murmured moving closer to his target. He scuttled along the ground hiding behind  large rocks, managing to stay out of sight but get within earshot.

“You think it’s the real thing?” One of the sentries asked.

“Looks like it,” His partner responded. “But you know how crafty the Ambrusians are.”

Lance had no idea who or what Ambrusians were, but if they were giving the Galra trouble he decided they must be alright.

“That’s true,” Noted the first. “But shouldn’t we alert base anyways?”

“And risk it being a fake and get ourselves slaughtered?” Laughed the second. “Not happening.”

So they hadn’t called in for backup, that should make Lance’s job much easier. He’s just got to eliminate every Galra here before they can alert their base. He was a good shot, hell, he was a brilliant one even, this should be a piece of cake. He’d faced hundreds of Galra before, why was his heart beating so fast?

“Hey, after this want to get something to eat together?” The first one asked.

“Dude! I could totally go for some-” But whatever the sentry had a craving for he never said because Lance had shot him down. He didn’t give the second one time to react, cutting him down easily with his blaster. 2 down, 18 or so more to go. The sound of the gun firing had alerted a few more sentries, but Lance quickly silenced them. He had shot down about 6 or 7 in the span of 1 minute.

“Somebody get back to the base!” One of them shouted. “Confirm that the Blue Paladin is here!”

“Do not do that!” Lance countered firing his blaster at the pair of sentries loading onto one of those air bike thingies. He took out the engine before the Galra, effectively preventing them from getting backup. They were stupid enough to have only brought along one.

By now though the Galra had recovered from their initial shock and had begun to fire. Lance switched to his shield to block for a few moments before returning to the offense. 10 down, he could make his way to the inner part of the lion. Nothing to be scared of. Everything was going just fine. Adrenaline flushed the remaining fear from Lance’s system. Time seemed to slow as he made his way to the door, shooting down any remaining Galra. He was totally focused on ascertaining his goal: to recapture the Red lion. Well, technically it hadn’t been captured in the first place, but Lance would prefer it stay that way.

He kicked open the door to the cockpit, prepared to unleash a taste of his Voltron fury only to be tackled by a sentry. He dropped his bayard in surprise and felt his head slam into the metal floor. The impact left him dazed, unable to fight back against the strong Galra hands that pinned him down.

“Tie him up,” One of them barked. “He can be proof that this isn’t an Ambrusian scam. Send search patrols out. If this one is here then his lion must be here too, and the Red paladin may still be alive, keep an eye out for him. He can’t have gone far based on the level of blood loss.”

Keith. Keith was still out there, he was in danger. He had to get to Keith and warn him, defend him. He began to struggle against the Galra but it was no use. He tried biting at the arms that snaked ropes around him. They hadn’t gotten to his legs yet, so he made use of his long ass legs, kicking at the legs of the Galra, successfully knocking over one.

“Somebody knock him out!” Growled out of the sentries he’d knocked over. “Better yet just kill him. His corpse should suffice as evidence.”

The commander pondered this, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “Excellent observation. Do as he says.”

Lance watched one of the sentries raise their long spear over Lance’s chest and felt all feeling drain out of his body. Looking into the face of his murderer Lance knew this was it. His family would never know what had happened to him and would wonder forever just where he’d gone after the Garrison event. He’d never ruffle June’s fluffy curls, or taste his mother’s cooking. He would never go swimming at the beach, feel that salty water rush over him in waves. He’d never see rain again and God, he missed rain and the way it washed over dirt paths forgiving the sins of its travelers, renewing the dry earth. If only people were as kind as rain.

He squeezed his eyes, not wanting to cry in his last moments. That would be humiliating. He took a deep breath waiting for the spear to pierce his chest, bracing himself for pain. Was dying itself painful? He didn’t know. Hopefully it wasn’t. Lance hated being in pain. He tried to concentrate on his heartbeat. He could feel his pulse pounding through his head, counting his last tics of the life.

“Argh!”

A loud, pained cry broke the silence and Lance wondered who’s cry it was. Was it his own? Was he already dead and had parted from his physical body? He hadn’t felt the spear entering his chest. So death was painless. Now to find out the answer to the age old question of where does one go once they have died. He slowly opened his eyes.

Instead of Saint Peter at the pearly gates of paradise he was greeted by the image of the commander of the sentries with a spear sticking out his chest with the Galra who had been out to execute him still gripping the shaft. Lance blinked as the commander keeled over backwards and the traitor yanked the spear from their chest.

“Excellent work Imagene,” Said the other “Galra”. He reached up sliding off his mask to reveal a more human looking face. His skin was more the color of Lance’s own and the purple looked to be body paint. A mess of bright white curls tumbled down from the helmet, settling around his handsome face.

“Do you think the patrol intercepted the other Galras?” Imagene asked. She too removed her helmet, letting hair the color of cinnamon cascade down her shoulders. The front half was swept out of her eyes, held back by an ornate hair clip that resembled a solar system. It had a large golden center with rings of planetary orbits that held little jewels that Lance guess represented planets. Her skin was like the fine porcelain china his grandmother used on at Christmas and special events and when she opened her eyes they were a shade of vivid violet. Both of these newcomers had pointed ears, like elves, and small noses. Lance half-wondered in his daze if they had wings under those Galra uniforms. Imagene used her hand to rub off the purple body paint, making a disgusted face. Even with that face Lance thought she was downright gorgeous, and if he wasn’t still woozy from slamming his head into the floor you can bet your asscheeks he’d flirting with her.

“What do we do with the Red lion Vivirdian?” She asked. “It’s Altean, so our mechanics should be able to work on it.”

“I’ll have it moved to cavern.” He said running a finger over the dashboard slowly.
“D-don’t…” Lance tried to speak but the words felt scrambled in his brain, struggling to form a logical flow. “Don’t… touch!”

Both of the strangers looked over at Lance as if remembering for the first time he was here despite the fact that, you know, Imagene almost impaled his chest.

“The Blue paladin,” She knelt down reverently, dipping her head and Vivirdian did the same. People, or aliens for that matter, usually didn’t bow to Lance.

“Here,” Imagene pulled the clip from her hair and slashed easily through the ropes that had bond Lance. Lance looked up at her gratefully, rubbing his hands.

“Thanks,” He managed, wincing a bit as head gave a twinge of pain. “Who…?”

“I think he’s got a concussion,” Vivirdian murmured ignoring Lance’s attempt at a question and squinting into his eyes. Lance looked away uncomfortably. “See his pupils?”

“Perhaps I tackled him too hard.” Imagene said, her voice concerned. “We should collect his fellow paladin and take them back to Ambrusia. Galmadon was correct, that blood loss is not good and even if he is alive he’ll need treatment.”

“Who are you?” Lance managed, his head beginning to clear a little. They glanced at him again in surprise as if they had in the last 30 seconds forgotten he was there.

“I am Imagene of the Ambrusian people, and this is Vivirdian,” Said Imagene with a smile. “We are old friends of the Altean people. You can trust us.”

“Keith…” Lance muttered, dizzy and dazed.

“Is that the Red paladin?” Vivirdian asked. Lance managed a nod. “Where is he?”

Lance’s head pounded as the world swirled around him as he raised a hand and pointed in the direction of the Blue lion. Then Imagene and Vivirdian’s voices became distant as his vision faded away. He slumped forward and blacked out.

Lance remembered being diagnosed with ADHD when he was in 2nd grade. It was his teacher Senorita Varela who had recognized his inattentiveness and high energy for what it was. She pushed for Lance to receive free testing from the school. The school balked at first. Lance was a bright kid who just happened to have a few behavioral issues. They didn’t see a need, but after continued persistence from both his parents and Srta. Varela they caved and paid for his evaluation. Little innocent Lance had no idea what was going on, but he liked Sr. Valdez who played card games with him and asked him how his day had been and how his schoolwork was going. Since the arrival of the twins his parents hardly had time for Lance anymore. Not that he minded much, he understood babies were a lot of work and his mother and father still kept friday board game nights sacred so he was fine with it and Lance like caring for Michael and Peter. They were so little and cute. He was anxious for them to grow older so he could take them to the beach and show them how to boogie board and build the biggest sand castles. Still, 6 year old Lance enjoyed the extra attention.

Senor Valdez was a young man, fresh from earning his doctorate in pediatric psychology. He was tall with tan skin, curly black hair, dark eyes, and always clean shaven. He wore casual shirts and jeans to work which some might call unprofessional, but a kid would be delighted to see. He would wear loud hawaiian prints in the dead of winter and ugly christmas sweaters in July. His office was essentially a kid heaven, well stocked with toys, books, and soft places to sit. He didn’t have a formal desk, just a large squishy bean bag and a small board her used to write on. He did have a file for his papers, but it was covered in stickers and posters so not to detract from the otherwise childlike wonder of his work space. His walls were covered in children’s artwork, posters, and pictures. In the middle of his office ceiling, which was already speckled with those glow in the dark stars, was a hook that he would hang different things from. A tire or canvas swing, a rope ladder for a child to climb on, gymnastic rings, trapeze, just something for the more interactive child to use and play with (with a mat beneath to prevent injuries). Lance loved the tire swing the most. Despite all the things in Sr. Valdez’s office, he somehow managed to keep it neat and orderly every time Lance made entered. The office was also next door to a big park, and sometimes Sr. Valdez would take Lance there to play and exert his tireless energy.

Sr. Valdez made him do a variety of odd activities. Some of them were word games like listing the words he associated with sky, how many words he could make when given a group of letters, which thing did not belong in the set given, or how fast he could say the alphabet backwards. Lance was really good at that one. He’d been practicing the alphabet backwards since he was 4 and learned the term ‘knowing something inside out and backwards’. He remembered one day Sr. Valdez let him play a computer game. Lance’s house had a computer, but it was slow and there were no games on it so this was a big treat. He stared in awe at the sleek keyboard and clear screen as Sr. Valdez explained to him the game.

“Do you know what a cube is Lance?” He asked and Lance nodded. They’d just covered shapes in school and Lance could easily identify cubes, cylinders, pyramids, just about anything. “Excellent! And you know how one is constructed right?”

“6 faces, 4 vertices, and 12 edges.” He murmured.

“Then you are going to absolutely rock at this game,” He said with a smile. “The screen will show you an assortment of squares, and if they make a cube click the checkmark and if they don’t click the x.”

It seemed simple enough, but Lance wasn’t sure if he’d like this game. It sounded suspiciously like those educational games teachers are always trying to get you to play, and they always turned out to be a huge flop. But Sr. Valdez had never failed Lance before so he nodded and started round one.

Lance could easily figure out which arrangements of squares could form cubes and which couldn’t. With every new diagram he was presented he ran through a mental check list. Did it have exactly 6 squares? Were there any in a line of 5? Was there a group of squares clustered into a two by two square? If it fit these requirements he’d fold the squares up in his mind. It was absurdly easy and greatly satisfying. Sr. Valdez cheered him on as he kept going. He was even sad when the game ended. He’d gotten so into the game that he startled when the printer beside him whirred to life, spitting out a sheet of paper with strings of numbers and letters.

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing to the paper.

“Just your results,” Sr. Valdez said with a twinkle in his eye as he picked up the paper. Lance was curious as to what was on that sheet of paper, but quickly became distracted by the colorful poster on the wall next to him that listed many translations for colors in different languages. He became fascinated by it for a while, before Sr. Valdez called his attention back to him.

"Well Lance," He said, filing the sheet away into his folders. "You did very well. Not only a perfect score but you completed that puzzle set in record time. I'm very impressed."

Lance felt like he could just burst with pride. It was rare that he ever earned the title fastest or best or even perfect and ravished this sweet moment.

"How about you go get your mother and bring her back so we can tell her all about it?" He Sr. Valdez suggested and Lance ran excitedly to the lobby, grabbing his mother's sleeve and speaking in rapid Spanish about his achievement. She was very proud of him and said so, gathering him up into her arms and giving him a warm hug.

Sr. Valdez let Lance play on his own in the tire swing as he spoke with his mom. This was not uncommon so Lance tuned them out and pretended he was a tornado as he twisted the tire swing around and around, spinning until he was so dizzy he couldn't stand on the edge of the tire. It was then, as he was beginning to take a seat that he heard muffled sniffling from his mother who was sitting on the couch by Sr. Valdez's 'desk. He turned his head, confused. Sr. Valdez was rubbing her back awkwardly, giving her a Kleenex to blow her nose into. Lance became very concerned. What had happened to make his mama upset? He toddled dizzily over to her and she scooped him up and clutched him to her chest.

"Mi niño, mi hijo…" She whispered over and over, still crying. Lance squirmed, letting out a squawk of protest. He came over here to find out what was wrong not be squeezed like the oranges mama juiced for breakfast! Thankfully, she set him down, wiping her eyes.

It was then that Sr. Valdez explained that Lance had ADHD, and his mother started crying again and had to leave the room. Lance didn’t see what the big deal was. So he had trouble focusing more than other kids, not a big issue to him. He had to take medication, okay, that’s fine, but he wasn’t dying or anything and he really didn’t see what the fuss was. The innocence of childhood hides a lot from kids and for a good reason. It took years for Lance to finally understand why those four letters were such a big deal. At first it didn’t deter him one bit. He was still just a bubbly and bright and now with the right medication he was doing much better in school. Everything was going fine until 3rd grade and it was advanced learning program testing. Lance’s grades made him more than eligible to take the test and his teachers believed him more than capable, but when they turned in the application form the guidance counselor only furrowed her eyebrows.

“Do you think it’s wise for Lance to test for ALPs?” She asked Lance’s mother. Lance was clutching his mother’s hand staring up at the guidance counselor, not completely understanding what she meant. “I wouldn’t want him to get discouraged with his, you know, condition.”

“If you mean his ADHD then yes, I do know.” Lance’s mother said, her voice loud and confident. For a woman who was barely 5 foot 3 inches she could make herself seem much larger. “And I also know that the law states that my child cannot be denied testing. Dr. Valdez has kindly printed out the official documents right here.”

The guidance counselor tried to quiet her. “Ms. Mclain there is no need-”

“Section 504 states that every child has the right to receive fair and equal evaluations to those of their peers.” His mother continued, her loud voice booming through the office.

“Ms. Mclain you are making a scene!”

“A scene?!” She roared pressing the application into the flustered guidance counselor’s hands. “I will make as big a scene as I need to for my child. He will take this test next friday or I sincerely hope this school has a fantastic lawyer.” With that she whirled around and stomped from the office.

It took Lance a while to understand what that was all about, but it did come to him. The guidance counselor had been trying to deny Lance the ability to take advanced classes because of his ADHD. She had written him off as stupid and incompetent without taking time to getting to know who he was or what he was capable of. This became a common theme for the rest of his life. For a while this expectation of failure was a force that drove Lance to succeed or die trying. He wanted to prove those people and the statistics wrong. Only 5% of ADHD patients graduate college? He’d make it 6%. He struggled, as many kids do, but with hard work he could keep up. After a while though it became frustrating. No matter how hard he tried or how much he did achieve nobody seemed to be changing their opinions of him. Eventually he gave up even trying unless he was particularly interested in the subject.

At the Garrison Lance had always been something of a weapons specialist. He was a talented marksman, easily excelling at anything that involved a gun. It was one of the few classes Lance had never struggled with. For one the idea of shooting was something Lance was totally into. For another it didn’t require a book. Lance had always detested reading, especially for school. If the book didn’t capture his attention immediately he just gave up on it. And trying to read textbooks was like trying to get an airplane off the ground without starting the engines. He could sit himself down and try, but the words would floating meaninglessly through his mind. Homework felt a lot like trying to interrogate a wall. He knew what he wanted to ask, but as he questioned his resource it yielded him no answers. Just blank, empty nothingness. He would look at the letters, trying to comprehend their meaning and just feel stupid. After a while he’d just try looking it up online and asking Pidge or Hunk for help. Usually Hunk, as Pidge outright refused to reward Lance’s supposed ‘laziness’.

Lance despised the word ‘laziness’. All his life he’d been tagged by his teachers and peers as just a lazy kid. He’d been shoved to the back of classrooms, called on the least, and treated as stupid. He was in gifted classes in school because he was capable of higher level work, but nobody expected much of him and after a while Lance began to expect even less of himself. He gave up trying to prove his worth and stopped trying to hit the bare minimum. If he completed one night’s worth of homework for even one class it was nothing short of a miracle. He usually ended up doing his other classes anyways the period before, at lunch, any extra spare moment he could. He still wanted to pass and after all, he hadn’t spent summer after summer working his free time away to flunk out. Lance wasn’t really a lazy kid. Maybe unmotivated, but lazy? Never. He genuinely wanted to succeed and prove everyone wrong. In elementary school that had been his driving force. He wanted to be successful despite having ADHD, but some days it felt nobody else was rooting for him, not even his own family.

It was true that his mother had screamed down a guidance counselor to let him take the ALP placement test, but Lance got tired of being yelled at for forgetting something menial like his book bag. It had worked out in the end right? And he wasn’t failing any classes, but every poor grade felt like a nail in the cross of Christ. The endless lectures of “You will never get a good job Lance!” and “Stop using your ADHD as an excuse” wore him down. None of his other siblings were yelled at like this. They were praised for whatever grades they got, as long as his parents saw that they were doing their best they understood that it was enough, but with Lance it wasn’t. Maybe he wasn’t the most driven kid, or the most intelligent, or the most organized, but he did try. He supposed he could have tried harder, there were choices he made that were definitely not the wisest, but he’d turned out alright, but telling himself that he was fine, doing pretty good actually, wasn’t enough. He felt like a mistake. He was the one conceived out of wedlock, the ‘happy little accident’. A child should never be referred to as an accident.

Pidge

That night Pidge was sleeping better than she’d slept since the crash. On her own she’d always stare outside at the unfamiliar sky for hours, wondering if she’d ever see her friends or family ever again. She’d originally joined Voltron because she knew it was her only hope of finding her father and brother, and though now she was as dedicated to saving the Universe as everybody else, she still wanted them back. Being on her own made her miss them more than ever, and her mom. She thought about her mom a lot too. It took Pidge a horrible crash landing and a week on her own on an alien planet that to realize that her mother was now under the impression that everyone in their family was now declared deceased. She remembered how when they first found out about the Kerberos mission her mother would sit there at their kitchen table, crying long into the night. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months though she stopped crying. Instead she just sat there, staring wistfully at the door, as if any moment she expected her son and husband to walk through it like they always did when they returned from a mission, tired and maybe a little sweaty, but ready for big hugs and a good meal in their warm home and there were always plenty of both.

Home. Pidge didn’t realize how much she missed her old bed with the window that overlooked the street outside. She missed the warm scents of the kitchen wafting around the home as her mother baked her signature peanut butter cookies. She could almost feel their warm, gooey centers melting her mouth. As a child Matt would sit right in front of the stove, watching the dough balls sink into delicious circles as the warmth of the oven filled the entire house. She used to sit right there next to him, or in his lap, waiting with eager anticipation for the timer to declare that finally the cookies were ready to be consumed. They didn’t care if you were supposed to let them cool first. That’s what milk was for after all, soothing mouth burns from too hot cookies.

She’d never gotten homesick at the Garrison, she was just too focused on her goal to really think about home. Plus Hunk and Lance were always up to something which made finding peaceful moments to think about anything nearly impossible. When she joined Voltron all her efforts were channeled into saving the universe which again left her little time to think about her mother. Of course she’d been a little homesick, but it seemed silly to dwell on that when she compared it to their almost always life threatening situations. Allura and Shiro had sort of become the parental figures of Voltron anyways, more Shiro than Allura. He made sure everyone was well rested, in good condition both physically and mentally and over time Hunk, Lance, and even surly Keith had begun to feel like family, a rowdy bunch of brothers. She had even begun to view Coran as an uncle of sorts. A weird one perhaps, but still family. Now though that she was away from both her real and space families the pangs of homesickness were hitting her hard. Working on Green helped take her mind of things, but since Green still wasn’t really responding to any stimuli from Pidge it was lonely. Introverted Pidge was used to being alone, but not this alone.

But now Space Dad was here, sleeping in a little blanket burrito on the other side of the cockpit. He’d come into contact with the Gregoric who informed him that another lion, a green one, had crashed not far from where he had. They were more than happy to escort him to Pidge, requesting that he convince her to convert to their weird religion. He’d seemed pretty wiped from climbing up the huge cliffs, so after a warm meal she insisted he get to bed. It was a weird role reversal, but neither really minded much. After another hour of searching for any radio signals from the ship or the other paladins Pidge had called it an early night. She’d passed out the minute she’d curled up in her little makeshift nest in the accelerator chair and had been sleeping soundly for several hours when she was awakened by her helmet’s intercom.

“Pidge!” Keith’s voice rang in, loud and clear. “Pidge! Are you there?”

Pidge stirred, unsure if the voice had come from a dream or what. She was still sleepy, rubbing her eyes. Shiro however was fully awake, jolted to consciousness by the sound of Keith’s voice.

“Was… was that Keith?” He asked, a little alarmed, sitting up.

“Wha…” She yawned, reluctantly unfurling from the warmth of her little, fuzzy cocoon.

“Pidge! Are you there?” Keith shouted again. That was definitely real. Smashing her glasses onto her face, she flung the rest of the blankets off of her body, lunging for her helmet which was resting on the floor. Shiro, probably anxious for news of his team, beat her too it, scooping up the helmet and cradling it in his big arms like a little baby.

“Keith, this is Shiro, where are you?” He practically shouted into the helmet as Pidge slid on her knees next to him. “Pidge is right here. Are you okay? Not hurt right?”

“Shiro? Shiro! You’re alive!” Keith broke into a hysterical laugh of relief. “Holy crow…”

“Yes, I’m alive,” Shiro smiled, his tone growing tender. “And I’m glad you’re okay too.”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with Lance,” Pidge muttered, cringing a bit at his use of ‘Holy Crow’. “Now tell us what’s going on.”

“Lance and I went to check on the Red lion-” Keith began but Shiro cut him off.

“Lance? Is Lance there too?” He asked excitedly. Pidge hadn’t told him that she’d gotten into contact with Lance and Keith. It hadn’t really occurred to her actually.

“Ask about Lance later Shiro!” She yelled, growing irritated. “Tell us what’s going on!”

“Right,” Keith said, “We went to go check on the Red Lion, but when we got there the wreckage was surrounded by Galra soldiers. We weren’t spotted, but if they’ve found the Red lion they’ll be on the lookout for me. They won’t just assume I’m dead.”

“And you guys returned to the fucking Blue Lion instead of, I don’t know, stopping them?” Pidge asked, ignoring the affronted look Super Space Dad gave her at the swear word. “You morons! Even if the Red lion is nothing but shreds they could still take it and examine the machinery, maybe even repair it. You practically just gave away Voltron to the hands of the enemy.”

“Calm down Pidge,” Shiro tried to ease her but Pidge was incensed. She could have expected this blunder from Lance, but Keith?

“Lance made me come back,” Keith replied, sounding a little defeated. “He stayed there, said he could take them down by himself.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be there with him?” Shiro inquired knowing full well from time on the training deck the extent of Lance’s abilities. “He might need back up.”

“I’d be utterly useless in a fight, I can barely walk unaided, let alone take down the Galra.” Keith responded, sounding a little dejected. Pidge knew that Keith probably hated having to rely on Lance for everything. “Besides, I need to turn on some cloaking device Lance was talking about. We have to make sure that if the Galra start searching for me they don’t stumble across the Blue Lion.”

“The cloaking device only lasts 30 seconds,” Pidge explained, pushing her glasses up her nose. She heard Keith make a horrified gagging sound.

“So we’re screwed?” He asked.

“No, you’re not,” Shiro said to reassure him as Pidge said “Yes you are.” To confirm his fears. Shiro threw Pidge a look. Pidge shrugged.

“I’m just being realistic.” She said, whipping out her laptop fingers flashing over the keys. “Keith what is your current physical condition? I know you were injured badly, but have you recovered enough to possibly try to-”

She was interrupted by a loud bang, Keith’s frightened yelp, and the static that signaled a disconnection.

“Keith?” Shiro asked the static. “Keith are you there? Keith come in!”

“Damnit,” Pidge growled. “Lost connection.”

“Can you get it back?” Shiro asked, a little desperately. Pidge knew he was anxious to find out any news about the paladins, as was she.

“No, unfortunately,” She sighed closing her laptop. She set it aside and curled back up in her little mass of blankets. “Lance will probably call in the morning.”

She left out the last part, the ‘if he’s alive’, but she knew it was on both of their minds.

“We just need to sleep Shiro, we can’t do anything else.” She said, uncharacteristically calm. Usually Pidge was excitable, and impatient. If it was any other time she’d be trying desperately to get back into contact in anyway she could, but a week on this planet with nothing but the shell of a psychic robot cat and the Gregoric to talk to had sobered her out. That and her recent thoughts about her family and her mother had taken away some of her enthusiasm and Shiro, Space Dad Shiro, picked up on it.

“Pidge,” He said gently, setting down the helmet. Shiro knelt down so he was sitting on his knees. He was face to face with Pidge in her chair. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” She said bitterly, turning away.

“You’re not fine,” Shiro corrected. “You can tell me what’s going on.”

For a former Galra prisoner Shiro looked out for others more than himself. In most trauma survivors the mention of friends being potentially captured by the Galra should have caused some kind of attack, but Shiro remained calm, or as calm as he could be. Pidge saw the subtle shaking in his hands and fear glinting in his eyes, but he was in control of himself. He seemed to channel his emotions into being a leader, a parental figure.

“I… I miss my mom,” She blurted. “I didn’t even really think about her until I crashed here, but now I realized that she has no idea where I am… or my dad… or Matt…”

Her voice broke and she began to cry. Shiro rested a hand on her back soothingly.

“It’s okay,” He murmured. “It’s okay to miss them…”

She slipped her glasses off before pressing her face into the pillow and sobbing. She could feel the ache in her body as it wormed its way into every crevasse of her being. Everything inexplicably felt both empty and so full it could burst at the same time. She felt Shiro’s arms envelop her body and clung to them, crying. He held her until finally she fell asleep, exhausted, still hiccuping a little.

Keith

The bang reverberated around the lion and startled an already twitchy Keith so badly he dropped the helmet. He had no idea who or what made it but he was terrified. His heart pounded in his chest and scrambled backwards, groping the floor for his bayard. His hips ached from walking back he knew couldn’t stand up. He would be useless in a fight, but dammit he wasn’t going down cowering in a corner. He kept his sword pointed at the door, trying to ignore the fear that shook his hands as he waited for it to open, prepared to defend himself as best he could. He watched it open, gritting his teeth. This was it. Keith gripped his sword, ready to strike.

It was morning now, and as the door opened sunlight crashed in, blinding Keith. He had to squint as two forms filled the door. He couldn’t make out much through the cracks of his eyelids but he could tell that they were a) wearing Galra uniforms and b) carrying something. It took Keith to realize that something was Lance.

“Put down your weapon paladin, we did not come here to fight,” One of the voices said.

“Like hell you didn’t!” Keith snarled, relieved to hear that his voice didn’t show the sheer terror in his body. They had Lance, he couldn’t let anything happen to Lance. He managed to struggle to his feet, legs shaking uncontrollably. They wouldn’t support him for long, too drained from the events of the morning.

“We are not your enemies,” Said one of the Galra stepping forward and slipping off their helmet. Lush brown hair tumbled out to reveal a face that Keith could only describe as pixie like. Her skin, or what he could see of her skin since most of it was covered by something sneary and purple, was whiter than the moon on Earth. “We are Ambrusians, friends of Altea.”

“Set Lance down right now!” Keith growled, leveling his sword so it was pointing directly at the newcomers chest. He didn’t trust them. They could say they were anyone and still just be Galras in disguise. Even if they were who they said they were their alliance was 10,000 years ago. That’s long enough to change allegiance.

“Your friend has a concussion.” Said her companion, the one holding Lance. “And you’re not in any better shape are you.”

“I’m in good enough shape to kick your ass!” Keith snapped but then his knees buckled and he fell to the floor, breathless from the effort of supporting himself for so long. The two Ambrusians exchanged glances, not convinced in the slightest.

“You are Keith right?” The girl asked.

Keith glared up at her, eyes filled with hate. Here he was on all fours in front of the enemy. He had never been more ashamed of himself in his life.

“I’m really sorry about this,” She said raising her hand, and before Keith could even react, slammed it down on the side of his neck. Everything went black.

Chapter Text

Keith

Noise. There was so much noise. Machinery beeping, doctors shouting orders, somebody is crying in the distance and Keith is numb to it all. Not physically, definitely not physically. Physically everything aches, especially his hips. His head pounds and there is a dull ringing in his ears, muffling out the nearby chatter. “Voltron…”

“Red paladin…”

“Princess!”

“She’s stable but…”

He managed a groan, words from the conversations around him swirl in his head in a meaningless blob that he couldn’t make heads or tails of. He just wanted to sleep…

Keith was lying against the sands of the beach, the sun warming his body. He heard the screeching of seagulls as they wheeled and swooped overhead. The smell of saltwater filled the air as waves lapped softly against the shore. He’d only been to the beach once as a child with Martha. He’d spent the entire day making big sand castles with Papa. It was nice to be here once more and not have to worry about protecting the universe for once. Voltron certainly deserved a vacation. He opened his eyes to see how his friends were doing. Pidge and Hunk were building a sand castle model of the Castle of the Lions. Pidge wore a big floppy hat and a green two piece. In typical Pidge fashion it was more practical than a fashion statement, a tankini like top with boy shorts bottom. Hunk simply wore a pair of bright yellow trunks with little cats printed on them. Shiro, in a very nice pair of black swim trunks, was showing off his swimming skills to Allura who lounged in a pastel pink inner tube. Allura was acting more flirtatious than usual, though truly she always did when Shiro was nearby. She was going as far as to twirl a strand of white hair that had fallen free from her loose bun around her finger, shifting to give Shiro a better view of the form fitting lilac bikini. Normally this behavior bothered Keith, but today he didn’t give two quiznaks. Coran, in a Hawaiian shirt and swathed in sunscreen, was grilling something that Keith sincerely hoped were hamburgers nearby and Lance… where the hell was Lance?

“What are you up to mullet?” Lance ask and Keith looked up, pushing up his sun glasses. Lance was grinning down at him wearing a pair of plain bright blue swimming trunks and damn, he looked good. Keith had never thought of Lance as attractive, but now that he had him right there, shirtless, abs rippling beneath his tan skin, blue eyes catching the sun’s rays and throwing it back out in bright sparks, he had to admit that Lance was really hot.

“Have you even gotten in the water?” Lance asked, which forced Keith to tear his eyes away from admiring this new side Lance.

“What? Oh, no I haven’t.” Keith said forcing himself to raise his eyes to Lance’s. He was wearing the devilish smile Keith knew only meant trouble.

“We’re just gonna have to change that~.” He said scooping Keith up and throwing him over his shoulder Shiro style.

“Wh-LANCE!” Keith yelped in surprise, laughing a little.

“You need to cool off hot head!” Lance said ignoring Keith’s useless wiggles of protest as he carried him into the water. The water was up to Lance’s waist when finally stopped.

“Lance put me down or so help me,” Keith snapped, but his tone was more playful than venomous, an empty threat.

“Aye aye cap’n!” Lance replied tossing Keith into the water without any further warning. Lance was a lot stronger than Keith gave him credit for. Keith flew several feet over water the exact shade of the eyes Keith had been admiring only moments before. His limbs splaying out awkwardly in all directions, scrambling as the ocean’s surface rushes towards him and-

Pain flashed like lightning through his body. He let out a weak whimper and opened his eyes, blinded by the bright lights that surrounded him.

“He’s awake.” Somebody said. Their voice sounded distorted and distant, like they were speaking through a thin wall.

“Somebody get the red paladin to the healing pod, now!” Somebody else barked.

He let out a moan of pain tears pooling in his eyes. His dream was still fresh in his mind. Lance. Was Lance okay? He had to know. If Lance wasn’t… wasn’t… He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think at all, but Lance. He never thought he’d ever care this much for the Blue Paladin. He pushed through the excruciating feeling in his hips, biting back a scream as white hot pain jolted through his body. His vision swam so the bright room around him was nothing more than a blur.

“Red Paladin! You have aggravated a severe bone injury. You must rest.” Someone said, trying to push him down onto the bed. Keith pushed the hands away.

“Lance…” He managed weakly trying to get off the bed, but more doctors and nurses seemed to swarm him. “Lance! I n...need..”

“The Blue Paladin is safe. You both are safe now.”

Keith gritted his teeth. Through a haze of pain and fatigue he thought about how much he hated that phrase. ‘You are safe now.’ He was never safe, no matter how much somebody reassured him that he was okay or going to be alright. Safety wasn't a luxury Keith could afford, not now, and especially not after becoming a defender of the universe.  And he was so sick and tired of everyone lying to him and telling him that he was.

“No!” He yelled, slamming his elbow into a doctor’s nose hearing the oddly gratifying sound of cartilage snap under the force. The doctor let out a shriek of pain, stumbling backwards. “Get your hands off of me!”

“Remain calm… uh...His name… it's Keith?”

“Princess said so,”

“Somebody sedate him! When in the ever glowing sun is that pod going to be ready?”

More hands reached out to restrain him, but Keith fought back, kicking and biting at the arms that reached for him. It was useless and he knew it. He was too weak and there were too many doctors. He thrashed violently, ignoring the searing pain in his hips, until somebody managed to pin him to the bed. He kept screaming for Lance, feeling hot tears stream down his cheeks. He just wanted to see Lance, to make sure that stupidly brave boy was alright.

He felt something prick his arm and watched as a nurse injected something milky colored into him. He snarled viciously in retaliation, but halfway through it died in his throat. His resistance evaporated, limbs slackening. He felt to heavy to move, didn’t want to move. His head lolled to the side as his vision faded into black.

Lance.

“... and in breaking news the crown princess has returned 2 cycles early from a mission to gather intelligence on the Galra that was originally slated for 10 cycles. The palace has yet to release information as to why the princess has returned early though in a picture leaked of her entering the palace has rumors flying over the possibility of a health crisis. Experts estimate that her pigmentation level is between 2 to 3.5, dangerously low particularly for her petite size…”

Lance stared up at the ceiling of his room, listening to the news broadcast someone was playing in another room. He had woken up a few minutes ago with a pounding headache and hoped that by staying as still as possible it would go away. So far he was having no luck. It kept throbbing angrily, as if his brain was too big for his head and trying to break free from his body.

“Fuck,” He murmured, rubbing his temples and trying to think through his pain. His thoughts were hazy and in general his brain felt like mush, like it always did after taking a bunch of tests in one day. It flopped aimlessly in his skull as he attempted to make some form of cognitive thought.

“Are you in pain?” Somebody asked. The voice was gentle, soothing against his ears. “You can request pain medication if you are.”

He let out a sigh. Morphine or whatever that shit was called sounded like heaven right about now.

“That would be-” He stopped. Who had spoken to him? That was not Keith’s voice. It was feminine. It sounded familiar. Where the hell was he anyways? In his panic he made the mistake of sitting up too quickly. His head roared in displeasure, sending a wave of disorienting pain through his entire body. He swore violently in spanish knowing that would have earned 5 Hail Mary’s and a Padre Nuestro back home and a look of approval from Pidge but he didn’t care.

“Fuckin’ bitch ass dickwipe,” He hissed grabbing his head, and squeezing his eyes shut. The cool darkness of his eyelids helped if only minorly.

“I will go get some,” The voice said, laced with concern. He heard the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor as it was pushed back and a pair of feet padding delicately for the door. Within seconds he heard them return as the owner slid back into the chair. A soft hand pressed something to his lips. Numbly he parted them, letting a small bitter tasting pill fall on his tongue. He felt somebody place a second hand on the back of his head, supporting him as he washed the pill down with a cup of water. They were small hands, chilly and a little shaky. Definitely not Keith’s.

Fortunately the pill he’d been given only took a few seconds to begin to take effect, praise god. Lance kept his eyes closed as the pain in his head began to recede. Behind the cool darkness of his eyelids he felt his brain begin to work again. His thoughts came to him tentatively, as if scared that going too fast would aggravate his head ache again.

“Does that feel better?” The voice from earlier asked after a minute or two. He opened an eye to see who his savior was. It was a girl, the same girl who had stabbed the Galra commander in the chest. What had her name been? Images? It was too fuzzy for him to recall now. She must have washed off the purple paint from her body revealing skin so light Lance could see the veins pulsing life throughout her body beneath. Her soft brown hair seemed to veil her, a soft flutter of loose, artfully arranged curls that entwined together in harmony down her shoulders. Her face was thin, a little starved looking to be honest. Her whole body seemed to be that way, her sleek blue robes hanging loosely from her body. The way she was hunched forward just a bit made it look as if the fabric was pulling her down. Her clavicle (or the alien equivalent of one, she looked human enough so it hardly mattered not that it would have mattered to Lance to begin with) jutted out sharply, a peak in the smooth plains of her body.

Despite how weak she seemed to be Lance could tell she was more than capable of kicking his ass. Something in her eyes, the way she held her head, her serene smile, the aura of confidence and power that radiated from her, it all reminded him of Allura. It was that more than the circlet of braided gold in her hair that told Lance she was royalty.

“You must be very confused,” She said, smiling warmly. Her violet eyes were striking, contrasting beautifully with the paleness of her skin.

“Yeah, I am.” He croaked out surprised at how hoarse his throat was. “Where’s Keith?”

“You mean the red paladin?” She asked, her voice soft. When he nodded she continued, fingers playing with a loose thread on her robes. For a princess they were very plain clothes, unadorned by jewels or embroidery and a little ratty looking. Well loved his mother would have said. “They put him in a healing pod. He had horribly bruised hips and that chest wound reopened after he was… um… held down... Fortunately we had an extra pod to spare.”

“Will he be- wait, what?” Lance asked, alarm flooding his body. He had just been starting to like these people. Good pain meds, excellent Galra slaying skills, pretty hot girl at his bedside, but manhandling his fellow paladin? Who had been injured already, probably in pain, and more likely than not frightened at the prospect of alien doctors swarming around him? Not cool man, not cool.

“What the hell were you guys thinking?” He asked, feeling anger and panic swell in chest.

She shifted uncomfortably. “He did break an ER doctor’s nose. A nurse had to pin him for sedation so they could get him into the pod.”

“That sounds like Keith…” Lance sighed, the corner of his lip curling upward a tad. Despite the seriousness of the situation he felt a surge of pride for Keith. It was just like him to take on a full team of doctors  “What made him freak out? It’s not like him to just lose it, well actually it is, but not like that.”

“Funny you should ask,” She smiled almost knowingly. “He kept screaming ‘Lance’. Is that your name?”

He nodded, feeling heat creep into his cheeks. Keith had been that concerned for him? He didn’t know what to feel or how to react. Keith? Break a doctor’s nose for him? Lance? The guy he absolutely despised? Shit man, this was worse than the whole cradling thing. “Will… will he be okay?”

“Yes,” She assured him. “He will be alright.”

Lance let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, relieved to hear that his fellow paladin would be okay. Despite how much he wanted to punch that mullet sometimes he did care about Keith. Maybe a little more than even he knew.

“Where am I?” He asked wanting to change the subject and genuinely concerned. It was probably the first question he should have asked, but Keith… priorities man, priorities.

Now that his head wasn’t trying to kill him, at this moment at least, he finally could get a good look at his surroundings. He was in a small room, and judging from the view of the sky his window showed it was well into the night. The stars glittered, scattered around the bright blue moon. The only light on his room came from the lamp on his bedside table. The bed itself was impossibly comfortable, the sheets soft and plush, the pillow that perfect mixture of squishy and support. There was another bed across from his own, but it was empty, the blankets neat, corners crisp. The walls were immaculately white and completely bare except for a pair of monitors. One glowed softly with Lance’s vitals, a vivid picture of his own heart beating a steady pulse. He set his hand to chest, a little in awe.

“The Queen Drossi Hospital of Ambrusia.” She explained, seeming to be amused by his face. “I brought you here after retrieving the red paladin, and worry not for your lions. Our mechanics know how to work with Altean technology. We’re sure we can get them repaired for you.”

“Imagene!” A stern voice shouted, making Imagene jump. She muttered something that sounded like an alien swear word, turning her head. The white haired guy from earlier, Viva piñata or something, standing in the doorway. “Princess you should be resting!”

“Vivirdian, I am resting!” She protested. “Look I am sitting down!”

“Yes but you know what I mean.” He stormed in, face made to look highly irritated, but eyes and voice clearly showing only his deep concern. He made to grab Imagene’s wrist but stopped when he caught sight of Lance.

“Vivirdian, look, the Blue Paladin is awake.” She said and pointed to Lance who merely waved awkwardly.

“‘Sup?” He asked Vivirdian, grinning.

“Er…” He frowned, knitting his eyebrows together, confused by the term. “Greetings? I am Vivirdian, the team 5 commander.”

“I’m Lance, Blue Paladin of Voltron and Defender of the Universe.” Lance offered his hand for Vivirdian to shake. Shaking hands must not be a custom here as he just stared at it until Lance retracted it, muttering a hasty ‘Nevermind’.

“So when can I see Keith?” Lance asked Imagene, trying to change the subject.

“Now, but he’s still in the pod to my knowledge.” Imagene said. “I can take you to him if you like.”

“Please?” Lance asked, feeling himself brighten at the prospect of seeing Keith.

“Absolutely not, Imagene.” Vivirdian said, resting a firm hand on Imagene’s shoulder to prevent her from rising. “The pod room is too far for you to walk in this state.”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked, confused as hell and slightly annoyed at white alien dad. “She looks fine to me.”

“What do you mean?” Vivirdian countered. “Look at how pale she is! I’m surprised she can get out of her bed.”

“Vivirdian,” Imagene said calmly, placing a frail milk white hand over Vivirdian’s own. Lance could clearly see it was shaking, not really helping her case. “He is not Ambrusian. He does not understand pigmentation.”

She turned back to Lance with a patient smile. “We Ambrusians rely on the sun heavily for nutrients. As I had to cover my body in thick purple paint my body had no sunlight and I have grown rather weak.”

“Precisely why you should be in bed, resting.” Vivirdian said. “Now, princess, let’s let Lance get his own much needed rest.”

“I don’t want to rest,” Lance countered scooting forward so his legs hung over the edge. “I want to see Keith. I want to be there when the pod opens. He might get scared if it’s a bunch of aliens he doesn’t recognize swarming him.”

“He’s right. The Red Paladin completely shattered Dr. Novia’s nose.” Imagene added hastily. “And he wasn’t healed then. Now he’ll be at full strength.”

Vivirdian clenched and unclenched the hand at his side in obvious frustration at his royal charge’s obstinance. After a few moments he finally let out a huff of air, and Lance could tell from the smile spreading on Imagene’s face that they had won.

“Alright, you may take him to see the Red Paladin,” He conceded. “But after that you must come back and rest. Remember that you will have to address the Ambrusian people sometime tomorrow. You will need your strength.”

“That seems fair enough,” She nodded, leaning on Vivirdian for support. “Come Lance, Keith is being held a few floors down, in the pod room.”

The Ambrusians were very, very advanced. As Lance, dressed in soft gray hospital pjs, walked down the hallways he simply marveled at what he saw in the rooms he passed. The monitors revealed images much clearer than anything any doctor could get and without invasive instruments. He watched as doctors used machines to operate on patients and nurses tapped screens to instantly receive the pill bottles they needed instantly. Carts of supplies pushed by robots wheeled through the halls navigating the doctors and patients.

“We are not as advanced as the Alteans were at the time of their genocide,” Imagene said, leaning heavily on Vivirdian for support. As people passed her they stared at her crown, whispering amongst one another. Vivirdian glared at them, daring them to say anything. Imagene on the other hand didn’t seem to mind. She would smile and wave congenially, occasionally nodding, the picture of a personable princess. “Not even close really.”

“You’re far better off than Earth,” Lance grinned, waving at some of the ‘people’ he passed. “Did you used to be allies with Altea?”

“Yes,” Vivirdian answered him, herding them into a lift. He quickly pressed a few buttons into a nearby pad and the lift began to move. “They gave us the first healing pod ever built as a sign of friendship.”

“It took us many years to engineer our own.” Imagene added. “And we’re always trying to improve them. In times of war we must move forward. ‘To remain stagnant is to ensure defeat’, Ecledies, 243.”

“Are you sucking up by demonstrating your knowledge of the Handbook to try and weasel me into giving you more time?” Vivirdian asked, a soft smile playing at his lips. Imagene tried to keep a straight face, but began to crack up. Vivirdian ruffled her hair, careful not to disturb her crown. Lance wasn’t sure what the dynamics between them were. He could see that they were close, caring for each other deeply, but they were definitely not lovers. He could tell just by their body language. Maybe brother and sister? But now that he looked at it Vivirdian was much too dark skinned to be of any familial relation to Imagene, plus he was so buff and she so lithe. They were more like Shiro and Keith, a close knit bond between mentor and pupil.

“This is our floor.” Vivirdian announced as the lift came to a stop. The door opened, revealing a long hallway. Compared to the bustling of doctors and family members below this level was eerily quiet. There was no laughing in rooms or doctors giving explanations of ailments, just empty silent. As Lance passed the rooms he saw rows of pods, some empty, many containing injured Ambrusians in various stages of healing. He saw one with a man with half his face burned off, another with a child who had ugly pock marks from some sickness over his skin. Eventually he began to keep his eyes trained on the ground, some of the patients too gruesome for him.

“Do not worry Lance,” Imagene smiled, as if sensing his discomfort. “We are almost there, and I believe, if my time is correct, he will be waking up soon.”

He nodded, his stomach twisting a little with worry for Keith, and that worry only grew as they approached his room. Where the rest of the wing was deserted Keith’s room was teeming with doctors and nurses. They scribbled on electronic pads, conversing excitedly with one another. Monitors nearby whirred displaying what Lance had to assume were images of Keith’s internal organs that the doctors were studied with extreme interest. They were practically pressing their noses up to the screen, oohing and aweing as Keith’s heart pulsed steadily on the bright screen.

“We have never studied a human before,” Imagene said quickly. “Your friend has created quite a stir in the hospital, everyone wants to examine him. They’ve been studying his organs and have run a few tests to see just how similar Ambrusians and humans are.”

Lance once more felt angry at these Ambrusians. First they’d manhandled him, now they were running tests without his consent, and if Keith were to have been asked, probably against his will. Something told Lance Keith wasn’t the guy to just let strangers take pictures of his insides and run tests on his body. Lance gritted his teeth, trying to contain himself, but he’d always been hot headed, unable to control his emotions, especially when he felt somebody was being disrespected. Keith had lashed out before because he’d been scared, surrounded on all sides by aliens he did not know, and had no idea of what their intentions could be. If he woke up and found it to be the same...

“Everybody get out!” Lance yelled loudly. His voice was sharp and forceful, making the doctor’s jump in either fear or surprise. Every head turned to him, fingers hovering over sleek screens. “Get away from him! You can’t just do things without somebody’s permission.”

“Is that the Blue Paladin?”

“Another human…”

“Who does he think he is!”

“Is that the princess?”

The Ambrusians whispered to one another, disgruntled at Lance’s outburst, but ignoring him for the most part. A few threw him unappreciative glares, but most just simply reverted to what they’d been doing before. Vivirdian and Imagene exchanged nervous glances, but without any verbal exchange seemed to come to a singular agreement. Imagene stepped forward, clearing her throat.

“I command that you respect the wishes of the Blue Paladin.” Imagene said in a loud, clear tone that demanded the attention and respect of all who heard it. “Please leave this room.”

After a few seconds of silence where Imagene stared down the medical professionals the doctors began to file out of the room, chittering amongst themselves. They were obviously not fond of leaving such a perfect specimen, but it wasn’t as if they could go against the word of the princess. Finally it was just Lance, Keith, the princess, and Vivirdian, who shut the door behind the last doctor, a quirky young intern who kept opening and closing his mouth as if to say something to protest his orders, but one look from Vivirdian kept him silent.

Imagene crossed over to the pod’s control panel. The way she moved was so gracefully, making her skirts swirl about her as if she was merely floating. Her thin fingers tapped at the screen.

“He has a little less than half an hour left before the pod opens.” Imagene informed him, reaching out for the arm Vivirdian offered her. “I’d open it early but I don’t want to risk interrupting any unfinished healing. I wish I could keep you company until he wakes, but Vivirdian is right, I must rest.”

“Thanks a lot Imagene.” Lance said, smiling. “When he wakes up what do I do?”

“The machinery will take care of itself.” She assured him. “Vivirdian, do you mind coming back up here and escorting Keith and Lance back to their room later?”

Vivirdian smiled. “Of course princess,”

Lance watched them going, sighing softly. Now that doctors weren’t all over him Lance could get a clear look at Keith. They’d changed him out of the shorts and shirt into gray pajamas like his own. He actually looked completely relaxed in the pod. By completely relaxed Lance meant he wasn’t scowling, for once in his short, surly life. In all honesty Lance seemed to find something beautiful about Keith when he was asleep. He pulled up a chair, resting a hand on the outside of the pod.

Lance’s mind was spinning a million miles an hour. He was so confused, but grateful that so far the Ambrusians didn’t seem to have any problems with them. Imagene and Vivirdian seemed to be alright at the very least. He figured that if they hadn’t turned them over to the Galra the rest of the Ambrusians should be at the least decent, though they had disrespected Keith, twice. Lance looked up into that mullet, feeling himself smirk a bit. Before the crash Keith was by far his least favorite teammate. He was just so good at everything Lance had to work so hard to even become decent at. Now he knew Keith had his own set of troubles. Hell, he was protective of Keith, and Keith was obviously protective of him if the whole breaking a doctor’s nose story was to be believed. They’d grown closer in a week than months of bonding exercises in the castle had done to them. Maybe crash landing on this new world wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Chapter Text

Keith

He was 14, sitting in the dean’s office of the Garrison with an ice pack pressed to his nose. The nurse had said it wasn’t broken, but the way it was still throbbing unbearably made him question her diagnosis, but there wasn’t really much he could do but march himself to the dean’s office and await his doom. By now he was very familiar with the inside of this office, knew every word on every certificate, all the names of the people in the photos, and every label of each file cabinet. He’d been in here at least once a week since term began in August for one thing or another. To put this into perspective it was now well into October. He knew the steps for the disciplinary actions by heart. First the dean had spoken to Henry Graves while the nurse tried to stem the blood flow from his nose. Once Henry’s parents were called and there was no danger of him staining the pristine white carpet red the dean directed Keith to office and promptly left to go make the phone call to his group foster home. He was going to get chewed out when he returned to his dorm but he didn’t care, he stopped caring years ago.

The door behind him opened but Keith didn’t turn his head to see who had entered, he knew it was the dean of students. He didn’t even bother to raise his arm in salute. He just stared sullenly ahead as the dean sat back down in his annoyingly squeaky chair and let out a long reserved sigh. The dean of the Garrison cadets was an older man by the name of Mr. Goetz. He used to be the physical education teacher until he slipped on one of those plastic butt scooters and broke a hip. Now he just dealt with all the troublemakers the Garrison sent his way.

“Keith, do you know why you are here?” He asked in an exasperated tone like this was more trouble for him than it was for Keith.

“Because Henry Graves doesn’t understand personal boundaries.” Keith snarled, still not even looking at Mr. Goetz. Instead he kept his eyes trained on the bookcase stocked with binders and books on various counseling. “Children and Grief”, “Better Coping Skills Part 3”, and “I am Sad for No Reason” stuck out most prominently to him. They were all colored cheerfully and featured smiling kids and adults. To Keith it had always seemed ironic to have such a happy design on such a dreadful subject.

“Do you mean how he reached over and-” Here the dean paused, glancing down at some paper reports of the whole event. “‘Swatted your behind’? Is that why you pushed him backwards into the changing room lockers?”

He didn’t move at all, just kept glaring at the smiling kids hugging one another on a booklet pertaining to various learning disabilities. ‘Swatted his behind’? Was Mr. Goetz trying to minimize Henry Graves’ offense. He grit his teeth, not wanting to shout at poor Mr. Goetz, but it was an uphill battle. The dean knew that Keith’s surly silence meant ‘yes’.

“Keith,” He said with another long sigh. “Why didn’t you come find a teacher? The Graves want to press charges for physical assault.”

“Charges?!” He spluttered, his eyes now snapping to stare the dean directly in the face. His temper flared again. Fucking charges? He knew the Graves were all dicks but their son had… had… “He fucking slapped my ass and called me a-”

The dean held up in an attempt in an attempt to stop him but it was too late, the word was already formed in Keith’s mouths and exploded across the desk to slap him in the face like a 2 by 4.

“A faggot!” He yelled, leaping up from. He knew that outside every head in the office was turned to look at him in shock. That word. Nobody ever used that word. There had once been a time when it was thrown around willy nilly but in modern day it was never, ever used.

“He not only touched me inappropriately, but used a foul slur.” He continued, voice rising steadily. He didn’t care who was watching or listening, he was just so angry. He knew he shouldn’t but he let his anger consume him like a fire, incinerating his common sense and sending his control up in smoke. “And considering my past I had every right to do what I did! There wasn’t time for me to get a teacher and besides I should be the one filing charges. He fucking broke my nose. I’m an orphan, do you think I have the money to pay for it to get fixed if he did damage? No!”

Keith stared down the dean, his chest heaving from rage and frustration. And he ached. It was an ache he was familiar with now, the ache that always settled over him when he let out all his pent up rage on someone. There was a quick adrenaline rush as he erupted, and then the crash once the initial spark fizzled out. It always left him empty, drained. He flopped down and rested his head in his hands, trying really, really hard not to cry. He hated this, absolutely hated being in trouble all the time because of his impulsivity, his temper. He hated not being able to control himself.

“I’m… sorry Keith…” Mr. Goetz said slowly after a few moments. “And I know that since this attack was provoked, in a horrible way I might add, the school will be able to deflect any lawsuit from the Graves family. However you do know this is your 4th fight since October 1st? You should have been kicked out 2 fights ago.”

“I know…” He mumbled, voice muffled by his hands.

“The only reason you haven’t been sent back home is because of your past and someone on the board seems to be adamantly defending you.” He said, shuffling his papers. “Why the General defends you I can’t say, but you’re a very lucky boy. However we cannot stand by and do nothing.”

Here it was, the blow he was knew was coming. He was going to be expelled from the Garrison and all that work he’d done just get his slot would go to waste. He’d squandered his life’s dream on a stupid, stupid, hurtful, awful word. He wanted to curl up on the floor of the dean’s office and cry.

“We have decided that instead of being expelled or even punished you will take part in our delinquent mentor program.” Mr. Goetz said sternly. For the first time in a long time hope fluttered in Keith’s chest. What? Was he really being given another chance?

“You will have to drop Health to squeeze in your mentorship hour.” Mr. Goetz explained calmly, passing him a slip of paper with more details. “It’s essentially a study hall where you will meet with your assigned upperclassman mentor. I don’t like having to drop a class, but I think you could benefit greatly from this.”

Keith quickly scanned the slip, trying to find the catch. Not only was he not being expelled, he was dropping his least favorite class and being given a free period. This was too good to be true.

“Who’s my mentor?” Keith asked, looking back up at the dean. “When do I meet him? Her? Them?”

“Actually he’s right outside, that’s why I was a little late.” The dean smiled waving somebody from out in the hallway in. “Keith, meet your mentor, Takashi Shirogane.”

“Please, just call me Shiro,” A new voice said and Keith swiveled his head to see-

“Keith!”

Somebody had shouted his name, pulling him from his dream. Their tone had been urgent, worried almost. Through a grogginess that seemed to shroud his mind he managed to crack open his eyes wondering who had yelled for him. A hazy blob swam before his eyes and it took a few moments for him to focus in. His head was on somebody’s shoulder, a tan somebody with short brunette hair that stuck up in odd angles and ocean blue eyes. Seeing Keith’s eyes open made this person sigh in relief, their warm breath fluttering over Keith’s skin in a tickling breeze. Their arms were wrapped protectively around him, strong arms, but with a gentle touch. Well, this was a change of pace. He didn’t normally wake up in a handsome stranger’s arms.

“Thank god Keith,” The person spoke. “You’re okay.”

“Why… wouldn’t I be?” He finally mumbled, his voice hoarse.

“The Galra? The Lions?” The person asked. Keith frowned. Vague memories sifted through his mind, too fast and complex for his foggy mind to really comprehend at this moment. His whole body felt heavy and tired and this man’s body was so warm. So instead of responding he just kind of nodded and let his eyelids flutter shut, resting a hand on the stranger’s chest.

“Uh Keith…?” The man said, voice a little strained.
“Hm?” He murmured, nuzzling his nose into the soft skin of their neck. The voice was familiar but Keith was too drowsy to really put his finger on who’s it was. Also their scent was familiar too. He took a deep sniff, trying to soak it in because damn, it smelled amazing. A mixture of freshly fallen rain and warm vanilla. He had no idea that those two scents could work so well together but they did.

“That’s my nipple.” They said awkwardly. “Your hand is currently resting over my nipple.”

That’s when Keith recognized the owner of the voice, and their smell, because only one person in the entire fucking universe would be so blunt as to point out that your hand was on their nipple: Lance. His eyes snapped open and he withdrew his hand. He wasn’t dusting the cobwebs off his brain anymore. Memories of what had happened flashed through his mind more clearly than he had before. The crash, his mangled lion, the Galra, Lance forcing him to go back, slamming his elbow into a doctor’s nose. Fresh panic blossomed in his chest as he became aware that he did not recognize his surroundings or any of the equipment around him.

“Lance!” He gasped, trying to stand, but his body was apparently not on board with that idea. He wobbled on his feet for a few seconds knees giving way pitching him forward. Fortunately Lance caught him before he could faceplant into the cold tile.

“Take it easy,” Lance said, voice gentler than it had been before. He gently eased Keith into a nearby chair. “It’ll take a few minutes for your muscles to regain feeling after time in a healing pod.”

“But- the Galra!” He breathed, head spinning. He had to get Lance out of here and find their lions. He couldn’t let the Galra capture Red again. If Red had trusted him after the crash he surely wouldn’t after that. He cursed himself. If only he hadn’t been injured, he could have helped Lance. Then maybe they wouldn’t have been taken here… wherever here was.

“It’s okay,” Lance reassured him, resting a delicate hand on Keith’s shaking shoulder. His whole body was shaking now from the fear and anger and self hate that swirled around inside him like a hurricane. He tried to calm himself down, focusing on Lance’s touch and the way the light caught those really rather stunning blue eyes, just as vibrant as they had been in his dream. Had they always been that blue? He’d never really paid attention to Lance’s eyes before, but now he wished he had. The brewing torrent of emotions began to quell as he looked into the eyes of the Blue Paladin, his breathing slowing to something resembling calm. He took in one slow, shuddering breath, exhaling slowly.

“Keith,” Lance began slowly, his voice soft. “We’re safe. The people who took us are allies of Altea and are fighting their own war against the Galra. They’re going to help us.”

“H-how can you be sure?” He stammered, not breaking eye contact.

“Be rational,” Lance smiled. “Are you dead? Am I dead?”

Keith shook his head. No, they were very much alive. So far these people, aliens, whatever, had only helped them. If they were really working for the Galra it would have been easiest to just kill them and take their lions, but they hadn’t. They had healed them by the looks of it, and how had Keith repaid them? By breaking one of their noses in a fear fueled panic.

“Better?” Lance asked. “Not going to break anymore Ambrusian noses?”

Keith let out a shaky laugh despite himself. “N-no. I won’t.”

“Good,” Lance grinned helping him to his feet. “How do you feel? You’re not in pain right?”

“I should be asking you that,” Keith muttered, leaning against Lance for support. His legs shook beneath him, but they didn’t seem like they’d give way under his weight. “You’re the one who took on a whole squadron of Galra soldiers.”

Lance puffed his chest a little bit, waving him away. “Oh, I was fine, took them all down no problem. You should have seen it. I was all bam bam! And the Galra were all ‘Oh no great paladin! Have mercy on us!’ but I reminded them that they have never shown mercy so why should I?”

Keith chuckled rolling his eyes as they moved towards the door. “I bet that’s exactly what happened.”

“You know it!” He grinned pressing a button that made the door slide open. “Shoot, now which way is to our room. Didn’t Vivirdian say he’d come back…?”

At the end of the long, empty corridor a lift opened and out stepped a large, buff man wearing what looked like some sort of navy blue military uniform. His skin was dark, darker than Lance’s with brilliantly white hair pulled up into a ponytail. He strode towards Lance and Keith in a rigid manner that reminded Keith of the way the senior officers at the Garrison walked. He must be some sort of military commander, probably of a higher rank.

“Vivirdian!” Lance called, looking relieved to see this newcomer. The man, who must have been Vivirdian nodded to Lance in greeting as he stopped in front of them. “How’s Imagene?”

“Princess Imagene is resting,” He smiled, then he seemed to notice Keith for the first time. “And is this the red paladin?”

“Yeah,” Lance grinned, glancing at Keith. “Vivirdian, this is-”

“Keith,” Keith interrupted Lance shooting him a quick glare. He didn’t need to be introduced by somebody else thank you very much. “And where are our lions?”

Vivirdian looked down at Keith with silvery eyes. Keith had the uncomfortable feeling that Vivirdian was scrutinizing him. He resisted the urge to look away and squirm. He knew Vivirdian, as any other potential enemy would, see that as a sign of weakness. Keith stood his ground, staring right back at Vivirdian as fiercely as he could with Lance’s arm around his waist for support. Vivirdian was a good 2 to 3 inches taller than him, about the same size as Shiro. Keith knew how to wrestle with Shiro, Vivirdian probably wouldn’t be too different. All he’d have to do was-

“Peace paladin,” Vivirdian sighed, taking a step back as if he had sensed Keith’s wariness. “I mean you no harm, but I am not the one to ask on anything concerning your lions.”

“Well, who do we ask?” Keith demanded feeling annoyance build in his chest. He didn’t exactly ask for their help. He and Lance were doing just fine on their own out there.

“I believe the new head of the Technology Department is either Guardia or Vicia,” Vivirdian frowned rubbing his chin with his thumb thoughtfully. “You will have to remind me to ask Lucivida who they promoted so I can find out where your lions are and the state of their repair.”

“From the looks of it you’re military right?” Keith scowled. “Then you should know who the head is.”

“The lions do not concern themselves with the opinion of the lambs!” Vivirdian laughed, a deep rumbling sound that resonated cheerfully through the hallways. “The last time the Technology Department ever told anyone anything was during the Great Feast of Her Majesty Karnia the second, but I suppose you wouldn’t know of that reference. Essentially the Technology Department keeps to themselves unless forced to divulge information to the public. I do wish I knew what was happening, but you’ll have to wait for any word of your lions.”

“Well that’s just peachy,” Keith grumbled, slumping into Lance. “And what do we do in the meantime?”

“Rest,” Vivirdian said flatly, as if it was obvious. “At least that’s what the doctor orders. Let’s head back to your room. You’ll need all of your strength if you want to survive the council trial.”

“Trial?” Lance asked, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Woah, woah, woah. Why the hell are we being put on trial? We didn’t do anything wrong! It’s the Galra who are trying to take over the Universe and enslaved hundreds of alien races.”

“We Ambrusians are well aware of that fact,” Vivirdian said herding them like a father herds small children into a lift. “War with the Galra has been our lives for 10,000 years. For all we know this could be a clever Galra trick. Caution must be practiced.”

“Then why did you Ambrusians treat our injuries?” Keith challenged as the lift opened. “Why not keep us in a jail cell until further notice?”

“I mean, that’s what I would do,” Lance added. “I wouldn’t heal a possible enemies wounds. Then they’d be able to take me down.”

“Because you are two young, severely injured boys against an entire nation who has excelled against the Galra Empire for 10,000 years.” Vivirdian explained simply, opening one of the hospital room doors for them. “But now that you are healed you will be watched constantly until your intentions are proven by trial. Now get in before one of the officials sees me.”

“What do you mean watch?” Lance asked, helping Keith hobble to a bed. His legs were still shaking as he more or less flopped onto the hospital bed. He felt his body sink into the plush mattress. It was a far cry from the lumpy mattress back home in his desert shack. He’d picked that one up at a garage sale when he’d first been kicked out of the Garrison. Keith figured that if the Ambrusians could make a bed like this then they must not be all that bad.

“Someone will have to be in this room at all times.” Vivirdian said sitting down in a chair. “For example I will be taking the first shift.”

“Well, better you than somebody weird I guess,” Lance grumbled as he slipped into his own bed.

Keith was so done at this point, he just let his head slump against the pillow and let out a soft melodramatic sigh. He glanced around their small hospital room. It was pretty bare, just a few chairs, their beds, and a small bedside table. Something on the table caught his eye, a book. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It was written in a language he didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t english, he knew that much, but it wasn’t Altean either. It was probably the native language of the Ambrusian people. He flicked through the pages, colorful illustrations flashing past his eyes.

“I see you’ve found the storybook,” Vivirdian said, and Keith looked up. “It’s not written in the common language, I’m sorry to say.”

“The common… language?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow. “You mean english?”

Vivirdian shook his head. “You and I are speaking the common language developed many years ago by the Alteans for better diplomacy. It’s a standard for all alien races to learn if they wish for interstellar interaction between their home planet and others.”

“Then how come we know it on Earth?” Keith frowned. He’d always wondered how they could speak to Zarkon and the princess who were both probably older than the English language now that he thought about it. Logically there was no way for them to be speaking the same tongue, it was impossible that they would have developed the exact same language at different times. Had the Alteans taught humans the common language when they’d hidden the lions? Now this was the kind of information Keith could get behind. As a kid he’d always loved conspiracy theories, especially after his Papa had told him of the time he’d seen a UFO. He remembered the essay he once wrote about how easy it would be to fake a moon landing. He’d gotten a detention, but it was so worth it just to see the shocked and slightly panicked looks on his classmates faces as he presented his essay. He was pretty sure he’d convinced some of them.

Vivirdian shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t know, but I could read the book out loud to you if you like.”

“We’re having storytime?” Lance asked, sitting criss cross applesauce on his bed and hugging a pillow as Keith handed the book to Vivirdian. “Count me in.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I mess up,” He cleared his throat noisily, flipping through the pages in search of a good story. “I’m more familiar with speaking common than I am with translating from written word, but I’ll do my best.”

"It'll be fine," Lance said, flopping back onto the bed and resting his feet up on the headboard of the bed. He was still hugging the pillow to his chest, wearing a dopy grin. He was so childlike it was almost cute. Keith stopped that train of thought right there. Lance? Cute? What the fuck? He had never thought the words 'Lance' and 'cute' in the same sentence before. Was Lance cute? He pondered this before coming to an answer. Yeah, he guessed Lance was pretty cute, once you got past the whole never shutting up, never sitting still, and having the word's most annoying voice ever. Okay, maybe his voice wasn't all that annoying... just loud.

"I'm sure it won't matter." Keith added, trying to pull his own thoughts away from Lance. Was this because of the whole nipple thing? Was that why he was thinking about all this? He could feel his ears burning just thinking about it.

“Long ago, when Ambrusia was just a young maiden-” Vivirdian began but was interrupted by Lance.

“Wait, you mean the planet?” Lance asked, making a face. “Was once a girl?”

“Lance shut up.” Keith told him irritably, unable to believe he'd just thought of Lance as cute. “Just listen to the story.”

“In the story Lance, yes, the planet is a girl.” Vivirdian chuckled in bemusement for a moment before continuing with his story.

Chapter Text

How the Ambrusians Came to Be

Long ago, when Ambrusia was but a young maiden, she attracted the attention of many fine suitors. Her virginal surface untouched by creatures. Her great beauty and wit were renowned throughout the universe making her a much sought after prize. Many fine would be grooms from the very far stretches of the ever growing universe came to tempt her into their arms, but she turned away all proposals of marriage for nearly 6 millenia.

There was a reason that Ambrusia remained unwed for so long. She took great pride in her abundant groves and plains, her clear blue oceans and snowy peaked mountains. From her friends she knew that once a planet settled down and allowed new life to form that was the end of its youth. New life pillaged once fertile terrain, rendering it dull and barren. Ambrusia simply couldn’t stand the thought of losing her glittering caverns, her rolling hills, and her swampy bogs to new life, so she did the only logical thing any planet would do: she spurned all romantic pursuers. She was simply uninterested in any of their poetic confessions of undying love. Still, after one would be lover was dismissed another took their place, thinking that they could be the one to win over the affections of Ambrusia, but alas, it was all in vain. Ambrusia was too in love with herself to even consider adding another to the mix.

Now the Moon, a shy and gentle being, had fallen deeply in love with Ambrusia, but watching one potential lover after another be turned away made him much too scared to even approach Ambrusia. What if she sensed his intentions and rejected him before he even uttered a word? He couldn’t bear the thought of it, so instead he only visited Ambrusia at night, watching over his sleeping love, cursing his own trepidation. For a while watching her at rest was enough for him. He kept his silent watch over her for many centuries, his love only growing as he heard her dreaming sighs. Finally the Moon could stand his emotion no longer. He must confess how he felt or risk dying of love sick heart. So he devised a plan: he would arrange the stars to spell out his message, lest he stumble over his words. He labored over his creation for many days, only ceasing to behold his lover’s visage in the night.

During this time another found interest with Ambrusia. It was the Sun and unlike the Moon she did not fear rejection. Everyday she would visit Ambrusia and warm her surface with her own brilliance, conversing for hours with her, learning what she liked and what she didn’t. At first Ambrusia acted indifferent towards her. She knew what the Sun was trying to win her over and she resisted. However soon she found herself looking forward to the arrival of the Sun, and fell deeply in love with her.

And so the Sun and the planet were married in a celestial celebration of a lifetime. Every planet, star, and being came to witness the union, glad that at last Ambrusia had found love. From this union sprang the first life on Ambrusia, a golden skinned people much like the Sun with beauty like Ambrusia. This new race was given the name Ambrusian and the couple watched with joy as their creation grew and evolved. All of the universe, all but one, rejoiced in the great miracle.

The Moon went to the wedding, he congratulated the brides and toasted to a long and fulfilling marriage, but when night came he wept bitterly over his lost love. Some of the Moon’s milky tears fell onto Ambrusia, mixing with her soft soil. From the combination of two beings new life sprang forth. Their skin was as pale as the moon’s own snowy surface yet they retained the graceful form of their mother planet. As soon as the Moon caught sight of his new offspring he knew he would be in trouble. His fear peaked to a point so great that he split into two parts which we still see in our sky today. One half of him became hateful,skin tinged red from seething over what his own incompetence had lost. The second part was regretful. A bluish haze covered his surface as he floated woefully through space, grieving for his lost love in cold silence.

The next morning Ambrusia found, to her horror, these new life forms using her land. She wept, causing a flood to fall over her surface threatening to drown the poor creatures. The Sun, hearing her lover’s cries of anguish came rushing to her aide. When the Sun saw these new creatures she grew furious thinking that her bride had cheated on her. She demanded to know just how this new life came to be. Ambrusia only sobbed, not knowing how it happened. Finally the Sun realized this and calmed down.

“Do not worry my love,” She assured. “We will find out who has defiled you and bring them to justice! But we must still care for this new life, for they are from your own bosom.”

And so they cared for both races of Ambrusians, naming one Lunaris for their moon pale skin, and the other Solaris, for their sun origin. Ambrusia and the Sun loved both races the same, knowing that parentage does not matter. They nurtured each individual bringing out their fullest potential. By day the Sun warmed their skin and gave them light to work by, and Ambrusia gave them sustenance from herself. They grew strong and wise, inventing many great things. As Ambrusia began to accept her intelligent life she began to create more, which is how the animals came to find refuge in our land. She tasked the Ambrusians with caring for these new creatures, which they did. Ambrusia now saw that she did not need to retain her beauty, by caring for something else she was even more beautiful than before.

The Moon kept his distance, only returning to gaze upon his children at night when everybody slept. His two halves took turns, his remorse taking the winter months and his anger the summer. For many years his halves shone overhead without detection and though there was much speculation about who the light skinned parentage could be nobody suspected the Moon, at least not for a long time. That however is a story for another day.

Lance

Lance’s new favorite story was definitely the myth of how the Ambrusians came to live on this planet. He listened quietly- well except for the parts he just had to snicker at- to the entire thing, which might be a first. What he gathered was that the moon had masculinity so fragile that he literally split into two beings after jizzing on his crush. Literary genius right there. All he could say was that if all the Ambrusian myths were as weird as that one he couldn’t wait to read them all. Regardless of his newfound love for suggestive myths, he really didn’t remember falling asleep during the story, but he must have, because the next thing he knew sunlight was streaming through the window warming his skin and he was curled up in the fetal position in the grips of another horrible headache.

“You’d think if they truly helped us they would have put you in a healing pod too,” Keith grumbled as he helped Lance take the pain medication Vivirdian had retrieved. Lance only let out a pained whimper as he swallowed. Even that little movement making his head pound furiously.

When Lance had woken up screaming ‘My head’ a sleepy, disoriented Keith had thrown himself at Vivirdian, bayard drawn, ready to fight. Unfortunately his legs still hadn’t recovered and he’d fallen onto the floor in a crumpled heap. After helping Keith into a chair, he’d rushed to get help for Lance.

“I called down our resident neurologist for you Keith,” Vivirdian sighed as he resumed his position in his chair. “It’s not uncommon for nerve issues to occur after an extended time in a healing pod. Our pods are still not as advanced as the Altean pods had been.”

Keith muttered a thank you, than hissed under his breath something about incompetence as he managed to take a seat on the foot of Lance’s bed. Lance rubbed his temples, letting out a sigh of relief as the pain medication began to kick in.

“I should warn you though,” He chuckled. “Dr. Rossia is a little eccentric.”

“Eccentric how?” Keith snapped grumpily. He’d been in a snarky mood all morning, probably from falling flat on his face in front of Vivirdian.

“He’s passionate about his work,” Vivirdian grinned as the door began to open. “To say the least.”

Lance moved his head to see the newcomer and blinked in confusion. The stranger was about Keith’s height, with short messy cinnamon hair and shockingly violet eyes just like Imagene. His skin was pale, though not as see through as hers had been, and he wore a lab coat over bright blue scrubs and glasses.

“Imagene?” He asked, sitting up, wincing as his head throbbed in protest.

“Oh! No, wrong royal I’m afraid.” The stranger laughed, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. The lenses caught the light, flashing like a camera for a moment. “Don’t worry, it’s a fairly common mistake to make. Me and my sister do look quite alike and often get confused with one another, especially when we were younger. Also you don’t have to call me Dr. Rossia. If you know Imagene on a first name basis then Lucivida should suffice.”

“You’re Imagene’s brother?” Lance asked in surprise. “So that makes you-”

“Good day Vivirdian!” Lucivida smiled brightly, seeming to ignore Lance. “Glad to see you are not my patient for once!”

“As am I, Prince Lucivida.” Vivirdian nodded cordially, a knowing smile playing at his lips.

“I asked you not to call me that!” Lucivida flustered, ears turning pink. “Or else I’ll start calling you dad!”

Vivirdian laughed. “Alright, I’ll stop. Now I think you have some confused patients.”

Lucivida turned his attention back to Lance and Keith. “I suppose you’re right. Well, good morning! I’m Dr. Lucivida Rossia- but as I said just call me Lucivida as I am not one for formal titles- and I’m the resident neurologist here at Queen Drossi Hospital of Ambrusia.”

“Wait,” Keith narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “If you’re a prince how come you’re a doctor? Aren’t you supposed to be the heir to the throne?”

“Well, technically yes.” Lucivida said as he tapped on his pad. “It is Ambrusian law that the first born male inherit the throne, but in the case of all female offspring the eldest princess becomes next in line for the crown. You see, me and Imagene are twins, but she beat me by about 8 minutes to the crown.”

Keith narrowed his eyes to slits, his tongue popping slightly out of the side of his mouth like it always did when he was thinking. Lance found himself oddly… attracted to it? No, maybe attraction wasn’t the word. Intrigued maybe. He had never really paid much attention to Keith before, but suddenly he knew his quirks. Huh.

But let’s get back to the real issue here.

“Then why aren’t you heir?” Lance asked, utterly bewildered. He had said in the case of all females the eldest receives the throne, but Lucivida was obviously a guy.

“None of your business Lance,” Keith snapped suddenly. From the look on his face he’d figured out what Lance had not. “Just drop it. Does it really matter?”

Lucivida grinned turning to Vivirdian. “I like this one, he’s observant! But can we get back to the medical reason I was called down here? If you don’t mind that is.”

“Of course,” Keith said quickly, throwing Lance a threatening glare. Lance was affronted. He hadn’t said anything offensive had he? At least not his knowledge. Then again he wasn’t exactly the most aware of social cues.

That had always cause him trouble growing up, the whole social cue thing. He had no idea what was acceptable and what wasn’t, particularly when it came to conversational topics. His friends seemed to understand this and let it slide when he began to get to personal, ask weird questions, or get innapropriate, but strangers not so much. He’d been made fun of a lot for odd behaviors, like not looking people in the eyes or snapping his fingers, or humming. At his best he was mild annoying, and at his worst it was downright obnoxious. As a little kid it didn’t matter too much, but as he got older he was often labeled as the weird kid and pushed out of friend groups.

The only upside of all of this was that he was so used to people being snide that it flew over his head every time. He didn’t really care what people thought of him as long as he was happy, at least for the first few years. When he did start developing those social cues and a sense of what was appropriate for everyday conversation it hit him hard. He began to realize that it was all his fault that people ignored him or refused to work in the same group as him, that his odd behaviors creeped people out, and he felt powerless to stop it. No matter what he did that ‘weird’ label stuck with him everywhere he went and he hated himself for it. He desperately wanted to be normal, to be in control, but it wasn’t possible.

“I’m Keith and this is Lance.” Keith’s voice interrupted Lance’s thoughts.

“I already know your names,” Lucivida said. “I was the one who did preliminary test for any foreign diseases. Good news is you’re clean of all viral, fungal, and bacterial maladies and you can receive your first round of vaccinations today!”

“Joy.” Lance deadpanned. He’d always despised getting shots as a kid. At the doctor’s office it usually required 3 or 4 nurses just to hold him down long enough to stick him and if it wasn’t for the flu mist Lance would have never been immunized against the flu. He’d take muscle aches and vomiting over a needle any day.

Lucivida didn’t seem to notice his obvious sarcasm in Lance’s voice, because he clapped his hands together gleefully and beamed. “I’m glad somebody here shares my excitement for herd immunity!”

Lucivida set aside his tablet and pushed his glasses up his nose again. “Vivirdian said one of you was experiencing problems walking after time in a healing pod?”

“That’d be me,” Keith grumbled. “And my legs won’t stop shaking even when I’m resting.”

Lucivida bent down, to examine Keith’s legs. “Fascinating… can you lay down? I’ll be better able to test your range of motion and whether or not this is something serious.”

“Lance…?” Keith looked at the Blue Paladin. “Can you move?”

“Oh!” Lance forgot that they were on his bed. He slid out of the covers to stand and let Keith utilize his bed. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Keith huffed, lying back. Lucivida began tugging Keith’s legs, extending them slowly to check their mobility, muttering about the spinal connections. Lance noticed Keith looked pretty uncomfortable, not as if he were pain, but just… unnerved. He squirmed every time Lucivida moved his hands, and actually flinched when his hands grabbed his hips. Lance knew he needed a distraction so he did the only thing he could think of: he grabbed Keith’s hand.

Keith’s stormy gray eyes snapped to him instantly, flashing a warning. “What the hell are you-”

“Shhh!” Lance hushed him, holding out a finger. He examined  Keith’s hand. It was warm, and Lance couldn’t help but note that his skin surprisingly soft for a guy. Did Keith use lotion? Probably. “I’m gonna read your palm.”

“Oh my god,” Keith rolled his eyes but Lance could see he was mildly interested. “Where did you learn to read palms?”

“I had an interesting set of friends in Cuba,” Lance chuckled running his fingers over the wrinkled lines of Keith’s palm, examining how they arched and raced over the pale skin. If he’d been looking at Keith’s face he would have seen a subtle blush creep up into his cheeks.

“Okay so you see this line here?” Lance said, pointing out one of the long lines. “This is the lifeline and it gives a glimpse into how healthy you’ll be throughout your life. The myth is that it indicates the length of your life, but that’s not true. You’ve got a longish lifeline, which means you’ll be healthy for a great deal of your life. I, quite frankly, find that to be ironic considering our line of work.”

Keith laughed, relaxing a little. Lance couldn’t help but smile as he continued. “Okay, so your life line starts really high up meaning you have a strong personality and express your views on everything whether they are welcomed or not, and your endpoints… they say you like to travel, you don’t really have a permanent home.”

“Accurate,” Keith snickered, meeting Lance’s eyes for a moment before looking away. “Keep going.”

“Your shape says… you’ve got good energy,” Lance said knitting his eyebrows together as he focused on the line. “And you’ve got quite the number of lifeline breaks which means serious injuries or big changes. At least that describes our jobs. Your heartline tells more about your emotions, sensitivity, and sexual life. Your heartline says you’re levelheaded, emotionally reserved, desire affection, but can be sensitive to other’s emotions. Also it says you’re unpredictable and hard to please…”

Keith

Lance’s fingers ghosting along the lines of Keith’s palm is indescribable, but he’d be damned not to try. It’s almost a soft, tingling sensation, like a feather brushing over his hands and Keith doesn’t know why but it feels good. Something unfurls within him, warming his body, flushing his cheeks. He wasn’t really even listening to Lance's words at this point, he was just soaking in this feeling, savoring it. He wrote it off as him just being touch starved. In his lifetime he’d hardly ever experienced physical affection, or at least physical affection he genuinely wanted. Not to mention focusing on Lance meant pushing the sensation of a stranger’s hands on his body. Keith told himself this was why Lance’s touch felt so good… one hundred percent the reason.

“Well!” Lucivida clapped his hands, pulling their attention towards him. “Good news is it’s merely residual muscle weakness from the healing pods. No spinal issues, which is very good news indeed. But that also means I can’t fix it. You’ll just have to use crutches for a day or two. It wasn’t really necessary that I even be brought down here but I’m glad you did because your symptoms mimic a certain spinal injury that can be particularly nasty to treat, but it’s not, thank the Moons!”

“That’s great!” Lance said, letting go of Keith’s hand. Keith didn’t want him to let go, he wanted to hold Lance’s hand forever. Fuck... why would he want that? He had no idea where that hand had been. He reminded himself to go wash it the next chance he got.

“Yeah, wonderful.” Keith grumbled. “Now, when do we get out of here?”

“You see your lions are completely unusable and we have to rebuild the frame of the Red Lion completely!” Lucivida explained, pushing his way to big for his face glasses up his nose again. “It’s going to be at least 3 cycles- sorry, I need to use common periods- months until we can even gather all the supplies. That being said, not much of the technology itself was damaged. So once we rebuild the exterior you should be ready to go!”

Keith blinked in response to Lucivida’s sudden rambling speech. He was torn between feeling pleased and annoyed. On one hand he had a good time frame of when he and Lance could go and search for Allura and the others, on the other 3 months was a long time to just be sitting around doing nothing. Zarkon’s empire was quickly approaching Earth. He had no idea how long it would be until then, but soon, very soon.

Keith had no idea why, but the thought of Zarkon taking over Earth made him… anxious. Why should he even care? He’d never had a family or a real home there, didn’t have anybody worrying about him, didn’t have a reason to defend it at all, right? But what about Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, and Lance. He’d already known about Pidge’s family. Her mom was probably worried sick. Neither Hunk nor Shiro had never spoken about their families, not that Keith had ever really talked to Hunk more than required in his time at the castle and Shiro tried to avoid the topic of family around Keith after learning about Keith being an orphan. But Keith had heard about Lance’s family and how much he missed them, pretty little June-bug and Lance’s rebellious mom, the twins, his father, his home town. In a way, even though he’d only heard about these people and places through stories, Keith felt attached to the McClain family. So maybe he did have a reason, even if it was just a second hand one.

“Alright, I guess we’ll just… hang out for 3 months… in the hospital,” Lance said.

“Oh! You want to know when you’ll leave the hospital! Silly me,” Lucivida chuckled. “I can discharge you now actually. You’ll have to be accompanied by Vivirdian or myself until the trial, but you can leave.”

“And where will we be staying?” Keith asked, sitting up.
“In the spare bedrooms of the palace most likely.” Lucivida replied, typing on his tablet at an almost dizzying pace. “I hope you like small children!”

Keith had to give the Ambrusians credit, they knew how to bathe . His room’s bathroom held something that resembled in an inground luxury hot tub with 7 different bubble baths and a shampoo that Lucivida informed him worked with natural body chemistry to give the user their own signature scent. The jets could be adjust with just a few taps of a finger and the temperature of the tub seemed to just adjust to whatever Keith wanted it to be automatically. Usually Keith didn’t like bathing in strange places. He despised public showers and bathtubs, so bathing in hotels and at school had always been his personal hell. The mold or mildew or whatever that black stuff growing in the tile grooves grossed him out and you just never knew who’s feet had stood there before you or where they had been. Needless to say he was glad to see that this bath was immaculately clean. He didn’t shiver in disgust as he took a seat on the smooth base of the tub.

As he lowered himself into the warm water he let out a groan of relief. He hadn't even known how amazing a bath would feel until he was in one. He felt the tense muscles in his back begin to release slowly. He laid back taking in the luxury of the room around him. Picture the bathrooms of the swankiest hotels you can imagine and now add advanced futuristic technology. The room itself was simple in design, with a sink and what Keith assume was a toilet sectioned off from the main attraction: the bath. The walls were a soothing blue, with no extra decorations except for a square control panel. Keith made a mental note to play around with it later. The room was lit by the soft glow of a large crystal that hung from the ceiling above him. A part of him feared it would break free and impale him, but another part simply marveled at its beauty. Plush towels hung neatly from a towel rack alongside a very comfy looking robe. Keith closed his eyes for a moment. These past few days had been stressful, what with crash landing and the Galra and everything, it felt nice to just unwind if only for a moment.

He let himself just enjoy the feeling of warm bubbly water for a few minutes before getting to work scrubbing himself clean. He truly appreciated those rag baths Lance had given him but it hadn’t really put a dent in the dirt and dust on his body. He swiped behind his ears for example and the white cloth came back streaked with a yellowy brown substance and by the time he had washed the rest of his body the bath water was tinged slightly gray. He can’t imagine how he had smelled before, but at least now he was fresh and scented softly of cinnamon. At least he thought it was cinnamon. It kind of smelled like it anyways which was good enough for him. Also his skin seemed softer and healthier than it had before. He just hoped whatever was in the soap didn’t clog up his pores. The last thing he needed was a break out on top on all this.

After tousling his hair dry with one of the fluffy white towels Keith pulled on a pair of soft sweat pants and a black t-shirt he’d found in the closet in the bathroom. It fit him perfectly, which made him wonder if they’d taken his measurements in the hospital. A little creepy but at least he wasn’t swimming in clothes 3 sizes too big or being choked to death by a small shirt collar. He’d been given a lot of hand-me-downs in foster care and was all too familiar with both extremes. They were comfortable too, but he would have preferred his red jacket and the pair of skinny jeans he’d left on the castle, but really he didn’t have much to complain about. Beggars can’t be choosers, especially not in a foreign cultural setting where his survival depended on him being on friendly terms with the higher ups. For all he knew complaining could be a very serious offense punishable by god knows what. If that was true then it meant that Lance, the king of whining, was in trouble.

Vivirdian was standing outside his door when Keith stepped out. He was dutifully standing between Keith’s and Lance’s bedroom doors. He glanced at Keith and nodded politely, handing him a pair of sandals, which fit remarkably well.

“Lunch is in half a tock.” Vivirdian informed him.

“Thanks,” Keith said wiggling his toes in his new shoes. “Is Lance out yet?”

Vivirdian shook his head and Keith chuckled. Lance took the longest to get ready for anything. He said it had to do with his elaborate skin care routine and beauty sleep. The other paladins joked that Lance was the team diva and his protests to be referred to as such only strengthened their evidence.

“Alright,” He grinned. “Where is Lucivida?”

“His room,” Vivirdian replied, pointing to a door down the hall.

“Thanks,” Keith said. “When or if Lance ever gets out of the bathroom tell him that’s where I’ll be.”

Vivirdian nodded and Keith walked, or hobbled to be more accurate, over to the door Vivirdian had pointed out. He knocked once, and not hearing any objections, opened it and entered.

It wasn’t so much a bedroom as it was a workshop in fact the only evidence that this was a bedroom was the mattress in the corner with tangled up blankets and a singular pillow. It had been pushed to the very back of the room, as if sleep was an afterthought. Where other teens might have posters or pictures Lucivida had covered his walls were with blueprints and what looked like brain scans and diagrams. They were so numerous that Keith had no idea what the original color of the wall could have been. The only free spot on the walls was taken up by a large screen which was currently displaying line after line of code. Papers covered the floor like snow, big rectangular snow with messy handwritten notes cramping the margins. Skyscrapers of thick scientific looking volumes were stacked high on shelves and tables next to complex machinery, tools, and miles of wires. All of this seemed to only point to the very center of the room where Lucivida, still in his lab coat, was tinkering with a large machine.

“Lucivida?” Keith called, approaching him slowly. Lucivida startled, whirling around to see who had spoken.

“Oh!” He let out a sigh of relief and straightened his glasses. “Hello Keith, I must not have heard you come in. Got lost in my invention.”

“I could tell,” Keith said looking around the room. “What exactly is your invention?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Lucivida clapped his hands together excitedly as he stood up. “As I am sure you already know- or maybe you don’t as Vivirdian doesn’t say much- I am currently studying neurology in hopes to become a neurologist. That’s why I work in the hospital as hands on experience is a must! Regardless this here is the realization of my life’s dream since I was 6: a simulator that works by manipulating brain waves to create new environments pre determined by a clinician. Think of all the uses! We could pull the truth out of a suspect in minutes, train soldiers in complex battle plans without physical injury, even treat some psychological disorders! And in building it I’ve discovered that this machine does much more than that. It can read, copy, and even replicate quintessence! It’s a major medical breakthrough!”

“Woah,” Keith marveled at the machine. It appeared to be like one of those dentist’s chairs, but sleeker and without the head lamp. Wires ran from the chair into the floor, which now that Keith looked at it closer was comprised of tiles of clear, durable material allowing for anyone to see the wires than snaked beneath them.

“I know! It’s simply amazing!” Lucivida seemed to glow with pride, but it faltered after a moment. “Well, it’s amazing to some people at least.”

“What do you mean?” Keith asked, knitting his brows together. Lucivida fidgeted with his hands, not taking his eyes off of his feet.

“He means,” A voice . “That no matter how amazing his invention is the council is too thick skulled to approve his license for it.”

Keith turned his head to see... Lucivida, but with longer hair and no glasses. No, it wasn’t Lucivida, this had to be his twin sister, Princess Imagene. She smiled warmly, pulling her bathrobe tighter around her. Her brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and her shirt was a faded an age faded shade of red and a few inches too short in the sleeves. Her gray sweats were coming apart a bit at the seams that had already been resewn at least once.She gave the distinct impression of not wanting to seem royal at all, but she was fighting a losing battle. Even if she hadn’t been wearing a small, barely noticeable gold circlet in her hair the way she held herself demanded the attention and respect of those around her. She seemed to radiate the same vibe of confidence and power that Allura gave off. Keith nearly bowed to her.

“Imagene,” Lucivida’s tone grew sharp. “You should be in bed. You have the council meeting tonight and the trial tomorrow morning not to mention a whole host of upcoming events. You need your strength.”

“My pigmentation is up to a 5,” She chuckled. “Thanks to your Sun Patch.”

Lucivida let out a squeal of delight. “You’re wearing it? Is it working? I think it is!”

“It is not a 5!” Vivirdian corrected her as he entered the room. He filled the doorway looking at Imagene with a look of disapproval. Keith was immediately reminded of Super Space Dad Shiro. He crossed his arms over his chest which made his biceps seem much larger somehow. “It’s a 4.63. Don’t lie.”

“4.63 rounds up to 5!” She protested.

“You shouldn’t round up with anything pertaining to your health,” Vivirdian countered crossly and Imagene turned to her brother for support.

“He’s got a point Genie,” Lucivida said knowingly, pushing his glasses up again. “Let’s say Keith weighs 125 Fz, and I give him a painkiller serum that is 1 ps per 10 Fz. If I give him 13 ps because that is what it happens to round up to I risk shutting down his lungs and kidneys! Much better to be precise and go with 12.5 ps even though it’s a hassle to measure out.”

Imagene looked at Lucivida as of she was Julius Caesar and had just watched Brutus stabbing her. “You two are absolutely ridiculous!”

“What the hell is pigmentation?” Lance asked, stepping into the room. “I don’t really understand- what the… what’s all this?”

A ray of sunlight shone through the one none note covered window just at the right moment to illuminate Lance’s face. His mocha colored hair was still a little damp from bathing and clung a bit to his forehead. The light made his blue eyes sparkle a little. He wore a simple white t-shirt and sweats that were a bit too loose in the waist and for some reason Keith found himself staring. At Lance. Stranger still he felt his heart skip a beat as Lance crossed over to him, fiddling with his drawstrings.

“They got the length right,” Lance said irritatedly. “Which in itself is a miracle, but it’s too large in the waist and I don’t like tempting gravity to pants me especially in the presence of royalty.”

“Probably not the best,” Keith couldn’t hold back a soft snicker. “And it’s no wonder they got the width wrong. You’ve got two stilts for legs.”

“Um? Excuse you?” Lance scoffed placing an offended hand on his chest. “Did you just insult my model legs?”

“You mean your tooth picks with knees?” He asked stifling a laugh. “You’re knotting it wrong, let me.”

He took Lance’s strings and began to tie them with fumbling fingers. He deftly tied Lance’s pants so they wouldn’t sag and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“That’s much better!” Lance grinned looking down as his pants with approval. “Now I don’t run the risk of flashing the princess before the time is right.”

Keith groaned rolling his eyes. So the regular lady hunter Lance was back again making crass jokes about his underwear zone. Was this really the guy he’d let hold his hand only half an hour before?

“You’re insufferable,” He grumbled and would have turned away or folded his arm if he wasn’t on crutches. Turning away from Lance in obvious annoyance would lose its effect by Keith having to teeter in a circle awkwardly and he’d probably fall flat on his face if he stopped leaning on his crutches for even a moment. Not cool in the slightest.

“Yeah but I also saved your life,” He snickered, wiggling his eyebrows. “And changed your scrawny white ass and spoon fed you like a baby for a solid week.”

“Oh my god,” Keith felt his cheeks burn. “It sounds so wrong when you say it like that.”

Lance laughed, clapping a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, speaking of food when do you think lunch is?”

Lance

Lance was thoroughly impressed. First of all they’d been treated to an out of this world (Literally, HA) bathing experience, now they were eating some delicious meat stew that could kick food goo’s ass any day of the week. Even Keith seemed to like it, though he didn’t vocalize his pleasure as Lance did. Keith, who hardly ever finished a meal unless he really liked it, was actually going for seconds, something that would have made even Shiro blink in surprise. Besides the meat stew there was the Ambrusian equivalent of coffee, which Lance had been craving since he left Earth, excellent bread, and some sort of oddly fish smelling paste that Imagene said was traditionally spread on the bread as a delicacy.

“Personally I think it makes a much better face mask replica,” She snickered exchanging knowing glances with Lucivida. “We have a bratty cousin name Krissy and she made fun of our little sister so we replaced her skin care face mask with the fish paste and she just freaked.”

Lucivida snorted into his stew. “It was hysterical! She cried for at least 2 hours, screeching that she smelled like rotting fish. Priceless.”

“I have a million cousins,” Lance said between bites of bread. “All of them are just terribly spoiled. They’re all richer than god. I think their parents, my Aunt Sarita and Uncle Tito, are millionaires from some big stock market thing. Speaking of parents, where are yours?”

Lance wasn’t gonna lie, he’d been wanting to meet the king and queen this entire time. It wasn’t that Lucivida and Imagene weren’t great, they were, but he thought that as VIPs and paladins of Voltron an audience with the king was only proper. Apparently not, as the bubbly atmosphere of the table curled up and died. The smiles on the twins faces faded away and Vivirdian made a low growl of warning in his throat. Keith flashed Lance a warning look. What the hell was that for? How was he supposed to know this would happen if he asked about their parents?

“Who wants to tell them?” Lucivida asked Imagene. “Do you want to or should I or- you know what I will.”

He shifted his focus back to Lance, pushing his glasses up his nose again. “Our parents are dead.” He said flatly.

Lance blinked in surprise setting his piece of bread down. “Oh, I had no idea…”

He shrugged taking another spoonful of stew. “It was a few common years ago. You couldn’t have known.”

“If you don’t mind,” Keith began carefully. “Do you mind telling us what happened?”

The twins once again looked at eachother for a few moments as if asking who wanted to answer this emotional bomb. It was Imagene who spoke up this time. She sighed, sounding very tired as she spoke.

“When Lucivida and I were 14 the Galra infiltrated the castle,” She began keeping her eyes trained on her bowl. “They killed many guards, slaughtering a trail of blood to the safe room where the royal family was hidden. They broke in and my parents fought to protect us as long as they could but…”

“They killed them right in front of us.” Lucivida finished for her. “It was awful. But that’s why Imagene is regent. She can’t assume the throne until we turn 18 next cycle. It will be quite the event!”

Lucivida’s voice tried to sound upbeat, but it was weak, wobbly. Imagene quickly stood up.

“I’m excusing myself.” She said quietly, and walked hurriedly from the room.

Lunch didn’t taste so wonderful after that.

Chapter Text

Lance

The next morning Vivirdian woke them up at the ass crack of dawn for breakfast.

“It’s time to get up,” He called through the door as Lance groaned pulling a pillow over his face. From his view of the glass balcony doors Lance could see that the dark horizon was only just beginning to lighten at the very edges as the sun peeked out from under the covers of night. Soon she would throw back the starry blankets and rise to lead another day.

Like Lance had said, ass crack of dawn.

“We have lot’s to do,” Vivirdian continued. “If you don’t get out I’ll drag you out by the heels. Don’t expect special treatment just because you’re a paladin of Voltron.”

Lance heaved a final groan and sat up. His spare bedroom wasn’t as large as the bedroom of Lucivida, but it was definitely larger than his room back home. The bed was big enough for two people and softer than any other mattress he’d ever lain on and the bathroom was more of an experience than an actual room but it all felt off to Lance. Not that it wasn’t great or anything, because it was, it was probably the best and most comfortable bed room he’d ever stay in, but it wasn’t home. He missed the faded glow stars on his ceiling and silly drawings his siblings had given to him over the years. He missed the cheap photo frames from years at camp that held dozens of memories within their borders. He missed waking up to the smell of his mother cooking breakfast to the tune of classic christian radio tunes. He missed the pitter patter of June’s baby feet as she giggled and ran down the halls. He just missed home, but he couldn’t go back and his best chance of ever seeing his family again was to keep moving forward.

Lance decided to get dressed after breakfast as he pulled his bathrobe over his pj’s and shuffled sleepily towards the door. Vivirdian had said today would be a big day, big meant busy, and busy meant he might be able to take his mind off of home, hopefully. He didn’t have to worry about it because when he opened the door all thoughts of home were pushed from his mind at the sight of Vivirdian dragging a scrambling Keith out of his room by the ankles.

“Let me go!” Keith protested, trying to break free of Vivirdian’s grasp. “I don’t need breakfast.”

“Now, don’t be like that!” Lucivida chortled carrying Keith’s crutches. “Science proves that breakfast is the most important meal of the day! Maybe on Earth you disregard such fact to save time but here we do what is good for us even if it does cut into our sleeping schedules!”

Keith grumbled and stopped resisting as Vivirdian dragged him all the way to the dining room, Lance following and laughing his whole head off. Imagene was already in the dining room, reading the newspaper when they paraded in. She looked up and snorted at the sight of Keith.

“I see somebody didn’t wake up in time.” She smiled wiping her mouth with a napkin. “When Vivirdian says ‘it’s time to get up’ you get up. Regardless, how did you two sleep?”

After the lunch disaster yesterday Imagene hadn’t returned to join them for dinner. Lucivida assured Lance it was because she was trying to catch up on overdue paperwork and it had nothing to do with the topic discussed at lunch, but Lance still felt guilty. He ended up spending dinner in his room, not wanting to cause further emotional turmoil.

“Great,” Lance responded with a nervous smile as he took a seat.

“Fine,” Keith huffed as he wobbled into a chair. Lance glanced over to the Red Paladin. He didn’t look like he’d slept ‘fine’ at all, but he’d learned that it was best not to test Keith in the wee morning hours.

“Is there more of that coffee stuff?” Lance asked, spotting a mug of it. “God bless,”

Caffeine and ADHD didn’t really mix, especially when a person doesn’t have ADHD meds to counteract it. Lance just realized, for the first time, he hadn’t taken his meds in god knows how long. It wasn’t like he’d had a bottle on him when he and the others had performed their prison break. Even if he had it would have run out eventually. Besides, he’d always felt like the pills controlled him in a way, like he could never function on his own without them.

He’d been in a battle with those Concerta ER tablets for years. He’d been taking the maximum legal dosage for nearly a decade now, and really he felt like it only put a dent in his ADHD. At best, even when on the pills, Lance was moderately inattentive, he still chattered incessantly, but at least it was dulled to a speed people could comprehend, and he still had no motivation. The pills repressed his appetite and made him feel drowsy at the worst times. He got dizzy if he stood up too fast, mild headaches more often than not, and sleeping was near impossible. Also he felt a bit like an emotional zombie. It wasn’t that the pills made him completely apathetic, they just seemed to numb him. He felt like a wind up toy most days, just going through the motions, but that wasn’t the worst of it, the worst was not being able to dream. For some reason Lance never looked into when he was on his ADHD meds he couldn’t dream at night. On the rare occasions that he did dream it was always really weird and unsettling. But he did need the meds and going without them was too risky especially if he had a test or important event that required his utmost focus. So Lance popped them in every morning without fuss.

Still he despised the pill and all it stood for: focus, productivity, and calm. What truly bothered him the worst about it, besides the side effects, was how people seemed to like him better on the pills. He always flinched when somebody asked if he’d forgotten to take his meds that morning. His mother heralded the pills as the savior of her sanity and his father was always asking if they needed to up the dosage. It was almost like saying they liked a drugged Lance better than the real Lance, like his true, uncensored, unfiltered self wasn’t good enough. He hated it and hated himself, wishing he’d been born with a normal brain and that he didn’t need these drugs not only to focus but to be liked. That’s probably why, instead of the normal panic he felt when he realized he’d forgotten his pills, he only felt relief. These people, Ambrusians, whatever, had only ever known the real Lance. They didn’t compare him to a more calm and composed Lance, didn’t even know that was possible, and maybe that was a good thing he thought as he chugged the entire mug of coffee.

“I’m glad to hear that you have settled in,” Imagene smiled, looking around the table.

“Busy day ahead of us!” Lucivida grinned. “But of course we’re always busy. So busy we’ll die standing up, like-”

“An old Oxbull,” Imagene finished, passing him a cup of juice he hadn’t even indicated he wanted.

“Precisely! And thank you Imagene,” He took a sip from the cup. “You know I normally go for Ora Berry but today I was feeling Juki.”

Lance was starting to believe in psychic twin powers. The nonverbal exchanges, the sentence finishing, the mind reading, it was a little creepy. His own twin brothers did the same exact thing all the time. They seemed to be completely in sync with each other, always knowing how the other twin was feeling or what they were thinking before either of them spoke a word.

“Enough with the Grandpa Frei sayings,” Vivirdian said with a hint of a chuckle. “I uploaded today’s plan on the pads but I’ll go over the highlights real quick.”

He cleared his throat examining a thin tablet. “Imagene your council meeting starts at 9 sharp, and with Solovette back from her vacation expect it to last until noon.”

Imagene let out a groan between bites of what looked like oatmeal. “It’s my first day back and she’ll be grilling me to a fine charred crisp about why I left my mission early.”

“Remember to not breathe a word!” Lucivida said. “She might try to use it against you in trial, you know how she operates.”

“The trial is right now slated for 2 o’clock.” Vivirdian continued, ignoring the twins. “I’d make sure you take some time to teach Lance and Keith our customs for court procedures beforehand.”

“Wait our trial is today?!” Lance asked in confusion. “Shouldn’t we have time to recover and get to know the place first?”

“Won’t matter if you’re exiled,” Lucivida shrugged. “Imagene had to fight tooth and nail for you to be considered royal guests. Solovette wanted your status to be war prisoners until the trial but she isn’t regent. That and it’s not like we have any open cells.”

“After that,” Vivirdian continued. “Imagene has a coronation fitting at 4, an event planning meeting at 5, Military command meeting at 6, and a State of the Kingdom address at 8, so bring a snack and don’t expect to eat until going on 10.”

“Does that go for all of us?” Keith asked, raising his hand as if they were back at the Garrison. Vivirdian nodded without looking up at him.

“Yes, more for moral support than anything.” He smiled grimly.

Imagene slumped into her chair. “Is it too late to give the throne back to Lucivida?”

“I don’t want it!” Lucivida smirked. “Have fun with Cordenia, Genie.”

“I just have to survive 3 more common weeks,” She breathed. “Just 3 more weeks…”

“What’s in 3 weeks…?” Lance asked tentatively, hoping it wasn’t the anniversary of her parents’ death or anything morbid like that.

“Our birthday,” She smiled, exchanging glances with Lucivida. “And my coronation. As a result though it won’t much of a party, more a formal dinner, but after that everything will quiet down.”

“But before that we have the Festival of New Yam,” Lucivida reminded her. “That’ll make up for a lost birthday, I’m sure.”

“What will make up for it is watching Vivirdian do the Yam Waltz,” She snickered, poking her tongue out at the advisor (advisor?) who rolled his eyes.

“A big day indeed,” He sighed setting the tablet down on the table. “So everybody should get a good breakfast in now. I’ll pack snacks for the Address.”

“Right,” Imagene said, glancing around the table. “Everybody is here except… Vivirdian where is Ellea?”

Vivirdian, who was spreading a thick yellow jam onto his toast, sighed. “I can go check on her.”

“Who’s Ellea?” Keith asked, narrowing his eyes at his toast as if it had offended him.

“She’s kind of our whole reason for keeping it together,” Lucivida chuckled, opening up a newspaper. “She’s our baby sister, a little under 8 common years old. Very playful, likes tea parties and you would be a fool to turn down any opportunity to spend time with her.”

Just then a little girl scampered into the room and climbed up into her chair. She blinked around the table with big eyes, which somehow grew bigger at the sight of her guests. She had darker hair than the twins, but shared the same strikingly violet eyes. There was a scar on her cheek that ran from just under her eye to down her neck as if she’d been slashed. Lance decided not to ask how she got it though he was immensely curious. In her lap rested a large shabby bat toy. Was it a bat? It looked like a bat, but it had four wings. One of the purple button eyes was coming loose and it’s fur was slightly worn away on the ears. It was clear that this was a well loved and greatly treasured toy. She hugged it tighter to her chest as she caught Lance staring at it, as if he might try to take it.

“Good morning Ellea,” Imagene greeted her little sister in a sweet, chipper tone. “Have you met Keith and Lance yet?”

She shook her head, sweeping some of her hair back. Lance started to wave, trying to be friendly, but as he raised his hand she seemed to shrink away from him, reaching out for her big sister. Lance quickly lowered his hand, looking down at his plate sheepishly.

“They’re nice,” Imagene began, reassuring her sister. “They are two of the five paladins of Voltron, remember that story?”

At the word ‘Voltron’ the little girl’s eyes lit up. “Which lions do they pilot?”

“I pilot the Blue Lion! Arguably the best one,” He boasted. “I’m Lance.”

“I think you mean the Red Lion is the best one,” Keith scoffed. “Which is my lion, by the way. I’m Keith.”

“Voltron is her favorite children’s story,” Imagene smiled, running her hands through the excited little girl’s hair. “I’m sure she’ll have lot’s of questions for you.”

After breakfast Lance decided to just hang out with Keith, or as hang out as best you can with your arch nemesis who refuses to acknowledge your rivalry. That’s how he found himself half an hour later flopped across Keith’s bed, surrounded by the bane of his existence: books.

“Did you even sleep at all last night?” Lance asked as he thumbed through a dusty volume, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell of the pages.

“Yeah,” Keith responded flatly, eyes moving back and forth across a page. “I just asked Lucivida for some information on Ambrusian history and he gave me this.”

“What? An entire library?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow. Keith only shrugged in reply, a signal that if Lance wanted to talk he’d have to find a new topic. Hm, he was getting better at reading Keith. “Why would you want to read up on Ambrusian history anyways?”

“We’re probably going to be here for a while,” Keith said simply as if it were obvious as to why he’d stay in his room and actually choose to read instead of exploring the palace. “I figured we might as well arm ourselves with background knowledge so we don’t have to keep constantly asking for clarification.”

Lance made an audible noise of disgust. “I’m pretty sure that they’d be more than happy to tell us and we wouldn’t have to comb through old mumbo jumbo for hours.”

Keith narrowed his eyes, still not looking away from his book. “And do what else? It’s not like we can go anywhere on our own.”

“‘ It’s not like we can go anywhere on our own.’” Lance mocked. “Says who?”

Keith glared at Lance. “Watch it. I wouldn’t go belittling your only true ally.”

“Ally?” Lance scoffed. “Hardly, the only thing I know about you is that you like grape flavored candy, which is pretty weird man.”

“I can’t believe I broke a doctor’s nose for you,” Keith muttered, sitting up to face Lance. “So what do you want to do? Play another icebreaker?”

“Nah,” Lance waved him away. “We’re past that stage, let’s just skip right to our deepest darkest secrets.”

“Let’s not.” Keith growled, folding his arms. His hands looked weird without their fingerless mitts.

“Okay, I’ll go first! My deepest, darkest secret is that I…” He paused for effect, leaning in a bit. “Have ADHD.”

Keith pressed a hand to his forehead. “That explains way too much.” He sighed.

“Can’t tell if that’s an insult or what,” Lance grinned, rolling over onto his belly and propping his chin up in his hands. “Well, I’ve spilled my soul to you, so what juicy information is rolling around in that mullet of yours?”

Keith frowned crossly, he’d never liked being referred to as ‘mullet’. “As if I’d tell you.”

“Dude, I already told you mine, you can’t leave me empty handed.” He countered. “Suck up your pride, or else I’ll just start guessing and wait until your ears turn red.”

“How is that a reliable method?” Keith asked in bewilderment. Lance shook his head, clicking his tongue as if Keith, his young apprentice had so much to learn.

“You are ignorant in the ways of the world,” Lance informed him. “Keith, when you get flustered your ears turn red and you get all… flustered. That’s how I’ll know if I’ve got something right!”

“Oh my god,” Keith rolled his eyes. “You’re so dense.”

“I’m ignoring your insult.” Lance snickered. “Let the guessing begin! I bet it’s that you got kicked out of the Garrison for being an alien!”

“What the hell Lance?” Keith whipped his head to look at the Blue Paladin.

Lance only shrugged. “That was the rumor anyways.”

“Started by who?”

He shrugged again. “Dunno, there were a lot of rumors about you.”

“Like…?” Keith pressed. “If you run through them I’ll tell you which ones are true. I’d prefer that over confiding my deepest, darkest secret to you any day.”

“Deal!” Lance said, sitting up because this was important. “But first, was the alien one real or not?”

Keith snorted. “Use your head for once, of course not.”

“Alrighty,” Lance continued, reaching back into his mind for some of the old rumors that had swirled around Keith at school. Keith was always a moody and mysterious guy, keeping to himself mostly. As a result most people knew nothing about it, which led to wild guesses about who he was and what he did. Since nobody could get more than 3 words from him it wasn’t like there was anything to go off of to distinguish the fact from the fiction, which lead to some pretty outlandish rumors.

“Did Henry Graves really break your nose in our first year?” Lance asked.

“Yes,” Keith grumbled, lying back on the mound of pillows.

“Ooo! You got your ass kicked!” Lance was thrilled to have finally found some dirt on the otherwise spotless fighter pilot. “Not so tough, huh?”

“Shut up,” Keith snapped. “He’s like twice my size, just ask your next question.”

“Did you hook up with Sandy Flint and Rachel Goodman in a threesome?”

“Hell no!”

“What about Katelyn Blackwood?”

“No, definitely not, would you?”

“Not if you paid me. What about eating out Christa Hawk?”

Keith scowled. “Why are so many of these about sex?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Lance replied truthfully. “Apparently it was a big deal to get in your tight ass skinny jeans. Lot’s of girls claimed to have been with you.”

“Let’s just squash all those rumors right now,” Keith sighed. “I have not had sex with anyone at the Garrison, in any way, shape, or form.”

“Not the ladies man as everyone says then, hm?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Are you a virgin then?”

That made Keith’s ears turn bright pink and splutter aimlessly for half a minute before choking out a response. “What- Lance! That’s personal!”

“Are you?!” Lance pressed excitedly. “Is Keith Kogane actually a virgin?”

Keith

Was Keith a virgin? After all that he’d been forced to experience could he really call himself pure and untouched? It was a question that he mulled over and over in his mind night after night and years later he still didn’t have an answer. In a physical and psychological way the answer was no. It wasn’t consensual but it still happened. In his mind that man would always be his first, always be the one who had taken him even if against his will. Nothing short of a time machine could change that. Intimacy frightened Keith, it fucking terrified him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, because he was pretty sure he did. He wanted to be able to be close to somebody, to touch them and to be touched and to give himself away and even though the concept of virginity was a purely societal idea with no real value he saw its attraction. He felt ashamed that he wasn’t a virgin, but not in a slut sort of way.

The way he thought of it was that virginity was like a flower, cheesy, he knows, but bear with him for a moment. Everyone was given this little bloom at birth and carried it around with them. They would care and nurture this little flower protecting it from all would be harm doers before finally finding the right person. When the time was right they’d let that person care for their flower and under this new person’s tender ministrations the little bloom would blossom into something even more beautiful than before. It was a gift, an honor, an act of love for some. But Keith would never get to experience that for himself. His flower had been shredded cruelly right in front of his eyes. He’d never get to see his ‘flower’ grow into something new and unique. He’d never get to be anyone’s first anything. He was damaged goods and Nobody would ever want to care for a battered wilted flower.

So was he a virgin? He only had to look to the events of the previous night to know the answer was an absolute no, he was not. Last night had been the worst in months. He was forced to lie there, unable to move or speak, but completely awake as he relived the worst moments of his life over and over again. The image of Frank Galbrathe was etched into his mind, staring down at him with that smile, that perverted sick smile. When whatever held him still finally released him he’d simply curled up into a ball on his blankets and debated doing something he hadn’t done in years… Thankfully he decided it wasn’t worth the odd questions he’d get if he was forced to wear short sleeves, or winced every time he bent over. Besides, where would he get the materials?

All this ran through his head in the split second following Lance’s question. Was he a virgin? No, he wasn’t, but did Lance really need to know that? No, he didn’t. He didn’t need Lance speculating on who or how Keith had lost his v card, didn’t need the constant badgering, the hints, the questions. Keith probably would have broke down. Lance didn’t need to know, so he took in a big breath and lied.

“Of course, Lance. Do you have to be so crass?”

Chapter Text

Keith

It took Lance 5 minutes to calm down. He just sat there on Keith’s bed, giggling like an anime school girl. Keith didn’t see what was so funny, then again Lance didn’t have Keith’s perspective. However when Keith tried to put himself in Lance’s shoes it still didn’t make sense. Why would somebody not having sex be so humorous? He just scowled, folding his arms and waiting for Lance to calm down.

“You done yet?” Keith asked dryly, as Lance wiped his eyes.

“More or less.” Lance laughed. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it.”

“Why the hell not?” Keith frowned, knitting his dark eyebrows together a little. 

“Because… because….” Lance took a deep breath, the answer exploding from his chest. “You’re Keith!”

Keith winced at the sheer volume of Lance’s voice. “What does me being Keith have to do with literally anything?”

Lance blinked at him incredulously as if Keith were dense. “You’re practically a legend! Best fighter pilot in our class, the mysterious brooding bad boy all the girls loved. How could you still be one?”

“Okay, and?” Keith challenged. “Does it really matter? It’s not like doing it makes anyone a better or worse person. I knew that being from Cuba you were backwards but not this backwards.”

The room went completely silent and Keith knew right then and there that he had said the wrong thing. He had insulted Lance’s heritage. That was pretty damn lousy. Keith had experienced his fair share of bullies growing up and the only thing worse to be teased for being an orphan is being teased for your ethnicity.

“Shit… sorry I-” Keith began but Lance cut him off.

“Whatever,” He huffed, pulling his knees to his chest. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it before. It’s fine.”

Silence fell over them, thick and heavy. Keith scrambled to find a way to break it.

“So… you have ADHD?” He tried nervously.

“Yeah,” Lance said flatly. “Diagnosed in elementary school. It’s hell.”

“I... “ Keith bit his lip. He wanted to say ‘I had no idea’ but they both knew that was a lie. “I… don’t know what to say. ‘Sorry’ just seems really shitty, but uh...”

Lance laughed a bit. “Most people don’t know what to say. Usually it’s just ‘What’s that?’ or ‘I knew it’.

“Yeah, sorry is the default response when I drop the orphan card.” Keith sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But how are people supposed to react?”

Lance shrugged. “I dunno and as shitty as being an orphan probably was at least people don’t try to relate to you.”

“What?” Keith asked, thoroughly confused.

“People try and relate to me having ADHD,”Lance said, scratching the back of his neck. “By saying they get distracted and spacey all the time too. Really that’s only part of it.”

“Oh…” Keith was, as usual, at a loss for words. “What is it like then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Lance exhaled softly. He was still hugging his knees to his chest, his head resting on top of his knees. This position made him seem childlike, cute even. Keith felt something melt a little in his chest at the sight of it.

“It’s like-” Lance began but paused, pondering his words. “It’s like a constant buzz in your mind. It’s not even that loud it’s just there and it throws everything off. If thoughts are a river then ADHD is the rocks that disrupt the flow. It ripples the surface and splits the current and as a result it stirs up the sand and everything. Your thoughts are murky, fast paced, constantly intercepting each other. Let’s say you’re a leaf on that river, trying to get from point A to point B. You don’t have an oar, so you just have to trust the river to take you where you need to go. But those ADHD rocks break your stream and you veer off into another direction and before you know it you’re miles away from your original destination. If you try to back track it gets even worse so I just let it go these days. If I get off topic so be it. People can just deal, you know? And then there is the whole energy thing. My mom used to call me the Energizer Bunny because I just had no off switch. I was always on the move. I couldn’t calm down. Take the river and increase the current speed. The speed makes it hard to process things. Everything is a flash and I miss so much because of it. I don’t understand why some of my actions or questions are unacceptable because I miss all those unspoken social rules I guess. Talking is so hard because my mouth isn’t as fast as my mind so I garble and stutter my words and people just think I’m weird. I’ve lost friends because of the whole quirk and fast talking thing. I’ve lost friends by just saying ‘I have ADHD’. People hear that and just assume I’m dumb and maybe I am.”

Lance rubbed his face in his hands, taking a deep breath before he continued. “ADHD amplifies my senses too. I feel so much, so, so much. It just makes everything louder and faster. Every word, every touch, every sound. I get overstimulated so easily. Everything just intensifies. The buzzing becomes so loud and I can’t think. My skin itches, my heart races, it’s awful. I can’t always just hide away until it subsides, the world won’t pause just for me so I have to deal. I either freak out or get loud. Really loud. People don’t understand. It’s just… so fucking hard.”

Keith blinked. Holy shit. He had no idea that was what it was like for Lance. He felt like an asshole for writing Lance off as a jerk or obnoxious all those times. He’d never really gotten to know Lance, had always just pushed him away saying he didn’t need to put up with him. Suddenly he felt ashamed. He had no idea this was how Lance was really feeling, had no idea Lance perceived the world so differently and that’s why he did all those weird, crazy things.

“I’m… I had no idea…” Keith murmured. “Sounds… really shitty…”

Lance let out a shuddery breath. “It’s fine, I’m fine. I should be the one apologizing for unloading all that on you. You probably think I’m just attention seeking.”

“I don’t think you’re attention seeking,” Keith said, trying to make his voice gentle like Shiro always did. “And you don’t need to apologize, I asked what it was like and you told me. Don’t worry so much.”

Lance sniffled a little, wiping his eyes. “God, I’m being overdramatic. I mean you don’t have parents, but here I am crying about my fucked up brain.”

Keith laughed nervously, unsure of how to react. “Yeah, but I mean I didn’t know my parents. You can’t really miss what you never had.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Lance sighed. “But it probably wasn’t easy. Maybe you didn’t miss them, but did you ever feel anything about it at all?”

Keith paused. He had a lot of feelings about his parents, feelings he’d never spoken aloud before. He wasn’t sure he wanted to speak with them to Lance of all people. But Lance had just literally poured out his soul to Keith. And they were alone, the only two humans on this planet. They only had each other to lean on, to trust. Lance had trusted Keith, he needed to return the favor. So he took a deep breath and exhaled looking out the window. The garden view from his window was simply stunning. Colorful flowers arranged artfully around hedges shaped into fantastical creatures. Keith watched as a little girl darted amongst the bushes. The dark hair gave her away as Ellea right away, the whole reason the palace was keeping it together. Seeing her youth, her innocence despite going through and losing her own parents, it gave Keith the courage he needed to finally open up.

“Anger,” He murmured finally. “A lot of anger, but not at first. First there was loneliness. It sort of rose up inside me as I realized all these kids… they had parents… they didn’t get shuffled from foster home to foster home, never sure where they’d be eating next. I felt unloved and unwanted for the longest time and I was just lonely. Everybody told me my parents gave me up because they knew they couldn’t take care of me, that it was an act of love. But… after a while I grew curious as to the real reason they gave me. When I was 6 a social worker left my file on her desk while she went to make a phone call and I took that opportunity to find out the truth. I really wish I hadn’t.”

He paused, taking a few deep breaths. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Angry. He was so angry. Just thinking about it, talking about it. Fuck. He just need to push through and get this out, needed to say it.

“I opened it up and found the form my birth parents filled out and under the reason for termination of parental rights…” He took a deep breath, clenching his fists. “It was ‘possible genetic defects’...”

Silence once again filled the spaces between, but it was the loudest fucking silence Keith had ever experienced. It was cold. So cold. Thick and syrupy from what had just been released. It filled every crack and corner it could, pressing down on Keith, pushing him into the ground. It was so loud. Screaming and howling like the torrent of emotion inside him. He buried his head in his hands, biting his lip to keep from crying. Fuck, this hurt. Not the lip biting, the talking. It shouldn’t hurt this badly but it did. In a good way. He needed this.

“Keith…” Lance said. His voice was soothing, gentle. He rested a hand on Keith’s shoulder. It was oddly comforting to have his touch, something he could anchor himself on. He shifted his focus away from his feelings to Lance’s hand, that warmth.

“I was angry.” He continued his voice shaky but steadily rising. “So angry. These were the people who gave me life, who supposedly loved me. I was fine. I had come out fine. My parents didn’t care. They just dumped me because there was that chance, that small percentage. Just… How the hell- who the hell does that? I began… began to act out. In school, at home, everywhere and in any way I could just to get the anger out. It was never enough. I’m still angry, I still ache and I still hurt. I usually just repress it, keep it in the back of my mind, never let it surface but fuck. Eventually... I just became numb I guess... but it still comes up every now and then and I... fuck… fuck… fuck...”

He wasn’t trying to hold it back anymore. He was crying, full on sobbing. His chest heaved as he bawled into his hands. Usually he would have felt pathetic, weak for letting his emotions show in front of somebody, but this felt different. Like he’d just debrided a horribly crusty scab and could finally begin to heal. It had been painful, so painful, but he felt… like he could breathe. And he did breathe in big heaving gasps, choking out spluttery sobs.  

Lance was wrapping his arms around him now, pulling him down onto the bed. Keith went with it. He buried his face into Lance’s chest letting the smell of warm vanilla and rain envelop him. Lance ran his hands through Keith’s hair, not saying anything, not apologizing, just being solidly there. Keith really appreciated that. He didn’t want any comforting or flowery sentiments. He just wanted to held as fucking weird as that sounded. He just wanted somebody to be there for him for once in his life. He’d never had a single person he could depend on growing up, never stayed in one place long enough to forge those connections. Having Lance hold him like this, in silence, just being there, it felt good. His heart fluttered oddly in his chest, like a baby bird trying to take flight. He took in a deep shuddery breath of Lance, exhaling a soft sigh. He closed his eyes, his breathing coming easier now. He was calm, he was still, he was warm, he was in Lance’s arms and it was the best feeling in the world.

He replayed that thought in his head again. ‘ He was in Lance’s arms and it was the best feeling in the world.’

Fucking what the fuck. 

Oh no.

Oh fuck no. 

Did... did Keith like Lance? He quickly reviewed the past few days in his head. He'd had a vivid beach dream about him. He'd broken a doctor's nose for him. He'd referred to him, even if only in his head, as cute multiple times. He'd caressed his fucking nipple. Okay, that was an accident, but still. STILL. It had happened. He was already fond of the smell of Lance. Hell he wasn't just fond of it, he loved it. And here he was, being held by Lance, drinking in his touch, crying into his chest. So, he asked himself again, did he like Lance? Annoying, irritating, caring, adorable Lance?

Fuck. 

Chapter Text

Lance

Lance was in an odd position. His arch rival was currently sleeping on his chest and Lance was holding him, comforting him. How the hell did he get into this position? Well, actually he knew how the hell he’d gotten here but it was still kind of unbelievable. Keith had taken a good 20 minutes to finally calm down, and it was another 30 before Lance heard the tell tale sound of Keith’s gentle snoring that meant the red pilot was out. The entire time he just held Keith, letting everything just mull through his mind. He didn’t speak, didn’t know what to say more than anything. Plus he had a feeling that Keith didn’t want to talk anymore. He wasn’t exactly a chatterbox to begin with and that was probably the longest/most he’d ever talked to anyone before. And what he had said… Lance would have never guess that this was what was beneath that mullet all this time. The sadness, the anger, the hurt. He realized Keith had been wading through all of this muck for years. He wanted to help Keith, wanted to make him feel better, but he didn’t know how.

He let out a soft sigh, looking down at the Red Paladin. Locks of raven hair fell gently over moon white skin. The way his lips were slightly open, face relaxed, reminded Lance of a song his choir had once did. It was one of those pieces where the composer ripped off a poet by just using a poem for lyrics and coming up with a tune for it. Lance had performed a lot of musical works like that with the Garrison’s advanced small ensemble. He’d been a kick ass baritone and soloist. Anyways, one of his favorite rip off poem songs was called ‘Rest’. Suddenly he found himself running his fingers through Keith’s hair, like he did to his little sisters when they had a nightmare, and singing softly that familiar tune.

“O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;

Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;

Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth

With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.

She hath no questions, she hath no replies.

Hush’d in and curtain’d with a blessed dearth

Of all that irk’d her from the hour of birth;

With stillness that is almost Paradise.

Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth her,

Silence more musical than any song;

Even her very heart has ceased to stir:

Until the morning of Eternity

her rest shall not begin nor end, but be;

And when she wakes she will not think it long.”

He felt the slow, steady pulse of Keith’s heart, the same heart that raced during alien battles, training drills, and arguments. It was the same heart that kept beating despite all it had been through. Lance wasn’t sure how somebody so small could do it. Lance probably would have done the cowardly thing long ago in Keith’s position. Keith wasn’t just the arrogant kid with a mullet Lance had written him off as from day one at the Garrison. He took another look at the resting paladin, smiling a little.

Oddly enough Lance could have happily laid there for hours, but he needed to get moving. The familiar buzz of his ADHD telling him to get up and be active bubbled beneath his skin like carbonated drinks on his tongue. First things first though, he’d have to get out of the bed without disturbing Keith. It ended up taking Lance 15 minutes to wriggle out of Keith’s arms. He had to go slow so not to disturb him. First he’d tried gently removing Keith’s arms, but had stopped when Keith had twitched. Fuck, this was going to be harder than anticipated. Next he tried wiggling upwards like a worm, but Keith only tightened his grip and pulled him back down, mumbling incoherently in his sleep. It was… oddly cute. The little asshole was making this more difficult than it needed to be. Didn’t he always? Lance thought with a soft huff of exasperation. Finally he began to just roll to the side, slowly. Keith’s grip loosened and Lance rolled right off the bed with a muffled thump of tush hitting carpet. Alright, mission complete. He got to his feet, muttering a bit as he dusted himself off. He glanced over at Keith wanting to see if he’d woken up, and caught his breath. Keith was lying on his side, arms reaching out limply for nothing, chest rising and falling at a slow easy pace. He looked so small, innocent. For some reason Lance couldn’t explain he felt something in his heart leap, a little spasm almost, which probably explained what he did next. He grabbed one of the long pillows on the bed and gently slipped Keith’s arms around it. Keith latched on, squeezing it and letting out a soft breath. Lance watched him for a few moments even though it did feel a little creepy. Keith just looked so… different to him now. He couldn’t explain it, wasn’t sure he wanted to even try to put his emotions into words.

He just needed some air and time to think.

Lucivida was chatting with Vivirdian when Lance exited Keith’s room.

“Greetings!” He beamed in his usual chipper voice. “Has Keith exhausted my book collection yet?”

“Nah,” Lance smiled, closing the door as quietly as he could. “He’s sleeping right now actually.”

“Oh!” Lucivida’s voice became a quiet whisper. “I’m so sorry! Come to think of it I could tell his heart rate was off at a rate that correlated with insomnia at breakfast, but I didn’t want to say anything. I’ve found from experience that some people don’t like their medical ailments to be pointed out in public. Can’t think for the life of me why not.”

“How could you read his heart beat?” Lance asked in bewilderment, not really sure if he wanted to know at this point. These Ambrusians were kinda freaking him out now.

“No need to worry!” Lucivida chuckled, as if he could sense Lance’s apprehension. “The Ambrusian people have sensitive nerves in our feet. It’s one of the main differences between your species and ours. We can pick up vibrations from the ground such as footsteps or heart beats. Obviously it’s not a very reliable medical evaluation trick, but I can still get a general impression of when something is up.”

“It’s also useful for determining if you are being sneaked up on,” Vivirdian added. “The military trains soldiers in vibration reading techniques to determine size and species of various opponents based on foot steps. It’s also been used in codes. Foot taps and such.”

“That’s… actually really cool.” Lance said, a bit impressed he had to admit.

“It can be a bother to some people,” Lucivida smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Some people have over sensitive nerves that can cause chronic pain. It’s really rare, but it’s a serious problem.”

“Er, great,” Lance shuffled awkwardly, not wanting to get caught in one of Lucivida’s medical rambles. “Hey, I saw that there were gardens.” Lance pointed out the window to the view that overlooked the lush gardens of the palace. “Mind if I head down there and check it out?”

“Oo!” Lucivida clapped excitedly. “The gardens! I can take him Vivirdian, don’t worry.”

“Alright, but be back in time for lunch.” He nodded. “And if you can try to keep an eye on Ellea. It’s her day off from tutoring and she’ll be getting into all sorts of trouble on her own.”

“Aye aye cap’n!” Lucivida grinned, saluting Vivirdian. Vivirdian’s lip twitch upwards into a small smile. “Lance, it’s this way to the gardens. Stay close because the palace is a busy place. Easy to get lost in the shuffle!”

Lucivida wasn’t exaggerating about how easy it would be get lost in the shuffle. The upper floor where the bedrooms and dining room were located was relatively deserted. Lance assumed that floor was reserved for the royal family and guests which made sense. He wouldn’t want lot’s of people running through the halls of his living quarters either. Once they reached the lower levels the number of people bustling through the halls increased significantly. It wasn’t just palace staff either. Actually Lance mostly saw a lot of people in military uniforms like Vivirdian’s. He passed many rooms that held groups of military officials having meetings and discussing battle plans. An instructor lead a group of young, wide

eyed cadets through the hallways. They stared at Lucivida and Lance, whispering excitedly amongst each other. Lucivida waved cheerfully, and one of the younger boys freaked, grabbing his friend’s arm and pointing excitedly. Lucivida chuckled in amusement, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Why are there so many military types around here?” Lance asked as a group of buff soldiers passed them, pouring over some mission files on their tablets.

“A few common months ago our main military headquarters was destroyed in a terrorist attack,” Lucivida said calmly. “Since we really only utilize our living quarters Imagene let the military borrow our lower levels until we can build a more secure headquarters. We haven’t been able to even start construction as a result of frequent terrorist and Galran attacks. Imagene is thinking about making this a permanent change which might be for the best as the queen or king is involved in all major military rulings.”

“Woah, you have terrorists?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow. “But this place seems so… peaceful.”

“Well not everyone is in love with our kingdom,” Lucivida explained, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Some don’t like the monarchy, some believe we have fallen away from the ways of old, and others think that we are fools for trying to resist the Galra for as long as we have. They figure it’s going to happen eventually, so why fight it? Why waste precious resources on a losing battle? Regardless of their motives, they are all a part of one big group called the Renegades whose main goal to dismantle our government and take down the regent.”

Lucivida turned them down a much quieter hallway. Here there were only palace staff members cleaning up tables and arranging flowers. One maid was dusting off a large portrait of a family. Seeing Lucivida she curtseyed briefly before resuming her work. Lucivida paused in front of the painting and sighed. Lance stopped too, examining the large canvas. The background was nothing too spectacular, curtain draped walls, like most of the famous royal portraits Lance had seen on Earth. The focus was completely on the group of people standing in the center of the painting. Woman, smiling, and holding a baby with dark hair and violet eyes as she sat in a chair. A man, who must be her husband, stood behind her, a hand rested supportively on her shoulder. He held himself in a way that showed confidence in himself and a fierce pride in his family. A boy and a girl stood on either side of him, wearing the same lopsided, mischievous grin. The artist had clearly taken painstaking efforts to capture every detail in the scene, right down to the highlights in the girl’s cinnamon hair and the gleam of the man’s crown. Every fold of the woman’s skirt, every ruffle in the baby’s dress, looked more real than if this had been a picture taken by the world’s most accurate cameras. Lance didn’t need to read the plaque engraved into the frame of the portrait to know who this family was. It had to be Lucivida, Imagene, and Ellea with their parents before the attack.

“We were 12,” Lucivida said, breaking the silence. “That’s mother and father, with baby Ellea. She didn’t get her scar until the attack. Imagene wore her favorite dress, and I combed my hair. We did it for Ellea’s anointing ceremony. That’s why she’s wearing that ceremonial dress. The artist was a lad the Royal Art School had discovered in a small farming village and he couldn’t have been more thrilled when we selected him to do the portrait. Started crying there in the throne room. He did such a good job don’t you think? He still does all our paintings to this day. He’ll be doing Imagene’s coronation in a few weeks. Spoke with him the other day on the phone, quite the enthusiastic young fellow.”

“My mama always said the best professionals in any industry are those who have a passion and love for their work,” Lance smiled.

“Nobody, save for my sister of course, was more passionate about their country than father,” Lucivida sighed, smiling at the king’s still face. “I see a lot of him in Imagene. They have the same mannerisms, cool composure, the same military brilliance. Being around her is like being around my father sometimes. She’ll be a fine queen.”

“I’m sure she will,” Lance affirmed, but he felt like at this point Lucivida was more speaking to himself than anything. Lance almost felt like he was intruding on a private moment, like he should back away and let Lucivida be for a minute or two.

After a few moments of Lucivida looking fondly at the painting he seemed to remember their original purpose for coming down here. He tore his eyes away, and gave Lance big excited grin.

“Now, you wanted to see the royal gardens, correct?” He beamed leading Lance further down the hallway, away from the painting and towards the large double doors at the end. He grasped the door handles, grinning. “You are in for a real treat! Introducing the royal gardens of the Rossia family of Ambrusia!”

With great bravado he flung the doors open, revealing the most beautiful garden Lance had ever seen. Trees lined the pathway, all trimmed to the same height and sporting beautiful colored leaves. They weren’t just the standard green he was used to seeing, but shades of red, pink, blue, purple, and all the colors of the rainbow shifted in a friendly wave of greeting in the morning breeze. Flowers the likes of which Lance could have never imagined bloomed at their base, bobbing their ornate heads. The stone path lead to hedges trimmed into shapes that resembled odd alien creatures. A few looked a little like the animals Lance knew from Earth. One was like the four winged staffed bat that Ellea had brought to breakfast, another looked like a butterfly in flight. There was a pond in the distance with a waterfall that spilled into the large basin sending ripples across the pleasantly clear surface. Scales of some water dwelling creature caught the light as it came up for air, reflecting a dazzling array of shimmery colors. Lance was in awe. He’d never seen anything like this.

“The garden was built with the help of the Alteans nearly 15,000 years ago.” Lucivida began proudly. “They brought over many of their native plants and taught us how to tend to them. We have been proudly looking after their generous gift ever since. The garden has always been open to the public so any person may come in and admire its beauty. However the gates don’t open until noon, so it’s currently empty. Well, empty except for a few garden workers and my sister of course. Speak of the Sun there she is now.”

Sure enough a little girl wearing a bright yellow sundress and dark brown hair braided back into a romantic tuck raced towards them. The edges of her skirt with smeared with fresh mud and her shoes left a trail of dirty foot prints in their wake. Her stuffed toy was tucked under arm, the soft wings flapping behind her. Her hand pressed over a small silver circlet, keeping it firmly on her head.

“Luz!” She chirped excitedly as she reached them, lifting her arms up. Lucivida beamed, scooping her up and giving her a raspberry on her neck, making her squeal in delight, just like Junebug used too. “Luz, did you bring the paladin to come play with us?”

“Well, I just brought him down to see the gardens,” Lucivida said. “But if he wants to play with us he certainly can.”

Ellea turned to him with bright violet eyes expectantly. How in the world could he ever say no to that cute face?

“Want to?” Lance grinned at the pair of them. “I’d love to play with you! What are we doing today?”

“Yay!” Ellea cheered, leaping out of Lucivida’s arms and to the ground. “I’m working on my flutterby garden. The rain last week washed away some of my pretty rocks and I have to find new ones.”

“You happen to be in luck,” Lance knelt down to be on her level. “I happen to be the best pretty rock finder on my entire planet.”

Ellea’s eyes went wide with amazement. “Really?” She asked in breathy awe.

“Really,” Lance nodded offering his hand for her to take. “Let’s go find the prettiest rocks and make the best Flutterby garden this kingdom will ever know!”

Flutterbies, as it turned out, were basically butterflies but larger and more colorful. On average their wingspan was about the length from Lance’s elbow to his wrist, though some were much larger. They were shy and delicate creatures, only approaching the flutterby garden after Lucivida, Ellea, and Lance hid behind the bushes. They flit lazily from flower to flower, drinking their fill of nectar from each one. Ellea tried to sketch each one in her notebook, and Lucivida used his tablet to identify their scientific name, calling them out in hushed whispers.

“Ah yes, the Coniferus Bloomedia, ” He murmured in quiet awe at a particularly large blue flutterby. “Better known as the royal flutterby in more common terms and is often considered by many flutterby experts to be the queen of the flutterby kingdom for their large size and-”

“That’s no queen,” Ellea sniffed, sloppily doodling the creature in bright crayon. “His name is Bobber and he is a king!”

“What? No!” Lucivida protested showing her the diagrams on his tablet. “Look at the white wing tips! That denotes that this royal flutterby is a female! The males are a much darker hue of blue with a smaller wing span.”

“I like Bobber,” Lance said, flashing Ellea a grin. “I think he’s cool.”

“See?” Ellea hissed at her brother. “Even the paladin of voltron says it’s a boy!”

“Don’t encourage incorrect identification!” Lucivida scowled at Lance. “Even so, the species is still called the queen of the flutterby kingdom in gen- you know what I’m not even going to bother to share my knowledge with you if you are going to rudely dismiss fact for fantasy!”

Ellea rolled her eyes and went back to her drawing. Lucivida held fast to his word for a solid 5 minutes before seeming to forget about his promise when a stunning scarlet species flew past and he began to spout off random facts in an excited voice and ended up scaring off all the flutterbies.

“Now look what you did!” Ellea pouted, pointing at the empty garden. “You’re so loud Luz! So loud!”

“I-I’m sorry!” Lucivida apologized. “I didn’t mean too! I just got so excited!”

“Don’t worry,” Lance said getting to his feet. “Now that the area is clear we can make it even better and attract more flutterbies, right?”

After that they used Lucivida’s tablet to find out what colors and flowers attracted which flutterbies. Then the three of them constructed the most scientific flutterby garden ever. They worked tirelessly, collecting shiny stones and replanting fragrant flowers into artful rows. Lance lifted Ellea onto his shoulders so she could reach the fruit blossoms said to attract the prettiest of flutterbies. Lance ended up getting himself covered in mud digging for stones and uprooting flowers they needed but he didn’t care if he’d have to bathe again before lunch. For one bathing here was an experience, for another he was having the time of his life. Being with Ellea and Lucivida was just like being with his little sisters and tending to their garden. All of this reminded him so much of his family and his old home that it should have made him horribly homesick, but instead it was almost comforting. Home didn’t feel so far away to him now.

Keith

Apart from being drugged a few days prior Keith slept better and deeper than he had in months. Even though it was just a two hour power nap he woke up more rested than if he’d tried sleeping a full 8 hours or whatever scientists were recommending these days. He didn’t even really remember falling asleep. One minute he was contemplating the extent of his gay and the next minute he woke up tucked into the warm sheets and drooling on a pillow. Seeing this he wiped his mouth in disgust and sat up, looking for Lance, but the Blue Paladin was gone. Of course he would have left after Keith fell asleep, Keith shouldn’t have expected him to stick around and watch him drool, but he still felt a little disappointed. Still, he had fallen asleep in Lance’s arms, so victory right? Fuck. Since when was anything like that ever considered a victory to Keith?

The bright sunlight streaming in from the window made his eyes water. He rubbed them, swearing a bit. The clock read that it was only 11:37. If he really wanted to he could probably snag a few more hours of sleep to make up for what had been stolen from him last night. He got up, planning to close the golden curtains and sleep until Vivirdian dragged him into lunch by the ankles, but froze when he reached the window. Out in the garden he spied Lance’s familiar brown hair, illuminated by the golden sun. A little girl, Ellea from the looks of it, was perched on his shoulders, gathering large white blossoms that grew on a tall tree. Lucivida was holding a tablet and seemed to be reading instructions to them off of it. Keith watched as Lance went on his tiptoes to give Ellea the extra height she needed to grab a fist full of blooms. However as she leaned forward she made Lance too top heavy and sent them tumbling towards the ground, laughing. Lance’s mouth moved wordlessly, and Ellea held up a bunch of blossoms in reply showing him that it hadn’t been all in vain. Lance grinned, dusting himself off and helping her up. They were both covered in mud and Keith could see from here that Lance’s shirt was sweaty.

Keith found himself watching them in interest. He knew Lance liked gardening, or at least knew how to garden, and watching him interact with Ellea and showing her how to care for the flowers made something in Keith melt. Having those brothers and sisters probably made Lance wonderful with little kids and he was certainly showing it now. Ellea, who had been so jumpy before, seemed to be at ease with him, listening to his words eagerly. Lance knelt down to speak to her at eye level, an action that Keith found really cute. He’d had always liked somebody who was good with them. It was one reason he’d originally fallen for Shiro, his ability to speak with kids easily was just so… cool? Cute? He didn’t know how to describe it. Damn sexy wasn’t really the words he was looking for but that was really the only way he could think to put it into words. Compassion was probably Keith’s biggest romantic turn on.

He could stop himself from admiring how Lance looked, bent over, digging into the dirt. He’d never really looked at Lance from this angle before and he really appreciated it. Fuck. He was gay that’s for sure.

Lance came to lunch with hair still slightly damp from a bath. He grinned as Ellea showed everyone her drawings of what appeared to be butterflies, though she called them flutterbies. She proudly went over every sketch on every page telling everyone their names and personalities. Even though it was all done in sloppy crayon Imagene and Vivirdian gushed over them like they were the best drawings ever created, picking out favorites and praising the little girl on her artistic abilities. Keith played along. Personally he could take kids or leave them, but there was something endearing about it. She was the little drop of sunlight in an otherwise dreary busy life. He remembered what Lucivida had said about the little princess. “She’s kind of our whole reason for keeping it together.” He could easily see why.

“Sounds like you three had a very exciting morning,” Imagene smiled, cutting off Ellea’s sandwich crust. “What about you Keith?”

“I read a bit, and napped.” He shrugged. Totally didn’t admire Lance’s ass from a window.

“I’d give anything to have had that morning,” Imagene chuckled. “Solovette was extra snide today. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed some might say, I say she was born on it.”

Lucivida snorted, covering his mouth to protect everyone from the spray of crumbs.

“Well, your meeting is over now,” Vivirdian smirked, handing Lucivida a napkin. “After the trial you won’t have to see her until the Address tonight.”

“Don’t remind me,” Huffed Imagene. “On the upside my tailor has suddenly come down with the stomach flu, so they’re pushing my fitting back for a week. So I’m free until 5.”

“Not exactly free,” Lucivida countered. “We need to prepare the paladins for the Festival of New Yam.”

“You make that sound like a chore.” Imagene laughed, taking a bite of her own sandwich.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Lance said cautiously. “What is the yam thing?”

“The Festival of New Yam,” Began Lucivida in his matter of fact scientific voice. “Is an ancient harvest festival that marks the beginning of the harvesting of yams which were considered to be a symbol of fertility in primitive times. This belief came about because diet rich in yams often leads to the increased conception of twins as there are certain compounds in yams that stimulate the ovaries into releasing more than one egg. The festival has been a tradition for many many centuries. We still keep the festival alive because yams are a staple in most of our farming communities.”

“The festival is excellent for boosting morale,” Imagene added. “Something that is very vital in this time of war. Of course, I’d be put in good spirits too if I got to watch people performing the yam waltz.”
Lucivida snickered and both twins looked at Vivirdian, who frowned a little.

“What’s the yam waltz?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t much for dancing and really hoped that they wouldn’t force him to participate in a stupid dance to the yam lords or whatever.

“It’s a traditional dance that Vivirdian happens to rock at so much he has been asked to open the ceremony every year with it.” Imagene explained, grinning. “We all have to dance it, and it’s nothing special, but there’s just a certain way Vivirdian does it.”

Lucivida mimed dancing in his seat, wiggling his hips and trying not to crack up.

“Does that mean we have to dance?” Keith asked, really hoping they’d say that the paladins would be exempt from public humiliation.

“Oh yes,” Imagene nodded. “We’ll be teaching you how after the trial, if they let you remain in Ambrusia that is.”

“They can’t really kick us out can they?” Lance asked, laughing nervously. “I mean, you’re the substitute queen and we’re the paladins of Voltron.”

“If they find you a threat to national security they will surely exile you,” Vivirdian rumbled gravely. “We can’t let up our security even for the paladins of Voltron.”

“But what about our lions?” Keith asked. “Are you just gonna keep them?”
Vivirdian shrugged. “That’d be up to the council to decide. I’m not sure of what they’d do. This is a rather unique set of circumstances.”

“So we might be sleeping out in the forest tonight?” Lance asked.

“If Solovette has it her way,” Grumbled Imagene. “You probably will be.”

They spent the rest of lunch in awkward silence, trying to keep their mind off of what could be happening later today. Ellea, who hadn’t really been paying attention to the conversation, seemed confused by the sudden change in atmosphere. She tried to get everyone to fawn over her drawings again, but even Lance couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to seem interested. Eventually Ellea got bored and left the table, announcing that she needed to go tend to her flutterby garden again and skittered away, ignoring Vivirdian’s request to keep her dress clean.

Chapter Text

Pidge

Pidge unhooked the headphones she’d been wearing for at least 3 hours now, letting out a sigh. The skin that had been covered by the ring of foam stung a little, and she pressed a hand to it gingerly. Could a person get blisters from wearing headphones too long? Maybe, but it would take more than blisters to stop Pidge’s search for Keith and Lance.

It was day 3 of radio silence and despite repeatedly scanning the radio waves she normally picked up Lance’s signals from Pidge was only retrieving static. A few times she managed to find some sort of alien broadcast, but it was all about crops and an upcoming yam festival. She was starting to get a little concerned. It wasn’t like Lance or Keith to leave her hanging. Keith would have wanted to call in Shiro and Lance, well, Lance would have called in purely to seize the opportunity to boast about how he single handedly defeated the Galra and reclaimed the Red Lion. The fact that neither had checked in put Pidge on edge. She tried to tell herself that it was just bad radio signals or maybe their helmets had sustained too much damage, but a part of her wondered if they were even alive.

“No luck today?” Shiro asked as he stepped into the cockpit of the Green Lion. He carried a few of those weird green fruits under his arm.

Pidge shook her head. “No, I can’t locate them. What should we do?”

“What we will do is try again tomorrow,” Shiro said simply, cutting the fruit into slices. He handed some to Pidge and sat down criss cross applesauce next to her. She turned the fruit slices over in her hands, examining the fleshy pink inside.

“But Shiro,” She began tentatively, biting her lip. “What if… what if we never find them?”

“Pidge,” Shiro sighed. “I can’t lie and say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but it’s not something we can really afford to dwell on. We just have to keep hoping and praying that both of them are still alive. Okay?”

“Okay,” Pidge mumbled and nibbled at her fruit slices. She wasn’t unfamiliar to the sentiment of hope. After her father and brother hadn’t reported in from the Kerberos mission that was all anyone could tell her to do, to just have hope and faith that things would be alright. She might have been 13 but Pidge was no moron, far from it actually. Hope did not placate her. The only thing that could ever fulfill her was cold hard fact. It was one reason she had been so desperate to find out the truth. If her family was forever shattered she wanted to know for sure. Her therapist had said she was searching for ‘closure’. Closure could suck Pidge’s ass with a bendy straw. She wanted answers.

Coran

Coran was cleaning the healing pods for the second time that day. Cleaning was one of the few things that could be done to get his mind off of their predicament, but now that they weren’t sharing the castle with 4 teenagers and 1 young adult there was a lot less to clean. No spare bits from Pidge’s creations rolling around where somebody could trip and break their neck. No dirty dishes to soak and scrub. No gladiator bots to repair from Keith’s odd midnight training sessions (Seriously did that boy ever sleep? Coran was rather concerned about him). The showers did not require daily mopping and he didn’t have to check to make sure Lance had turned off the holo-star chart after staring at his home planet for a while. Usually he would be grateful that he didn’t have to pick up discarded paladin armor, sweaty workout clothes, or change the bed sheets, but the lack of chores somehow reminded him of his own failure.

He told himself, as he scrubbed away at the already spotless interior, that everything was going to be okay, that Allura would locate the 5 lions and reunite them before Zarkon got to them. He and the princess had been working tirelessly to find the lions but they seemed to have turned themselves off if that was even possible. How does somebody turn off a semi sentient robotic lion? They didn’t exactly have a power source, or they did but it was tied to the paladin’s quintessence. King Alfor had explained it once but Coran couldn’t really recall everything he said, but he knew the only way one could really power down the lions was to completely destroy the paladin’s quintessence. Sure, they could be damaged, but any damage can be repaired and even if damaged they should still be sending out their locations to Allura. They were tied to her life force and there was nothing Zarkon could do to break that.

Coran sighed staring at his own reflection in the glass of the healing pod. He found himself staring at a gaunt face whose eyes possessed bags larger than a Balmera.  He didn’t look ten thousand years old- not a gray hair on his ginger head thank you very much- but in that moment he certainly felt old. He had accepted it, that his home was destroyed, his people subjected to genocide, and that Zarkon, the previous black paladin, was responsible, but what he wouldn’t give to go back. He shouldn’t have even been frozen. Even back in Altea’s glory days Coran was the one slipping up. How many times had his mistakes put his squadron on cleaning duty? At least twice a movement if he remembered correctly. He’d only been selected to be frozen with Allura because nobody expected her to survive. If Alfor had truly believed that his plan would work and centuries later the new paladins of Voltron would emerge and reunite he would have frozen more men, or at least more capable men than Coran and Coran knew that.

He should go check on Allura. He hadn’t in a few tocks and knew she wouldn’t eat or sleep without him reminding her too. She was taking this worse than he was completely blaming her inability to escape Zarkon for losing Voltron. Well, if she hadn’t required rescuing it was true that they’d still have Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Keith, and Lance but really it wasn’t like she could have prevented that. Aside from not going on that ship but you know what it was in the past let’s not get upset and Allura did not need reminding.

The clack of his boots against the floor of the castle hallways echoed eerily in the cold ghostly silence. The castle was just so empty now. Coran would give just about anything to hear the banter of humans again. Even the petty squabbles of Keith and Lance would sound as sweet as the Altean Royal Symphony at the Juniberry Festival.

He found Allura just where he’d left her, at the console searching for any hint of the paladins. She gripped the controls tightly, eyes closed.

“Princess I-” He began as he approached her but stopped at the expression on her face. It was one he familiar with. A cold look of icy concentration, one King Alfor wore when he’d just discovered something big. Allura blinked and turned at the sound of Coran’s voice. Her eyes were red and puffy, from crying.

“Princess Allura,” Coran stepped forward. “Is everything alright?”

“Coran,” She broke into a wide grin, wiping her eyes. “I’ve just found Hunk!”

Lance

5 minutes in and Lance had decided that this whole trial thing was bullshit, complete and utter bullshit. It was more bullshit than getting his wisdom teeth removed which was pretty high on his bullshit meter if you were wondering. First he and Keith were paraded into the room in chains like common criminals. The room was like your stereotypical courtroom, where the jury/council sat in amphitheater style seats raised off the ground so they looked down at Keith and Lance. It made Lance feel small and a bit at the mercy of the court which was probably the intended effect now that he thought about it. After they were seated at their bench, the judge introduced herself as the Solovette Imagene had been speaking about.

Solovette was a stern looking woman with thin lips that were perpetually in a pursed position as if she had just sucked on a particularly sour lemon. She was older, her face lined in wrinkles and graying brown hair pulled up into a tight bun. She was tall, easily towering half a foot over Imagene who sat serenely next to her. As she rose to her full height Lance couldn’t help being reminded of the praying mantises he often saw in forests, raised on their hind legs, ready to strike. Her large eyes even seemed to bug out like one as she surveyed the room and signaled for everyone to stand.

“Peace be to thy country, thy people, and thy regent,” She said in tight, abrasive voice.

The council, along with Keith and Lance who had been instructed to do so, echoed back: “Peace be thine eternal guide.” and resumed sitting.

“Today we have gathered in the name of peace,” She began, her eyes still sweeping slowly over the room. “To decide the fate of two refugees who have come to us in unique circumstances claiming to be two of the paladins of Voltron. While Regent Princess Imagene Rossia has extended her pardon and has sheltered them it is now up to the council to determine if they shall stay or go.”

Solovette’s voice seemed to sharpen at Imagene’s name, her harsh gaze flickering to the figure on her left. It was clear that her opinion of Imagene’s decision was very low indeed, but if Imagene carried she showed no outward sign of it.

“To begin we will hear our facts and then the testimonies from Squadron Commander Vivirdian Cohen and the Princess herself. Then the aliens will be given a chance to testify.” Solovette continued. “After we will hear arguments for granting amnesty and for exile. Finally the council will meet privately to deliberate before we pass our verdict. If our intelligence agent Elart Flucce could present what we know we will begin.”

A young Ambrusian, who must be Elart, with hair the color of bubblegum stepped up on the platform, tapping on a tablet. He cleared his throat and began to speak, retelling the story of the discovery of the lions. Lance zoned out, leaning back on the uncomfortable wooden bench. After a long drone of facts Elart stepped down and Vivirdian was introduced.

“Peace be with you.” Solovette said. “I trust you know the court proceedings, Commader Cohen. You’ve been in here enough times.”

“Indeed I do honorable Solovette.” He said as he stepped up on the platform. “I am Colonel Vivirdian Cohen, Ambrusian Civil Defense Squadron Commander for special unit 409. I am an Ambrusian of half Solaris and half Lunaris blood. My home planet is Ambrusia.”

Solovette sniffed in contempt. “And how did you find these refugees?”

“The princess sent out a distress beacon on the 5th sun of the 3rd movement.” His remained calm and very matter of fact as he spoke. “I responded promptly and slipped in undercover disguised as a Galra. The group of Galra soldiers had discovered a fallen lion, similar to that of Voltron. I immediately requested a backup patrol as is protocol. While we were scoping out the ship the Blue Paladin arrived, eliminating several Galra before being subdued. Imagene managed to take down the Galra in command and we decided to retrieve the Red Paladin. We used vibrations to locate him and brought both Paladins to the Queen Drossi Royal Hospital of Ambrusia for treatment. They have both remained under my or Lucivida’s watchful eyes since.”

“You, not the prince, were instructed to watch these two.” Solovette sneered, her lip curling nastily. “You have yet again failed to complete orders as given.”

“My orders were to ensure the safety of the royal family and of Ambrusia.” He said, voice tightening a little bit. “I know as well as you that neither Lucivida nor Imagene are incapable of defending themselves. Not to mention neither one is fully recovered. Now I believe it is time to hear from the princess.”

Vivirdian did not wait for Solovette to dismiss him. He made his way to wear Imagene was sitting and offered his arm. She took it, flashing him an approving smile. She wasn’t wearing the robes she’d been in at breakfast. Now she was wearing a loose white dress that looked more ceremonial. It was no more forgiving than those robes. The fabric still seemed to hang off of her waifish body. She leaned heavily on Vivirdian, obviously still not recovered from her mission.

“Peace be with you,” Solovette said, her tone more sour than before. Imagene smiled congenially.

“I am Princess Imagene Rossia, regent to Ambrusia and next in line for the throne. I am an Ambrusian of half Solaris and half Lunaris blood. I was born on the planet Ambrusia.” She introduced herself, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. Solovette only narrowed her eyes, waiting for Imagene to begin her side of the story. “I was assigned to go undercover with a Galra crew. I went on the mission despite knowing that it would delay my coronation. During my time there the Galra crew encountered the fallen Red Lion. I called in backup and-”

“Why did you not call off your mission when your pigmentation levels plummeted?” Solovette inquired sharply. Imagene blinked, obviously not being prepared to answer that question.

“Because my mission was not yet complete.” She recovered quickly. “I was to remain for 10 cycles. It had only been 8.”

“The hospital recorded your pigmentation at 1.77,” Solovette said, glancing at a paper on her desk. “That is dangerous for anybody.”

“I had my solar patches,” Imagene protested, obviously struggling to remain calm. “I was fine.”

“As princess and future leader of our kingdom,” Solovetted snipped. “You must remain healthy. By even going on this mission you put your own life in mortal peril and by bringing back these aliens you have endangered the very peace you are sworn to protect! You have shown as much maturity as the child you are and not the princess you should be. This is why we nearly delayed your coronation by 5 common years.”

“That is enough,” Vivirdian said firmly, his voice loud and commanding. “Princess Imagene is only a princess in title only. She carries as much command as a queen in nearly every other way. This trial is to determine the fate of the paladins. Lance if you could please take to the stand.”

He promptly escorted Imagene back to her seat beckoning for Lance to come forward. The short walk to the stand felt much longer to Lance. than it should have. His throat is dry and his palms are sweaty. He looked up at Solovette, feeling dread pool in his stomach. Solovette reminded him of his abuela on his mother’s side. She was old, at least 80, and meaner than any person he’d ever met. She always held Lance’s out of wedlock birth over his head. His siblings always got big gifts and toys for their birthdays or Christmas. Lance was lucky if he got a pair of socks. She was a strict catholic-not that there was anything wrong with that, Lance knew lot’s of wonderful catholic families- and forced daily mass attendance when she could. Many visits to abuela’s mansion turned into being stuffed into formal clothes and singing ‘Yo Soy el Pan de Vida’ in a hot stuffy church surrounded by other old people who smelled. If you nodded up Abuela would whack you with a rolled up church bulletin. It hurt more than paper should. Then there was the fact that for the first 7 years of Lance’s life she referred to him as an it. He was the ‘Niño de Diablo’ child of the devil all because of his parents marital status when he was conceived. His mother always tried to remind him that Abuela was just traditional, and that she really did love Lance. Lance had his doubts.

“Peace be with you-” She began and Lance, nervous and mind on his abuela, responded with the traditional catholic response.

“And with your spirit, going out in peace to glorify the Lord by your life, amen.” He blurted out, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. He mumbled out an apology and tried to avoid looking at Keith, who was trying equally as hard not to laugh.

“First state your name, species, and then your home planet.” Solovette said, not acknowledging Lance’s mistake. Thank goodness for small mercies.

“I am Lance Charles McClain,” Lance began. “I am a human, and I live, or lived I guess I should say, on Cuba, which isn’t my home planet. My home planet is Earth actually. Not sure if you’ve heard of it. It’s the only habitable planet in the Milky Way galaxy. I know, odd name for a galaxy but I guess all the other candy bars were taken. Personally I would’ve-”

“Enough.” Solovette commanded, shutting Lance up. “I wish to know the circumstances of how you came to our planet.”

“Oh! That!” Lance took a deep breath to calm himself before trying to open his mouth again. “Okay so I was back on Earth at the Garrison-that’s a space school where they train us to do space things- and we, by we I mean Hunk and Pidge, had just failed our simulation test. We failed because we were bickering and also Hunk threw up in the simulator and also because Pidge can’t keep her mouth shit, but mostly because I crashed the ship. Not literally of course because it was a simulation, but anyways it was clear to me that we needed to bond more as a team. Hunk is in my dorm so I convinced him to sneak out that night with me. My plan was to find Pidge and then slip into town and enjoy ourselves before returning to campus. Maybe find some cute girls. Most of the girls in the Garrison were kind of nerdy, not that I don’t like smart women, but it’s hard to get to know a girl when all she wants to talk about is the new discovery on Pluto. I love space and all but it’s not my entire identity, gotta live a little amiright? I was in the choir at the Garrison, to be exact the advanced choir that did all the special events and went carolling. I soloed once and that was pretty cool. Also I played in the band and ran Cross Country and-”

“Lance,” Keith’s voice cut through Lance’s rambling like a knife.

“Aha, sorry,” Lance chuckled sheepishly. He tended to ramble when he got anxious. “Back to the story. So me and Hunk found Pidge and she was listening to some alien chatter or something. Apparently she didn’t think the mission to Kerberos, the one her dad and brother were on, not that we knew that at the time, in fact we didn’t know a lot about Pidge because she was actually a he to slip past government officials in her time at the Garrison-”

“Lance.” Keith spoke again, sounding more annoyed than before. “Stay on topic.”

Lance nodded letting out a shaky breath. He needed to focus more now than he ever had to before in his life. Focusing wasn’t Lance’s strong suite, not by a longshot, but right now his life more or less depended on it.

“Okay, so I guess I’ll skip over the nonessential details.” He began, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself again. He’d always had a habit of rambling or talking to fast when he got nervous. Sr. Valdez had given him breathing techniques when he was younger. He had never thought he’d ever actually use them, but now he was grateful for them. “Keith and I recently discovered that we are the red and blue paladins of Voltron. We have teamed up with the other 3 paladins as well as Princess Allura and royal advisor Coran of Altea aboard the Castle of the Lions.”

At the mention of the Princess Allura the audience broke into excited chatter. The Alteans had supposedly been wiped out in a genocide by Zarkon 10,000 years ago. The news that there were survivors swept through the council like a shockwave. Neighbors joined heads in fervent whispers, consulting one another to discern whether or not this stranger spoke the truth. Imagene furrowed her brows, glancing at Vivirdian who looked mildly surprised. Lance hadn’t told them about meeting Alteans. Even Solovette seemed a little stunned at this proclamation, shifting her seat and raising a single thin eyebrow. She waited patiently until things began to settle down and quiet fell once more over the courtroom.

“How is this possible?” Solovette asked. “The Altean lifespan does not allow for one to live 10,000 years.”

“They were cryogenically frozen by King Alfor to ensure Voltron’s survival.” Lance responded quickly. He was calmer now, more collected. “The Blue Lion, the one we discovered on Earth, brought us to them. Since then we’ve been doing all we can to stop Zarkon. Our most recent mission failed when Princess Allura was captured. We managed to retrieve her, but when we went to make a wormhole jump one of those weird freaky Galra shot purple lightning, at least it looked like lightning but I’m not sure if you have that here. Anyways they shot something at the wormhole and corrupted it. We lost control of our jump and became separated. The next thing I knew I was entering your planet’s atmosphere.”

“And then you crash landed and came into contact with your fellow paladin.” Solovette finished for him.

“Yeah, you guys know the rest.” Lance said shrugging, or as close to a shrug as one could get in handcuffs. It was more like a weak shoulder spasm than anything else. “Is that all you needed to know?”

“Yes,” Solovette nodded motioning for him to take a seat. “Ambrusia thanks you for your witness.”

Lance grinned, just relieved he didn’t have to speak anymore. He shuffled back to his seat, feeling lighter than he had since the trial began.

Now it was Keith’s turn to testify. As it turned out walking on crutches is difficult when you’re handcuffed. Vivirdian hand to help him hobble to the stand. Keith’s legs were healed enough that he could he could stand on his own, but they shook slightly which was a bit concerning. Keith ignored it, staring up at Solovette through his gray eyes, as if challenging her. If he was nervous he did not let it show on his face. He was a mask of calm. Lance was jealous of Keith’s ability to remain level headed, at least in these situations. In battle and training Keith was horribly impulsive, easy to provoke and fire up. He acted more on his gut than his head as Coran liked to say. Fortunately Keith’s gut was apparently psychic or at least good enough to have prevented him from getting killed. In other situations, especially ones that involved less violence but just as much composure, Keith was tactful, calculating. In any case he didn’t try to give the catholic mass response when Solovette greeted him.

“Peace be with you,” She said. “State your name, species, and home planet.”

“Keith Kogane, human, Earth.” He replied flatly. “And my story is the same as Lance’s. Let’s not waste anymore time.”

“So, you can’t be bothered to present your witness?” Solovetted asked snidely. “I see, if you cannot come up with one than we can reasonably assume that you are both liars and will exile you promptly. How efficient.”

“We are not liars,” Keith said firmly.

“Galra spies?” She asked.

“I was in a healing pod,” He countered sharply. “You know that I am human.”

“You could still be involved with the Galra!”

“But we aren’t!” He yelled. “If you don’t believe us why don’t you run us through Lucivida’s simulator. He said it can get the truth from anyone in mere minutes.”

The whole court went silent, except for Lucivida who let out a terrified squeak.

“Use an unregistered, yet to be approved machine in a court of law?” Solovette laughed. “You humans are truly rich.”

“He’s right!” Lucivida piped up, standing from his seat in the back. All eyes turned to him. He shrank back a bit. “It… it works by reading the memory bank in a way similar to the Altean mind melding. It has been tested and it works. Very well in fact. We use it when we want to know exactly where Ellea has hidden Imagene’s hair clip which she seems to have some odd fascination with.”

“Fine,” Solovette relented getting to her feet and signalling for everyone else to do the same. “We will utilize this simulator of yours. Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

Keith

Keith’s pulse was still racing as the entire council made their way through the halls of the palace. He was doing his best not to let his anger show on his face, but he could feel his eyelid twitching as he ground his molars. It was no secret that he had never held a high opinion of authority figures, especially ones like Solovette. That whole if you respect me and my power and I’ll treat you like a human thing just rubbed Keith the wrong way. He’d put up with these kinds of people all his life. They never considered his views or opinions simply dismissing them as delusions of a small boy. They figured that as they were older or more experienced that they would know what was best. Maybe some of these people meant well, but often times they just made things worse. Maybe Solovette meant well for her country, but this whole trial thing was ridiculous. It was clearly a thinly disguised attack on Imagene because she did not let Solovette boss her around. What a-

“Hold your horses Keith,” Lance called, interrupting his thoughts. Keith realized he was speed walking and slowed his pace- or to be more accurate crutched hobble- to allow Lance to catch up with him. “Jeez, did not know you were in a hurry to undergo futuristic mind reading.”

“I’m not.” He grunted, keeping his eyes trained on Solovette several yards ahead of him. Maybe he could tap into his Lion’s pyrokinesis and set her tight bun on fire from sheer force of will.

“Dude, you look ready to take on Zarkon right now.” Lance said. Keith didn’t need to glance over to know he was probably raising one of those infuriating brown eye brows. “You okay?”

“Fine,” He hissed through gritted teeth. His crutches clacked along the tiled palace floor like the sound a burner makes as it is turned on. He could feel his temper rising like mercury in a thermometer with every little clack. His pent up anger and frustration at being bound to crutches was only adding kerosene to the already blazing fire inside. He felt a little like a kettle whose water was coming to boil. He was only simmering now, just beneath the surface, but any moment now he’d peak and begin to let out his steam in one loud blast.

He knew this feeling, he was no stranger to anger and resentment. His temper had caused him so much trouble in his life. Little irritations would pile up on him and he’d just let them out all in one huge explosion. He’d never been taught how to effectively handle his emotions as a child so he just internalized everything. He was good at it. It was easier to just stuff things away and deal with them later. But of course he never actually dealt with them later. They just kept growing and growing until finally they shattered their frail intangible container. Keith would simply go off on anybody or anything in his path without regard for others emotions or thoughts. He hated that. He hated losing control like that, but what else could he do?

As a kid he’d lash out at classmates and teachers. Once he made a girl in the second grade go bald because she wouldn’t stop teasing him about his hair. He’d tried to ignore her, usually that made pestering kids go away, but she wouldn’t stop. Day after day it was the same. She’d giggle with her friends and ask if they had combs in China. He would seethe beneath the surface but never react. One day however she went too far. They were in art a few days before winter break. Keith was minding his own business, cutting out his snowflake when he felt something on the back of his head. He turned around to see the girl with a chunk of his hair in one of her hands and the scissors in the other. In shock almost, he’d reached up and touched his head where the missing part of his hair had once been. Then, as if somebody had opened the floodgates of hell all those negative emotions, the anger, the hatred, the shame she had caused him for the past few months just overloaded his tiny body. He just grabbed the cup of the homemade liquid glue the teacher had given him and dumped it all over her head. He couldn’t really remember doing it. One moment he was touching the back of his head, the next the cup of glue was empty in his hands and the girl was screeching in front of him. His mind had gone blank for approximately three seconds and he’d just acted on whatever impulse came to him. It’s not as though a teacher will accept temporary insanity as an excuse and Keith found himself in suspension. The next time he saw the girl she was bald. That was the only way they could get the glue off of her scalp. The skin was all inflamed and patchy so she couldn’t wear a wig. She never even talked to Keith again.

As he grew older he could bottle up more in one sitting. Sometimes he could go months without an episode of rage, but the longer the time period between the greater the detonation when it finally did occur. His arguably most spectacular being what go him discharged from the Garrison. After meeting Shiro he got better at dealing with his emotions. Shiro helped him work through them in those mentor sessions. He showed him how to use physical activity to blow off some steam. For a while it worked. His behavior improved significantly. He actually felt good about himself at some parts, but when the Kerberos mission went missing it all went to shit. Shiro had been the driving force behind Keith’s improvement, and without him Keith crashed and burned.

“Earth to Keith!” Lance called waving a hand in front of his face. Keith blinked, realizing he’d once again gotten himself lost in his revelries. “I know we aren’t on Earth, but can you focus a bit? I’m the one with ADHD here. I’ve asked you the same question like twice now and both times you just sort of grunted.”
“Okay,” He muttered, biting back a sharp retort. He needed to just stay calm. If he could keep his emotions contained until after all this he could go back to his room and maybe do some pull ups or situps or some sort of exercise to bring his temper back down to a manageable level. Maybe he could hobble around the gardens like a track. “Sorry, just a bit distracted. What is it?”

“I asked if you were sure you were fine.” Lance said. “Because you don’t look fine.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Keith snapped, grinding his back molars together. He had habit of doing that when he was stressed. His dentist said it wasn’t going to do his enamel any favors, but they were a million light years away.

“Actually it does matter,” Lance corrected him. Keith could hear the tension in his voice and somehow that made him madder. If Lance was really going to be annoyed by his actions than he could go flirt with Imagene. He was surprised he hadn’t already. The womanizer never usually missed a chance to show off to any alien who even remotely resembled the opposite sex and here Keith was, crushing on him. First Shiro and now Lance. Would Keith ever stop getting these stereotypical straight boy crushes?

“And how,” Keith said, struggling to keep his voice level. “Does it matter to you?”

“What kind of question is that?” Lance scoffed. “We’re teammates, friends even! I care about you. If you’re upset I want to be able to help you.”

Keith nearly let out a primitive snarl. Those flowery sentiments, words of mock concern for the orphan, Keith had heard them before. He’d heard them from social workers and teachers and foster parents and fake friends who treated him like a charity case. Keith didn’t need pity or attention. ‘I care about you’. Ha. Since when does Lance Charles McClain care about anyone or anything but himself?

He must of have said that last part out loud in a fit of rage because the next thing he knew he was staggering backwards, barely managing to steady himself on his crutches. He blinked, feeling his heart pound in his chest as what had just happened began to process. Lance had pushed him. He had taken his hands, placed them on Keith, and shoved him aside with deliberate force. He felt the monster of emotion and anger howl inside him, sharpening his senses. He’d just been attacked. He had just been attacked by Lance.

“What the hell?!” Lance practically yelled, taking a step forward, looking a mixture of both hurt and fury. People were staring now, chittering amongst each other. “Keith what the actual fuck? Why would you even say that? After all this time?”

Vivirdian placed a firm hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith, Lance, we’re all a little worked up over this afternoon. Let’s just take a breather.”

“All this time?” Keith snorted, smacking Vivirdian’s hand away with a satisfying slap . The bottle was cracking. Any minute now it would shatter and release everything he stuffed inside. “You mean the last week I’ve been forced to be with you just to survive. Why would anything that has happened in the past week prove anything to change the years of egotistical behavior you usually exhibit?”

Lance looked like Keith had just slapped him. He stared at him, wide eyed. “What? No-”

The terror inside him doesn’t allow Keith to let Lance finish his sentence. It howled and thrashed in rage, kicking up a sandstorm of fury with its big clawed feet. He couldn’t control it, couldn’t control himself. He had to release it. Now. He didn’t care how many people were watching him. He didn’t care that it was Lance he was yelling. He was pure emotion. It seemed to expand to fill his entire being, pressing into every free space and allowing for no room to breathe. Keith’s entire identity became essentially lost. He wasn’t thinking. He couldn’t think.

“Uh, Yeah Lance. Generally you act like God’s gift to the universe.” He spat viciously, eyes narrowing to slits. “But you aren’t. You’re the one always setting us back as a team. Like when you tried that kick with the gladiator. We fell, remember? Oh, and then there’s the time you were flirting with that one alien girl and got yourself handcuffed to a tree. It’s always you Lance. You’re the weak link of team Voltron in just about every way.”

He was cracking.

Keith looked Lance in the eyes, staring into those twin blue pools he usually thought so beautiful, but now he couldn’t bear to see them. He felt the bottle shatter from the pressure of it all and the emotions overtake him. He was pure rage, pure hate, pure hell. The botched seams that held the patchwork that responded to the name ‘Keith Kogane’ split with a loud ripping sound. He felt everything shaking,

Keith opened his mouth, and everything went white.

Later, Keith wouldn’t remember what he said. The next few minutes were just single flashes of moments in his mind. A blur that was Lance launching himself forward. Being pulled back by strong, dark hands. A gruff voice barking orders. Pitifully resisting the firm grip that held him back. Watching Lance be restrained, hissing and swearing in a foreign language as Keith was half carried-half dragged away. Voices were muted, and thoughts ricocheted around in Keith’s brain, not entirely processing.

He vaguely realized he was being pushed into a chair. He stared ahead, his dull world slowly sliding back into focus. The adrenaline rush was fading, the need to destroy gone, and the realization that he had just fucked up beginning to sink in. His chest rose and fell heavily as he ran his sweaty hands through his hair. Oh fuck. What had he done. He tried to think, tried to force him back in the moment, tried to remember what he’d said, but he couldn’t. There was too much emotion there, too much rage.

He needed to know.

“What… What did I say…” He asked, his voice coming out in breathy gasps. Shit. He was wrecked. This had to have been really bad.

A gruff voice, Vivirdian’s, sounding more tired than mad spoke back to him.

“Nobody would’ve cared if you hadn’t survived that crash. Least of all me.”

Oh fuck.

Chapter Text

Keith

Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me alone again. I don’t want… don’t like… alone. I’m alone. I’m always alone and no matter what I do or say nothing is ever going to change that. I always drive them off in the end. They always leave me…

I won’t be alone again. I won’t let anybody get close. I’ll guard myself, pull away when I get too involved. I refuse to feel this pain again. I shouldn’t have to. I don’t deserve to.

I got too close. I need them to live. I don’t feel alive without them.

They’re going to leave me.

No. I won’t be left again. I will not be abandoned like I was before. The pain… it still hurts… it aches...

I’m going to leave them. If I’m the one doing the leaving it won’t hurt so bad. They’re going to leave me anyways, why not bring out the pain on my own terms? It’s not like they wouldn’t be glad. They’d be ecstatic. They probably already hate me. I’m doing them a favor by leaving. They have other friends, friends better than me. I don’t matter. I never have mattered. Not to them anyway. Hell, not to anyone.

Quick, push them away. Fuck, it hurts, but not as bad as being abandoned.

They keep… they keep coming back… why? If this keeps up I… I’ll go back on my word. I can’t let that happen. I need a permanent solution. They’re going to hurt me if I let them stay.

I have to hurt them.

But aren’t they my friend?

A friend who will leave you.

What if-

There are no ifs. You know that. Everybody lies, everybody leaves. This person is no different.

But why?

Because you drive, no. Not you. I. Because I drive them off.  

It’s my fault. It’s my fault. I’m horrible. I can’t keep friends. It’s no wonder my parents gave me up. I’m awful. Nobody loves me and nobody ever will.

I’m a monster.

Destroy. Destroy it all. Don’t leave a single reason to stay.

But I-

Do it. Hurt them. Let them know you don’t want them any more, just like they don’t want you.

They don’t?

Of course they don’t. Who would want you?

Nobody?

Exactly.

He was dressed in a small, red graduation gown, watching as he and his fellow classmates of Miss Willow’s 3rd class marched off the stage clutching small diplomas. They dashed into the open arms of their parents, chittering excitedly about graduation. Keith wove his way through his crowd, trying not to look at the mothers and fathers embracing their kids and telling them how wonderful they looked on stage. He tried to ignore the growing ache of longing in his chest. He’d never wanted real parents so much before. Somebody to be proud of him, to dote on him, to call up their neighbors and brag about him. He wanted somebody to bring to the Mother’s Day Brunch, somebody to wait for him at the bus stop.

He kept his eyes trained down at the floor, blocking out the noise around him. He just had to make it to the exit. There the social worker assigned to take him to his new home would be waiting patiently. There would be no celebratory dinner for Keith tonight. Other kids would be going out to eat to a restaurant of their choosing. Keith couldn’t even name a restaurant in the area besides McDonald’s. Keith would probably be eating whatever kind of pizza his new foster parents got for him, most likely cheese. That was a popular home-coming meal in a foster home probably because kids usually liked pizza and it was hard to go wrong with a plain cheese pizza. But Keith hated cheese pizza, or any pizza made with tomato sauce for that matter. He only liked pizza made with barbecue sauce with pineapple like the one he’d had at that one kid’s- what was his name? Arthur? Artie?- birthday party. But he figured it’d be rude to ask his new foster parents to buy that just for him so he’d politely choke back a small slice and slink upstairs to check out his new room and new bed.

Every year that passed Keith knew his chances of being adopted grew slimmer and slimmer. He was 8 now and had far passed the cute stage. Most potential adoptive parents wanted a younger child, somebody they could pretend was their own he guessed. Somehow nobody had swooped in to adopt him as a baby which left his early childhood nothing but a shuffle between new homes. He’d been through so many he couldn’t really remember how many. He just kept praying that the next time the social workers called or showed up at his door that it would be to tell him that at last he had forever parents. He’d finally have a family and be just like every other kid. As every birthday came around Keith lost a little more hope until finally he gave up. Why didn’t anybody want him? Maybe it was because of how he acted. He didn’t think he was weird, but maybe… maybe he was. Maybe he looked funny? No, no he looked fine, talked fine, walked fine. He was fine, there was no reason nobody would want to adopt him, at least not for a physical reason. There had to be something deeper, it had to be something with him and because of it he would never have a real home.

Nobody will ever love you.

His earliest memories of ‘home’ had been when he was maybe three. He was with a couple who fostered him and 3 other kids. He didn’t know why he left, just that one day a nice man was helping him pack away his few belongings and buckling him and his one of his other foster siblings, a 6 month old named Caleb, into a car. He had waved as they drove away, his ‘parents’ waving back until they rounded a corner and disappeared from view. He thought this was just another trip and he’d be back that evening. But he didn’t return that evening, or the next. Instead he was placed into a new home with a new set of foster parents without his foster brother. He’d been confused as the woman knelt down beside him and introduced herself as ‘mom’. To Keith this wasn’t mom. This was some stranger. His mother had blonde hair and the prettiest smile. This woman was shorter, with black hair and gray eyes like his. He didn’t trust her, his real mother had told him not to trust strangers so he shrank away from the hand she offered him and clutched to the nice man’s pants, glancing up at him in fear.

The nice man chuckled and scooped him up. Keith asked when he was going home. The nice man shook his head and said this was his new home, then handed into the arms of his new ‘dad’. Keith screeched, breaking into violent sobs. Traitor! How dare he give him up to these strangers! Did he have any idea what strangers did to little boys like him? He kicked and screamed his REAL parents, the nice ones that tucked him in at night and let him choose the bedtime story. The formerly nice now evil man assured the couple that Keith would settle down in a few days, that this was normal for kids this age.

Keith did not settle down. He only stopped sobbing to sleep, and that was only when he passed out. He held his breath until he turned blue and tore apart whatever he could. After 2 weeks of still being with these strangers Keith stopped eating in the ultimate act of defiance. He didn't care how his stomach seemed to gnaw away at his insides or how his tongue was so dry it felt like dirt in his mouth. Finally, fearing the poor boy might starve to death if they didn’t do anything they took Keith to ER and he never saw them again. That was fine with Keith, he decided. Good riddance.

The next 5 years he was bounced from home to home, never staying anywhere longer than 2 or 3 months if that. Sometimes he was in group homes, other times in a foster home. He was moved all over the country but never had much time to enjoy the area or make friends. Keith never got to have a solid group to ‘hang’ with. He was usually the kid who was invited to parties out of obligation, the new kid you were nice to because your mother told you to be or because you wanted to seem like a good person. He wasn’t stupid and knew this was the only reason people spoke to him. He just shrugged it off. He didn’t need anybody, he was fine on his own, really.

Nobody will ever want to be around you.

Then, on the eve of his eighth birthday, he was placed into the care of Caroline and Lindsey Peterson.

They were a newlywed couple in their late twenties who decided to foster older children. He became a part of a close knit family at the Peterson home. He was one of 3 foster children who had been placed under the tender care of Caroline and Lindsey. Unlike other foster homes he’d been in Caroline and Lindsey went to great lengths to get to know each of their charges no matter how long they might be staying. Instantly there was a click between Keith and the Petersons. He felt so at ease with them, like he belonged. He loved coming home to two mothers, loved playing board games with them and taking long walks in the park and it was clear that the feeling was mutual. For the first time in years he began to hope that he might have just found his forever home. Sure, it wasn’t the loving mother and father he’d been dreaming of for so long but in a way it was so much better.

On Christmas Day there was a peculiar package under the tree. It was shaped like a piece of paper, and about as thin as one, but somehow Caroline had managed to wrap it in sparkly snowman paper. He opened it carefully, pulling out a packet with the title of Adoption Forms and felt something in his stomach hitch. Then he was in hysterics, throwing his arms around Lindsey, bawling his eyes out. He was so happy. Finally he was going to have a home. Finally he was going to be loved.

But then the Westboro Baptist church, a radical, anti-gay church in their town, caught wind of the potential adoption. Soon their home was surrounded by protesters bearing signs wishing death on his family. They jeered every time they saw them and they always had at least 20 people at any given time even in the dead of winter. Every time they got out of their care Lindsey and Caroline would shield him from their wrath as they bolted for the inside. Legally they couldn’t do anything, though they attempted to sue under the grounds that as a lesbian couple they wouldn’t be able to properly care for Keith. It was quickly dismissed in the courts and police officers began protecting the Peterson family from the parishioners. Then somehow they found out that Caroline was autistic, and this time when they went to court they won and Keith found himself moving once more.

Nothing good in his life would ever stay for long.

He finished out his third grade year in Miss Willow’s class at Brookside Elementary School while a new foster home was being found for him. He was a shy kid, rarely participating unless asked too, speaking only when spoken too. He lived in a group home with 5 other kids, most of which suffered from a developmental disability. He missed Caroline and Lindsey so much it hurt, but he couldn’t go back to them, all he could do was wait until a new family was found for him. By now he’d given up his dream of ever being adopted. He would just be shuffled around until he aged out of the system at 18. Then he could live on his own and make his own family that nobody could take away from him.

He kept this in mind as he took the social worker’s hand and let himself be led away from his classmates and Brookside Elementary School. He kept this in mind as he strapped in his seat belt and looked out the window. He kept that one thought in his mind as he felt the car lurch forward after the third false start and begin to make his way to his next family, his next life. He watched the trees and houses flit by as they drove past. He knew each house from walking home from school every day. The boy with the dog that liked to escape lived in that one and there was the elderly couple who took long walks in the morning. In that house was an older woman who’d never married and was rumored to be a witch. That apartment complex was supposedly haunted. He sighed as they passed the park with the nice sledding hill he never got to try out. He’d only been in this town for a few months yet he’d learned so much about it. It wouldn’t matter. Soon it would fade out of his mind like every other past home. It was just a means to an end in that way he supposed.

“Keith, how was school?” The social worker asked, pulling Keith out of his thoughts. He blinked glancing up to the front seat.

“It was okay,” He replied in a quiet voice. “We had our graduation ceremony today.”

“I saw,” She smiled, looking back at him through the rearview mirror. “Wasn’t that fun?”

“I guess,” He shrugged, looking down at his graduation cap in his lap. He fingered the silk tassels, liking the way they felt as they trailed through his fingers. He had to turn in the gown on his way out, but he was allowed to keep the cap, not that he really wanted to. He kind of thought the whole ceremony for graduating 3rd grade was a bit unnecessary. They were the only class in the school, besides the Kindergarten class, that had held a ceremony. He’d heard of graduating high school and college but never the third grade.

The social worker tried to make conversation, but Keith gave only 2 or 3 word answers until she finally picked up on the hint that he wanted to be left alone. They drove the rest of the way in relative silence with Keith gazing out the window, longing for something. As they left the town behind and hit open road he tried to keep his eyes trained up at the sky. He tried to imagine each cloud was so magical creature from the story books he’d read. That kept entertained until it became too dark. Eventually he felt his eyelids begin to droop. He let out a sleepy yawn and curled up as best he could in the back seat. He’d gotten a lot of practice sleeping in cars. He made a makeshift pillow out of his backpack and tucked his knees up so his little body could fit under his jacket, which was now his blanket. The white noise of the car’s engine lulled him into sleep.

He slept pretty soundly for the remainder of the trip, only waking when the social worker shook his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes and looked past her to what he assumed would be his new home. It was a large brick house, very large compared to Keith’s usual foster homes. A quick glance around showed that this was a very upscale neighborhood: a completely new environment. Keith had been in apartments and condos and small houses and once a trailer home but never in a big neighborhood. He momentarily wondered if they had a pool and if they’d teach him how to swim. It was kind of embarrassing that at age 8 he still didn’t know how to do the doggy paddle.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind he mentally chastised himself. No, he couldn’t get his hopes up like that. This was just a temporary home, placeholder in his life. He wouldn’t be here long enough to find out if there even was a pool, let alone learn how to swim. What he should be thinking about is how many foster siblings he’ll have to share a room with or whether or not he’d be here long enough to attend school. He sighed grabbing his bag of few precious belongings and slung it over his shoulders. Time to meet his new family.

As he stepped outside the car a cool summer breeze blew his hair into his eyes. He swept it out of the way and got his first real look at his foster family. They’d tied a big multicolored banner on the porch. The light from the eaves was enough for him to read ‘Welcome Home Keith!’. Underneath the banner were three people: a middle aged couple grinning broadly and an elderly man with shockingly white hair. The moment they saw him they began to wave excitedly. He blinked and looked up at the social worker. Were they really excited to meet him? Nobody have acted like that before just seeing him. She gave him an encouraging smile and pushed him forward. He walked tentatively into the open arms of his foster mother, who swooped him up into a bear hug. At first he tensed up, but then relaxed into her embrace. Slowly he wrapped his own arms, or tried to wrap his arms, around her plump body.

“Welcome home Keith,” She murmured, kissing the top of his head and so that was how Keith found himself slotting easily into the Galbrathe family.

The next morning he came down stairs from his bedroom (“The Petersons called and told us all about how you love space, so we decorated accordingly!” Martha had beamed when she revealed the glow in the dark stars arranged in constellations on his ceiling and the posters of Apollo 11.), which he did not have to share, to the sound of frying bacon and the smell of waffles. He cautiously stepped into the kitchen to find Martha, his new foster mom, at the stove, Frank, his new foster father, reading the newspaper, and Papa, his foster… grandpa, spreading big dollops of peanut butter on his waffles. As slowly hopped up onto one of the stools next to Papa.

“Good morning Keith,” He said with a smile. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay,” He murmured quietly, not meeting Papa’s eyes.

At the sound of his voice Martha turned around, still holding the pan of bacon. “Keith! Do you want bacon with your waffles? Or egg instead?”

“Bacon is fine…” He said, watching Papa. It really was a rather concerning amount of peanut he was doling out there.

“Do you like orange juice?” She asked, turning back to the stove. “Or chocolate milk? Or just regular milk? We have all three. Oh, and apple juice. We didn’t know what you liked so we just picked up what we could!”

“Oh,” Keith shrank back a little bit in his chair. These people were being so nice. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“It’s no trouble!” She waved him away as she used a spatula to dispense bacon and a waffle onto his plate. “You seem like an apple juice boy. Frank will you be a dear and pour Keith a glass of apple juice?”

“Of course,” Frank said getting up and heading to the fridge to fulfill his wife’s request.

Keith stared at his plate for a moment, murmuring a quiet “thank you” when a glass of apple juice was set in front of him. A home cooked breakfast, the sound of a rustling newspaper, laughter, warmth. It was all so new to him. Usually breakfast was a cold bowl of cereal and some awkward questions about how he was settling in. Never before had somebody made him bacon and waffles and picked up 4 kinds of drinks just for him. It was strange and new, but not unpleasant he thought as he lifted a strip of bacon to his lips.

Keith slowly settled in at the Galbrathe home. His new foster parents treated him just like he was their real child, giving him chores and privileges and taking said privileges away for bad behavior. You’d think that’d be bad, but Keith loved it. He felt like a part of the family. The next few weeks Keith found himself happier than he’d ever been before. He had a home, a family, even if it was temporary. He felt, for the second time in his life, loved, uncensored, unrestrained love. He felt it when Papa pulled him onto his lap during family game night. He felt it when Martha taught him how to swim at the neighborhood pool. He felt it when Frank came home from a business trip and gave him a big bear hug saying how much he missed Keith’s random space jokes. He felt it every time they said ‘Good morning’ or ‘Sleep well’ or ‘Don’t forget your shoes!’ Those little things just meant the world to him. Never before had he had one person, let alone three, care so deeply for him. He’d never had so much attention on him before. Usually he had to share it with other foster siblings and though he never let on he was soaking up every kind word, every minute praise, drinking it in and savoring its taste. He couldn’t get enough of it.

So this was family. This was love. This was being held. This was hearing your name said with a tone of adoration. This was life. Well, he was in love with it. He never wanted to let go.

Until it happened. The incident, or rather incidents. The incidents that made sleep impossible. Night after night he’d stare at his bedroom door knowing it would open, praying it wouldn’t. Night after night he’d only fall asleep when he heard the tell tale snores of Frank downstairs. Night after night after night, even on nights when it didn’t happen or when Frank was away on a business trips. He stopped sleeping more than 2 or 3 hours a night. His grades suffered. He talked less, and 6 months after the first instance he just stopped talking altogether. He desperately wanted to tell somebody about all this, but he couldn’t. Nobody would listen to him anyways, and what if they did? What if they couldn’t prove it was happening and Frank took it out on him? What if they could prove it and he was taken away from the Galbrathes? This was the closest Keith had ever felt to any of his foster parents. He didn’t want to lose them, didn’t want to lose this feeling of being loved so deeply.

The doctors diagnosed him with anxiety based selective mutism related to extended time in foster care. Martha was quick to sign him up for all sorts of therapeutic activities. First they tried art therapy. Keith wasn’t exactly complaining about his hour long sessions where he was essentially given access to as many art supplies as he wanted and was allowed to do as he pleased but it didn’t really help. So then they went to music therapy which again yielded the same result. Months went by and Keith still wouldn’t say a word, so finally one day Papa came home with a solution.

Keith had been up in his room reading when he heard his bedroom door open. His first reaction was to freeze, even though it wasn’t night. He glanced over to the door and was relieved to see it was Papa, carrying something wrapped his coat. Keith sat up, instantly curious as he could have sworn he just saw the bundle move.

“Hey Keith,” Papa smiled sitting next to Keith on the bed. “We got you a present today, and it’s a rather special one.”

Keith peered into Papa’s arms and his jaw fell open. There, squirming in the jacket was a puppy. He looked up at Papa and would have been stunned speechless if he wasn’t already, you know, speechless. Papa nodded, taking Keith’s hand and placing it on the puppy’s head. The puppy began to lick his hand, wagging its tail excitedly and Keith, for the first time since the incident, let out a giggle. A slow grin spread against Papa’s face as he watched the dog step out of his lap and into Keith’s arm, eagerly licking his face which made him giggle more.

“This is Minette,” Papa said, stroking the puppy’s copper colored ears. “She is a king charles spaniel specially trained just for you.”

Keith looked up at Papa hugging Minette close. He didn’t need to speak with Papa, Papa always knew what Keith wanted to say or ask even though he couldn’t form the words. He simply nodded.

“Yes, just for you.” He smiled warmly. “She will respond to sign language commands and tongue clicks, but I doubt she’ll leave your side much. It took a lot of convincing, but I knew you always liked dogs and when I heard about this organization that trains them specifically for those with anxiety and depression I knew this would be exactly what you needed.”

Papa, as usual, was right. Minette, nicknamed Minnie by the entire family, left Keith’s side only to relieve herself. Otherwise she went wherever he went. She slept curled up at his feet in the bed at night, licking his face to wake him up if he was having a nightmare. In public she stayed quiet, walking calmly beside him at the supermarket, or lying at his feet in restaurants. When school started up he got special permission to take her to classes where he sat by his chair in a dog bed he brought for her. Soon none of his classmates cared that he couldn’t speak. They all loved Minnie. When he felt anxious or sad she would press into him, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, wagging her tail slowly and he could feel calm washing over him. No matter what happened Minette would always love him. She didn’t care if he got A’s or F’s. She didn’t care if he couldn’t talk. She loved him unconditionally.

Perhaps the biggest change came in the night. The first night Frank tried to enter his room Minette sensed Keith’s fear radiating off him. She immediately stood up, hackles raised and growled at the man who stood hesitantly in the dark door way. She barked, a little yip, a threat of what she’d do if Frank did not leave immediately. So he did, not wanting to be discovered for what he was. Keith found himself cuddling Minnie and crying from a mixture of relief and fear into her soft fur. She licked the salty tears from his cheek, her tongue soft and comforting. He fell asleep, still holding her warm body. It was the best he slept in months.

Of course this wasn’t the end of Frank’s reign of terror on Keith’s body. He found ways to dominate him regardless, it just became less frequent, but more unpredictable which almost made it worse. He never knew when he’d pulled aside next, taken over, made to feel things and perform acts he never wanted to think about. He became more prone to panic attacks in public, but Minnie helped him through each one, never complaining that it was his 3rd one that day or leaving him to feel all this pain on his own. He really appreciated that.

He began to speak again, in private, only to Minnie. At first his voice was barely a whisper from not being used for so long, but he would talk to Minnie about his thoughts and fears. She was a good listener, wagging her tail in non comprehension as he stroked her soft fur. When thing got too much she would climb up on his chest and begin to nuzzle his face. It’s very hard to cry when there is a puppy nuzzling her wet nose into your cheek. He felt so much better talking to her. He felt so much better just talking...

He needed to talk. He need to tell somebody about all this before it consumed him whole, and that’s why he was telling Vivirdian all this right now. He wasn’t sure when he started talking, or for how long, but his throat burned. He was physically and emotionally drained. He sat there in the chair, staring at the ground. Fuck. He needed… needed… well, he needed something. Whether it was a very strong bottle of whiskey, the sweet release of death, or just a really long nap he couldn’t tell you. He glanced up at Vivirdian, expecting to see a bored expression or one of confusion. Keith would have been confused if he was in Vivirdian’s shoes, but then again Vivirdian lived with three highly traumatized royal children. Keith doubted anything could ever surprise him. Still…

“Sorry,” Keith exhaled. “I didn’t mean… to just dump my entire life’s story on you.” He let out a nervous laugh, glancing up at Vivirdian. Vivirdian waited for a moment for Keith to collect himself before speaking.

“And then what happened?” He asked coolly. Keith blinked.

“I… uh…” He frowned, trying to think, but his brain felt like mush. “It’s all… fuzzy.”

“Hmmm…” Vivirdian murmured studying Keith with a piercing jade colored gaze. Keith squirmed, having the distinct impression he was being dissected. “This is very interesting. It tells me a lot of information that could explain your behavior and while I do want to hear more… I asked when are you going to apologize to Lance.”

Soon. He needed to do that soon.

Chapter Text

Lance

It took Lance several minutes to calm down after Keith’s insult. First he was just enraged at Keith. How could he say such a thing? But after a few very choice Cuban swear words and a few threats of how he was going to rip that greasy mullet out of his head the rage seemed to drain out of him. His heart rate slowed to something more human and less that of a terrified hamster. But as the anger faded a feeling of emptiness began to settle in. Whether it was purposeful or not, Keith had stabbed exactly where it hurt the most. What Lance most feared, above earthquakes, tornadoes, the dark, and his abuela, was being unwanted or seen as less than.

Yes, being a part of Team Voltron meant making a few sacrifices. He missed his family, pizza, and the beach. He yearned for the feeling of rain on his skin and the smell of his bed in the Garrison dorm. Hell, he even missed homework. He’d give anything for school to be his biggest worry. Joining Voltron had pushed school to the very back of his mind. Now he was more concerned with dodging alien lasers than getting an A on his physics test. But with all the stress and anxiety that came with being the universe’s only hope there was a lot of solidarity between the paladins. They were like family, a close knit bond of adrenaline, screaming, and the sweet, sweet sound of phasers. He’d grown close to his team these past few weeks and couldn’t imagine living without one of them, even Keith. (Okay yes, Keith just basically said that he’d be indifferent to Lance’s death but Lance still appreciated the guy okay? His hair was deplorable and he had no respect for skin care but he did kind of have a nice butt and maybe he could really rock that signature red jacket and red can be such a hard color to wear so Lance still had SOME respect for the guy.) Being a part of Voltron gave Lance what he’d wanted all his life: a sense of belonging. He had a solid friend group, people who would die to protect him.

Sure, it probably helped that they were only 7 people and a few mice aboard their ship and of them only 5 were human. It also probably helped that they had to trust one another. There isn’t really much time for doubt when you’re facing a fleet of ships who all want nothing more than to shoot you and your giant, robotic, psychic, alien space cat out of the sky. They had to depend on one another not only for their survival but for the survival of the entire universe. Still, Lance liked to hope that maybe during all those weird bonding activities and battles they all became friends. He liked to think that they were more than teammates and comrades. Surely they viewed him as a friend. He knew Hunk did at least, and Hunk was great and all, but there was something appealing about having a whole group of friends and not just one best friend.

And it was so easy to believe that they were all friends. There were times, not just in team bonding activities, when they could all feel a connection. It was raw and powerful and so real to Lance. Maybe it was just more alien space magic, but Lance really liked to believe there was more to it, like they really were a group of best friends. You could even assign squad roles to each one. Shiro was definitely Space Dad, Pidge was the short and angry friend, Hunk was basically the mom friend, Keith was the emo in denial, and Lance, aside from being the most good looking and most talented of the squad, was the hyperactive kid. They had inside jokes and good memories. Lance knew how to make each one laugh. He knew so much about them and they knew so much about him. Lance had never had a real ‘group’ of friends, just one or two, but this felt so good he never wanted to be alone again.

But according to Keith he was gravely mistaken about all that. It especially hurt because, well, he was probably right. Nobody in the past had ever really been super fond of Lance, except maybe Hunk, but Hunk had 3 other paladins to keep him company now. Over time, any pain that might have been caused by his passing would be forgotten. Lance would be forgotten. Just thinking about it brought him close to tears. The only reason he didn’t cry as Solovette berated him for making a scene was because he was still so angry, but when finally Lucivida managed to pull him into his room alone, making the excuse that he needed to set the machine up in private with Lance, he more or less broke down. He didn’t cry or anything like that, just slumped into the chair Lucivida directed him to and let out a long sigh. By then he was too emotionally drained to cry or even really feel much of anything. He just sort of stared blankly at the ground while Lucivida tapped away at his computer in silence until finally he spoke.

“I’m sorry Lance,” He said in a timid voice. Lance looked up at him. He was glancing at Lance nervously, as if scared he’d explode again. “What he said…. It was a very jerk thing to say and I-”

“It wasn’t just a jerk thing to say,” Lance snapped, folding his arms across his chest. “Keith IS a jerk. Always has been always will!”

“I’m not sure how you are raised on Earth, but here we don’t judge on a single action.” Lucivida flinched, frowning a bit, but more in thought than displeasure. “I mean, take Imagene for example! She’s done some really truly awful things regarding the halflings but we still see her as a fine leader.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been around Keith for a while now and-” Lance paused, the impact of Lucivida’s words hitting him. “Wait what do you mean?”

“Well, she’s had her… moments.” Lucivida stood up, crossing over to some sort of console. He tapped a few buttons. His gaze flickered to Lance a few times, before finally letting out a sigh. “Look, if I tell you… do you promise not to let it affect your own judgement of her?”

“I’ll try,” Lance mumbled, shifting in his chair.

“The first time was about 2 years ago,” Lucivida said, removing his glasses and using his sleeve to wipe smudges from the lens. “You see, Ambrusia is a very vast planet with many diverse climates. This planet is abundant in resources and can support many, many organisms. This kingdom is the only known civilization of Ambrusians so about 90% of our planet has been untouched by the sin of society though it has been explored and documented by scientists. Anyways, because of this we are able to accept many refugees from many planets and allow them to live peaceful existences away from the strife of their home systems. Of course we do limit who and how many we accept as we can’t risk hostile takeover. It’s a very complex process that cannot be taken lightly. Generally those seeking amnesty must fill out very intense applications unless they have a set of very special circumstances.”

Here he paused, as if debating whether or not to continue. After a few moments he placed his glasses back on his face and continued. “A few years ago we came into contact with a group of refugees with those set circumstances. They were a group of Galran half breeds and other full blooded outcasts who were discriminated against for one reason or another. They were imprisoned, abused, experimented on, and the state they were in… it was pitiful. I was fresh out of Advanced Studies in Neurosurgery and at the time had just began my residency. I as assigned to care for the psychological and neurological injuries. It was hell. I don’t like to talk about what I saw, what Zarkon did. I hate the Galra Empire now even more than I already did, but I don’t hate Galrans themselves. That’s where my sister and I differ.”

“We’re identical twins,” He said pulling up a swivel chair and setting the papers on it aside. He sat down, laying his hands in his lap. “We’re very much alike in our minds and ideas, but as we aren’t the exact person we still experience things differently, especially events like the death of our parents. Obviously it was very traumatic for both of us. It still affects us. Not a day goes by that it isn’t on our minds, but it got so much easier for me once I removed hatred from the situation. I know it’s cheesy, but forgiveness was the key to my healing. Once I forgave the Galran who killed my parents I was able to breathe easier. I was free. But my sister has never been good at forgiveness. She never forgets a slight. She still harbors so much anger inside her towards all Galrans.”

“So, she didn’t take to them wanting refuge too kindly did she,” Lance prompted, feeling a little sick.

“No,” He managed with a nervous chuckle. “She didn’t. Not in the slightest. When the refugees were fit to stand trial she proposed automatic execution on the grounds that they could be spies. I challenged her right there in the courtroom. I asked what spies would willingly have their bodies mutilated like this. She responded good ones, ones that would risk it all for their mission. Surely, I replied, not even the Galra would be this committed to their leader. She said they had no quells to the slaughter of our parents even with us in the room. I suppose she’s got a point there, but I’d spent time with them. I knew all about their families and their previous homes and their stories. I felt a connection to my enemies. We were friends, my patients and I. So I argued in their defense until finally she relented. In exchange for crucial information on the inner workings of the Galran society she’d allow them to live here. I thought I could breathe easy, they were safe. But it turns out I didn’t know my sister at all.”

“She had them interrogated. After all the information they could give was extracted… she… she had them killed.” He put his head in hands and let out a shaky breath. Silence filled the cluttered room as what he said sank in for Lance. “She made the mistake of telling Vivirdian, who immediately put a stop to it. He’s got much bigger reasons to hate the Galra, but even he knew she was going too far, particularly with the method she chose.”

“What… what method?” He asked, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.

“There is a substance that is very toxic to galra.” Lucivida began. “It’s made from a compound found only in the clay of our desert. We call it cytoacidic vioride, or more commonly known as Vioscene. It can be made into a recreational drug with mild hallucinatory effects. It’s also used in the tagging of neurons for study. In fact it’s in one of the medicines - don’t worry, the quantity is so little that I could use this on a full blooded galran and it would only be mildly uncomfortable - I use to run this machine as it aids in translating and creating new memories, but it is very dangerous. It’s harmless to you and me, but to galra it attacks cells, turning the cytoplasm into an acid and destroying the body. It’s painful from what I’ve heard, like being burned alive from the inside out. Victims bodies will essentially degrade into mush.”

“Holy shit.” Lance breathed. For once he was actually feeling sorry for the galra. These galrans had only wanted to live peacefully, but instead they’d died in the worst possible way. He couldn’t really imagine how Lucivida felt about this. He couldn’t even try to comprehend how it would feel to learn that your twin sister had ordered your friends to be murdered in the most painful way.

“No battle or war can even be compared to the argument that ensued after that.” Lucivida continued, his voice tiny and small. “We both said things that we regret, horrible, dreadful things.”

“Well she probably deserved it!” Lance fumed.

“No, she doesn’t.” He said looking at lance through the cracks in his fingers. “We’ve both been through so much Lance. You can’t really expect her to-”

“Just because you’ve been to hell doesn’t mean you get to act like an ass!” Lance interrupted him. “I don’t know how things work here but on Earth it’s definitely not an excuse. You know what we call people who try to get away with hurting others by using their mental illness? Assholes.”

“Some behaviors you can’t control,” Lucivida challenged, sitting up. His violet eyes gleam with something. Scientific curiousity? Anger? Tears? Probably all three.

“I know that,” He countered. “Nobody knows that better than me. I’ve got ADHD, but there’s a difference between working on your vices and just using your disorder or traumatic past as a cop out. It’s okay to have symptoms, yeah, that’s gonna happen, but you know what shouldn’t happen? Murdering your brother’s friends and citing trauma as a scapegoat.” He clapped on every word of the last sentence for added  emphasis.

“But wouldn’t you?” Lucivida shot back, still covering most of his face with his hands. “If the means to get your revenge was served to you on a silver platter wouldn’t you do it?”

ay he “Of course I-” Lance stopped. He realized that Lucivida was right there. If something that awful happened to Lance who was he to say he would be able to overcome his own hatred? In fact, he knew he probably would not be able to. Lance was the kind of person who always gave people chances, but if somebody hurt Lance, like, really hurt Lance, or his family or his friends for that matter, he wouldn’t even acknowledge their existence. If he was in Imagene’s shoes would he not make the same decision.

“Right,” Lucivida smiled, getting to his feet, apparently taking his silence for an ‘I don’t know’. “Well, I don’t think I can convince anybody that it’s truly taken me 10 minutes to prepare for this, shall we get started?”

“Probably,” Lance muttered, sinking down into his seat.

Lucivida explained the machine to Lance has he actually began to set up everything. It worked by reading tagged brainwaves and neurotransmitters and then translating everything into binary coding or something. Then it was sent through a holographic simulation core to project the memories for all to see. It was way too complex for Lance to even attempt to understand so he just nodded his head like he could grasp the complicated chemical equations and brain sections Lucivida was spouting out at rapid speed. But the whole test thing itself seemed pretty chill, all he had to do was sit there. Lance was down with that, at least was until Lucivida pulled out a needle.

“Woah!” Lance said, scrambling out of his seat. “Nobody said a damn thing about needles!”

“Relax!” Lucivida said taking a step forward, which only made Lance take two steps back. “I just have to set up an IV. I do them all the time at work. I’m a pro! I even have an award for best stick in the clinic! It’s somewhere around here, probably under the essay on the brain stem and the chemical equation book by bed. I’d find it to show you but we need to set this up. Besides, the needle will only be in for a moment. After I get it in I’ll pull it out leaving this little straw tube. You won’t feel it once it’s in.”

“Nope!” Lance said, glaring at the needle in Lucivida’s hand. “I refuse to do this!”

“Why? Is it the pain you’re afraid of?” Lucivida asked him, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Because I can fix that!”

“It’s more the idea of needles poking me more than-” Lance started but Lucivida ignored him.

He set the needle down on a table and pushed himself off the floor so his swivel chair glided through the only clear pathway on the floor towards a large cabinet. He clicked in a password into a keypad causing the particle barrier like door to lower and allowing for access to the contents. Lance watched him rummage around inside, wondering if he’d have time to make for the exit. If the floor wasn’t so cluttered with papers and books he might be able to make it, but as it was he’d probably trip over something and break his legs. Escape wasn’t an option unfortunately.

“Found it!” Lucivida called, rolling his swivel chair back over to Lance, a small jar clutched in his gloved hand. He grinned, unscrewing the lid and revealed a cream substance within. “I had to test all my serums on myself, though I’m gonna have to ask that you don’t tell anybody that as there are strict experimentation laws. Imagene and Vivirdian think I formulated everything perfectly on my own, but no sir, I’m not that smart! I had many false starts and failures, but eventually I found just the right combination. Of course sticking myself got very old very fast indeed, so I developed this state of the art numbing cream! Very fast acting, very effective.”

“So, you’ll use that?” Lance said tentatively, looking at the cream warily.

Lucivida nodded almost eagerly. “A lot of medicine is about quality of life, not just quantity, though that is important too. Why let a patient suffer through the pain of tests and treatments? If you would be comfortable numbed or even sedated - well actually no we can’t do sedation for a memory test as that’ll impair brain function and memory recall - then who am I to deny it? Plus this is more or less your only chance at convincing the council to let you stay, especially after that explosion just now.”

“Okay, fine,” Lance huffed, taking his seat rolling up his sleeve. “Just do it, the quicker the better.”

Lucivida nodded, taking a small amount of cream and rubbing it into the crook of Lance’s elbow. Lance tried to look away as Lucivida uncapped the needle but he couldn’t seem to turn his gaze away. He watched in horrified fascination as Lucivida lined up the needle and pressed it into the blue vein that pulsed lightly beneath his tan skin. Lance flinched, expecting the familiar pain he associated with needles, but there wasn’t any. He sighed in relief. Lucivida’s cream had worked, thank God.

“Usually I ask my pediatric patients what they want to do when they grow up,” Lucivida said in a casual, conversational tone as he hooked up a tube. “But I think your future was more or less decided for you by destiny. I do wonder, had you not been called to become a paladin what would you have been?”

“I was training to be a fighter pilot,” Lance said, finally able to tear his eyes away from his arm. He focused on a diagram of the brain plastered to one of the walls. “So was Keith actually, well he was before he got booted out for bad behavior. So I guess it wouldn’t be much different from what I do now. What about you?”

“Well, obviously I’m a neurologist,” He chuckled as he removed his gloves. “But if you’re inquiring as to what exactly I’d like to do I’d be more than happy to share! My main goal is to contribute something meaningful to the ever growing bank of knowledge about our world. I want to achieve something great! I want my name to be forgotten but my discoveries to be known throughout the ages as something that was beneficial to the study of the brain.”, something that will help others.”

“That’s a pretty nice ambition,” Lance said, wiggling his fingers experimentally. “I think with all this though you’re basically there.”

“Hardly!” Lucivida laughed, cleaning up a few of his papers and books. If his intention was to make it look a little less disorganized he was fighting an uphill battle. Lucivida’s room was beyond messy. It was like if somebody had taken the paper recycling bins from the biggest public school in America and just dumped them out into one big pile. Lance could see stacks of notebooks, scraps of calculations, and page after page of sloppily written notes and diagrams.

“What do you mean?” Lance asked. “This is beyond amazing, especially by Earth standards. We’ve got nothing even remotely like this.”

“Well, I suppose it’s pretty remarkable for Ambrusian standards too,” Lucivida said, looking over his invention. “But truly all I did was utilize the existing theories on memories and how they are created. By string together those concepts I was able to create this. It’s taken me years just to find a reliable way to read memories and put them in holographic translations and it’s still not complete. Like every creation of Ambrusian it is as imperfect as we are."

"What about Imagene?" Lance asked, a little curious. "If she wasn't the heir what would she have done with her life."

Lucivida paused, thinking for a moment. "Well, before our parents passed we expected that she would be able to have a normal life for at least 30 to 40 more years, but I'm not really sure what she would have done with that extra time. I know she likes sociology and psychology, but she did take quite a few extra chemistry classes. Not sure what the correlation is there."

"Maybe she wanted to help develop medicines for the mind," Lance shrugged.

"That may have been so," Lucivida chuckled. "But I think we’ve wasted enough time discussing the past and the future. I’m going to go get the others.”

Chapter Text

Lance

“What is your name?” Solovette asked, staring at him, lips pursed in disdain. Behind her the council watched in wide eyed fascination as Lucivida sat behind a computer, tapping away at what seemed to be lightspeed. Imagene stood serenely behind him, resting a hand on her twin’s shoulder supportively. Lance tried not to look at her too much. He was still shocked by what Lucivida had told him and didn’t want that memory to show up on the memory scan thing.

Lance didn’t even have to open him mouth, immediately a scene fizzled to life in front of him. There was Shiro, knocked out cold and slumped onto Keith’s shoulder as Lance ran forward to help.

“The name’s Lance.” The hologram Lance said in a painfully obvious tone as if Keith should have known this already.

He watched his hologram self freeze, then disappear as if it had never been there. He had to admit, that was damn impressive. The rest of the council seemed to think so too, that is if their murmurs were any indication. Even Solovette blinked in surprise, unable to completely conceal just how impressed she was with the machine’s success. Lance glanced over to where Lucivida and Imagene stood. Lucivida looked ready to burst with excitement at finally being able to use his life’s work. Imagene smiled at him proudly, the image of sisterly love. How sincere was that smile was what Lance wanted to know.

“What is the name of the so called Paladin that arrived with you?” She asked, regaining her stiff, unyielding composure.

“Keith!” Lance’s voice practically shrieked as he looked through binoculars down at the emergency setup the Garrison pulled together the night of Shiro’s return. “I’d recognize that mullet anywhere!”

“What is your home planet?” Solovette asked. No sooner had the words left her mouth then a picture of Earth, with her familiar garments of white clouds covering her ocean blue skin and vast stretches of lush forests, snow peaked mountains, and dry desert sands. Lance felt a strong tug of longing in his stomach as the sight of his planet. God, he’d give just about anything to go back home. The scene of the planet shifted to that of Varadero beach in the light of dawn. The purple-blue sky was speckled with pink clouds like the cotton candy sold at festivals. The soft sea was lapping up against the shore in a slow rhythmic pattern and there was Lance, sitting at the edge of the dock, his feet grazing the ocean’s surface as he kicked them lightly. A lump rose in Lance’s throat as he watched his younger worry free hologram self. All too quickly the hologram fizzled out and Lance was just staring at an empty wall.

Keith

“So,” Shiro said, sliding into the seat next to Keith. “You are now officially passing Physics and you aced your Advanced Flight Techniques course.”

Keith grinned, glancing up at Shiro who was giving him that warm, proud smile that had Keith just absolutely fucked. For the past year Shiro had been Keith’s mentor and crush and Keith was losing his goddamn mind. He’d just about anything, even turn in his homework on time, just to get those words of praise that filled him up, warming his body like the sun. Shiro was kind and patient, always wanting know how Keith was doing. Once he’d left the Galbrathes he’d never had this kind of individual attention before and he loved it.

“Yeah,” Keith murmured, fidgeting with his hands. “I have a test in astronomy coming up, do you think you could help me out?”

“Sure,” Shiro beamed, happy to encourage healthy study habits. “Do you have any therapy appointments this weekend we need to schedule around?”

“I can check…” Keith said, pulling out a planner and scanning through the dates. The fact Shiro had actually gotten Keith to use a planner was a testament to his power over Keith. He wasn’t exactly the most dutiful at filling it out sometimes, but the fact he was using it at all was nothing short of stunning. Keith had to admit, the planner did help him remember things. On days when he didn’t feel entirely connected to his body or when his mind went fuzzy he could rely on his planner to stay on top of his school work. It certainly made remembering when his therapy appointments were a hell of a lot easier.

After joining the mentorship program Shiro noticed Keith’s alarming mental state. He pushed the dean to file for a request for a psychological evaluation which the dean, knowing Keith pretty well at this point, was happy to fill out. Keith had been to court ordered therapists, but never got a diagnosis or the treatment he needed to improve. Now he was going twice a week and actually felt a lot better. He could sleep more at night, and the dark didn’t send him into paranoia nearly as much as it used to. All in all Keith was just feeling a lot happier. He was still in foster care, sure, but now he had a future in front of him. Just a few more years to graduation, then he’d be free.

“I have one today after school, but that’s all.” Keith said, tracing his finger under the date.

“Great!” Shiro smiled. “I can drop you off and pick you up and we can study then. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Keith nodded closing his planner and slipping it into his messy backpack. At the sight of papers crumpled up and sticking out of books Shiro frowned. Keith would do a lot for him, but getting organized was not on that list, not to say that Shiro hadn’t tried of course.

“Okay,” Shiro said with a resigned sigh, withholding his comment on Keith’s backpack. “What homework can we get a head start on right now?”

Search History November 23rd

5:49 PM: what is bpd wikipedia

5:58 PM: whats an fp

6:07 PM: how to tell who your fp is

6:12 PM: how to differentiate between fp and a crush

6:14 PM: spliting

6:15 PM: splitting

6:17 PM: what is splitting

6:18 PM: what is splitting bpd

6:20 PM: splitting bpd

6:21 PM: WHAT

6:21 PM: IS

6:22 PM: SPLITTING

6:23 PM: what does it mean to split on somebody

6:25 PM: black and white thinkinh

6:34 PM: what is dissociation

6:38 PM: hyperfixation

6:45 PM: bpd test

6:59 PM: personality test

7:10 PM: what does it mean when a personality test comes up inconclusive

7:15 PM: depression test

7:22 PM: bpd

7:24 PM: are bpd people abusive

7:30 PM: walking on eggshells

7:34 PM: how do i cure my bpd

7:36 PM: is there a cure for b

7:37 PM: is there a cure for bpd

7:41 PM: bpd

SuperShiro >>>Cryptid

7:40 PM: Just checking to make sure everything is okay! And don't worry about the study session. We can get together tomorrow.

7:44 PM: thanks shiro im ok

7:46 PM: i just needed to go back to my dorm after therapy and process through everything

7:47 PM: No worries!

7:50 PM: want to get together tomorrow night?

Keith reviewed the texts he’d sent to Shiro. It had been nearly a half hour since he sent that last text and Shiro hadn’t responded and Keith was in hell. Had he said something to scare Shiro off? It didn’t look like it. Maybe Shiro knew Keith’s new diagnosis. He knew the psychologist put it on his file which meant the Garrison knew. Maybe they had told Shiro to avoid Keith. From the looks of it BPD was viewed as dangerous. Hell, there were guides on how to distance yourself from those with BPD. All the definitions sounded horrible and the symptoms were just as bad. Every article contained words such as manipulative, abusive, episodes of rage, substance abuse, severe abandonment issues, lying, impulsivity, mood swings, inability to form healthy relationships, narcissism, extremely low self esteem, and uncontrollable emotional reactions. The worst part of it all was that it summed up everything Keith had been experiencing these past few years. Just now he had a name for it, an awful name for it.

He felt sick, unclean, like he didn’t deserve to be in the company of others, not that anyone probably wanted to be in his company. He was a ticking time bomb, unsure of when or who he’d blow up at next. Everybody, and by everybody he meant Shiro, was probably rejoicing at not having to be in his presence. Fine, let them. It’s not like they would miss him when he was dead.

He curled up in his bed, trying to sort through the haze of emotions in his mind. There was frustration and anger. Why him? Why this disorder? Why the fuck did all this horrible shit have to happen to him? There was also relief. Hey, at least he knew what was happening. Maybe now he could get some real help. Then there was despair. His situation obviously wasn’t going to get any better. His research told him BPD had no cure. There is only intense emotion and extreme apathy with no in between. So why prolong his suffering? Why live another day unloved when you could end it all right now?

He closed his eyes taking a deep breath. He held it, then let out. He need to calm down. He was going to be okay, he just needed to be rational. He had two choices: give in to this or push through it. Giving in sounded pretty damn appealing but that would mean admitting defeat. Keith didn’t like the idea of letting life win over some guy (who was probably straight) didn’t text him back. He was Keith Kogane, he’d been through worse situations than this. He was tougher than nails, and according to the rumors hotter than hell. It was friday and here he was sulking in his dorm. He glanced at his alarm clock. It was only 8:20. He had nearly 4 hours until curfew. He could take his motorcraft out for a ride. Yeah, that sounded instantly better than pining, or maybe it was just idealizing, some straight guy.

He got out of bed and pulled his red jacket over his shoulders, leaving his helmet behind. He knew that wasn’t safe, but hey if he crashed and died... bonus points right?

Chapter Text

Coran

“She hasn’t spoken a word to me since we stabilized, so to speak.” Hunk said, glancing up at his battered yellow lion with obvious worry in his eyes. Coran didn’t blame him. He remembered just how close past paladins had been to their bonded lion and Hunk’s nature probably made him more prone to feeling empathy for his lion. He may even be experiencing guilt. “It’s just been silence. She wouldn’t respond to anything, but the cabin pressure and Oxygen levels remained just fine so this isn’t just a mechanical issue.”

Hunk had been aimlessly in an asteroid belt unable to move his lion at all when Allura had located him. He’d been surviving on emergency rations for the past week, but hadn’t been able to keep much down do to the constant rocking of the ship. (Queasy stomachs and space lions probably aren’t a good combination to begin with) After a good meal and a night in the healing pod he was looking much better, but he was still pretty rocky on his feet.

“There doesn’t appear to be much physical damage besides a few odd dents, but that can be summed up to the stress of hyperspace jumping on the outer infrastructure of the lion.” Coran said as he examined the diagnostics test results. “Logically she should be running just fine. This must be a more complex issue than what can be seen with the naked eye. It could be that the disturbed wormhole was anasty shock for the system. It’s best if we let it rest for a bit.

“It’s a robotic lion.” Hunk said in an indignant sort of tone Coran did not appreciate in the slightest. Why did destiny choose 4 teenagers and a severely traumatized young adult to be the universe’s only hope of survival? Why couldn’t fate have waited a few more years for their hormones and decision making processes to fully develop enough to actually handle such crisis? “What do you mean just let it rest? That’s literally impossible for it!”

“It may be impossible for most robotic inventions.” Coran corrected him, waving his hand superfluously. “But the lions of Voltron are a bit beyond normal scientific understanding.”

“Coran’s right,” Allura said, rubbing her temples. Her body language and surly temper were all signs of a killer migraine. Though Coran had tried his best Allura was her father’s daughter, unwilling to rest despite her desperate need. She had been hopeful that in finding one paladin she might find another and stayed up most of the night at the helm, trying to detect the others. “It’s best if we let things sit and give ourselves time to think before attempting something risky like taking the Yellow Lion apart for a better look inside. Even if we did, I doubt we’d find anything. The lions are tied to my life force, but I haven’t been able to locate them, which correlates with Yellow’s silence. It seems that the lions have shut themselves down.”

“That’s it!” Coran snapped his fingers. “Zarkon can clearly track Voltron, by shutting themselves off they can conceal themselves and their paladins until we are all united and able to fight once more!”

“That is definitely possibility,” Allura sighed dejectedly. “Or they could really be broken, though I doubt all 5 would receive injuries so severe they wouldn’t be able to make contact. The chances of that are very slim.”

“If they are broken just how are we going to fix them?” Hunk asked, resting a hand on his Lion’s leg and frowning in concern. “It’s not like your father is here to help us, and he’s the one who built them. Do we have any records of how they were built or how we can fix them?”

“Beyond basic mechanical inner workings I’m afraid not.” Coran replied automatically. “Alfor wouldn’t want to risk that vital information falling into enemy hands.”

Hunk slumped a bit and Allura laid her forehead on the table and heaved out the longest, most exasperated sigh Coran had ever heard in his life and being a royal advisor he’d heard a lot of sighs. Obviously this was not the information they wanted to hear.

“But that doesn’t mean all hope is lost!” Coran added quickly. “Before he left to hide the lions Alfor did leave information behind in the hands of allies we knew would best be able to defend it.”

“No ally of Altea could have possibly held it together for 10,000 years.” Allura muttered darkly.

“Oh-ho,” Coran grinned excitedly, always eager to prove somebody wrong. “You could be very wrong about this ally princess. At the very least, it’s clear that they’ve done their job, or else Voltron would have never been formed again.”

Coran made his way over to the console, his heart lighter than it had felt in 10,000 years as he tapped in a few coordinates into the system. There was hope for them after all. They still had a chance of pulling through and saving the universe after all.

“Coran, what are you doing?” Allura asked in a tired confused voice.

“Don’t worry princess,” He replied as he hit the enter button. He watched the castle’s reactors come online on the console’s screen, preparing to move in the direction he had indicated. “I know what I’m doing. Unfortunately it’s too far to make all in one jump and we can’t make rapid successions of jumps. We’ll make the first and longest jump now, then fly until our systems have cooled down enough to attempt another. All in all we should make it there in 1 or 2 cycles.”

“Cycles…?” Allura frowned. “That’s not a standard Altean measurement of time…”

“Okay, we have a plan, that’s great! Now, what is a cycle?” Hunk asked, always one for inquiry.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to spell it out for you princess,” Coran said. “After all you studied this culture extensively for a project as a child.”

“A cycle is… a Helian galactical measurement.” Allura said, more thinking out loud than anything.

“Okay, but how long is it?” Hunk asked, folding his arms. “Like, a few ticks? A movement?”

“A cycle is around 8 suns.” Coran informed them. “So we’ll get there in around 3 common weeks if we calculate suns as in the length of day rise to day rise on the planet we are headed for.”

“Is this a good planet?” Hunk asked tentatively. “One not filled with enemies by any chance?”

“Well it was 10,000 years ago,” Coran said. “A lot can change in that time, but most likely no. There shouldn’t be anything dangerous within that galaxy at all. In fact our destination is known for it’s great natural beauty, rich culture, and lovely food.”

“I like food,” Hunk began. “But you said that about the balmera and that was an utter fiasco.”

“Where exactly in the Helian galaxy are we even going?” Allura asked. “There are literally over 6 trillion solar systems in the Helian galaxy! What planet are we going to?”

“The planet Ambrusia!” Coran grinned.

Pidge

“Here we are,” Shiro grunted as he heaved himself over the large boulder. He reached down offering his hand for Pidge. She grasped it and helped pull her up and over. She flopped onto the rock, gasping for air.

“You just had…” She spluttered out after a few moments. “To crash land on... the highest earthen column didn’t you?”

Shiro let out a breathy chuckle and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Sorry, want some water?”

Pidge nodded, sitting up. Shiro handed her a container of water. The heat had long since made the water lukewarm but Pidge couldn’t care less. Right now, every droplet felt like little sprinkles of heaven on her parched tongue and she had to force herself from drinking too much at once. They still had to climb back down and travel back to Green when they were done checking out Black, she thought as she handed the bottle back to Shiro for him to drink. In this heat they would both be sweating buckets. Better to conserve water now than die of thirst later.

This planet’s rainforest like climate was not exactly ideal for rock climbing. The clothes stashed in Green’s emergency rations were made of some kind of cotton like fabric and were soaked through with sweat. She supposed Shiro had it worse in his heavy alien clothes, but he hadn’t complained once. The heat and humidity was unbelievable and walking felt remarkably like swimming in a hot tub but without all the water. Pidge had briefly considered taking it off to just wear her sports bra, but then remembered she was currently trekking through literal alien terrain with a 25 year old man. It’s not that she didn’t trust her Space dad. After all, they’d been sleeping in the same alien space cat for the last week now. When Pidge had fallen and tore a gash in her back Shiro had treated it and not once had she felt uneasy, but that wasn’t to say Shiro hadn’t felt uneasy, not in a perverted way more of a ‘hey I used to work with your dad and older brother and I don’t think they’d want me seeing you half naked’ kind of way. Call it professional courtesy or just wanting to respect boundaries.

“Man,” Pidge huffed as she swiped a hand at the back of her neck to free the strands of brown hair trapped in sweat. “Remind me to give myself another hair cut. It’s getting long and I don’t want to deal with having to put it up all the time in this heat.”

“You don’t want to grow it out?” Shiro asked getting to his feet and extending his hand to help her up.

“Nah,” Pidge grinned, ignoring his hand this time as she got to her feet. “Now that I’ve experienced the freedom of short hair I’m never going back.”

“That’s probably a good idea in conditions like these.” Shiro noted as he trudged forward towards the lush forests ahead where undoubtedly the Black Lion lay. “If we’re going to be here a while short hair might be for the best.”

“I don't just mean now,” Pidge said adjusting her glasses. She ran a bit to catch up to him. “I mean forever. This is awesome. Why didn’t anybody ever tell me about the blessings of short hair?”

Shiro shrugged. “I guess short hair is just seen as a boy thing usually, not saying it should be.”

“It definitely shouldn’t be!” Pidge said quickly. “Especially knowing how much easier short hair is to manage. Yeah, long hair is cool to pull up and braid every now and then. I saw somebody who once did like a braided bun kind of thing and that was pretty cool? I wouldn’t mind doing it myself but they also had a lot of hair. I don’t really want to grow my hair out just for that though, so.”

He laughed lifting a large tree branch up to allow for her to walk under it. “Your father did say something about you not being much of the girly girl your mother always wanted.”

“One could say that.” She snickered. “My mother learned to deal with it after a while. Eventually she gave up trying to make me attend girl scouts meetings and let me join the technology club, which is how I got my start in computers.”

“Yeah?” Shiro said. “I always wondered how you got so fascinated with technology.”

“Well originally it was just me trying to hack into my brother’s laptop when he wouldn’t let me play on it.” She chuckled. “And my obsession just spiraled from there. Are we almost to the Black Lion yet?”

“Just beyond these trees if I recall correctly.” Shiro said. “He’s not in the prettiest of states.”

“It’s not really physical condition I’m worried about.” Pidge said jumping over a log. “Remember that Green isn’t very damaged and she still won’t turn on. I am concerned about that more than anything. I want to see if Black is in a similar comatose state.”

“You think you can fix it?” Shiro asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope!” Pidge said cheerfully. “I’m good but I’m not that good. At best we’ll be able to get answers as to why this is happening if Black is able to turn on. If he’s not on then we’ll know this problem is something to do with magic alien cat stuff than any electrical or mechanical problem.”

“And if it is a magic alien cat problem I doubt we’ve got much of a chance of fixing it.” Shiro sighed.

“No, we’ll just have to wait for rescue.” Pidge said. “Or for the Galra to find us, whichever happens first.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” Shiro shuddered, his left hand floating subconsciously to his right arm.

“Oh, sorry Shiro. I forgot for a moment.” Pidge murmured apologetically, giving herself a swift mental kick for saying that. Shit, she’d been so insensitive. Shiro was an escaped prisoner of the Galran empire who’d taken his right hand and so much more from him, and from Pidge. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he’d been through all that. He was so calm most of the time and he always knew what do or say. He just held himself in a way that a leader did, commanding respect and authority. He was so composed that it was easy to forget how much he’d really been through. Pidge bet he’d dealt with all his trauma on his own time, not wanting to involve anybody else, but still.

“It’s fine Pidge,” He reassured her with a smile. “Really, I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

She managed a small smile back. “Okay, let’s go get a good look at that lion.”

Keith

By the time Keith got down to Lucivida’s room most of the council had already left citing that they found Lance’s 30 minute interrogation to be sufficient to prove his and Keith’s innocence. Still, Solovette demanded to ask Keith the same questions. Her argument was to ensure that Keith wasn’t secretly a Galran spy, but clearly she was just trying to find any reason at all to exile them. She spoke in a hushed, irritated voice to the 5 or 6 councilmen who must have been loyal enough to linger behind with her. They threw accusatory glances Keith’s way as he passed. Keith fought the impulse to shrink back. They were trying to intimidate him and he refused to let them know it was working. Instead he kept hobbling along on his crutches to where Lance sat in a chair by himself.

As Keith approached Lance Vivirdian seemed to wander away from Keith to where Imagene waited by Lucivida’s door and make a little conversation. Lucivida must be cleaning up after Lance’s trial. Lance’s eyes were trained carefully on the ground but seemed to be unfocused. Keith felt his heart do an odd little lurch of pain on the look on Lance’s face. He just looked sad. Keith knew that face. It was the one Lance wore when he was thinking about his family or whenever anybody mentioned the E word (Earth) back on the ship. He was clearly homesick. Solovette must have stirred up memories of Lance’s family back on Earth.

Keith stopped in front of Lance, looking down at him. If Lance registered Keith was there he didn’t make any indication of it. Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing himself to give the mini speech he’d been preparing since recovering from dumping his entire life’s story on Vivirdian.

“Hey, Lance,” He began, trying to sound friendly. Lance blinked, and glanced up at him, then narrowed his eyes. He didn’t move away or tell Keith to leave. Keith took that as a sign he could continue. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said. I was… I was mad and instead of dealing with my anger I just took it out on you. It’s a problem I need to really work on. You didn’t deserve what I said and I didn’t mean of it and… I’m sorry. I was a dick.”

Lance lowered his head, letting out a sigh. Keith chewed his bottom lip nervously, waiting for Lance to say something, anything. He wasn’t sure what he wanted it to be. Obviously he wasn’t really expecting Lance to just forgive him right off the bat. What Keith had said was horrible, and a little apology speech was more of a bandaid on a stab wound. Usually when Keith lashed out at people he would just cut them out of his life, better that then to feel the pain of being hated later. This was the first time he’d ever tried to make amends with somebody that wasn’t a guardian. He had no idea how to feel.

“Look…” Lance said slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I’ve got a migraine from whatever the hell I had to just do and I’m still really angry so I apologize if what I say comes out weird. Keith, you acted like a fucking dick. What you said was hateful and wrong and it hurt me, badly.”

It’s your fault. Grovel like the scum you are.

“I know.” Keith jumped in quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m awful. I should have been able to control my-”

“No,” Lance interrupted him in a sharp voice that made Keith wince a little. “Stop that, don’t call yourself awful.”

But you are awful. You’re an awful, nasty, despicable person.

“But-” Keith began but Lance held up his hand to stop him again.

“Lucivida said to never judge a person based on one event.” Lance said in a tired resigned sort of voice, still not looking at Keith. “So I’m trying my best not to. You’re not a bad person. You got wound up. I did too. We all were. That doesn’t stop me from being mad at you or upset about what you said. Maybe I just need some time to cool off, but I really wouldn’t be expecting us to be besties any time soon.”
“I understand.” Keith said looking away, unsure if he was going to cry or what. “I’ll leave you alone then.”

“Wait,” Lance stopped him, looking up at him with a grin. “I might… be more inclined to be friendly if I got a video clip of you calling yourself a dick.”

Keith let out a shuddery laugh. That was more like the Lance he knew. “If you can get a camera, sure.”

“Mm,” Lance snickered weakly. “I’m gonna hold you to that, pretty boy.”

He made his way over to Vivirdian and Imagene unable to stop himself from grinning as he asked himself, what does it mean when a straight boy calls you pretty?

Chapter Text

Keith

Lucivida’s room was just as messy as it had been when Keith had first seen it. If anything it was even messier. There was a new set of volumes stacked in a corner and the floor seemed to be more covered than it had been yesterday. The shelves were torn apart and storage doors left open revealing their contents. Keith wondered if Lucivida had ever cleaned his room or if he was just so wrapped up in his invention that he just didn’t care if things were neat or not. Personally Keith didn’t like a lot of clutter in his work space. He could deal with some loose papers and supplies but mostly everything was organized and picked up. It wasn’t exactly perfectly straight like Shiro’s always was, but then again Keith had never had much to make a mess out of growing up.

“Did you know Lance is afraid of needles?” Lucivida asked as he peeled off his gloves and set them on the medical tray by the device. He’d just inserted Keith’s IV and was preparing a set of syringes with medicine, carefully measuring out the dosages.

“Er, no,” Keith shifted awkwardly in the seat. He felt uneasy for some reason though he couldn’t quite figure out why. It very well could have been just how fucked up this day had been. “But it sounds like him. He’s kind of dramatic like that, I guess.”

“That must be why he and Ellea get along so well,” Lucivida laughed a bit. “Alright, almost done. Just have to inject this little guy here and we’ll be on our way! I don’t think Solovette will be able to drag this one out as long as she did with Lance’s. I think even her most loyal friends would commit mutiny.”

“Ha, yeah,” Keith said a little distracted. His mind was still on his previous conversation with Lance in the hallway.

The high of Lance’s compliment (Was it a compliment? It could have been an insult. Keith had never been the best on the uptake for insults, compliments, anything really.) faded quickly once he let the rest of his words settle in. Lance hadn’t really given him a definite answer on where they stood in their friendship, if there was one. Did Lance still want to be friends? God, he never could have anticipated ever worrying about whether or not Lance McClain wanted to be his friend. Before he’d always tried avoiding him, but now the idea of not being around him was down right painful, and unfortunately he recognized this feeling all too well.

Keith had a nasty habit of idealizing people and relationships. He’d set his focus entirely on this person, and be completely dependent on them to feel alive even. A day without talking to them felt like a day without oxygen. He would tip toe delicately around them, careful not to do anything that might cause them to leave him. He went to desperate, potentially harmful measures to ensure that he wouldn’t be left alone again. And when he did feel that fear of being alone… it hurt, no, it ached. It was a physical feeling, a panicky scream rising in his mind, like a thousand alarm bells howling out his own fears that he’d never be wanted, or loved, or have anybody in his life that would ever stay. So why live? Why stay alive? Why be in pain? Because he had to stick around, especially now that he was a paladin of Voltron. The entire universe was depending on Keith to keep it together. That thought was what kept Keith from stepping into the airlock when he watched Shiro and Allura laughing together. That thought kept him going. Maybe after they defeated Zarkon and everybody was happy and had each other, then he’d indulge that part of his mind, but right now he didn’t have that luxury. Keith was just going to have to deal, just like always.

Fuck, of all people he could have he just had to fall for Lance. His whole life was marked by periods of pining and suffering over certain people and it looked like Lance was going to be one of them. He’d never thought of Lance ever being that kind of person for Keith. He’d always thought his standards were higher than that, but when you’ve been more or less abducted by a giant flying blue alien psychic space cat and your friend group has more less been downsized (or Keith’s case, upgraded) to just 7 people, 2 of which are alien, 1 is Pidge, and 1 is your previous mentor who’s got the hots for one of those previously mentioned aliens, you kind of lose your standards.

Huh.

He winced as something burned in his arm bringing him out of his thoughts, the one Lucivida had hooked up to an IV. Lucivida noticed his movement and glanced up from the tube he was adjusting.

“Everything alright?” He asked in concern, getting to his feet.

“Yeah,” Keith said, his voice sounding a little strained. He was trying to keep the pain out of his voice but failing miserably. “I’m fine.”

Keith was definitely not fine. His whole body seemed to be slowly lighting on fire, spreading from the IV across his chest quickly. A burning, heating sensation that he couldn’t quite describe. He briefly wondered if this was supposed to happen, but then realized he had bigger problems. He couldn’t breathe. He literally couldn’t breathe. A high pitched ringing filled his ears as he sat up gasping for air, but no matter how big a breath he took he was coming up empty. It was like somebody was squeezing his lungs, preventing them from expanding. And he was being burned alive.

Lucivida let out something that was probably the foulest Ambrusian swear and dropped the tubes. He ran for the large storage cabinet and smashed his hand into a button. “Computer, reaction 7c, code 24 please!” A drawer popped open and Lucivida pulled out the contents, making his way back to Keith.

Keith felt something prick the back of his neck. Something was pressed over his mouth and nose. He recognized it as an oxygen mask. The burning feeling began to subside and he took in one, big glorious breath of air filling his lungs. If that was what it felt like to asphyxiate Keith never wanted to experience it again.

“Breathe, Keith,” Lucivida instructed, not taking his eyes off of the holographic vital monitor. Usually he was so quirky and timid sounding, but now his voice was firm and assertive, a bit like Shiro’s. “In and out… that’s it! You’re doing great!”

“What… happened…” He breathed removing the mask from his mouth briefly.

“Keep that on for another 3 minutes!” Lucivida said quickly, pressing it back onto his face and turning his attention back to the monitor. “These drugs haven’t been tested on humans, but I figured since our DNA models are very similar it would most likely be just fine. Lance’s only side effect was a migraine and I think that was more caused by Solovette’s voice in any case.” He chuckled nervously, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“But you had an adverse reaction, respiratory failure to be exact, but don’t worry. I’ve countered it and once your lungs recover we can- AH!” Lucivida turned to look at Keith and let out a high pitched yelp of terror, stumbling backwards and tripping over a stack of books and sending papers flying. He scrambled to his feet, looking at Keith in wide-eyed terror.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice muffled through the plastic (did Ambrusians have plastic?) oxygen mask. Lucivida squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath in. When he opened them he shook his head as if to clear it.

“You… You’re bleeding!” He said quickly, pointing to Keith’s arm and rushing to grab some band aids. He looked down at his arm, which was bleeding. In his moment of panic the IV must have been ripped out, but it didn’t hurt much. Keith didn’t even notice it, which was odd. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a baby when it came to pain but that was a concerning amount of blood. He watched Lucivida patch it up numbly.

“Does this mean we can’t do the whole… thing?” He asked, running a hand through his hair, or trying to. His fingers were stopped by something large, triangular shaped, and fuzzy. He slipped a hand over to where his ear should be but felt only empty space like they’d never been there at all.

What the fuck.

“I-I don’t think so…” Lucivida managed, still focused on cleaning up his arm. “I’ll have to convince Solovette, but seeing as how most of the council has left already she’ll probably be forced to say yes. I just can’t let her see you-”

“Lucivida,” Keith interrupted him. “Where the fuck are my ears.”

Lucivida froze halfway through tying a bandage around the wound. After a moment or two he let out a long huff of air, his shoulders slumping in a tired, resigned sort of way. He stood up, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Keith,” He began cautiously. “Would you happen to be adopted, by any chance?”

“Yeah…” Keith nodded, knitting his eyebrows in confusion. Did Lance tell him or something? “I am, kind of, but what does this have to do with the fact that I no longer have ears?”

“No, you still have ears, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to hear me.” Lucivida smiled as if hoping this would reassure Keith. It didn’t. “They’re just… a little different now!”

“How different.” He asked, growing a little frustrated.

Lucivida laced his fingers together, looking up at the ceiling. He opened his mouth once or twice as if to speak, but then closed it again without making so much as a sound. Finally  he squeezed his fist together, closed his eyes and let it out all in one breath.

“You’re galran!” He said quickly, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth like he’d just said something horrible. He shrank away from Keith, clearly terrified.

“What?” Keith asked in confusion. He looked down at his arms. They were still the same creamy white shade he’d grown up with, not purple in the lightest. “No, I’m not! I’m human! I wouldn’t lie to you!”

Lucivida quaked and slowly pulled out his tablet. He tapped the surface with shaking hands and handed it to Keith. He took it and saw that the screen was switched to front facing camera mode. The camera focused in on his face, and Keith nearly dropped it. Purple was spreading across the left side of his face slowly, like a rash. It was already halfway over the bridge of his nose, creeping slowly towards the right side of his face turning his usually pale skin a shade of vivid violet. His left eye was glowing gold and his right iris, usually a dark grey, was yellowing already. And his ears had definitely changed. He touched his hand to one slowly, feeling it flick automatically in reaction. They were… not exactly cat ears, more like bat ears maybe, but he’d never really studied bats. His dark hair was changing to a dark purple shade.

Holy fuck. Keith was galran. He was turning into a Galran right in front of his eyes. When Keith’s parents had given him up for a genetic defect… yeah, this was unexpected.

Lance

Lance now understood what it was like to be as full as rage as Pidge was. As he sat on his chair in the hallways he glared daggers at everyone he could, mentally screeching all sorts of insults to the tune of a pounding migraine. Fuck, this was just a whole lot of bullshit and Lance for one was completely and utterly over it all. He didn’t ask to be taken in by the Ambrusians, and it was true that without their help he and Keith probably would have been captured by the Galra, but they didn’t ask for it. He didn’t want to be in this damn castle and a hundred thousand or so light years away from his family. Solovette had pried into his mind and forced him to watch all those memories he’d fighting not to think about because every time he did he wanted to just curl up and cry.

And then there was Keith. Keith, who was such a fucking asshole and who Lance should be furious at, just apologizing out of the blue like he thought a few pretty words could fix things! And they had! What the hell? Lance was only slightly angry at the thought of that black mullet right now and he should be fucking incensed, but he wasn’t. And it was frustrating and Lance knew fuckall what was going on.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself down. He’d be alright, he always was, he just had to get through this crisis then the next one and the next one and then one day he’d have that happy ending he dreamed of. A nice home with a good job that he liked, a few kids, a loving husband- oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

He’d just gotten blindsided by those Gay Thoughts™.

This wasn’t anything new for Lance, he’d had lot’s of gay thoughts before, but usually when he imagined his future it was with a girl. He’d been raised in a predominantly catholic family and town, to him family was a husband and wife who had 8 kids together and a 9th was on the way. Growing up he’d always felt confused when he felt attraction for boys as well as girls, like it wasn’t natural. He suppressed it, hoping that if he ignored that side of him it would fade away in time. Instead it seemed to only be getting worse.

“You look like your head is going to split open.” Said a voice above him. He lifted his eyes to see Imagene taking a seat next to him with a glass of water. “Here, some water should help.”  

He mumbled his thanks and took the glass from her. He took a small sip, thinking about Lucivida had told him not even an hour ago. His stomach twisted and he looked down into the water glass. The Lance stared up at him looked tired, like, ‘it’s three am and I’m still studying for this damn chem final and we ran out of coffee and Hunk won’t let me drink any other form of caffeine and I’m running on 3 hours of sleep and half a cheeseburger from the cafeteria’ tired.

“I sense you’re uncomfortable around me,” She said quietly. “I can move, if you like.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shook his head a bit, but stopped as that only aggravated his headache. He had the distinct impression she was examining him carefully with her eyes, trying to detect any subtle hint to disprove his words. He looked away, hoping that if he wasn’t looking at her that creepy feet pulse reading trick wouldn’t work. The silence was growing painful.

“I think it’s really cool that you were training to be a pilot,” Imagene said. Lance turned to look at her again. “Lucivida told me. I wish I could explore the sky like that. It must be amazing.”

She let out a longing sigh, gazing out into open space.

“It is,” He grinned. “The wind in your hair, the speed, the adrenaline. I love it. And who’s to say you couldn’t? I’m sure you could still learn to fly even as the queen.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, I can’t. Remember when I said that we depend on our planet’s sun for nutrients? It’s more than that. We are very dependant on this planet for our survival. There’s a reason there isn’t much of an air force here. There are certain gases we need to survive that are only found on a few planets and the longest somebody can survive without sunlight on our planet is a few cycles at best. With the invention of solar patches we’ve been able to explore a little further, but we are greatly limited. There are a few more biological incompatibilities that make space and even some kinds of air travel nothing short of impossible, but I don’t really know them all. Lucivida would be better able to explain it, though he’d probably present it to you in a holographic presentation like a Advanced Course lecture. It’s made alliances a real pain in the rear, but we manage.”

“Yeah, you guys seem to be doing just fine without pilots,” Lance said. “But how do you defend yourselves from the Galra Empire? That’s a pretty big weakness.”

“Well, when a person is blind their other senses strengthen,” Imagene explained, playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. “We are able to compensate for our weakness in other areas. Plus it was only recently, within the last 3000 years if I recall, that the Galra became aware of our presence as a threat and started openly attacking us. In that time we developed many ways to defend ourselves.”

“You know, 3,000 years isn’t exactly a recent date.” Lance pointed and Imagene laughed.

“No, I suppose it’s not,” She grinned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “But when you’re people have been fighting, if only through trade and offering resources when we can for the first 7,000 years, for 10,000 years it certainly seems more recent in the history books.”

“10,000 years is a long time to evade Galra capture.” Lance said. “We made it like, a month, if that.”

“Only a common month?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lance opened his mouth to respond but stopped when he saw a frazzled looking Lucivida open the door to his room and step out into the hallway. His hands shook as he smoothed over his lab coat. He straightened his glasses and cleared his throat. Everyone’s head turned to face him.

“I… I-er…” He struggled to find words, eyes darting around the hall nervously. “I need to speak with Vivirdian and Lance, in here, please.”

“Is Keith not ready?” Solovette asked, folding her arms and glaring down at him. Lucivida shook his head.

“Actually… I think we should cancel the trial.” Lucivida managed, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “I find it unnecessary now that we’ve heard Lance’s side and a majority of the council has already taken their leave, but we can discuss that all later. Please, Vivirdian, Lance, I need you to see this.”

“I’ll come too,” Imagene said rising to her feet, but Lucivida shook his head frantically. Imagene frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no!” Lucivida said, still shaking his head. “Everything’s great!”

“There’s blood on your lab coat.” Imagene said, pointing to a small red splotch on his usually pristine lab coat. Lucivida startled a bit, obviously having not seen it either. He tried to hide it with his hand.

“Aha! Just a little accident!” He laughed nervously. “Why don’t you, Solovette, and the remaining council members discuss what to do, now, Lance, Vivirdian, in here please.”

Imagene narrowed her eyes at her brother for a moment before relenting. “Very well, let’s take this discussion down to the meeting hall.”

Lance looked at Lucivida in confusion as Imagene and the rest of the council turned a corner. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“No, not at all.” Lucivida said opening the door slowly. He hung his head and seemed to shrink away, like a dog that knows it’s done something bad. “There… was a reaction to something and… I… you need to see this.”

Vivirdian calmly walked in first with Lance tentatively following him.

The moment his eyes fell on Keith he knew exactly what had frazzled Lucivida so much. Glowing yellow eyes flickered over to them as the alien heard them enter. At the looks on their faces he immediately shrank back, large purple ears pinning back in fear or shame, both probably. His hair, usually blacker than blackest black mascara, was now a deep shade of purple. Most of his skin was purple though Lance could see patches of white on his arms and hands, though it was all slowly fading to lavender. Keith was… was… galran. He was galran.

How the hell was Lance going to explain this to Allura?

“Well,” Vivirdian exhaled slowly. “That’s unexpected.”

“What the hell did you do to Keith?!” Lance turned on Lucivida. “He’s… purple!”

“Y-yes, yes, I saw,” Lucivida stammered in a meek, panicky voice.

“And he’s got claws!” Lance continued, pointing to Keith’s rapidly sharpening fingernails. “And his eyes are glowing yellow. ”

“I am aware of that.”

“And he’s galran. ” Lance finished, drawing out every syllable in the word galran.

“Yes, yes he is.” Lucivida murmured flatly.

“How the hell did he walk in here human and turn into…” Lance flustered, gesturing with his hands wildly at Keith, who looked like he was trying to disappear.

Vivirdian walked calmly over to Keith and rested a hand on his shoulder. Keith flinched at the touch before raising his head to look at Vivirdian who smiled warmly.

“I’ve got a few theories,” Lucivida said a little more calmly. “My first is that Keith was a galra all along-”

“I think I would have known if the guy I was bathing, clothing, and feeding the past few weeks was a purple alien with bloodthirsty tendencies.” Lance snapped.

“Yes,”Lucivida nodded. “I agree, something would have shown up in Lance’s memories. So that leads me to my next, if rather unlikely, theory. Keith could be half Galran.”
“It’d explain a lot,” Keith murmured and Lance realized it was the first time he’d spoken. “I was given up for adoption because my parents thought I had a genetic birth defect, but I didn’t. I guess this is what that stupid test picked up.”

His voice sounded small, scared almost, and even though Lance was still kind of upset with him, he felt genuinely sorry for Keith. As big of an asshole as he could be at times, He definitely didn’t deserve this, and how everyone was treating him, like he was some sort of alien monster (which he kind of was but that’s not the point) wasn’t exactly going to make him feel better. Lance’s mother had always said to treat new or different people just as he would anyone else.

“We all came from the same place, mi hijo,” She would say to him. “And once we die we will all return there. That is why there is no reason for us to treat anybody differently.”

“Well, what are we going to do?” Lance let out a sigh, crossing over to stand beside Keith in support. Keith looked up at him, flicking one of those cute ears as if in surprise. “I mean, it’s still the same infuriating Keith, he’s just purple! So, what’s the plan Stan?”

“I-I’ve worked with half galrans before.” Lucivida said with a little smile, glancing nervously at Vivirdian before continuing. “There have been a few cases in which supposedly full blooded ambrusians or other alien species have come into contact with Vioscene and suddenly find themselves with a set of purple ears, if they live that is. We don’t know much, but we think the galran portion of DNA lies dormant in certain halfling species. Vioscene actively attacks the cell’s nucleus, causing the galra DNA to fire up and a life threatening reaction to occur. In Keith’s case he experienced respiratory failure, but he’s fine now, I swear. In any case, there are ways to conceal the undesirable features, usually galran as after 10,000 years of war hating the galrans is practically a part of our culture as sad as it sounds. It’s a big issue. I mean, just last cycle there was a-”

“Generally the standard for emergency situations is a hormone suppressant.” Vivirdian interrupted, chuckling a bit. He addressed Keith directly. “But that’s just a stop plug. Now that the DNA has begun to switch on your body will go through changes regardless. Once we can get the initial symptoms under control we’ll be able to see just how it’s affecting you and go from there.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Lance grinned. “But I’m going to bet dance lessons are off for tonight, darn. I was really looking forward to that yam dance thing.”

“As was I,” Lucivida snickered, nudging Vivirdian who just let out a puff of air. “But I can tell Imagene you’ve had an adverse reaction to the tagging serum. It’s best if we keep this information to just us for now. You should be more or less back to a human state tomorrow morning if we start treatment right away, until then you’ll have to sequester yourself to your room.”

“Finally something I’m good at,” Keith sighed with a little smile.

Lance let out a little snort. No doubt about it, it was definitely Keith in that galra fursuit.

Pidge

The fact that Pidge’s hair was long enough to pull back into a stubby ponytail was slightly unacceptable. Still, she was grateful it wasn’t in her way as she worked.

The Black Lion hadn’t suffered terrible exterior damage, just a few large dents and scratches that would probably need repair once they reunited with Coran and Allura, but really there was no reason for it to be unresponsive. She ran diagnostics on the interior and electrical systems, and they were in working order too, but the black lion just wasn’t working. It seemed to be in the same situation the Green Lion was in, which meant this was possibly affecting all the lions.

“I don’t understand, Pidge sighed as she closed her laptop and slipped it into her bag. “Why have our lions powered completely off?”

Shiro, who’d packed up the emergency rations and changed into the black shirt and grey sweats left in the supplies, chuckled.

“I didn’t really expect us to understand why this is happening,” He said. “But at least we know that, should they ever come back online, we’ll be able to fly them.

“I guess,” She huffed, wiping her lenses clean. “But I just wish we could contact somebody, or find out if Keith and Lance are alright.”

“They’re a resourceful pair,” Shiro assured her. “I’m sure they’re just fine.”

“They’re a good team when they aren’t squabbling with each other you mean,” She said, making Shiro laugh. She smiled a bit, feeling a bit proud of herself. Shiro was always such a reserved person, carrying his past with him at all times, but never letting it show. It seemed to be a goal of the other paladins to make him laugh at least once a day, to bring some light into that darkness. Mission accomplished for today at least.

“You’ve got a point, let’s head back to the Green Lion for the night.” He chuckled. “Then we’ll try contacting them again, okay?”

“Okay,” She nodded and got to her feet. “But only after we drink our body weight in water.”

“In your case that’s not a lot of water.” He noted with a little chuckle, jumping down to the ground. She skidded down the sides of the Black Lion’s armor before landing safely on her feet.

“Fine, then I’ll drink Hunk’s body weight in water,” She grinned. “Just pass me the damn container will you?”

“Language,” He sighed tossing it to her.

“Oh, yeah, my apologies.” She smirked as she caught it. “Thank you for passing the fucking container.”

Keith

Vivirdian had been right. Once they’d given Keith the suppressants (just pills, thank god) the galran features began to fade away. Now, four hours later, the only reminders of his parentage were a few violet patches of skin. He examined the biggest one on his arm as he sat in his bed. It hadn’t been the best day of his life, that’s for sure, but at least now it was drawing to a close. The ambrusian sun was setting, casting a luminescent orange glow through his window and into his room. Light danced merrily over the walls and furniture, and a late evening breeze rustled the curtains as it wafted in a gentle whisper of the garden’s fragrance. He heard the far off cries of native alien species, not unlike birds and watched a few of those butterfly like creatures Ellea had been chasing earlier drift languidly past his window.

He wanted to go out into the gardens and explore. He loved the outdoors, always had. As a child his favorite places to go had been parks and forests. He liked the serene majesty only nature could reveal. He could sit in a tree for hours, just staring up into the branches and growing lost in thoughts. It was how he had remained sane during his childhood hiding, secluding himself in the outdoors when things became overwhelming, kind of like a hermit.

He sighed falling back onto the bed and grabbing a new book from the stack on his bedside table. He’d already read through about 4 of the larger history books of the Ambrusian people, and his newly information sloshed around in his brain. The ambrusians were like humans in that they had ethnic groups falling under two main categories: the solaris and the lunaris. Keith had remembered those two terms from his trial and had been curious about them. In ancient times the ambrusians had believed that the Sun had sired (well, technically the sun was personified as a girl, so maybe sired wasn’t the correct term, but it didn’t really matter) the solaris and the Moon the lunaris. The solaris shared tan skin that allowed them to work for great periods of time in the sun and a greater muscle strength. The lunaris were pale, making them prone to sun burns, but lithe and flexible. At first the two races had lived apart from one another, but had merged into one kingdom when the Galra had first started to attack roughly 3 thousand years ago. The book stated that now ambrusian blood was so mixed that it was hard to find any pure solaris or lunaris outside of the northern and southernmost settlements.

A knock on his door brought him out of his revelry.

“Keith!” A voice called, Lance’s voice. Keith felt something squirm in his chest as he heard his door open. Lance stepped in carrying a tray of food and bag of some sort. “It’s me, Lance. I’m bringing you dinner and also some much needed hygiene products.”
“Uh, thanks,” He said, sitting up on the bed. “Wait, hygiene products?”

“Mhm,” Lance said, setting the tray down next to some books, which he wrinkled his nose at. “I couldn’t leave you in here alone with… An Advanced Study of Racial Identity in Ambrusian History… You actually read this?”

“Yeah,” He said defensively, quickly snatching it out of his hands. “It’s interesting.”

“Only you would find books interesting.” Lance groaned, flopping down next to Keith on the bed. “You’re nearly as bad as Pidge and her weird tech obsession.”

Keith scowled, scooting away from Lance. “Whatever, just... what do you mean by ‘hygiene products’?”

“I was talking to Lucivida and he said that galra skin dries out easily,” Lance said sitting up and dumping the contents of his bag out on the bed. Several bottles of variously colored products rolled out onto the squashy quilt along side a brush or comb. Keith couldn’t really tell the difference. “And I figured you’d be stressed from today so I just thought why not have a girl’s night, you know?”

“Lance,” Keith said. “We’re boys.”

“So?” Lance said, raising an eyebrow. “Good skin care isn’t reserved for just one gender. C’mon, I did this with my sisters all the time.”

Keith bit his lip, glancing down at his bed. The thought of Lance being so close to him was both appealing and slightly nauseating to him right now. But if this was something he did back home it might help Lance through his homesickness. Keith narrowed his eyes, knowing what his answer should be, but not really sure if he was fine with saying it out loud. Finally let out a sigh and relented.

“Alright fine,” He said. “But if this makes me turn more purple I’m blaming you.”

Lance let out a triumphant whoop, grinning from ear to ear. Seeing that grin made Keith melt a bit. Looking at Lance was like looking right into the sun sometimes, so dazzling bright. He wished he could just sit here and admire this little piece of sunshine until the end of time, basking in its heavenly light, feeling it warming his skin.

Fuck he was so gay.

“Okay, so they don’t really have cucumbers here,” Lance said pulling a little clear plastic baggy of something out which contained a few slices of some pink vegetable. “But I asked around and apparently these contain a chemical that’s really good for reducing redness and dark circles, so we’ll just be using these instead with our face masks. Man, I can’t believe I actually got you to do this. If only we had Mean Girls or Legally Blonde then this would be a true girls’- or fine if you’re that much of a fucking dweeb- guys’ night.”

“I’ve never seen either of those movies,” Keith said picking up a small bottle of some blue lotion. Lance let out a little shriek and dropped the substitute cucumber bag. Keith glanced over at him. “What?”

“How can you have not seen Mean Girls?!” He spluttered as if Keith had just said he’d murdered somebody. “Or Legally Blonde?! They’re practically classics!”

“Hardly,” Keith rolled his eyes. God, could Lance be more of a diva? “I don’t know, I just didn’t watch a lot of TV growing up. Didn’t always have access to it at foster homes.”
“Okay, what about The Devil Wear’s Prada?” He asked, letting out a little shriek of blasphemy when Keith shook his head. “Pretty in Pink? Breakfast Club? High School Musical? The Little Mermaid? The Ellen Show?”

“No, can’t say I have,” Keith said, biting back a smirk at Lance’s reaction. “And The Ellen Show is a show, not a movie.”

“Okay, now that is just downright sacrilegious!” Lance narrowed his eyes, shoving a finger into Keith’s chest. “And how can you have not seen High School Musical? Oh my god, this is outrageous. I swear, the minute we get back to Earth we’re going to marathon every good movie ever until you’ve been given a proper cultural education. You have been deprived for so long. I cannot believe this.”

“Okay, fine,” Keith chuckled, amused by Lance. “But what are doing first for guys’ night?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” Lance grinned, standing up. “First thing we’re doing is something I’ve wanted to do since I first met you: shampoo and condition that mullet.”

20 minutes and an argument about whether or not they should be wearing swim trunks (“C’mon Keith! We both have dicks, what is so humiliating about this? Unless there’s something you’d like to tell me~”) later Keith was lowering himself until a very sudsy bubble bath. Lance had apparently found some way to customize the bath soaps and create a layer of froth thick enough to not see anything through. He was thankful for that for many, many, many reasons.
“Can I look now?” Lance asked from his end of the bath where Keith had forced him to cover his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m in.” Keith said, looking anywhere but at Lance’s face. The warm water felt good against his skin, relaxing his tight muscles.

“Good,” Lance said, opening his eyes and resting his arms on the side of the tub and letting a contented sigh. “I’ve gotta say, though they’re kidnappers and a little weird the ambrusians do know how to treat themselves.”

“Mhm,” Keith agreed, finding it hard not to look at Lance’s exposed, wet chest. He swallowed, trying to keep his cool. “So, uh, what is this scent?”

“Not entirely sure,” Lance said, scooping up a handful of bubbles. “But it’s the closest I could get to lavender, sage, and chamomile.”

“Oh,” Keith murmured, not sure what else to say. He had no idea what any of those words meant. He knew sage was spice of some kind, and lavender he recognized as a flower. He thought chamomile was kind of tea? Maybe he was wrong about that. For somebody who liked being in the outdoors he realized he wasn’t very versed in it.

“Yeah,” Lance said, flicking a large bubble lazily. “My mom was big into aromatherapy. We’ve got hundreds of bottles of essential oils and all these scented candles and it kind of stuck with me. Pidge used to say it was just naturalist pseudoscientist when I used to light lemon scented candles around the dorm during finals week so I could stay energized.”
“Did it work?” Keith asked, a little curious.

“Dunno, kind of?” Lance shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, finals are hell so I was bound to crash regardless, but I think I lasted longer than most.”
“You have ADHD,” Keith pointed out. “That might have been a factor.”

“I was medicated on what essentially the maximum legal dosage of pharmaceutical speed,” Lance waved him away. “I don’t think so.”

“Isn’t speed a stimulant?” Keith raised his eyebrows.

“To most people, yeah,” Lance said. “But it’s got an opposite effect on those with ADHD and ADD. It slows you down. I only know this because one time they were passing around Adderall at this party and I paid like 20 bucks to get some. While everyone else was going crazy I was just sitting on the couch. I looked it up and realized I basically paid them to calm down.”

Keith laughed. “Well, that was educational.”

“It was more a waste of 20 hard earned dollars than an educational experience.” Lance huffed crossly folding his arms over his chest. “Why didn’t anybody tell me that before?”

“They probably didn’t expect you to be trying Adderall.” Keith snorted. “I didn’t think you were that kind of person, no offense.”

“I’m really not.” Lance shrank back a bit, looking down into the water. “But when you want to fit in you do crazy stuff sometimes, you know? It’s not like I had the natural charisma you do.”

“Charisma?” Keith snorted. “What do you mean?”

“You know!” Lance said, obviously a little frustrated at Keith by this point. “Everyone just liked you right off the bat. Bad boy Keith with his stupid greasy mullet and brooding personality. Every girl in the entire Garrison would happily sit on your face. Do you even know how lucky you are?”

“I hardly consider that luck when I’m gay.” Keith said without even meaning too. The instant the words leaped from his lips he regretted it. Lance just looked at him, a little stunned, mouth slightly open. Keith wanted to drown himself, cursing his impulses.

“Oh! I-I uh…” Lance spluttered when he’d finally regained control of his mouth. “Yeah, uh, I had no idea and, just gonna be honest here, I’m kinda gay myself.”

“What?” Keith blinked in confusion then narrowed his eyes. “Listen Lance, if you’re-”

“No, no!” Lance cut him off waving his hands over dramatically. “I’m serious! I’m kinda gay Keith!”

“You flirt with every remotely looking female alien you can.” Keith countered. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to get Imagene to give you her number or something.”

“Imagene?” Lance made a face not unlike Solovette’s. “Uh, no. Royalty isn’t my type.”

“That’s not how it is with Allura,” Keith pointed out. “Your type is usually anything that moves.”

“Yea,” Lance nodded. “Anything that moves and isn’t followed by a bodyguard! Have you seen Vivirdian’s biceps? He could snap me in half with his pinkie finger!”

“You’re being  little over dramatic.” Keith said, glaring at Lance.

“Hey! No I’m-” Lance let out a frustrated huff of air. “Look, the point is I’m a little gay? I don’t know. I like guys and girls so I’m not straight and I’m not gay, I’m somewhere in the middle, okay?”

“You mean you’re bisexual.” Keith said slowly.

“No Keith, I’m not a fucking bicycle.” Lance snapped. “Very funny.”

“No, I said bisexual, as in you like boys and girls.” Keith tried again, feeling irritation building in his stomach. “Do you not know what that means?”

“Oh,” Lance blinked. “I didn’t? But it makes sense? Listen, I grew up in a small town that was most catholic. I’m sorry if I don’t exactly have all the sexualities memorized. I didn’t even know what a gay person was until, like, the 8th grade.”

“Ah,” Keith fought back a disparaging comment. “Well, you’re bi Lance.”

Lance snickered. “Lance, the bilingual bisexual. It’s bibi for short. Like that Backstreet Boys song!”

“That’s a ridiculous nickname,” Keith said, but couldn’t help cracking a smile as Lance began to sing 'Ain't no lie, baby bye bye bye.'

“Say what you want butter cakes,” Lance grinned, his lips pulling into a lopsided smile that made Keith’s heart go pitter pat in his chest. (He was so fucked) “But this bi is going to be ridding your mullet of grease. Shit, I left the shampoo on the counter, give me a minute.”

And before Keith could stop his he was getting a nice look at Lance’s butt. It was either Keith’s worst nightmare or his best dream come to life. Horrifyingly gay thoughts rushed through his mind that would have earned him a nice, long lecture from Space Dad.

“Lance!” He spluttered quickly covering his eyes and feeling heat rush through his body.

“What?” He heard Lance reply. “Scared my dick is bigger than yours? Wait, don’t tell me you have a micropenis!”

“What? No!” Keith managed. Fuck, could this get any worse?

“Ah-HA!” Lance cried triumphantly. “I knew your ego was over compensating!”
“Lance I do NOT have a micropenis!” Lance growled firmly.

“Prove it!” Lance challenged.

Fuck.

Of course it could get worse.

But he’d been challenged, and Keith never backed down from a challenge. So he gritted his teeth, swore loudly and stood up, revealing everything to Lance, opening his eyes just to glare at him.

Lance’s shit eating smirk slid right off his face like soap on slippery tile. “Oh.”

Oh was right. Keith fumed and sank back down into the water with an almighty splash. “Just go get the damn shampoo and conditioner and whatever.”

It was with significantly less arguing that Keith settled between Lance’s legs and let him lather up his hair with the shampoo. At this point he figured there was really no reason to argue with him. They both had now seen everything the other had to offer. Plus at least if he was seated in front of Lance he wouldn’t be able to feel Keith’s hard-on.

He closed his eyes as Lance’s deft fingers worked gently through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. It was calming almost, and if Keith needed anything in his life right now it was definitely calm. He felt himself relax a bit, admitting that Lance had been right, this felt nice, really nice. He let out a contented sigh and realized that for the first time in his life he was letting somebody else take care of him. He’d been so independent for so long he’d forgotten what it was like to be reliant on somebody for even the smallest of his needs. He drowsily wondered what he’d done to earn this, and if he could somehow get it for the rest of his life. He was almost sad when Lance poured water over his head for the second time after he’d conditioned his hair and almost smiled when Lance lifted a washcloth with some kind of sugar scrub to exfoliate his skin. He let Lance gently wash his shoulders and back, half heartedly throwing out resistance that Lance didn’t even acknowledge. Keith fell silent by the time Lance got to his chest, trying to calm himself down though he knew it was no use. Lance could no doubt feel his heart trying to launch itself from his chest.

“Geez,” Lance murmured nervously. “Your skin is so dry it’s like a snake’s…”

“Or a galran’s,” Keith muttered, perhaps a pinch too bitterly then he should have because Lance looked up.

“You know,” Lance began letting out a breath of air as if he’d been holding something back all day. “You being half galra doesn’t really change a thing. You’re still the red paladin, still Keith, still the best pilot in the universe. Your parentage doesn’t change that, okay?”

Keith looked up into those startlingly blue eyes, holding Lance’s gaze,  trying to determine if Lance was trying to trick him or if he was, for the first time in life, being serious. Lance looked away for a moment, then slowly brought his eyes back to meet Keith’s and Keith knew then that he meant what he was saying. Lance didn’t usually look people in the eye, at least not voluntarily.

“You’ve still got that damned mullet,” Lance continued after a moment. “And you’re still angsty and brooding, and so what if you’re purple? If it makes you feel better I think your ears are kind of cute! Maybe that’s not helpful but it’s true. You’re still Keith and I’m not going to treat you any differently.”

Keith let out a shaky breath. “Thank you, Lance.”

“No prob, Bob.” Lance grinned moving his hand in slow circles over Keith’s skin.

“I thought you were mad at me,” Keith murmured quietly.

“I am,” Lance said confidently. “But I’m not as mad as I was.

When Lance was satisfied with his skin he grabbed some towels and robes. Keith let Lance wrap up his hair in a towel, only making one little jab at how it was unnecessary considering that they had very little hair to dry anyways. Lance only tittered, saying it was all a part of the ‘experience’ as he draped Keith’s robes over his shoulders.

“Now go sit your scrawny ass on that bed,” He grinned, gathering up his supplies. “Next up, facials!”

Half an hour, a bowl of creamy stew, and a face of goo later, Keith was in a considerably better mood then he’d been all week. He listened to Lance give him a run down of the plot of mean girls as he spread the white goo over Keith’s cheeks, his black hair pulled back into a little ponytail and front section all held back by a little red headband to keep it out of the face mask. He couldn’t help but grin a little, deciding that today had been a pretty eventful day, but overall it hadn’t been awful, though that might have just been the euphoria of being pampered by your crush talking.

“Basically,” Lance said as he finished Keith’s mask and began his own. “It’s one of the best movies ever produced and more or less my reason for living.”

“Sounds great,” Keith chuckled, hugging his knees, smiling like a doofus.

“It is great!” Lance said quickly doing his face mask. “It’s one of my all time favorite movies, right up there with Mulan and Blades of Glory.”

Oh hey, a movie he actually recognized.

“Is that the one with the cross dressing warrior?” He asked, outlining his feet with a finger.

“So you aren’t a total heathen!” Lance grinned with glee as he popped open the bag of substitute cucumbers and pulled out a pink wedge. “Close your eyes and lean back.”

Keith, surprisingly, did as he was told and felt Lance gently place the slices over his eyes. He felt the bed shift next to him as Lance settled down next to him. Somewhere inside of him a little voice tried to make him see reason. He was practically naked in the same bed as the boy he’d been crushing on for the last few days. Said boy had seen his dick and said boy also just washed his body. Now said boy was rambling about the Princess Diaries and while he didn’t care one bit. He just wanted to lie here forever, listening to Lance’s rambling drift away from his favorite movies to his sister’s obsession with nail polish and how Lance was god (his words not Keith’s) at giving manicures. He felt himself begin to doze, his skin feeling warm and his mind wonderfully empty except for Lance’s voice and a vague thought or too that occasionally floated its way lazily in and out of his head.

“Hey!” Lance’s voice pulled him out of his light doze. “Keith! Did you fall asleep?”
“Wha…” He yawned sitting up, forgetting he had fake cucumbers on his eyes. They slid down his face and into his lap, where Lance nonchalantly plucked them up and popped them into his mouth. “Oh… yeah, sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Nah, nah,” Lance chuckled. “It’s cool man, I was just saying we should take these off or else we risk clogged pores, I’ll go grab some towels, hang tight.”

Keith looked up at the ceiling letting out a slow breath and closing his eyes for a moment, mulling a few thing over in his sleepy brain. He was galra, he was gay, and he was in love with Lance.

He was in love with Lance.

Chapter Text

Lance

Lance wasn’t sure what really woke him up that morning, the shock of the early morning cold or Lucivida’s high pitched shriek when he yanked the covers off the bed a revealed a (nearly) nude Lance and Keith. Probably both.

“Ah!” Lucivida scrambled backwards holding his hands over his eyes as his cheeks flushed. “I had no idea! I-I’ll be in the dining room, I’m sorry!” He ran from the room, bumping into a wall as he was still holding his hands over his eyes to protect himself from seeing more of the Paladins then he already had as Lance howled with laughter and Keith scrambled for something other than his boxers to wear.

“Oh my god!” Lance wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “That was classic!”

“Classic?” Keith snarled as he pulled on a shirt hastily. “Now the entire castle is going to know we were in the same bed, together, wearing nothing but boxers, and they’ll fill in the blanks as to why!”

“At least it’ll be a good cover story for the purple mark on your shoulders,” Lance snickered swinging his legs out of bed and stretching in the morning sunlight.

“Wait- is there...?” Keith strained his neck to get a glimpse of his shoulder. Sure enough there was a faded purple mark, hardly noticeable. He let out a groan. “I swear to fuck… how are we going to explain this?”

“We could tell the truth?” Lance suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“What, that I’m a half galran and the suppressants don’t always work?” Keith snapped and Lance could have sworn his eyes flashed yellow. “Yeah, sounds like a great idea to out myself as being related to the very force they’ve been fighting for 3,000 years.”

Lance held up his hands and back up. “Woah, calm down there, I thought you meant explaining why we were partially naked in a bed together. Don’t get your cat ears in a twist.”

Keith’s hand flashed instinctively to his head, searching for purple ears which (thankfully) had not grown back. He threw Lance a vicious glare. “I can’t believe I let you paint my nails.”

Lance grinned as he shimmied into his pants. That had been the crowning jewel of last night, painting little red lions on Keith’s nails. When Lance had found a set of bright nail polishes in the bathroom he practically got on his hands and knees and begged Keith to let Lance give him a manicure. Keith, being the fragile glass sphere of masculinity he was, refused at first, but few can resist Lance for long and eventually Keith relented. Though Keith insisted he only agreed to make Lance shut up, Lance had a sneaking suspicion he’d been curious to see if Lance’s nail art skills were as good as he claimed they were and if the crisp picture of the red lion on Keith’s thumb was any proof Lance definitely was.

“How the hell are you so good at this?” Keith had asked, examining his freshly painted hand. Lance snickered, not looking up from the Voltron design he was painting on his toes.

“I sold my soul to obtain the secrets of YouTube nail artists,” Lance grinned as he carefully brushed on another coat of the green he’d chosen to represent Pidge. It was a pretty color, a nice balance of lime and lilypad. Unfortunately it’s opacity left something to be desired. It took at least 3 coats before it wasn’t as streaky as a foundation from Claire’s.

“No, seriously,” Keith said, not taking his eyes off of his nails. “How?”

“I am being serious!” Lance laughed, dunking the nail brush back into the bottle. “I’ve watched just about every nail art video in existence. Then I’d practice on myself or my sisters and friends.”

“Woah, I had no idea you could do this.” Keith mumbled. Was that awe Lance was hearing in Keith’s voice? “You must be a really good artist.”

“Hardly,” Lance snorted. “I can’t even draw a stick figure without messing something up. Usually the facial features. It’s gotten to a point where I don’t even draw the nose it’s just a circle with lines for eyes and a little arc for a mouth. Sometimes I can barely manage that.”

“Then how can you paint this?” Keith asked, frowning. Lance shrugged.

“Dunno, maybe talent, maybe I just used to practice for hours on end.” He said applying a top coat to Keith’s toes. “Alright, just let these dry and bam, you’ve got the best painted nails in the galaxy!”

“Thanks Lance,” Keith smiled, lifting his toes up so they didn’t touch the fabric of the sheets.

“No problem,” Lance grinned, selecting a nice shade of blue for himself. He began brushing on a base coat humming softly to himself. He decided that he’d have his nails match Keith’s, just to piss him off, or impress him. Lance wasn’t sure which one he wanted more at this point.

“No, I mean,” Keith glanced over at Lance. “Thanks for all of this, the nail painting, the talking, the facials. You actually made me forget about my problems.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Lance smiled warmly. “They’re supposed to make you forget that life is basically one really backed up septic tank for a while.”

“So, we’re friends again?” Keith asked, his voice clearly indicating that Lance’s answer meant much more to him then he wanted to let on.

Lance sighed brushing on a second coat of nail polish. “Yeah, I mean I’m still mad about what you said, but I really… don’t want to lose you as a friend? If that makes sense. I guess I’m saying I forgive you.”

“What?” Keith looked surprised. “Literally several weeks ago you told me to shut my fuck.”

“Well that was before we crash landed here,” Lance said turning his focus back to his nails. “Now that I actually know you I don’t want to shave your mullet.”

“Okay, wonderful,” Keith said. “But what is up with you and my hair?”

“It’s awful!” Lance laughed. “You have a fucking mullet! It’s ridiculous!”

Keith muttered something about it not being a mullet, but Lance decided to ignore it.

“I still want that video by the way.” Lance added. “The one you promised me. I’m going to ask Lucivida for a camera and that video will be showed to the rest of Voltron and literally every alien we meet, ever.”

“Now you’re just being petty,” Keith laughed and Lance could have sworn something inside him fluttered.

What the fuck was that.

“I’m always petty!” Lance corrected, brushing off what he just felt as a bad alien fruit or something. He wasn’t sure what the fuck that was but it was best to just ignore it and move on. “It’s like that song!”

“What?” Keith raised an eyebrow, picking up the mug from the bedside table.

“You know!” Lance said. “‘Okay ladies now let’s get in formation’... that one! Oh wait… you DON’T know. I keep forgetting how woefully ignorant you are of modern times and meme culture.”

“I’m not ignorant!” He protested, wrapping his hands around the mug and taking a sip. “I just wasn’t given the same opportunities to learn them as you were.”

“Okay, fine,” Lance huffed trying to focus on his nails, but it was hard. Having ADHD made focusing hard in general, but right now it just seemed harder than usual.

There is a common misconception with ADHD. People seem to think it’s an inability to concentrate, but it’s so much more than that. It was more an inability to choose what Lance could focus on. He could fixate on a thousand and one things at once and not one of them would be what he wanted or needed to. He couldn’t even force himself to do what he needed to sometimes and it was frustrating. There would be days when concentrating on anything for longer than a few moments at a time was a superhuman feat. It didn’t matter how much he needed to or what the consequences would be if he didn’t do it, it was quite literally impossible. He’d get home, lay out his homework, tell himself he’d get it all done and suddenly it would be midnight and he might have started one or two assignments but nothing would be even remotely close to finished.

Then there was this hyperfixation thing he sometimes find himself caught in. He’d get so focused on a task, something he enjoyed usually but occasionally even dull tasks could spark his interest enough that he’d lose all concept of time and priorities. The rest of the world would melt away. There was only Lance and this one thing he had to do and he would do it perfectly or else. It was probably the most useful component of ADHD, but of course he had absolutely no control over it. He couldn’t turn it on whenever he wanted to, it just happened at random moments with no real pattern or preluding signs. Sometimes it would happen when he needed it to, like during his flying lessons or school tests. Other times it would just come over him when he was doing something stupid or unnecessary, like that one year when he volunteered to help package care packages. He’d packed more than any other volunteer during his shift and even stayed extra just to pack more. Everyone thought he was doing it to be a great person, but really he was just so focused on that task of counting out each item and wrapping up each box that he couldn’t stop. That and it always felt so good to be focused, really focused like this, on something he wanted to be focused on.

Usually he could get focused, or relatively focused, on painting his nails, but right now he was having a little trouble. His mind was in a million places at once and none of them seemed to be where he wanted his focus to be. It was back home, tucking June-bug into bed. It was wherever Shiro and Pidge were, wondering if they’d been discovered. It was with Hunk, praying he was alright. It was with Zarkon, imagining all the ways he was going to kick his ass once he was reunited with Voltron. It was with Imagene, wondering just who she really was. And it was also right here, with Keith, watching him lounge on the bed in (red) boxers and a robe, examining his nails, and chattering aimlessly to Lance as the night wore on until finally, after Lance began to complain he was tired, they called it a night and settled down to sleep.

Keith

Keith hated to admit it, but his hair felt so silky that he could stop running his hands through it and his face was smoother and softer than ever before. To keep himself from touching his hair constantly he tried pulling it back in a ponytail and headband like he had the previous night. Lance snickered as he watched him do it when they were getting ready in the bathroom that morning. He teased Keith, suggesting he french braid it and Keith, unable to recognize sarcasm if it danced naked on top of his chest took him seriously. He actually braided his hair, only realizing that Lance had been joking when Lance actually told him.

“I was joking!” He spluttered, staring at Keith. “I didn’t mean for you to actually braid your fucking hair!”

“Oh, sorry,” Keith chuckled, examining his handiwork in the mirror. It wasn’t a bad job, only a few little wisps of black hair peeked out from the entwined sections of his hair. He pushed them back into the strand, smirking at the stunned look at Lance’s face.

Worth it. He thought as he stretched in the headband to pull back the front back of his hair.

Lance’s beauty care regimine had worked nothing short of a miracle and Keith didn’t know whether to be impressed that it had or disgusted that he’d let Lance do this to him. Not that he wasn’t grateful, because he was, it was just that last night he’d literally let his crush wash his hair, sleep in the same bed as him, paint his nails, give him a facial, and, lest he forget, see his dick and get a glimpse of Lance’s own member. If Keith thought he was fucked before it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. If anything his emotions were amplified. He kept sneaking glances at Lance as the two boys got ready in Keith’s bathroom, trying, and failing, not to think about the night before. Every brush of Lance’s skin when he passed Keith something was like a little bite of heaven and hell at the same time. What had Keith gotten himself into now? He was a useless, pining mess, helpless but to lust after the affections of a boy who had every reason not to choose him and god just thinking about that fact made something in Keith’s chest ache.

He made a mental note to ask Lucivida if this could be related to the whole galra thing.

There was at least one piece good piece of news for Keith this morning, he could finally walk without crutches, which returned a lot of independence to him. Keith didn’t like having to rely on people or really any aide to help him get around. He didn’t like feeling dependent on anybody, or maybe he just wasn’t used to it. Now that he thought about it he was probably just not used to letting others into his life. Last night he’d let Lance take care of him, really take care of him, and that had felt so good. The memory of Lance’s fingers gently massaging his scalp felt surreal, like a dream.

He was so gay.

“Well, good morning paladins!” Lucivida beamed as they entered the dining room. “Keith your skin looks quite luminous this morning.”

Keith blushed, subconsciously raising a hand to his cheek, feeling the smooth skin. “Er, thank you.”

Lance snickered as he pulled out a chair and took a seat. “Yeah, hey, where’s the princess?”

Keith looked around the dining room and noticed Lance was right. Both Imagene and Vivirdian were missing from the table.

“Which one?” Lucivida asked, not looking up from his paper. “Ellea is playing in her room if that’s who you are inquiring about.”

“No, I mean Imagene,” He clarified looking down at the strange plate of fruit and what appeared to be dip on his plate.

“Oh, you mean Genie!” Lucivida said nodding. “She and Vivirdian left early this morning for the Suertia settlement. It’s the settlement that collects fresh water for drinking. Unfortunately there appears to be some kind of spill. They should be returning either this evening or tomorrow morning.”

“So no yam dance?” Lance asked, dipping a piece of fruit in the sauce and taking a tentative bite. “Darn, I was really looking forward to it.”

“No, actually we will be learning the waltz today,” Lucivida said flipping the paper. “Ellea said she’d be Lance’s dance partner and it’s hard to refuse her.”

“Why Lance’s dance partner?” Keith asked, shooting Lance a playful look. “Have you been charming the princess? Don’t you think she’s a little young?”

Lance loaded a piece of fruit into a spoon and launched it at Keith, who dodged, laughing.

“What?” Lucivida looked up, thoroughly confused. “What do you mean ‘charming the princess’? Is this an earth term?”

“No,” Lance said, cheeks burning. “It’s just Keith being an ass.”

Keith snorted taking a bite of the fruit. The actual fruit itself was rather bland tasting, vaguely sweet and tangy, but the sauce seemed to bring it out somehow. It tasted a bit like butterscotch actually. It was pretty good as far as alien breakfasts go.

“Well,” Lucivida eyed them pushing his glasses up his nose. “Keith I put your suppressant by your glass, and I’m glad to see you both are in high spirits today, especially after the shock of all that happened yesterday.”

“It was…” Keith paused, trying to find the right words to convey what he wanted to say. “Unexpected?”

“No shit it was unexpected!” Lance said through a mouthful of fruit. He swallowed before speaking again, thank God. “You’d think he would’ve shown some small sign of being a purple furry before now!”

“Hey!” Keith protested, not taking to kindly to being referred to as a ‘purple furry’.

Lucivida lifted his shoulders in a little shrug, pushing his glasses up hi nose. “It’s not exactly uncommon you know. Galra DNA can be easily changed and suppressed. The Galra genetically engineered themselves for this so they could edit just about any aspect the body easily.”

“So the Galra are basically computer programs?” Keith frowned, not sure how he felt about learning that he was half Java coding.

“Correct!” Lucivida beamed, clasping his hands together excitedly. “By simply revising their genes they can rewrite just about anything about themselves until they find a version they are pleased with. It’s fast, inexpensive, and, most importantly, effective. Gene revision could help prevent future birth defects and be used to treat genetic diseases in the future. It’s a real fascinating study.”

“So,” Lance grinned, looking out of the side of his eyes over to Keith and waving his fork as he spoke. “If I wanted to change Keith’s shitty attitude all I’d have to do is just hack into his genes?”

Keith rolled his eyes, asking himself for the millionth time why he was in love with this moron.
“I wouldn’t call it hacking,” Lucivida said thoughtfully. “But more or less.”
“Excellent!” Lance pumped his fist. “I’m gonna hack a Galra!”

Keith couldn’t hold back a snort. Lance was such a little kid sometimes, always getting excited over the little things, but perhaps that zest for life was what made him so appeal to Keith. Lance was bright, not just intelligence, but his very being was bright. He radiated light and warmth. His smile was like an aurora borealis, lighting up the night sky in a dazzling display of light and color.

Keith let out a sigh as he popped his suppressant into his mouth and took a long sip of water. The day an aurora borealis ever fell for an ugly Galran was the day Keith would perform that petty song Lance had taught him last night.

Don’t be like that. A small voice in his mind told him. He painted your nails, washed your back, and gave you a facial last night. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t at least feel that you two were friends!

Keith felt his mind go quiet as he thought about this. It was probably true, and rationally Keith knew that, but that was the problem, Keith wasn’t the most rational person in the world. Usually when that little voice spoke up, reminding him to think before he acted and spoke, or to let him know he wasn’t alone, or challenge his darkest thoughts, he would shove it away. It was nothing but flowery sentiments to him, nothing he could actually use to his benefit. But today he felt different. Maybe it was the galran in him, or maybe he was just still euphoric about spending time with Lance, or maybe he was just so sick of feeling alone all the time. Whatever his reasoning, he took a deep breath and listened to it, his little inner voice.

You’re doing great!

Chapter Text

Hey guys, sorry this is TINY... I've been very busy. The past two weeks have been stressful, unbelievably stressful, so I've had to prioritize other things over writing. I'm so sorry. You can keep up with me @ilovechickensofttacos.tumblr.com if you want to see updates! I have a BNW tag on my account that I tag all my Brave New World asks and stuff with. Anyways, tomorrow I have the ACT, but I plan on writing another chapter soon and it will definitely not take 2 weeks. Ahahaaaaa...

In other news, I am writing another klance story, which means I'll have 3 ongoing fics at once. Fortunately this one is a shorter one, probably only 5 chapters, but as you know I can't resist describing everything in painful detail so they'll all be loooooooooooooong. Anyways, it's a Sleeping Beauty AU called Once Upon a Mullet, so keep your eyes peeled for that! It should be up soon... ish...

Thanks for putting up with me!

Keith

Keith decided to use his free time to workout. It took him longer than it should have to run a lap around the garden on his newly healed wobbly legs, but it felt good to give his mind a break and turn his full attention on moving his body. Running was the only form of physical exercise that made Keith forget about what was going on around him. (Well, that and sparring but he didn’t really have an opportunity to work with his sword right now) The rest of the world would melt away until there was only him and the sound of the earth beneath his feet. He could shut off for a while, let his mind be still in a way it could never be any other way.

Keith had started running when Shiro had suggested it as a way to relieve stress. Keith had tentatively agreed to join him the next morning to run before school. At first he’d thought it was just more Neurotypical Nonsense™. He’d been told multiple times that if he just took yoga, prayed, or drank water more often that his depression would ease up. He knew they were well meaning, but it was going to take more than a glass of water to stop the evil scientist in his brain stealing all his damn serotonin. Okay sure, some of that could help, but it wouldn’t be a permanent cure for Keith.

At first Keith didn’t think this would help anything, but needless to say, Keith was a little powerless when it came to Shiro, so he dutifully showed up every morning at 6 am at Shiro’s dorm and they ran together. In the beginning he was only doing it to make Shiro happy. The actual running part wasn’t nearly as wonderful as people promised it would be. After a while however, Keith found himself actually enjoying running, even going on an extra run when he felt stressed or angry. It was therapeutic to just pound out his rage, jealousy, frustration, and hurt into the pavement. His emotions became his fuel for his workouts. He would begin one with a head full of thoughts and a heavy heart and finish it drained and tired, but a good tired, a sleepy ready for a hot shower and a nap kind of tired.

He could use that kind of tired right now. Though the morning had been alright, pleasant actually, now that he was fully awake the whole ‘You’re part galran’ thing had started to sink in. He had stood in his bathroom staring at that little purple splotch on his shoulder. It did look remarkably like a hickey, but there was no mistaking that galra purple. What if Allura found out? God, what if Shiro found out? Would Shiro even want to be around him if he was galran? Probably not. Shiro had been captured by the Galra for an entire year. He would want any reminders of that horrible time especially since he’d only just escaped from the Galra so recently. It’d been half a decade since Keith last saw Frank, but one time at the Garrison they’d had a substitute teacher who looked so similar Keith nearly had a panic attack. Any small reminder of Frank was enough to mess him up for the rest of the day and this was after years and years of therapy.

But even more than Shiro there was another question, a much bigger question on Keith’s mind: what if the Red Lion didn’t want him, a galran, to be its pilot any more? He didn’t think he could handle that. He could feel things beginning to cave in on him right there in the bathroom at the very thought of his Lion rejecting him. He knew this wasn’t the best place, or time to break down. He quickly pulled himself together and made his way to the garden. He needed to get this out of his system.

Chapter Text

Lance

Lance turned the spigot, staunching the flow of water to gentle trickle. The little droplets of water rippled across the surface of the water in the metal bucket with a little plip.

“There,” Lance said, dusting off his hands. “Does that look like enough water for you?”

“Mhm!” Ellea said, wrapping her mud covered hands around the handle of the bucket and pulling upwards with a grunt. The little girl barely managed to lift the heavy pail an inch off the ground. Lance chuckled and bent over to help her carry it back to their place in the muddy dirt by the pond.

After breakfast Ellea had found him and asked if he wanted to help her make mud pies in the garden. Lance, not one to refuse a pretty girl, agreed and allowed himself to be half dragged to the garden by the little princess. Lance enjoyed sitting in the mud and piling hunks of dirt together onto flat rocks, garnishing them with springs of plants and leaves. He didn’t care how many clods of earth (Ambrusia?) he had to hurl over his shoulder, smacking his lips and gushing over the texture and flavor, using long words to make Ellea giggle. He liked spending time with her, it reminded him of how he used to play with his younger siblings back home in Cuba.

Lance was the eldest child by nearly 5 years. As a result he was expected to look after his younger siblings and keep them safe and entertained when his parents were busy. As a little boy he never viewed this as a chore. All he had to do was play with them, and since he was the older brother he got to call all the shots, not that he ever used his big brother card to his advantage of course, that would be unfair. But as he grew older playing pretend cowboys or house with his siblings wasn’t nearly as appealing as it seemed. It was almost like he’d lost his ability to pretend anything. None of the make believe scenarios seemed real to him anymore. Still, he dutifully let himself be climbed over, ordered around, and ridden like a horse. Maybe the magic was gone for Lance, but listening to his little brothers and sisters laugh and shriek with joy at his antics was worth it to him. Not to mention he was helping out his mom who was overworked as it was taking care of their larger than life family.

“Es sabroso!” Lance exclaimed with a grin, chucking a grass topped mud pie over his shoulder. “Very delicious. My compliments to the chef!”

“What does that word mean?” Ellea asked through her giggles. “Sab… Sabro? Is that Altean?”

Her tongue fumbled over the foreign  syllables. Lance chuckled, leaning back on his hands and feeling the squelch of soft mud between his fingers.

“You mean ‘sabroso’?” He asked, rolling the r with a little flourish. “It means tasty or flavorful, but it’s not Altean. There wasn’t a good enough word in common to describe the deliciousness of that pie you prepared for me, so I used a Spanish word.”

“Is Spanish a language on Earth?” She asked, already rolling up another ball of mud.

“Si,” Lance smiled, watching her little tongue poke out of the corner of her mouth as she worked. “That means yes. I speak both Spanish and English, though I guess you know that as common.”

“I can speak two languages, Ambrusian and Common.” Ellea said, examining her handiwork proudly. “Lucivida can speak 3 if you count his broken Vuvil, and Genie can speak 5 fluently, but she can get by in Baltharian and Flunke if she has to.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Lance said, sitting up and resting his dirt stained hands in his lap. “I bet she has to speak all those languages for her work, hm?”

“Yeah,” Ellea confirmed. “She’s always working on improving her languages so she doesn’t have to rely on a translator. She says the translators don’t always convey the right feelings of a word.”

“Oh, I can relate,” Lance laughed. “Sometimes I can’t think of the right words to describe something in one language that I can easily say in another.” For example there a word in spanish, estrenar , and it means to wear something for the first time, but there’s no real English- or I guess in this case Common- counterpart. It’s kind of frustrating, you know?”

“You know what’s frustrating?” Ellea asked, scowling a bit. “Your friend, the red one. He’s almost always sad. I can feel it in my feet.”

“Your f- oh,” Lance vaguely remembered hearing about the sensitive nerves on Ambrusian feet that could read pulse. He didn’t think that extended to mood, did it? “You can feel that he’s sad?”

“Right in my toes.” She nodded pointing to her feet for emphasis. “It’s… heavy. Why is he sad?”

Lance thought for a moment. Had he been asked this question a few weeks ago he would have told Ellea that Keith was a moody teenager with a mullet who was ungrateful for the blessings and friends he had. It wasn’t like before the crash Lance had ever gotten many chances to learn much about Keith. In fact nobody on the ship had, save for Shiro, and even then, Keith kept himself guarded. Speaking to the guy was like petting a cactus, the only difference being that a cactus didn’t bite back. Lance wrote him off as a jerk and left it at that. But over the past few weeks he’d been introduced to a new Keith, a Keith that liked the taste of artificial grapes, snickered at bad puns, and was almost… softer. So, no, Keith wasn’t just a angsty, emo, son of a bitch to Lance any more. Now when he thought of Keith he didn’t feel like puking, he felt a feeling of warmth, something blossoming in his chest, or stomach. Shit, was he actually fond of that mullet?

“I don’t really know, Ellea.” He answered honestly, leaning his head back to watch a cloud float lazily across the Ambrusian sky. “But I don’t think he’s had an easy life and thinking about it makes it sad.”

“He’s not sad around you,” Ellea said, matter of factly.

Lance lifted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? I infuriate him, I infuriate most people actually.”

The memory of Keith’s face, turned into a cruel sneer flashed through Lance’s mind briefly.

“Nobody would have cared if you had died, least of all me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed it out of his mind. That wasn’t Keith, he couldn’t let his memory of Keith be distorted by one action.

“No you don’t,” Ellea snorted, sitting criss-cross-applesauce. She reached behind her and pulled her hair out of its braid, that had been falling apart anyways. She wasn’t wearing a circlet today, probably for the best considering how dirty she was getting from playing in the mud. “You make people happy. When you step into a room, Genie’s toes relax, which she usually only does with Luz or Vivirdian. You make her smile, really smile. You make everyone smile, even Mr. Grump.”

“You mean Keith?” Lance asked, unable to stop himself from laughing.

“Yeah, him.” Ellea said, wrestling with her hair, trying to put it up again.

“Here, I’ll fix your hair,” Lance offered, sitting up and patting the grass in front of him. Ellea smiled brightly and scooted to sit where he’d indicated, brushing her long dark hair over her shoulders. Lance dusted off his hand and set to work. “So you think I make people happy?”

“I know you make people happy.” Ellea said, focusing again on her mud pastry. “You make me happy at least.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile warmly at the compliment. He’d spent a lot of his life being yelled at or scorned for his behavior, so much so that it was almost astounding to think that his presence could be seen as anything but a nuisance. Even around some of his closest friends he sometimes wondered if he was secretly annoying them, or if they really just wanted him to leave. He tried to keep in mind that they wouldn’t hang out with him at all if they truly thought this, but it was hard sometimes. The best he could do was to remind himself that he was truly loved and hope for the best.

“What are you doing to my hair?” Ellea asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Do you know what space buns are?” Lance asked, grinning.

Ellea shook her head slightly so not to disturb Lance’s work.

“It was this trendy hairstyle on Earth.” Lance said, sectioning her hair to make it easier to work with. “It where you put your hair up into two buns on your head, I’ll show you when it’s done.”

“Okay!” Ellea said, wiggling a bit in excitement.
“I didn’t know we were having a hair salon.” Called out a voice. Lance turned over his shoulder, watching Keith jog over to them. His shirt was soaked in sweat as if he’d been working out. He’d probably been out on a run or something. He remembered sometimes seeing Keith run laps in the castle.

“Oh yeah,” Lance grinned, using his fingers as a comb. “Locks by Lance, the number one hair service in the Universe.”

“I bet,” Keith chuckled, lifting the edge of his shirt to wipe his forehead and in the process revealing perfectly toned abs. Lance felt his stomach lurch. Oh fuck. Okay, now that was so not fair. How did Keith, after being confined to bedrest in Blue for a week or so and then unable to do more than hobble around on crutches STILL have core that looked ready to slice through steel? If Lance had gone that long without exercising he’d have a six pack of fat rolls.

In front of him he heard Ellea snicker, almost knowingly. He then remembered the whole pulse reading thing. Shit. Had she felt that? He felt himself redden and bent his low to hide his face from Keith. Whatever this was didn’t want his rival knowing about it.

“How did you guys get so covered in dirt?” Keith asked sitting down across from Ellea. “I just saw you not even an hour ago.”

“Mud pies.” Lance responded simply.

“Culinary confections!” Ellea announced, repeating one of the phrases Lance taught her and proudly holding up the mud pie she’d been diligently working on. “Try it!”

“Er,” Keith stared down at the mud pie. He said, reaching out and taking it. “Thanks?”

Ellea watched Keith expectantly. He lifted his eyes to meet Lance’s and raised an eyebrow. Lance mimed eating it and then tossing it over his shoulder. Keith nodded in comprehension.

“Uh, delicious.” He said, not very convincingly and tossed it over his shoulder.

Ellea grinned holding out her palm. “Thank you! That’ll be 3 cintas!”

“I don’t have an-” Keith stopped as he caught Lance eye and Lance mimed slapping a palm. Keith repeated the action, giving her a weak high five. “Here you go.”

Lance let out a snicker as he finished pulling Ellea’s hair up into space buns. Keith was heralded as a genius pilot and the prodigy of Takashi Shirogane, but he was absolutely hopeless when it came to children.

“There,” Lance beamed, tightening the buns for good measure. “Space buns complete.”

“I want to see! I want to see!” Ellea gasped excited, getting up and rushing to the edge of the pond to get a good look at her hair in the water’s reflection.

“You’re really good with kids,” Keith said, watching Ellea gush over her hair. She reverently touched on of the buns, letting out a playful laugh as she did.

“It’s hard not to be when you’re the oldest of like, 20.” Lance grinned, feeling proud of himself for doing such a good job with those space buns. “I kind of grew up being the go to babysitter for my parents. They both worked a lot, and when they weren’t at work outside of the home they were working in it. Working and watching little children doesn’t always go hand in hand, so I was called on a lot to help out. I didn’t really mind though.”

“They were lucky to have you,” Keith murmured quietly. Lance glanced over at him and felt something flutter in his chest.

I wonder if his lips are as soft as they look.

Oh shit.

He quickly looked away, feeling a bit overwhelmed all of a sudden. Lance knew he was a total people pleaser and totally dependent on the positive opinions of others for his self worth, but usually when people praised him he didn’t have the urge to lean over and kiss them, at least not like he just had right then. He knew exactly what this feeling was now and he wasn’t ready for it. It wasn’t as if Lance had never had gay feelings for a guy before, because he had, he definitely had, but usually these guys were the cool kids. They were talented, smart, hot, and had a nice laugh and oh no Keith was all of those things. Keith was the popular kid, he was talented, he was literally hotter than the sun, and he was smart. He fell right into the same box as literally every other guy (or girl for that matter) Lance had ever crushed on. How could he have not foreseen this?

Lance let the idea float through his brain again, just to make sure it hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing, but it definitely hadn’t. In fact the more he thought about it the more he wanted to do it. It’d be so easy, Keith was right there. Lance could lean over and kiss him, simple as that. But what if Keith didn’t want that? He probably didn’t, in fact Lance couldn’t think of a person who would want Lance to kiss them less, except maybe Pidge. But what if he did want it? What if he actually started kissing Lance back and what would that mean? It would probably mean that Keith was as gay for Lance as Lance was for him, not that Keith would be. Keith was the kind of guy who would probably fall in love with a person like Shiro, but then again everybody would fall in love with Shiro. Have you seen the guy? You’d be crazy not to be gay for him. But, Keith was the kind of person to only fall in love with guys like Shiro, guys who were strong, big, and possessed the jaw line of  our lord and savior Jesus Christ. So in fewer words, not guys like Lance.

But if he did like guys like Lance? What would Lance do then?

“Thank you Lance!” Ellea called gleefully from the pond, interrupting his gay thoughts.

“ De nada !” Lance smiled nervously, resting his hands in his lap and trying to quell the panic that rising in his chest as pushed his slightly intrusive homosexual thoughts back into the closet. “That means you’re welcome in Spanish.”

“Will you teach me more spanish words?” Ellea asked, running back over to him.

“Like what kinds of words?” Lance asked with a laugh.

“How do you say mud?” She asked with a devilish grin scooping up a big hunk of soggy Earth with her little hands.

“Ah, barro ,” Lance said after a moment, rolling the r’s.

“How do you say ‘I throw at’?” She asked innocently, molding the mud into a ball.

“To throw?” Lance thought for a moment. “ Lanzar, but to say ‘I throw at’ it’d be yo lanzo a. ”

“So, to say I throw mud it’s lanzo barro ?” Ellea asked sweetly, her mouth fumbling over the spanish syllables and not quite rolling the r’s.

Lance suddenly had a bad feeling about where this was going, but affirmed her statement with a nod. “Yes, I suppose it would be…”

“Okay!” She smiled, winding back her arm with the mud loaded in her hand. “ ¡Yo lanzo barro a Keith! ”

Then she chucked her mud with an impressive amount of force for a seven year old girl right at Keith. It caught the poor boy by surprise and splattered all over his chest in one big brown stain. He blinked in shock, looking down that back up at a giggling Ellea, his mouth falling open. Then he narrowed his eyes and his lips twitched upwards into a mischievous smile.

“Oh it’s on now!” Keith leapt up, grabbing fistfuls of mud and lobbing them at Ellea.

“Not the princess!” Lance screeched throwing himself in front of Ellea, taking the brunt of most of the mud. He scooped up dirt and began to throw it back, allowing himself to be used as a shield.

They carried on for a while, throwing mud at each other, filling the peaceful garden with the sound of laughter, frightened squealing, and mud smacking into bodies and hedges. By the time they had finally called a truce both parties were caked in dirt. There was no way of knowing what the original colors of their clothes were before they had gone outside. It was all one big shade of brown walking toward the castle to rinse off. Ellea sat on Lance’s shoulder, laughing over how Keith had slid in a mud patch while trying to land a hit on Lance. Lance laughed with her, teasing Keith about his debut on Wipeout. Keith rolled his eyes, chuckling a bit.

Fuck, his smile was even more beautiful when he was covered in mud.

Keith

It was pretty obvious that kids weren’t really Keith’s thing. He’d spent most of his childhood avoiding other kids at his foster homes for a good reason. They were loud, disrespectful, and kind of dramatic to tell you the truth. He didn’t have much experience with any children at all as a result. Of course that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate somebody who was good with kids, in fact that was kind of one of the things he looked for in a guy. He found that people who were kind to kids, tended to be better people overall. That’s why when he watched Lance interact with Ellea he felt his heart beat faster in his chest.

Keith realized that the more time he spent with Lance the more he found to fall in love with. His contagious laugh, his silly sense of humor, his love for kids, how positive he was. Keith drank in every bit of Lance, never wanting to be without it again.

But along with this euphoric happiness that he felt, there was a mixture of fear. Keith had never once had a person who stayed permanently in his life. He was moved around so much as a kid that he’d never had a permanent group of friends, or gotten to know his foster parents. He’d get attached so easily and then be forced to say good bye. It was like ripping his heart out every few months. So when he was 12 he developed a system. He wouldn’t get close to anybody, wouldn’t allow himself the luxury of a friendship. Everything in his life was temporary, and to pretend that there would ever be something solid was to cause himself even more heartache. It was hard, and lonely, but it worked. He couldn’t be heartbroken if he never opened up to people in the first place.

But here he was, daydreaming about Lance, a guy he’d never have. A friend that would one day leave and forget all about him. Keith shouldn’t let himself be lulled into a false sense of security. He shouldn’t pretend that if he said or did the right things that Lance would magically fall in love with him and that they’d get married, adopt kids, love one another forever and ever. Hell, Keith didn’t know if they even had a future, let alone one together. He was foolish to let himself even imagine for a moment that Lance would ever be anything but a fellow paladin.

He let out a sigh, closing his eyes and letting the warm stream of water wash over his head. Keith wasn’t nearly the loner type he pretended to be. Sure, he liked the quiet and he enjoyed having time to himself, but he hated being alone entirely. He didn’t want to never have friends to turn to, or nobody to call his own. He liked being alone, but not isolated. More than anything Keith just wanted somebody who was going to love him, and every time he got a crush he indulged that thought. He was powerless to stop his mind from toying with the idea that he wouldn’t be alone his life. He found himself imagining a future together with this person in his head. He’d imagine going on dates, watching movies, celebrating holidays, and just in general being together. Then he’d feel guilty for letting himself think that because he knew it wasn’t going to work out. It never had in the past. Why would life suddenly be kind to him now?

When did he ever deserve for life to be kind to him was the better question. He needed to stop acting like it was his right to have a good life just because he was breathing. People earned good lives, they worked for it, they made themselves successful. Nobody ever had it easy and Keith was just being a baby. He needed to get over his past, to get over himself. He had done nothing to deserve a happy ending. All he’d ever done was wallow in his anger and shame and expected everybody else to put him back together. Bitter thoughts crashed into his brain like ocean waves, stirring up the sands of repressed emotions and memories. He hated this, hated feeling like this, hated living like this. He just spent a wonderful morning with his crush and his mind was fucking ruining it. He had been so positive that morning, and here he was, standing in the shower, watching water swirl down the drain, rolling in his own depression. He hated how easily his mood could drop right into the negatives in less than 20 seconds and he hated how he felt like he had no control over it.

“Keith!” Lance’s voice broke through Keith’s thoughts. He heard Ellea’s giggles, muffled by the locked door. “You didn’t drown in there did you?”

Keith couldn’t help but smirk a little bit despite his shitty mood. “No, I didn’t. Give me a minute to get dried off and dressed.”

“Mk,” Lance said.

Keith shut off the water and stood there for a moment before the chill of the air set in and he began to shiver. Only then did he step out and begin drying off with one of the preheated towels. He took a slow deep breath in and released it. He just needed to calm down. He grabbed the clean clothes he’d set out for himself, (a red shirt and black pants that kind of looked like skinny jeans) and pulled them on. He didn’t bother to dry his hair, but he did braid it back again, just to keep it up and out of the way. If they were going to be dancing today he didn’t want his hair flopping everywhere.

Before leaving he took a last look in the mirror. He could still see a soft purple splotch on his collarbone that arched back to his shoulder, the sole reminder of his newly discovered parentage, or just ancestry. He gently ran a finger over the area. It felt just like normal skin and Lance was right, it could be easily mistaken for a hickey. His face turned red at the thought of Lucivida running around the castle telling everyone Lance had given Keith a hickey. Oh god, how would he ever live that one down? Would he even want to.

He thought for a moment then smirked at his gay ass in the mirror.

Nah, he wouldn’t.

Chapter Text

Lance

Back home in Cuba, Lance and his other siblings took dance lessons twice a week at a local recreational dance center. The lessons were an hour long on Tuesdays and Thursdays and were taught by a family friend who gave them a discount. The classes were an opportunity for his mother and father to get things done around the house without having to worry about their children being underfoot, plus they gave the kids an opportunity to release some of their pent up energy. That was the main reason Lance loved dance class. In school he was always scolded when he moved his body, but at dance he was praised for it. Lance had been a decent dancer for his age. He wasn’t a prodigy by any means, but he had a good sense of rhythm and a high stamina, but most importantly he just enjoyed the sport and it showed in his dancing. When Lance danced he let himself melt away into the beat of the music, moving purely with the emotions the song evoked him. Usually it was very liberating, but for whatever reason this Yam Waltz just wasn’t doing it for him.

Lucivida had gone through the Yam Waltz with them several times, teaching them the movements and steps before setting it to music and letting them try it on their own. At first, Lance thought he’d have this down in no time at all. (“I won third at Cuba’s junior national dance competition!”) He liked the upbeat melody and the quick steps of the dance, it reminded him of his jazz lessons back home. However, when Lance actually tried the dance it ended up being much harder than he had anticipated. He couldn’t seem to get the steps in the right order no matter what he did. He was growing increasingly frustrated with both himself and the dance. It didn’t help that Keith, for whatever reason, had pretty much mastered the dance on his first try. His body flowed easily through the step sequence.

Lucivida was patient with him, guiding him slowly through the complicated movements each time Lance messed up, but Lance knew from the pained smile that he was growing a little frustrated though he didn’t vocalize these thoughts. Ellea, however, was a different story. She scowled at Lance every time he stepped left instead right or forward instead of back.

“No! Wrong!” She exclaimed when Lance misstepped again. “Up up down down! Not down down up up! Watch me, watch me!”

Lance turned to watch her little feet pitter nimbly across the marbled dance floor, trying to memorize the path she took so he could replicate it.

After showering Lance, Keith, and Ellea had met Lucivida in an abandoned ballroom. It obviously hadn’t been used in ages. The furniture had been pushed the side, covered by large white sheets. Dust particles floated through the air, occasionally causing one of them to sneeze. When Lucivida had tried to flick the light switch the fixture had given a little flicker, but stayed unlit. Fortunately there was enough sunlight filtering in through the big windows opposite the entrance to light the room.

“Don’t worry if you don’t get it Lance,” Lucivida tried to assure him. “I was never one for dancing either. It took me a long time to learn even the most traditional Ambrusian dances.”

Lance let out a huff as he glanced at the Ambrusian boy. Lance still wasn’t used to the sight of Lucivida without his lab coat and glasses on. In fact, Lance hadn’t even recognized the guy when he first saw him. He had to do a double take before he realized that the boy standing there was indeed Lucivida. He looked almost younger in a weird way. In Lance’s mind it had been easy to separate Lucivida from his age. Lucivida was the same age as Lance and Keith, but his occupation and intelligence made him seem much older to Lance. It was weird to know that somebody who literally performed brain surgery was not much older than Lance, but it was easy to forget when he looked just like any other teen, minus the acne. Apparently aliens don’t get acne, which was so not fair.

“Now, this dance is very symbolic.” Lucivida said flicking some dust had landed on his dark woven shirt. “Each step has a different meaning, we’ll go over them once more. Maybe if you understand the metaphor behind the motions the dance will come more easily.”

Lance let out a quiet groan. He wasn’t entirely sure that information would help him in the slightest. “Ugh, why can’t I just stick to the dancing I know?”

“Besides taking part in a centuries old tradition, to blend in!” Lucivida smiled. “Your round ears and heavy footsteps make you stick out like a red speckled clooswip. And while it’s not exactly uncommon for aliens to take part in our celebrations, as our city is only 50 or 60% native born inhabitants, you should at least make an effort to integrate into the community of course.”

“Prince Lucivida,” A guard called from the doorway. “I have a message from the north.”

“Ah, you must be new,” Lucivida chuckled as he walked over. “I would prefer to have the ‘prince’ title dropped if you don’t mind...”

Ellea tugged on Lance sleeve as Lucivida walked out of earshot. Lance knelt down, offering his ear for the girl to speak into.

“He’s sad,” She whispered in a knowing voice. “Why is he so sad?”

At first Lance thought she meant Keith. He glanced over at the Red Paladin who was working slowly through the steps of the Yam Waltz. Keith didn’t seem sad, in fact, lately he seemed a lot happier than he usually did. And yeah, he’d snapped when Lance commented about his new hairstyle, it was in more of a playful tone than he usually used. Lance was confused, until he glanced to where Ellea was staring. She was looking concernedly at Lucivida, who was discussing something with the guard in the door frame.

“You mean Lucivida?” He asked quietly and Ellea nodded, confirming his inquiry. “How can you tell?”

“When Luz gets upset his shoulders slump forward a bit which puts more weight on his footsteps.” Ellea answered as she fidgeted with her fingers. “It makes his footsteps feel heavier.”

Lance looked back at Lucivida, thinking for a moment. Ellea was right. Lucivida did seemed more subdued today. Usually he was always fidgeting with his hands, tapping his feet, playing with his shirt sleeve, or pressing and unpressing his lips together. Now though his arms were folded over his chest in an almost defensive manner, hands very still in the crook of his elbow.

“I’m going to find out what’s wrong.” Ellea said and sprinted for the door, her freshly redone space buns bobbing up and down. She threw her arms around her brother’s legs. He let out a yelp of surprise that quickly melted away into a joyful laugh.

“Are all siblings that close?” Keith asked glancing over at Lance, pausing mid spin. Was he purposefully sticking out his butt like that or was it always that nice?

Okay, so now he was getting distracted by Keith’s ass. This was going too far.

“Dunno.” Lance shrugged, trying to push his gay thoughts out of his head. He flopped down to sit on the floor. Fuck, he was out of shape. Dancing should  not take this much out of him. “I might have had like 20 siblings, but I’m not really sure what the sibling closeness standard is. Plus I think that standard wouldn’t apply here. None of us can sense emotions with our feet.”

“What do you mean sense emotions with our feet?” Keith frowned, his dark brows furrowing cutely in confusion. “Neither can they.”

“Yes they can genius.” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “Remember they’ve got super feet or whatever.”

“Actually it’s extremely sensitive nerve endings that allow us to pick up vibrations from others.” Lucivida corrected them. He was walking back from his conversation, limping a bit as Ellea refused to let go of his leg and he was forced to just step with her still clinging to him, giggling. “Though it is mostly limited to pulse and just footsteps in general there are some who are very in tune with their feet and can sense the relaxation of muscles and blood pressure both of which can be used in sensing the mood of others. It’s commonly mostly in rural settings where sensitive feet are key to harvesting certain kinds of fruit, though it’s not exceedingly rare to find one in the city. Ellea has sensitive feet, but most children do so she may grow out of it.”

Upon hearing this the little girl stuck out tongue. “You’re just jealous!”

Lucivida laughed a little. “Oh no, I know a few foot sensory types as it can be linked to several neurological conditions. As it turns out they can tune out their sensitivity which leads to distraction and overstimulation. I have no reason to be jealous.”

“Overstimulation is definitely not fun,” Shivered Lance. Being an ADHD kid meant Lance had plenty of experience with overstimulation. “Gotta agree with Loosey goosy over here.”

“Loosy goo… nevermind that.” Lucivida shook his head in confusion at Lance’s words. “But you’ve been overstimulated Lance?”

“Lots of times.” He said, training his eyes on his toes. He flexed and pointed them repeatedly, rolling his ankles to make it look like the painted lions were flying through the air. “I’ve got this thing called ADHD, it makes it hard to focus and sometimes I get overloaded with information.”

“Interesting!” Lucivida murmured, his violet eyes glittering with a keen scientific interest as he examined Lance. They looked so strange without his glasses, despite there being no real physical difference to them. Lucivida had explained that they weren’t really used for seeing, more for medical purpose as they could read vital signs and display information in a moments notice. Apparently he hadn’t been pushing up his glasses at all this entire time, he’d been tapping the bridge between the lenses to look up new information.

“Yeah,” Lance shifted awkwardly, feeling like Lucivida was on the urge of conducting a full on medical investigation. “Real interesting.”

“Hey,” Keith said coming to the rescue. “Isn’t this a partner dance? Are we going to learn how to dance with a partner or not.”

“Of course!” Lucivida said, standing up. “Yes we are, and oh, that guard was just telling me that Imagene and Vivirdian will be arriving home soon so we’ll have more dance partners. Until then can you two partner up?”

They spent the next half hour or so trying to teach Lance the steps and coordinate them with Keith, but nothing seemed to be working. Eventually Lucivida called it quits, saying Vivirdian would be able to teach him. Lance wasn’t sure how the logic of ‘let’s leave the big bodyguard to teach the scrawny alien to dance’ worked out, but he was over looking at Keith’s smirk every time Lance messed up or tripped over his own feet. He prayed Vivirdian was a better dance teacher than Lucivida.

Lance probably wouldn’t have messed up half as much if he wasn’t partnered up with Keith though. The Yam partner dance required the partners fingertips to touch as they completed the hops and steps. Even with the linking fingers trick Lucivida showed them it was hard to get a decent traction on Keith’s fingers because Lance’s hand, whether he wanted to admit it or not, kept getting sweaty. It wasn’t like he was nervous or anything because Keith was so close, except he totally was. Every time they stepped closer Lance was terrified Keith could hear his heart hasten in his chest or breath hitch every time their hands connected. He didn’t want his crush to be that obvious, but he already knew from the knowing smile from Ellea that he was fighting a losing battle.

Lance was definitely not used to this whole ‘bisexual’ thing either. He had already known he was bisexual before he even knew what a bisexual was. He’d more or less accepted his multiple gender attraction as something that was a part of him, something he could never change, but that didn’t make it any less odd. He’d grown up in an area that was mostly Roman Catholic and spent a good chunk of his childhood in Catholic Youth Faith Formation classes. He’d grown up taught that God created man and woman to complement one another and he actually thought some of their teachings about the body were beautiful, but they didn’t really fit him. He saw how a girl could be his other half, but also saw that in a boy. He saw it now in Keith, in the way their palms fit together, how easily he could imagine his chin resting comfortably in the crook of his neck, how his soft skin made Lance’s own tingle.

He grew up around his abuela, who was as strict a catholic as you could get. Every time there was an announcement about gay rights she’d scoff and say the world was going to burn. She openly criticized the local University’s decision to open a small LGBT+ community center on their campus and dragged Lance and his other siblings out to help protest. Every time she spoke about ‘The Gays’ Lance felt a part of himself wilt away. Did she know that he was one of ‘The Gays’ technically? And if she did would she be so negative towards them? Well, no, he knew the answer to that one. She wouldn’t care if he was one of them or not, she already disliked Lance as it was. The last thing he needed was to her list of reasons to hate him.

It wasn’t as if Lance got support at his home either. His parents may not have been as open or as vicious as his grandmother was, but they still didn’t approve of it, or at least his father didn’t. Whenever they passed a gay pride flag his father would shift uncomfortably in his seat. When the dinner discussion turned to the topic of civil rights his dad would fall silent, not wanting to express his views. Lance knew why even if his father never spoke a word. His mother seemed to be more accepting though, even if she never vocalized her views. If Lance ever had come out it would be to her first. She wouldn’t judge him. She’d simply tell him he was loved. God he missed his mom.

He sighed, running his hands through his hair and trying to push his thoughts of home out of his mind. He didn’t need to to get homesick right now.

“If you’re Cuba’s third junior best dancer I’d hate to see how the others dance,” Keith smirked at Lance. He was going to rub this in Lance’s face to the day Lance died he could tell.

“Hey!” Lance protested with a little hint of a pout. “I’m classically trained. None of these alien steps make sense to me! Besides I only won that title because a freak storm blocked a lot of roads and a bunch of the better studios couldn’t make it. Not that it devalues my achievement!”

Keith snorted. Lance scowled at him. He was so rude.

“You dance competitively on Earth?” Lucivida asked, glancing back at Lance from where he was trying to demonstrate the steps one last time with Ellea. “That’s a sport for you?”

“I wouldn’t call it a sport so much as an over glorified-” Keith began but was cut off by the horrified sound Lance made.

“It is so a sport!” He spluttered indignantly. “Dance is one of the hardest and physically taxing sports you can do, especially with the memorization of steps. And have you seen a dance battle? That’s some major strategy skills in use there.”

“Okay, whatever.” Keith rolled his eyes, turning away from him to run through the dance on his own again. Lance watched his hips move with mixed feelings of longing and frustration. At this point Keith was probably just taunting Lance.

Suddenly there was a rapid clicking sound, a flash of lilac and black, and then Lance saw a girl had taken Keith’s hands, completing the dance as his partner. Her skin was much paler than his, brown hair swept up into an elegant braided bun. She was wearing a soft purple blouse that was tucked into a high waisted black skirt that ended mid thigh. She glided gracefully through the steps while wearing inch and a half high heels. It wasn’t until she pivoted, the end of her short skirt pinched up in her free hand, that Lance realized it was Princess Imagene. He had to do a double take because he did not remember seeing Imagene this healthy looking before. Her skin was no longer blanched, though it was still remarkably pale, and her cheeks weren’t hollowed out. Her clothes seemed to fit her form instead of hanging off of her like a scarecrow.

Lance watched the pair move easily together over the smooth floors and felt something prickle in his gut. He did not like this, not at all. What if they got close and Imagene found out Keith was part Galra? She’d so easily ordered the execution of those refugees, what would she do to Keith?

“Genie!” Ellea half shrieked and ran to her sister who scooped her up as the dance ended.

“Oof! Ellea you’re getting heavy,” Imagene laughed, a little out of breath.

“It’s not that Ellea is getting heavy, it’s that your muscles are not at the capacity to support her weight yet,” Vivirdian said, coming up behind her and resting a protective hand on her shoulder. “You should be resting princess. I know you feel better from the sun but we can’t take any risks.”

“But daaaaad,” Imagene protested, lips twitching up despite her attempts to keep in a tight scowl. “My pigmentation is up to an 8!”

“No buts Genie,” Vivirdian frowned, giving her a disapproving look.

She made a face and set Ellea down. “Well what have you been up to little lady?”

“Trying to teach Lance to dance.” Ellea said with a little twirl. “But he can’t. Keith can though.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “I can so dance! Just not this weird yam thing!”

“Yam Waltz,” Vivirdian corrected, chuckling a bit.

“Whatever!” Lance said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It’s all just a dumb ritual to a stupid plant that grows in the ground.”

Silence filled the room as the Ambrusians stared at him. Lucivida and Ellea looked horrified, gaping at him with slacked jaws and wide eyes. Imagene looked ready to crack up. Vivirdian’s eyebrow was steadily rising higher on his forehead.

“So, how was the trip?” Keith asked Imagene, quickly changing the subject away from yams. Bless him.

“Oh, it was uneventful,” Imagene sighed, reaching back to unclip the golden celestial clip and releasing her bun. Her dark curls tumbled freely down her shoulders. “The Suertia settlement is very small, only 500 or so inhabitants most of whom run the water collection and filtration systems, but the forests and mountains that surround are absolutely stunning.”

“Wasn’t there a spill?” Lance asked. Once back in Cuba he’d seen the effects of an oil spill from a cruise ship. It had been horrible, the tan sand turned a scorched black from the slimy substance, the corpses of oil drowned birds washing up on the shore. It’d been horrifying. “Is everybody okay?”

“The spill is under control, but as future queen I was expected to make an appearance.” Imagene smiled, running a hand through her hair. “There have been a few reports of a minor sickness, but it’s been treated fairly well. We’ve sent out an environmental team to help restore the wildlife in the area that may have been affected.”

Something seemed off to Lance, but he couldn’t place it. Maybe it was Imagene’s tone of voice or the way she was standing, so casually. It felt like she was understating things or hiding something.

Or maybe he was just being jealous. Ugh. This whole crush thing was so much more trouble than the butterfly feelings were worse, not that he was dorky enough to get buzzing feelings in his stomach every time he saw Keith. He wasn't that lame. Was he?

Keith

Keith spent a good chunk of the afternoon reading in the garden. He’d found a nice secluded area beneath a tall tree that fanned out like a green leafy umbrella. It provided a good balance of shade and light allowing him to remain cool but still see the print on the page. It was peaceful out here, the only sounds being the wind rustling the winds as it passed on its merry way and the occasional calling of some alien creature. The sky was clearer than the crystals on a Balmera and the temperature was modest enough for Keith not to shiver in his short sleeves but not too warm to make him sweat either.

Keith had never really seen the appeal of reading before, but now stuck on an alien planet with no therapy appointments to get to, quizzes to study for, or Galra to beat up he actually enjoyed it. He was currently devouring a tome about Ambrusian names and their meanings. He’d learned so far that the most common baby name is ‘Lumen’, a unisex name meaning brilliant light and that ‘Ellea’ is a very uncommon baby name that means shining flower.

“Mind if I join you?” A voice startled Keith from the passage he was reading. He looked up to see Imagene standing at the edge of tree’s shade, a file under her arm and writing utensils in her hands. She’d changed out of what she called her ‘formal visiting attire’ into something more reminiscent of the shirt and shorts Keith was wearing. The only hint of royalty on her was the golden planetary hair pin glinting in the afternoon sun.

He shook his head. “Not at all,”

She smiled sitting down and leaning against the sturdy tree trunk, her dark hair almost melting into the bark. “Are you fond of the onomastics field? It is supposedly becoming increasingly popular as an independent study.”

“What?” He asked, thoroughly confused. He'd never heard of onomastics.

“It’s the study of names.” She explained, gesturing to his book. “It’s a field that is more involved with linguistics and sociology. It can be very useful in the establishing of minorities and historical purposes.”

“Oh,” He said, shifting a bit. “No, not really, I just wanted to look up some of the weird names I’ve heard.”

“You think our names are weird?” She raised an eyebrow and laughed a bit. “I’ve never heard of a name like ‘Keith’ or ‘Lance’ before. You need to keep in mind that to us you are the aliens.”

“Sorry,” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess that’s true.”

“What do your names mean anyways?” She asked, pulling out an official looking document and settling down to study it.

“I know Keith is Scottish, something about wood.” Keith said, having to think for a moment. “And Lance is… well, a lance, a wooden shaft.”

“You name your children after a lot of wooden things,” She noted, snickering.

“And you guys name a lot of things after light,” He countered, smirking a bit. “Almost every popular name has something to do with light.”

“Most Ambrusians are named for a virtue or symbol the parents hope their child will embody,” Imagene explained, jotting down a few notes on her own work. “For example my name means ‘a reflection’ or ‘perfect picture’. My parents wanted me to be a reflection of an ideal leader. The reason there are so many names that hold the theme of light is because the words light and life are interchangeable here. To be without light is to essentially be without light.”

“There was once a time when the phrase ‘watch your light’ meant to advise one to be careful.” Added a deeper voice Keith instantly recognized as Vivirdirdian’s. He looked up to see the tall royal advisor striding towards them. “If I may have a moment with Keith, your majesty.”

“You still have a few more weeks before you can use that title,” Imagene chuckled, rising to her feet and dusting off her shorts. “And as long as you aren’t forcing me to work up in my room to ‘rest and recover’, certainly you may.”

“You should be up in your room,” Vivirdian grumbled, reminding Keith of Shiro whenever he caught Keith training at odd hours of the night or Pidge using her laptop excessively. “But I suppose spending a little time in the garden wouldn’t do you any harm.”

“Keith, if you would like,” Imagene said before turning to go. “I can teach you all about certain aspects of Ambrusian life. Do not think the common themes of your literary options has escaped my attention!”

Vivirdian watched her walk towards another part of the garden, well out of earshot, before turning back to face Keith.

“I didn’t do anything bad, did I?” He asked tentatively. He closed his book and set it aside, wanting to show Vivirdian that he was giving him his full attention.

Vivirdian chuckled softly, sitting down in the grass, criss cross applesauce style. “No, you’ve done nothing bad. Not sure why’d you’d think that… unless your conscience has you feeling guilty?”

Keith quickly shook his head, trying to mentally run down everything he’d done that day, just to be sure he hadn’t broken any rules. “No, sir.”

“I came more to talk about yesterday.” Vivirdian said, looking down at the grass. His fingers gently rubbed a strand of grass, delicately stroking the soft blades so not to tear it.

Keith felt himself slump a bit. Yesterday. The whole Galra thing. Of course there would be a follow up about it. A person doesn’t just suddenly turn purple and fuzzy and not escape the concern of others. He should have prepared himself for this talk.

“I swear I didn’t know I was half g-” Keith began, but Vivirdian held up a hand to cut him off.

“As life changing as the discovery of your heritage is that is not what I came to discuss,” He said gently. “We will get to it of course, but I first wanted to ask how you were feeling emotionally. Yesterday you told me some very troubling information and I wanted to know if you were alright.”

Keith had to think for a moment before remembering his split on Lance and the over sharing session he’d had in the unused room with Vivirdian. He immediately felt his stomach sink down into the ground. That was a lot of information he let slip. More information than he’d ever shared with anybody before, not his therapists, not Shiro, nobody. His past had always been such a taboo concept for him to even think about let alone talk about, but now that he had he had to admit that he felt lighter and, aside from the mood drop in the shower, better overall.

“I’m… okay.” He answered, selecting the answer that was more honest than ‘fine’. “Just sort of shaken up from the whole Galra thing I guess.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Vivirian sighed. “But you’ve been handling it very well according to Lucivida.”

“Well is certainly a word.” Keith agreed dryly. When Vivirdian eyed him he let out a sigh and elaborated on that point. “I guess I’ve just been refusing to let it sink in. It still hasn’t really hit me…”

Then he began talking about that moment in the shower, how he’d felt hopelessly frustrated at himself for allowing himself to dip that low. Vivirdian listened quietly, still stroking the blade of grass thoughtfully. A small part of Keith wondered if unloading again on Vivirdian was a bad idea, but he kept going. There was something about Vivirdian that reminded him of Shiro, or maybe it was just that he saw Vivirdian as a parental figure. Vivirdian possessed the same authoritative stance that demanded respect while also retaining the guidance and docility of a father and together it made Keith feel like he was 8 years old, sitting in Papa’s lap and listening to him tell stories of his time in the Air Force. It was comforting to Keith, despite the fact that he’d never really had a father. Or maybe it was because of it.

When Keith finished speaking Vivirdian took a moment to digest his words before speaking.

“I can see why you would be frustrated,” He said gently. “When you work so hard at something, especially something so personal, it can be disheartening to face setbacks. But you need to accept that it is very unreasonable to think you will automatically be better without a single slip up. You cannot hold yourself to such a high standard. It’s not only unhealthy but very illogical.”

“Thanks Vivirdian,” He murmured, vaguely wondering if Vivirdian wasn’t also a therapist. What he’d just said sounded exactly like something the therapist the Garrison had assigned him would say. ‘Don’t worry about how well other people are recovering, just focus on yourself. Nobody’s journey is free of stones in the path that trip them up.’ It was probably good advice, but there were more than just stones in Keith’s path. There were mountains and grizzly bears and fallen redwood trees. There were so many obstacles that he couldn’t even see the end goal. ‘Then look from above,’ His therapist had told him. Keith had wanted to angrily scream ‘how?!’ but instead just nodded and sunk another inch or two in his squashy armchair wishing it would swallow him whole.

“You’re welcome,” Vivirdian said. “I’ve got a little experience in traumatic experiences especially after raising these three.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the castle to indicate Ellea, Imagene, and Lucivida. Keith couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“I bet that was no picnic.”

“I do not understand that saying,” Vivirdian smiled. “But if you are saying it was not easy you would be correct. I have been a second caretaker to them since they were born. I’ve seen it all; broken tiaras, medical school all-nighters, nasty rumors from school, finals week, tripping on live broadcast, having your scrunched up face from hitting the ground after said fall being plastered everywhere in tabloids.”

Keith cracked up at that last one. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.”

“No, Genie has since gotten over it.” Vivirdian said, chuckling a bit. “Now when she sees edits of it she bursts out laughing. We once made it her passport photo as a joke.”

Keith smiled awkwardly. “I bet that went over great when she had travel.”

“It gave the workers a bit of a laugh,” Vivirdian said, finding a new blade of grass.

“She seems like a very well put together girl, all things considering.” Keith said.

He saw something change in Vivirdian’s face, a grim look passing over his eyes maybe. He immediately felt panicked. Had he said something wrong? But the next moment he brushed it off as a trick of the light when Vivirdian looked him dead and the eye and asked:

“You’re not expressing any sort of interest in my princess are you?”

Keith felt the bubble of laughter burst from his mouth. It was so ridiculous that he just couldn’t stop himself. He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry and no offense, but she’s not really my type.”

“Oh believe me, I know,” Vivirdian smirked. “But you can’t blame me for being a little anxious about anybody taking the closest thing to a daughter I have away from me, and you may be able to shield your ‘type’ from your face but it is generally made very obvious by your pulse whenever he enters the room.”

Keith felt his ears turn bright pink, instantly cursing both his own and the Ambrusian’s feet. He held his face in his hands and groaned.

“Have peace Paladin,” Vivirdian assured him. “Your secret is safe with me. I keep many secrets both my own and others. I won’t tell him or anybody else.”

“Is it really that obvious?” He asked through his hands.

“Truthfully it took me a few tries to recognize it,” Vivirdian answered honestly with a little shrug. “But once I saw the smirk on Lucivida’s face I figured it out relatively quickly.”

“So the twins know?” He asked, peering through a crack in his fingernails and dreading the answer.

“I assume so,” Vivirdian snickered a bit and Keith let out another groan. “Fear not, they are not the type of Ambrusian to play with the lives of others.”

“He’s a neurosurgeon and she’s literally about to ascend the throne to rule this entire planet!” He pointed out. “How could they not be the type to play with the lives of others?”

“The official term is medical neurologist in training,” Vivirdian corrected. “And just because she will be a ruler does not mean she particularly likes messing with the personal affairs of others. Speaking of Imagene there is something I need to ask you.”

Keith lifted his head from his hands to see that all the laughter had drained from Vivirdian’s face to be replaced by a mask of grave calm. It was slightly disconcerting, but he nodded. “What is it?”

“I am going to have to ask that you conceal your status as a Galra halfling from Imagene,” Vivirdian said firmly. “Imagene may seem to have a good handle on things, but deep down she is nowhere close to where she needs to be regarding the Galra. For her sake, keep this to yourself.”

“Yes,” He said, nodding nervously then added hastily: “Sir.”

He saw Vivirdian’s shoulders relax a bit. His face loosened into a small smile. “I give you my gratitude.”
“Er, no problem.” Keith said, carding a hand through his hair awkwardly. Vivirdian rose to his feet, letting out a hefty sigh.

“And one last thing before I leave you in your silence.” Vivirdian said. “If you would ever like to speak with me about anything at all my room can be found in the wing directly opposite the doorway from the entrance to the dining room. Just take a left, then three doors down. I am unlucky enough to have first hand experience to some of the things you are working through.”

Then he turned his head, as if to look at the large statue of the four winged bat like creature in the distance, but as he did so Keith caught sight of something. If he had not moved his head Keith would have never noticed it as it easily could have been mistaken for a bruise, blossoming just above the collar of his uniform. A purple mark, the exact shade of the little mark on Keith’s own neck.

“You’re Galran…” He breathed in shock feeling his own fingers press against his own purple splotch.

Vivirdian winced, raising his hand to hide the mark behind one of his tan hands. “No, I’m full blooded Ambrusian. My Galra features arise from modification only.”

“What do you mean?” Keith asked slowly, a nervous, tingling sensation prickled down his spine. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“I suppose I now owe you an explanation.” Vivirdian said with a strained smile, not meeting Keith’s eyes. He sat back down across from Keith, letting out a deep breath of air. “It’s a long story.”

Chapter Text

Vivirdian’s Story

Hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard.

As a young boy, Vivirdian grew up having no real idea of what he wanted to do with his life. Everybody he knew had a good idea by the time they completed their primary formal educations. Judiallo wanted to be a teacher, and everyone agreed she’d be a wonderful teacher. Meyalian wanted to study farming and help develop new and more efficient ways to harvest melons. Everyone approved, saying he could do anything he put his mind too.  Everybody just knew what they were meant to do, everybody but Vivirdian. In school they’d get asked all the time what they wanted to be and everybody had a confident, concrete response. They just knew what their passion was and they knew what areas would suite them best, all except Vivirdian. Every single time that dreaded question was asked he would get flustered and mumble out a soft ‘I know not’ and promptly change the subject. Despite everybody’s reassurances that it was perfectly fine not to know he was still embarrassed by it. Everyone he knew had found their place in the universe, but Vivirdian was beginning to wonder if he even had one at this point.

When he confided this thought to his mother she waved him away with a little laugh. “Oh Vivi, you’re going to be a dancer. Is that not what you have been doing all your life?”

This was true. As a young boy his mother placed him in beginning dance classes and he never had the heart to tell her he didn’t enjoy them nearly as much as he told her he did. It just wasn’t what he felt called to do, but he wasn’t even sure what he was called to do. He didn’t know what that felt like, he only knew that it didn’t feel like this. But he stuck with dance. He faithfully attended rehearsals, performed in parades, and competed in small scale local competitions because even if it wasn’t his passion, it was his ticket to finding out what his passion was. But it wasn’t as if he was completely indifferent to the sport, because he certainly wasn’t. He loved dancing and moving his body to the beat of music.

Vivirdian grew up in a small farming settlement that mostly grew certain kinds of melons and vegetables. There were only around 100 or so kids in the town and everybody knew everyone. It was nice in that life was quiet. They lived peacefully away from the bigger problems of the world. But with a small town came small opportunities. The future prospects for most people were narrowed to farming or other manual and domestic careers. For many that was enough, that was all they needed to be happy, but not Vivirdian. He didn’t feel content in this small dinky town. He felt like he was always searching for something more, something he’d only find in another place. But as few opportunities as there were here there were even fewer ways out, and dance was the most feasible way for Vivirdian.

He began spending most of his days in the studio, focusing on his technique and balance, working his way to the top. He quickly built up a reputation as a formidable athlete with an impeccable work ethic, capturing the eye of his instructors. Finally, after working endlessly towards this goal he reached it. His instructors helped him apply for Darius Laurel Academy of Dance in Eternia City, the capital of Ambrusia. This was it, this was his way out. He could hardly sleep after submitting his video application, anxious to learn the results. It took an entire cycle before finally he was given a response. He was invited to audition for a scholarship and admittance into their school for the new semester. He could hardly contain his excitement, telling anyone who would hold still long enough to listen. He was going to the city and he was going to be free.

He practiced his moves in every free moment, not wanting to take a single risk. How would the audition work? Nobody from his settlement had ever gone to the city before. What was it even like? He had a few photos and information from the library, but he’d been living a very cloistered, sheltered life here in Rubianna and the city was so different. What if it was too much? What if there were so many things that he never found his passion? No, he couldn’t think like that, he couldn’t psych himself out. Everything would be fine if he just danced the way he had been taught. He’d make the cut and then he’d be able to explore the world.

Finally the blessed day arrived. He packed up his things in the family’s old battered suitcase and waited with his family in the station to catch a Hover Track headed north. What seemed like half the town of Rubianna showed up to send him off. They carried banners and hugged him, congratulating him on his success and wishing him luck at his audition. He felt a little overwhelmed at the support from his community and the assurances that they’d be proud of him no matter what. He felt a little guilty as his mother gave him a last hug, kissing the tips of ears. Here everybody was cheering him on to pursue his dream, or what they thought was his dream.

“You’re going to become the world’s greatest dancer,” She had whispered in his ears, clutching him tight to her chest one last time. “You’re living up to your name sake you know.”

One of his ears twitched at those words. His name, a very old Rubian word that was rarely used outside of the southern settlements, meant ‘Life in flight’. He sighed, inhaling his mother’s scent one last time before hearing the announcer call his car number. He pressed his hands to the glass and waved one last time to his family as the cart rose up to the track. Just before the tracks cut off his line of sight he saw his mother turn away to cry into his father’s shoulder. He felt tears of his own well up in his eyes.

It was the last time he’d see most of them in person ever again.

He ended up spending the first half of the train ride sleeping, wanting to get used to the time change in Eternia, but when the hover track hit a bump he woke up with a start. Outside it was raining. Soft water droplets speckled the glass and dripped down the outside walls of the train, disappearing to the ground far below the tracks. Most of the other travelers, mostly Ambrusians dressed in business attire commuting from one settlement to the next, were fast asleep. He figured he might as well try to doze off again, but he couldn’t. He was too full of nervous energy. According to the clock he would be arriving in Eternia in just half a sun. He fidgeted in his seat, trying to get comfy, but all he felt was jittery. Finally he gave up on sleep and tried to find a way to keep himself busy for the rest of the evening.

The hover car itself was nothing special, not like the big fancy ones he saw the royal family use on the Broadcast. It was just a long hallway with seats lining the edges and large spacious windows. That gave a wonderful view of the rolling forests below them. Soft crystals served as a light source, though they were dimmed for the night at this time. His luggage was safely tucked away beneath his seat and his coat draped over his shoulders as a blanket. He reached beneath his seat and grasped the rough handle of his suitcase and pulled it out, hoping to find something to keep him entertained.

He’d packed a three of his favorite books (Avians of Ambrusia and a mystery novel from his youth) but the setting sun was robbing him of all his reading light. There was a scrap book his family and friends had put together but without light he wouldn’t be able to make out the pictures. Eventually he decided to stretch out on the cart floor. When he got overwhelmed stretching out his body helped him focus more on the present. To get the most out of stretching he was forced to control his breathing, focus on how the tendons flexed and pulled at his muscles, making sure he wasn’t overdoing it.

He propped his foot up on the seat and slid his opposite leg, lowering himself slowly to the carpeted floor until he could feel the burn in his hips. He let himself sink lower until… there. That was perfect. He took in a deep breath of air mentally counting the moments in his mind as he leaned forward.

10

His sister, Emadia, used to help him stretch out every day before and after school, helping him balance as he used bands to pull his foot upwards to the ceilings of their small cottage. She was the town’s only athletic medical specialist and was more than happy to help her baby brother. When his foot was high enough she’d run her gentle fingers over the delicate skin, ensuring the muscles were stretching the right way to avoid an injury that could set his progress back by entire cycles.

“ Ya aviada pico, gulla , careful, my little bird,” She would say as she pressed his back forward a bit to help even out his weight. “If you rely too much on your dominant leg you risk straining or tearing it.”

He’d nod and shift his weight accordingly, thinking more of the gleaming city skylines he’d seen in school that day than of his stretching.

9

He wasn’t exactly the universe’s most skilled dancer, far from it actually. He wasn’t coordinated or graceful or strong, he wasn’t even that flexible really. All his skill he’d earned through just sticking with his classes. Yes, he had two Southern Settlement Championship titles to his name, but the south doesn’t have too many dancers to begin with and even fewer places to learn dance. To be honest he wasn’t sure how he even won those awards. They’d been in the symbolistic dance category, a genre of dance that focused purely on dances for festivals and ceremonies. It wasn’t a very popular division as most of the dances were comprised of very traditional steps and music. Most people preferred the exciting upbeat routines in the jambi or kanyadan division. But Vivirdian didn’t really see the appeal for it. Both divisions were focused on flexibility, stunting, or partner work, skills that did not come easily for him. He liked the steady movements of the symbolistic dances.

8

His instructor began giving him private lessons to help make up for the talent he didn’t posses. After all hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard. He’d have a new skill for Vivirdian to master as soon as they’d learned the last. He’d push Vivirdian to the limit in every practice, almost as if he was trying to find the breaking point, but Vivirdian didn’t have a breaking point. He was too invested in this to get discouraged by anything short of sudden limb amputation. When he stumbled in a new trick, tripped during a routine, or fell out of a turn he just stood back up and went at it again.

7

Come to think of it turns were always his work area. It was hard to get the power need to rotate and balance at the same time. It was a delicate balance and required more concentration than he had some days. If he pushed up with too much force he risked falling out of the turn or losing control. If he was too weak he wouldn’t be able to complete the move. The past few suns he’d worked on his turns relentlessly at every opportunity he could. It wasn’t uncommon to see him standing in front of their glass front cabinet (the closest things to a full length mirror they had in their house) and repeat the same turn again and again until he could hit it right.

6

And every time his mother saw him practicing she’d stop whatever she was doing and watch him, a look of pride swelling on her face. Every time he finished a move she’d clap and cheer for him. He would always give her a scolding look for disturbing his concentration, but really he was grateful for her support. Rubianna wasn’t exactly known for producing stunning talent and most parents weren’t very keen on encouraging pursuits in areas of the arts. With so few chances to break out and with so much work to do around the home it was considered wasteful to send your kid to an art, music, or dance class when they could be out in the fields. But his parents paid no mind to the disapproving looks they got when they introduced Vivirdian, still in his practicewear, and announced proudly that their son was a two time champion in symbolistic dance. Vivirdian was lucky to have parents like his.

5

He really was, they were so understanding and supporting of whatever far out dreams their children had. When Emadia had expressed her desire to attend a school of advanced study at a nearby settlement’s school of physical medicine and development they helped her earn the money needed to attend. Other parents would have talked their child into seeing the sense of staying on the farm. Why invest so much money and time into a farfetched career that may never repay the favor especially when there were plenty of perfectly fine job options right there in Rubiana?

4

He already missed his parents. Thinking about how much they had helped him, paying for extra lessons, calling him in sick for school when he’d really been at a competition. How they always smiled when he danced and bragged about him to all their friends. They didn’t force him to work in the fields like most other parents. As long as he helped out when he could they were fine with him skipping on melon pickling or weeding.

3

And he was leaving his family, his warm bed, his hometown, for a chance at a dream he didn’t even want. He essentially used his parents to get to the city for the slight chance of finding something that gave him a purpose. Everybody else had one. He just wanted to find his passion. His parents had been so supportive and even if he did attend the academy he was eventually going to let them down by leaving the program when he found his true calling.

2

If he found his true calling that was. No, he would find it. He needed to find it. No way was he going back to spend the rest of his life in a melon patch. He didn’t even like melons. They were too sweet for him.

1

He let out all the air in his lungs, sitting up straight again and switched his legs to stretch out his other side. Might as well stay  loose. Who knew what the day held for him.

When Vivirdian arrived in Eternia City Station the next evening he spotted the representative from the Darius Laurel Academy immediately. For one he was tall, towering over just about everyone who passed by. For another he had the lightest skin Vivirdian had ever seen, light enough that he could make out the faint outline of veins beneath it. He knew people in the north did have much lighter skin than those in the south, but he hadn’t known it was quite this light. His copper colored hair glinted in the artificial lighting of the station and he held up the sign bearing the Darius Laurel insignia. He beamed at him as he wheeled his suitcase forward.

“Darius Laurel candidate?” She asked brightly. Her voice was slightly accented, though he couldn’t pinpoint from where exactly. Certainly not from any part of the south that was for sure.

He nodded, managing a nervous smile. “I’m Vivirdian Cohen, from the Rubianna.”

He set down her sign and whipped out a small glass square, thinner than a sheet of paper. Vivirdian’s eyebrows shot up as he tapped the screen and it lit up, words flashing across the screen. He touched little pictures of letters that had popped up at the base of the object and he watched in awe as they appeared at the top. Then the screen changed to show his dancer’s portrait, the one they’d gotten done just for the application. Next to his picture was a display of statistics. His weight, his height, distinguishing features, and a brief summary of his achievements.

“Yes, I think you are the only border this year for auditions from the south.” He said after a few moments of deliberation over the glass thing. “Most of the others from the north and west arrived two suns ago to acclimate before auditions, but I imagine there are not too many hover tracks headed from Rubianna to Eternia city.”

“What is that?” Vivirdian asked in awe, pointing to the strange object.

“Oh, this?” He said, raising an eyebrow and lifting the glass square. “It is a Helio Glass, have you not seen one before?”

He shook his head, staring in open mouthed wonder. Back home in Rubianna they didn’t have many electronic devices, they had no need for them. It wasn’t as if they had the systems in place to support the Access, they barely got the feed required to view the Broadcast every week. He’d heard of the advanced technology found in more developed areas, but he’d never seen one in person.

“If you get into the academy you will be given one to assist with your studies.” He said, putting the pad back in his Darius Laurel Academy of Dance bag. “My name is Lumen. I am currently enrolled in the advanced apprenticeship program at the Darius Laurel Academy and for the audition process I will be your mentor. If you will follow me I will show you to the vehicle we will be riding back to the boarding house at Darius.”

Vivirdian followed Lumen closely, not wanting to get lost in the huge crowd of people moving through Eternia City Hover Track Station. He felt the urge to reach out and grab Lumen’s hand, just to be sure, but didn’t think that would go over very well. After all he was 10 now, 11 in a few common months. He could not let himself be seen as a baby.

Lumen led Vivirdian over to where a few other children his age are standing with suitcases and sleepy eyes. He could tell from their medium complexions and bright shades of hair that most of them came from the east. There were a few light skinned northerners though. He smiled tentatively at a boy who only stared at him. Vivirdian looked away quickly, feeling his ears burn red. Was he not supposed to smile at strangers? He wasn’t sure about the customs of other settlements, but in Rubianna it had been custom to smile or even wave at everybody one met whether you knew their name or not. Was that not something they did in other places?

Vivirdian could feel the boy staring at him but didn’t dare turn around to look. He instead kept his eyes trained on Lumen who was talking to a stern looking woman, pointing at something on her Helio Glass. She nodded briskly and tapped something with her fingers, waving Lumen away. He walked over to where another group of older kids in similar ‘Darius Laurel Academy of Dance’ shirt stood and began chatting amiably with them. Most appear to be his age, though some are slightly older or younger. He realized they all must be students or apprentices training at the academy.

“Isn’t this just so surreal?” Gushed a girl beside him. “We dream all our lives about coming here, train day and night just to get selected, and here we are.”

He glanced over at her. He could tell from her bright, pastel pink hair and pale skin that she came from the north. Her hair was pulled back into a long pony tail, held back by a big bow.

“I mean guess,” He murmured quietly.

“I am sure your enthusiasm will return to you after we dance out some of our nerves,” She said sympathetically. “I am Jey, by the way. I hail from Opalle settlement not too far from Eternia. What about you?”

“Vivirdian Cohen, I’m from Rubianna.” He said, looking up at Jey. She wore a soft lilac shaded knit dress that went down to her knees. Her bag read ‘Opalle Center for Creative Movement’ it glittery letters and he could see the strap of a dance leotard peeking out beneath the dress. Her bright gray eyes widened instantly. “No way! You are the Vivirdian? The Vivirdian who has two symbolistic titles to his name?”

At this some of his teammates turn around, curious to see what the fuss was about. Vivirdian bit his lip and nodded slowly, staring at her in shock and wondering why she, or anybody else here, would know his name. She squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“I saw your performance last year on the Access video storage!” She grinned, speaking rapidly, words tripping up over her tongue. “You were amazing! I cannot believe I am speaking to you. This is so unreal, oh my suns! Tore! You will not believe who this is!”

Suddenly kids crowded around him, asking questions about his dancing. How could control his body through his routines? How could he stand moving so slowly for so long? Did he ever get bored of the traditional steps? How did he get the power to perform his leaps? He tried answering their questions, feeling a little overwhelmed. His body control came from having to stay up in trees for so long during the orchard seasons when you can only judge the ripeness of the fruits by hanging upside down on branches above to get a clear view of the top. If it’s green it’s not ready, but if it’s orange it is. He actually liked moving slowly because it gave him more time to assess his movements and make sure he wasn’t getting off task and no, the traditional steps weren’t boring to him. Each had a special meaning and action that he loved interpreting. His leaps, well, he’d always been great at jumps. His legs were strong from working in fields, and again, to reach those branches he’d had to leap up high from the ground and then wrap his hands around the thick limbs. Then he’d have to hoist himself up and grapple the branches with his legs to climb up and get a good foot hold.

“Candidates!” The woman snaps and the kids turn their attention to her. “Before we leave for the boarding house I am going to call your names just to ensure you are all here safe and sound. Please say ‘here’ or ‘present’ when your name is called. Let us see… Rell Alvu?”

A boy with lightly tanned skin and soft blue hair piped up. “Here!”

The woman continues to read off names from a list on her Helio Glass. Mostly the names are single or double syllables, few are longer than that. Names in the upper, more developed settlements tend to be shorter, usually short forms of longer more traditional names. They’re definitely more modernized too, some even being just words that Vivirdian had no idea could be names, like Havoc and Day. He blinked in surprise when he first heard them. It’s not that they’re bad, he’s just not used to them yet.  When his own name is called (“Vivirdian Cohen?”) he sees that the other candidates find his name to be just as odd to them and theirs were to him. A few mouth his name slowly, furrowing their brows and glancing around in confusion.

He cleared his throat and said weakly “Here,”. He felt the eyes of the other candidates flicker to him. This wasn’t a big deal, so why did he feel so panicky all of a sudden? He knew it wasn’t exactly common to see a dancer from the south, but it wasn’t something to gawk at.

He glanced up, just to see if they were still looking at him. They weren’t. He breathed a sigh of relief. Of course they wouldn’t be looking at him. They had more important things to focus on. He reminded himself if this as they walked to a bus to be taken to the boarding home. The boarding house itself is a huge mansion that lies on the sprawling grounds of Darius Laurel. The caretaker's, an elderly couple named the Jensens, inform them that the house once belonged to the founders of the academy several hundred years ago. It serves as the place of residence for all the first year students attending Darius Laurel academies.

Oh and that was the other thing, the Darius Laurel Academy isn’t just a dance school. It’s an advanced studies academy. Not only is there a Darius Laurel Academy of Dance, but there is also a Darius Laurel Academy of Art, Music, and Science. Each are dedicating to educating young Ambrusians in more extensive skills that they may have trouble finding lessons for in other settlements. The older students live in other boarding houses and dorms scattered across the campus and are encouraged to mix with the other academy kids. Something about diversity and well rounded friend groups, but when Vivirdian looked around the campus on their tour he didn’t see much diversity in friend groups. Kids in leotards stuck with other kids in leotards. Those hauling big instrument cases, large textbooks, and art folders huddled around like characters.

“If you are accepted into the dance academy you will attend your dance classes with your fellow candidates,” Mrs. Jensen said as they strolled through a sunny park that separated the school from the boarding homes and dorms. “But you will attend your academic classes with students from all four sections of the Darius Laurel students. You can also sign up for advanced courses in the other academies if you chose, not that I think many of you will.”

A few kids chuckled, but Vivirdian made a mental note to sign up for at least one course in each academy. The arts program in Rubianna had been practically nonexistent and while he doubted that’s where his passion was it was worth it to try.

The Jensens lead the small group of candidates through the campus. It was huge, much larger than even the upper school in Rubianna. It was comprised of several buildings that made up different parts of the school. There was a building for the music school, the art school, the science school, and the dance school each complete with the facilities to cater to their young charges. For example the science building was full of lab rooms, lecture halls, and a large library, the largest academic institution library in the world according to the Jensens. The music department and arts department were two identical buildings connected by a skybridge that crossed over a large courtyard. The dance building was the smallest, and contained several spacious studios, a large performance stage, and a tumbling facility. Vivirdian’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the bright blue mats and foam pits.

“Never seen a tumbling mat before?” Jey asked with a little snicker, but it was more playful than malicious.

“Not one like this.” He breathed, staring longingly at the springy trampolines. In Rubianna they didn’t have this kind of equipment. He’d learned all his acrobatic moves on an old, battered mat from the local school’s movement classes.

After touring the special buildings they were given a tour of the academic facility that would ‘enrich the education of a young dancer and allow them to pursue any career after graduation’. The school was in an old building and looked like your traditional boarding school. It was probably built well before Vivirdian’s great grandparents’ grandparents were born, probably before that even. It was drafty, and some of the floorboards creaked a bit, and the keypads to open the doors weren’t always reliable as Mrs. Jensen proved when they were locked in the school’s cafeteria.

“Of course you will not be eating in here during the audition process,” She said, her voice becoming more shrill with anxiety as she kept tapping frantically at the keypad. “All your meals will be either at the boarding home or over in the studios.”

Vivirdian stifled his laughter as he watched her frantically try to remain calm whilst attempting to get the doors to work. Maybe he shouldn’t have laughed, but it was a ridiculous sight to him and it made him appreciate the simplistic way of life he was used to in Rubianna. They didn’t have many automatic doors, just the old fashioned hinge and handle. He’d heard of all this technology in the city spoken of with a tone of reverence and awe, but now he saw that despite how impressive it sounded it was just a hunk of metal when it didn’t work. Better to have a more reliable if somehow less convenient way of life.

“It is not funny!” Jey hissed in a frightened whisper. “If she cannot get the door to open again we shall be trapped here until somebody can release us!”

“My apologies,” Vivirdian mumbled softly.

“No need to apologize,” Sniffed a boy with a tone of mock sympathy. “You southern simpletons would not be able to comprehend such complex machines.”

Vivirdian felt rage well up inside of him. He longed to lash out against this boy, teach him a thing or two about ‘southern simpletons’, but he repressed it. He hadn’t been given the rules lecture yet, but he was sure it barred him from punching a fellow candidate even if that candidate was being a brat. He settled for a glare instead, making eye contact for a moment before turning away listening to Jey scold them for being ‘rude and intolerant of other’s ways of life’.

He’d show them. He’d show them all.

The next morning Vivirdian was handed what Mr. Jensen called a ‘bib number’ It read ‘89’ in big print and in smaller letters below his name and settlement.

Vivirdian Cohen

Rubianna

He carefully pinned it his front and headed down to the commons area where other kids are congregating. Most are as pale as Lumen. They vaguely remind Vivirdian of a congregation of those life sized circulatory system skeletons come to life and wearing leotards and shorts. Their hair is a mix of odd shades, ranging from bright yellow to vivid lilac to deep ocean blue. The north and east have those odd shades, leaving the more natural shades of brown, red, blonde, and the rare black or gray. His own hair sticks out both in this group of kids and back home. It’s a brilliant shade of white, brighter than snow and a little long compared to the others.

He stood out in a few more ways from his peers here. Most of these young dancers have a uniform body shape, tall and slender with supple limbs. He is a little short, not by much, but it’s definitely noticeable. His shoulders and hips are broad and he’s much more muscular from working in the fields. As far as he can tell he’s the only one with a deep skin tone as well. He spots a few dancers sporting medium complexion, but their skin is still much fairer compared to his own.

He suddenly felt a little intimidated as he waded through the sea of young dancers, each a perfect pale doll. They wear bright leotards and tights with fresh shoes and neatly combed hair. He looks down at his appearance and finally understands what his mother meant when she complained about being underdressed for an occasion. He was just wearing an old white shirt with his favorite pair of black shorts. His shoes are nearly a year old. He can see the seams coming apart at the soles, threatening to fall apart any day now. He decides that his appearance shouldn’t matter. At the end of the day they were giving slots to those who could dance, not color coordinate their outfits. He still makes a mental note to ask Lumen where he can purchase a new set of dancing shoes.

The stern looking instructor swooped on them from a hallway, snapping at them for being loud. She instructed them all to follow her to a studio to begin warm ups. The candidates have mutually decided that she is not one to cross and follow her instructions, chittering quietly with one another as they walk through the halls. Vivirdian walked alone, staring at the floor, speaking with no one. He stayed silent as they grouped up in numerical order in a studio and began stretching out for warm ups. He couldn’t risk getting distracted.

“Congratulations,” The woman said, looking at each and every candidate with beady eyes. “You are currently part of the 100 candidates we hand selected from over 5,000 video applications we received for this audition season. This number will be slowly reduced throughout the week until we are left with only 24 students, 12 girls and 12 boys. Furthermore there will be two partial scholarships and one full scholarship available for dancers who demonstrate flawless technique, commanding stage presence, and an advanced skill set. Earning a slot on our roster will be difficult enough, earning a scholarship will be near impossible. Prepare yourselves, the events of today will be the most important of your young dancing careers.”

Only after that little speech did she introduce herself as the head of Artistic Direction and preferred if you called her Ms. Bussel, not Miss Bussel, not Mrs. Bussel, Ms. Bussel. She was tall like many of the mentors Vivirdian had seen, with pale skin and skin that was beginning to wrinkle. She wore a long black skirt over her leotard and her silvery hair was pulled back into a tight bun held together with quite an alarming number of pins. She led them through warm ups, displaying an impressive amount of flexibility for someone so aged.

They were each partnered up for stretches with somebody according to their size, and since Vivirdian was the smallest boy he ended up being paired with the smallest girl: Jey. It meant spending a lot of time with Jey, time that when not spent dancing was filled with her chatter. She didn’t seem to mind that Vivirdian didn’t talk much, and Vivirdian didn’t mind that she did. She talked a lot about her life back home in Opalle. Through her mostly one-sided conversation Vivirdian learned a lot about life beyond the southern settlements.

Apparently dance and the arts were much bigger up here than he thought they were. Jey had been horrified when he informed her that he was the only one of his family to dance and that most of his family were farmers and had never even picked up a brush. When she asked why they hadn’t studied art in school he had to explain that art just wasn’t a subject offered in the local Rubianna school. Since school days were already cut short during the harvest season to allow kids to head home and help out with the melon picking, they didn’t need to clutter up the day with unnecessary lessons like music, art or dance. If you really wanted to study those topics there were ways you could such as clubs or other recreational venues, not there were many of either of those options in a small place like Rubianna otherwise.

As they went through partner work Jey informed him that in the more developed settlements everyone was required to take up an extracurricular study of some sort. Dance was a popular choice since it was easy to do. If you can move you can dance. She also said that dance offered the most opportunities to get out of class for competitions, recitals, and costume fittings.

“And obviously that attracts a lot of kids,” Jey said fixing her bun in one of the large mirrors.

“Less chatter more stretching Jey,” Jey’s mentor chastised, a smile playing at her lips. Jey’s mentor was a senior named Via who was soft spoken but she was not afraid to call one of them out when they messed up in their duet, but she was patient too.

“Right! My apologies!” Jey said lifting her back leg for Vivirdian. Vivirdian guided her foot up back to her free hand and placed a supporting hand under her thigh, helping her balance and lock out as she pulled her leg up into a needle stretch. She then pulled her foot even farther to overextend her leg and get a bigger stretch. Vivirdian realized Jey was incredibly flexible even by dancer standards.

As Vivirdian looked around the room he realized just how behind the other candidates he was. His body was more built for working in fields and other forms of manual labor rather than bending and stretching. As a dancer it did give him the benefit of being more durable. His body could stand more wear and tear than the slender forms of his instructor, but here it was working against him. He simply couldn’t twist or bend his body in ways the other candidates could. It wasn’t physically possible, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

After a little while more of stretching and warmups Ms. Bussel called for a break and Vivirdian let out a sigh of relief. His feet were stinging from dancing so much. He slipped down to sit on the floor and rubbed his feet through the fabric of his shoes.

“If your feet hurt it might be because the box of your shoe is dying.” Jey said sitting beside him.

Vivirdian looked down and saw with dismay that she was right. There were new creases in the box of his shoe from the stress of dancing in the exact same pair for so long. The seams were splitting and the box wasn’t able to support him when he went up on his toes. He slipped it off and frowned, turning the worn shoe over in his hand.

“I don’t have another pair,” He said quietly and Jey gaped at him.

“Why did you fail to bring another pair?” She asked in a horrified whisper. “Especially if these were in such bad condition to begin with? Surely even in a place like Rubianna you can find some.”

“It’s not that I didn’t bring another pair,” He scowled, annoyance pricking at the back of his neck. “It’s that I physically don’t have another pair. Rubianna doesn’t have very many dance supply stores as it is an underdeveloped settlement.”

He turned away from her, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d only been here a day and he just wanted to go home, finding his passion be damned. Nobody at home cared that they didn’t have advanced technology, nobody was obsessed with dance shoes, and nobody made fun of anyone for where they came from. He supposed part of it had to do that not many people were from anywhere else, but it wasn’t as if they poked fun at the few strangers they did get either.

Jey seemed to realize she’d struck a nerve. Her face softened a bit and she rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “My apologies Vivirdian, I did not mean for it to sound like a jab at your place of upbringing.”

He felt a bit of his frustration and anger melt away. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

“You know,” Jey scooted next to him and put her foot next to Vivirdian’s for comparison. The white fabric of her new shoes made the dirt stick out in Vivirdian’s old ones. “My feet look to be the same size as yours. You could try wearing some of my shoes.”

“You sure?” He asked as she grabbed her bag and rummaged around inside.

“Of course!” She grinned producing a pair of new white slipper. She scooched down and began to untie the shoe on this feet and slip on the new ones. “We are friends, and that means we help each other.”

He pondered this, flexing and pointing his feet to see how these new shoes fit. Jey had been right, they were about the same size. She nodded approvingly as his toes wiggled in the box of the shoe.

“But aren’t we competing against each other?” He asked, getting to his feet to test them out.

“I mean,” She chewed her lip in thought, scrunching up her freckled nose. “Technically we are, but that should not prevent me from helping somebody when I can.”

“Oh,” Vivirdian mumbled, performing a turn. “Thanks Jey. They feel great.”

“You are welcome!” She beamed standing up and twirling to make her sheer skirt flutter up as she moved.

Just then Ms. Bussel called them over, marking the end of their stretching and warm ups.

“First we will be learning one dance together as a group,” Ms. Bussel said cooly. “Then each of you will perform this dance in front of several judges who will determine whether or not you are a good fit for the Darius Laurel Academy of Dance. As I said, we are looking for hard workers with good technique as opposed to who can perform the most turns or the most difficult jumps. Because of that we’ve chosen a genre that reflects the qualities we are looking for as opposed to the gaudy, flashy styles of today’s modernized dance world. You will each be learning a symbolistic routine, the Yam Waltz!”

A murmur ran through the group of candidates at Ms. Bussel’s words. Symbolistic dance was not well liked as a genre as it was generally without leaps or super fast movements. As a result many kids avoided learning symbolistic dances even though it was probably the easiest division if you didn’t mind moving slowly and reworking the same traditional movements over and over again with little to no variation. Many kids voiced their displeasure in this through soft grumbling to neighbors, but Vivirdian did not partake in it. For the first time since arriving at Darius Laurel his heart began to soar. He was good at symbolistic dances, two championship titles good. Without all the fancy tricks and weird steps he was on an even playing field with these candidates who actually had the talent. He might just have a chance at doing this after all.

When you think you’ve gone far enough, go further.

The audition itself had not been too bad, but the moments leading up to the audition had been the most nerve wracking of Vivirdian’s life. He couldn’t remember ever being so nervous for something the way he’d been when he’d been standing in his designated place in line, waiting for the other students to file in after working with their mentors. He was terrified of messing up, of losing his slot, of proving the others right that southerners were only good for farming. Once the music started, however, Vivirdian only had to give in to his body and let it move the way it wanted to, the way it had been taught to move. Never before had dancing been so easy for him, felt so good. When he usually danced he was always so focused on his technique and form that he rarely enjoyed the sensations brought on by dance, but here, performing a traditional dance he’d known for years, it was easy. He was able to lose himself in the steady beat of the music and felt his very being melt away to the easy rhythm and sweet melody. He could almost pretend he was back home in Rubianna, dancing for the ceremony for his people.

As the candidates performed several judges circled the students, calling out numbers. As their numbers were called students stopped dancing and walked to the edge of the room as they’d been instructed to do. Vivirdian barely registered the number of students gathering along the walls of the room. It was probably for the best that he didn’t anyways. Many had started crying, knowing that they’d just lost their slot at the academy. Some of the ones who had begun to sob loudly had to be escorted from the room by their mentors. Any other day this would have disrupted Vivirdian’s concentration, but this wasn’t just any other dance. This was the most important performance of Vivirdian’s life. This was his best shot at escaping melon farming for the rest of his life.

When the music finally stopped it took Vivirdian a moment to realize he was supposed to stop dancing. Fortunately he wasn’t the only one who did an extra turn or step. His chest heaved from the exertion of putting so much of himself into one performance. Suns, was he supposed to feel like this after every dance? Was this what it was like to leave it all on the stage? He wiped his head and looked around briefly counting the remaining candidates in the center of the studio. 1… 2… 3…

“Congratulations candidates,” Ms. Bussel said, interrupting his counting. “A round of applause for this years first year students of the Darius Laurel Academy of Dance.”

The mentors and lingering candidates whooped and cheered, some barely suppressing their own tears of disappointment. Vivirdian could hardly believe it. Had he really just made it? From the looks of it he had. A slow grin spread across his face and his heart began to soar, swooping through his chest. He’d done it. He was one step closer to discovering his passion.

Vivirdian was awarded a partial scholarship that day to attend the Darius Laurel Academy of Dance and was offered to remain behind at Darius Laurel until the school term began so he could catch up with his fellow incoming classmates. He graciously accepted and moved into a dorm room permanently for the rest of the season. He kept in contact with his family through daily letters and weekly calls. His parents (and dance instructor) were simply ecstatic about his acceptance into Darius Laurel. His mother printed out the picture of Vivirdian shaking Ms. Bussel’s hand as he was awarded the scholarship and stuck it to the door so anybody leaving the house got a lovely view of a sweaty boy grinning like a moron and enthusiastically shaking the hand of a middle aged woman. Then when the article about his appeared in the newspaper she had it framed. Though Vivirdian pretended to be annoyed he was thrilled to give his parents something to smile about.

4 suns a cycle Vivirdian spent most of his time in a studio with Ms. Bussel, learning all the moves he had not been able to back home in Rubianna. Ms. Bussel was a strict teacher, but cared deeply for her pupil. She helped him pick out shoes that would help him dance better. He hadn’t known this before but different shoe makes design their shoes differently. Some have harder boxes for more support, others are more flexible in the soles or are made of materials that lend more spring to leaps. There had only been one shoe carrier and Rubianna, and though they’d been good, Vivirdian liked his new customized shoes much better, especially since he didn’t have to worry about getting blisters so often now.

On the days he wasn’t dancing Vivirdian was out exploring the great city of Eternia. The Jensens’ took him and some of the other preterm boarding students out on day trips to keep them busy. Vivirdian saw several theatre productions, museums, and even got to tour the lower levels of Ambrusian palace, but by far Vivirdian loved visiting the Royal Gardens the most. The entrance from the Royal Gardens wasn’t too far from the academy and he often found himself wandering the hedgerows of the gardens during his down time. That was, when he wasn’t hanging out with Jey.

Vivirdian wasn’t the only preterm border. Jey chose to join him to brush up on her skills before the term began. Besides Jey there were many dance students and lots of music, art, and science students staying the break as well, but most were older and staying for jobs or internships. Only a few of the students were Vivirdian’s age. One was a boy from the science academy named Oran. Oran hailed directly from Eternia city, in fact his parents were professors at the academy and he lived right on the grounds. He met Vivirdian and Jey on one of the Jensens’ day trips. They spent the rest of their preterm together, an inseparable trio. Their friendship carried over into the school year. When they had academic classes together, which was often since the dance and science students had a lot of their core classes together, they often sat near each other and worked on group presentations together. They sat near each other at lunch, and hung out during free periods together.

As far as academics went, the academy wasn’t too different from his school back home. He had math, science, literature, history, and foreign language class. He was most excited to learn a new language. The course was set up so that he would learn 4 languages before graduation and Vivirdian thought that was really cool. He began to settle into a regular routine at Darius Laurel. He woke up just before done, had a light breakfast and went through his core curriculum classes. After lunch he’d be given a free period to work on homework and prepare for dance class in the afternoon. Then he’d work with Ms. Bussel and other dance instructors well into the afternoon. After dance class was over he’d eat dinner and be left with a huge chunk of free time yet nothing to do with it. He wasn’t allowed off campus without an adult now that school had begun, and his schoolwork wasn’t exactly challenging. As a first year student he was allowed to join any clubs until they hit the halfway point in the term. The clubs would be announced after the midterm exams.

After midterms Vivirdian signed up for several clubs that met once a week and tested them out. He carefully selected two that stirred his curiosity the most. One was a gardening club because even though he didn’t particularly enjoy the melon picking back home, he sort of missed it here. It wasn’t so much of a club though as it lacked meetings. It was more or less just a way to gain access to the school’s gardens and be granted a square of land to plant what he pleased. He carefully tended to his plants three times a cycle, and employed Oran’s help during times when he was away from the school on trips or competitions. The second was a theatre club, which he dropped soon after the first meeting. The entire group was so over the top and dramatic that he just couldn’t handle it.

In his second year he tried playing an instrument and taking an art course. It wasn’t too bad, actually it was quite enjoyable even though he did lack the talent a lot of his fellow classmates possessed, but he wasn’t sure if it was how he wanted to do either for the rest of his life. He was beginning to wonder if his life was going to be nothing but dance until Oran made a suggestion that he join the Flyers club, which was only open to those in third year or above.  Flyers were odd creatures with four wings, pointed ears, and snuffly snouts. They didn’t possess the greatest field of vision and relied mostly on echolocation to get around. The academy had a herd of Flyers that lived in their woods. The Flyers Club’s responsibility was to take care of the herd and to study them. It was managed by Oran’s parents, the doctors Fletcher. His first few sessions were training classes. He was taught how to cut up the fruits to feed the bats and how to fill out the forms on the Helio Glass. It wasn’t until his 5th or 6th meeting that he actually came into contact with a Flyer.

Back in Rubianna there was a wild herd of Flyers in the nearby forest that were essential to pollinating the melon patches, but those Flyers had been barely the size of Vivirdian’s palm. The school’s flyers were about the size of Vivirdian. He’d been terrified on his first meeting when a huge flyer had landed up beside Dr. Fletcher and nuzzled her hand affectionately. He thought that she was mere seconds away from losing a finger, but instead she only chuckled and scratched the creature’s head affectionately.

“Peace young one,” Dr. Fletcher said soothingly, sensing Vivirdian’s sudden spike of fear. “The Flyers are gentle creatures and mean no harm. Come child, meet Acantha, the queen of the herd here at Darius Laurel. Stick out your hand for her to sniff.”

Vivirdian did, a little hesitantly. Back home he’d been told to avoid the Flyers as they could be territorial especially during their heats. He watched with baited breath as Acantha worked her nose over Vivirdian’s hand, then rubbed her head beneath it. He was shocked by how soft her fur was. He reverently stroked her hide, letting the smooth bristles slide between his fingers. She made a soft clicking sound and fluttered her large wings.

“That means she likes you,” Dr. Fletcher chuckled. “Acantha is a shy Flyer, I am willing to wager she only came up to meet you because you are the only one here.”

“Oh,” Vivirdian murmured, seemingly unable to take his hands off of the Flyer’s fur.

There was a moment of silence.

“Would you like to go for a ride?” Dr. Fletcher asked.

“Wh-” Vivirdian began but before he could say another word Dr. Fletcher had hoisted him up onto Acantha’s back and made a sharp whistling tone.

“Wait! No!” Vivirdian began to panic as Acantha flapped her large wings and began to rise from the ground.

Dr. Fletch shrank beneath him as they climbed higher and higher with the slow, powerful beats of Acantha’s wings, and then she began to move forward. After the initial shock of the surprise passed Vivirdian began to calm down. Acantha was only a couple peses above the ground. If he fell he would probably survive, probably. He clung to Acantha’s fur, still terrified, but not about to freak out. She moved slowly, just above the trees. The wind tossed Vivirdian’s hair about as it hastened past him. The air felt cool against his face. As he looked around he could see everything, the gardens, the park, the dorms, the academy and the city beyond. It was incredible. He felt his body began to relax as he adjusted to the feeling of moving through the air. He didn’t hold Acantha’s fur in a death grip, just a gentle hold to steady himself. She circled the edge of the forest, giving him an aerial view of the forest.

Vivirdian felt like he had never truly lived before this moment, like his entire life had been leading up to right now. Joy swirled in his chest, filling him to the brim until he bubbling over with this new sense of radiance. This was his passion. This was the happiness everybody felt when they found that one special thing that they were meant to do and it was such a wonderful, glorious feeling. This was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, just glide through the sky and watch over the tiny world below him. Was this how the sun felt when she passed overhead, keeping watch over her bride and her children? As he wasn’t a celestial being he did not know, but he imagined that yes, it felt a lot like this.

After that Vivirdian spent much of his free time with Dr. Fletcher caring for the Flyers and flying at every opportunity he got. The Flyers didn’t ask for much, just a melon slice or a head scratch every now and then. He didn’t have to carry a conversation or do endless jumps or turns for them. They never scolded him for being late or scoring poorly on homework. Over time he ended up spending so much time with the Flyers that he learned how to differentiate them from the others according to their wing sizes, belly patterns, or scars. He was even better than Dr. Fletcher.

The common years flew by in a rush to Vivirdian. At the time everything seemed to be moving so slowly, he just wanted to grow up already, though he had no idea what he do once he actually did grow up. Sure, he’d found his passion, but there weren’t any careers in aviation. Everybody knew that only those with a certain gene mutation could physically survive up in the sky. For now he simply had to limit himself to flying on the Flyers at school at every opportunity he had.

Vivirdian and Jey were 14 now, and had spent the past five common years training endlessly at the academy. They were no longer the scared candidates who had auditioned so long ago. The rigorous physical demands of the school had shaped their bodies into strong, muscular forms. When Vivirdian looked at himself in a mirror and held up a picture of himself from his first year of schooling he was almost surprised at the huge amount of change that had taken place. He wasn’t so short anymore, his height was on par with most of his classmates now. He didn’t lag behind in class anymore either, but was often one of the front runners. His bright white hair was slightly longer now, long enough that he often had to borrow one of Jey’s hair bands to keep out of his face during class. Vivirdian wasn’t the only one to have changed over the years. Jey had gone through a lot of changes as well. She wasn’t so small either though she didn’t carry the same body shape as many other girls her age. Her chest wasn’t as pronounced as other girls, her hips not so defined.

Vivirdian and Jey were close partners all throughout this time and began dating at the end of their 4th year. Jey was an understanding and kind girlfriend, but she didn’t quite understand Vivirdian’s appeal to the Flyers. Still, she supported his adding an extra-curricular zoology course and even helped him study for exams and tests.

In Vivirdian’s fifth year dance students were partnered up and taught a duet to perform for their midterm exams. Their routine, a gentle piece about lovers parting at dawn, involved a lot of the more difficult partnerwork they’d been working on since preterm. It looked impressive when it worked, but it was terrifying when it didn’t. Vivirdian was painfully aware that one false step, one slip of his hand and Jey would come crashing to the ground.

“One… two… three and lift!” Ms. Bussel counted, clapping her hands to keep them on the beat. Vivirdian lifted Jey high off the ground, holding her there for a moment before setting her down. Jey then spun out of his arms to begin the next portion of their duet.

“Excellent!” Ms. Bussel praised as the song drew to a close. “You two are working very well together.”

Jey’s chest swelled with pride at the complement. Ms. Bussel’s words were hardly ever kind so this was truly a moment to be savored. “Thank you!”

Vivirdian beamed. “We’ve been working in our spare time.”

“I can tell Vivirdian.” Ms. Bussel nodded approvingly. “You two are more than ready for the mid term performances, probably the most ready out of the other pairs.”

“Do you mean it Ms. Bussel?” Jey asked, going up on her toes excitedly.

“I would have no gain in telling you a lie.” She shrugged indifferently and Jey let out an excited squeal and did a little twirl of excitement. “Now this does not give you permission to slack off or get complacent in your dancing. Remember that this duet is part of your grade for the semester.”

Jey immediately became the picture of solemn determination. She nodded grimly and put in twice as much effort as before. They worked on their duo up until the last minute. Even back stage they were working through the steps when Oran came up to them. He was so quiet when he walked that neither Vivirdian nor Jey heard him coming and he nearly got kicked in the head.

“Woah!” He yelped, ducking just in time. “Watch it Miss Leg!”

“I told you not to call me that!” Jey huffed, straightening up. “You are not allowed back here anyways!”

“Hey Oran,” Vivirdian smiled. “What are you doing back here?”

“Am I not allowed to wish good luck to my best friends before they perform?” Oran asked defensively.

Oran was an average kid in many ways. Average appearance of fair skin, dark eyes and gray hair. Average interests for his age. Average marks in academics, or average for the academy at any rate. But one place he wasn’t average was his imagination. He was genius in coming up with new games or fun ways to spend their free time. One time he’d come up with the brilliant idea to make a book fort in the library and be the Rulers of Literature. It was hilarious until the librarian found out and scolded them for ‘misusing such great resources of knowledge’ and forced them to clean up all the book towers. THey avoided the library after that.

“You are so hiding from your parents,” Jey corrected Oran with a little smirk.

“Okay, fine, I might be hiding.” He said, glancing over his shoulder. “But only because they keep pestering me about joining the zoology program and following me in my brothers’ footsteps. I do not want to study zoology! I want to be in the physics course.”

“Ew,” Jey recoiled. She didn’t hold much fondness for the science courses. “I would much rather be a zoologist and study cute flutterbies than boring motion models.”

“They’re not just motion models.” Oran frowned. “It is the laws and principles that govern every movement. I would think you would have more appreciation for them consider your background in dance and how your whole livelihood is dependent on motion, but never mind that. Mr. Frieden told me that he is going to work on a project with this year’s physics students, one that studies flight!”

“You mean aviation?” Vivirdian asked, raising an eyebrow. Now this sounded interesting. Oran confirmed his question with a nod.

“Mhm!” Oran nodded excitedly. “He’s going to have it be a new class, aviation and engineer studies!”

That had Vivirdian hooked. The next day he signed up to take aviation and engineering studies with Mr. Frieden. It wasn’t easy, especially with so many intelligent kids surrounding him, but Vivirdian had Oran who helped him in any way he could. Jey was more than happy to help him study, but he could tell the number of date nights spent studying instead of just hanging out was starting to weigh on her. He made it up to her by making one sun in every 3 cycles a Jey Day. He’d buy her small trinkets and flowers when he could. He’d slot out extra time to improv with her. He’d let her choose what they ate and not complain. He did everything he could to make her feel special.

In his fifth year both he and Jey were inducted to the competition team as the only students from their year. While the students regularly competed in 3 or 4 competitions a seasons the competition team competed at least 10 to 12 times. It meant that a lot of Vivirdian’s extra time was taken up by competition practices. He couldn’t cut out the extra studying, that was the only way he was keeping up in his classes. But something had to give, and unfortunately it was Flyer’s club. He had to drop his visits to the grove down to once a cycle, and that was if his schedule permitted it.

The stress of all of his extra course work and dance commitments was starting to weigh on Vivirdian. During the peak of his competition season he kept having to miss class for events and extra practices. Every missed period set him back and gave him even more work to catch up on. He felt a little overwhelmed, but managed to keep up, that was until midterms hit.

It was only a quarter of a moon to midterms and Vivirdian was running late to his dance class. He sprinted across the grounds from the science building to the dance department. He had to stay behind and get help on a project from Mr. Frieden and had lost track of the time. Before he knew it he was late to dance and he’d never been late before. His heart pounded as he flung open the doors and threw his backpack aside. He’d worry about finding it later. He stripped off his shirt, thanking the sun that he’d at least had the good sense to have his practice wear on beneath his school clothing. He finally burst into the class, panting, and pulling on his dance shoes.

“You are late, Cohen,” Ms. Bussel snapped.

Several of his classmates, including Jey who actually looked a little annoyed, stared at him. Some glanced between him and Ms. Bussel, wondering how she’d react. Ms. bussel wasn’t usually kind to those who entered her classes late or unprepared.

“My apologies Ms. Bussel,” He rasped out, lacing up his shoes. “I was getting help with Mr. Frieden… lost track of the time… won’t… will not happen again.”

“Mr. Frieden sent me a Helio message a few moments ago letting me know of your tardy. While I admire your willingness to expand your horizons and excel in different areas Mr. Cohen I wonder if you may be biting off more than you can chew. I would highly consider dropping at least one of those courses.” Ms. Bussel’s eyes narrowed into beady slits as she gave him the once over. “You have a good track record, I believe this is your first tardy to my class in all of your 6 years of study. You are more responsible than most 15 common year olds. Now, please get to your mark and join us in warm ups.”

Vivirdian nodded, praising every star in the sky for his good fortune and raced to join Jey.

That dance practice was horrible. Vivirdian was distracted. His mind was off, wondering about a better way to increase aerodynamics on the plane he and Oran were designing. It was also with Dr. Fletcher, wondering if she needed any help caring for the Flyers. She probably did. Not many students wanted to look after the creatures. It was on his test in Zoology the next day. He need to memorize the different kinds of microorganisms in the Greenwich solar system and he was only halfway there. His dancing was the last thing on his mind that day and it showed. He messed up in his leaps and turns. He stepped left when he was supposed to step right. His technique was getting sloppy and Ms. Bussel wasn’t afraid to let him know. When he tripped and fell for the third time that evening she’d finally had enough.

“Cohen, until you can dance properly go sit in the hall!” She snapped sternly. “I will not have your lack luster performance messing up others and putting them at risk for injury!”

Vivirdian felt his heart sink right into the floor. He quietly exited the classroom and slumped down on a bench outside the studio, resting his head in his hands. Never in all 6 years of being at the Academy had he been asked to leave a class before. He shouldn’t have let his stress get to him, should have cleared it out of his head before. Great, what if Ms. Bussel made him leave the school? Oddly enough he didn’t seem so upset at that idea. He’d come to the city, figured out his goal in life, escaped the trappings of melon farming. So what? His passion was flying. He knew that now, but it wasn’t a passion he could easily follow. Everybody knew Ambrusians couldn’t survive off the ground for long, not unless they carried a certain gene mutation, a rare one. Even if he did have the mutation the opportunities of a job in that field were few and far between. He could join the military, but he’d have to wait until he was at least 17 common years old to apply.

He heard the door open and looked up to see Jey quietly shuffling out of the room. She gave him a small smile and sat down next to him on the bench. He leaned into her and she wrapped her arms around him, pecking the top of his head.

“I messed up my positions to get kicked out,” She murmured.

Vivirdian let out a soft chuckle. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

“I am not too convinced of that you know.” She sighed glancing at him. “You have been distracted a lot in the past few cycles, not just in dance.”

“Just a lot on my plate,” He said, staring blankly ahead. “Don’t worry about me.”

She was quiet for a moment, as if trying to organize her thoughts before speaking again. “But I am worried about you. If you let these extra science courses go to your head you will start to fail your dance classes. Then how will you get into a dance troop?”

He felt anger flash through him for a moment. Dance. Everything was about dance. He was wasting his time in a studio working on spins and dips when he should be working on his science homework or spending time with the Flyers. His entire life had been nothing but dance. He’d wasted his childhood in rehearsal, traded away his family to pursue something he knew he was going to give up. He wished he had been just a little wiser at the age of 8 when he decided that his only way out of Rubianna was to attend some stupid dance school. He’d had supportive parents for Sun’s sake, who probably would have helped him figure out his life’s purpose if he had just asked. He could have saved himself common years of working his ass off just to get at the level of other dancers. He could have saved his parents money on dance lessons and this school but no. He didn’t.

“What if… I don’t want to be a dancer…” He murmured quietly, pushing his rage down.

Next to him Jey stiffened. “What… do you mean Virdi?”
“I mean I don’t want to be a dancer.” He said again, in an almost monotone voice. “I never have.”

“Then why are you here?” She asked, obviously confused. If he turned his head he would probably see her gray eyes blown wide in confusion, head tilted slightly to the side in that cute way of hers, but he didn’t look. Didn’t want to. If he did he would have also seen the official Darius Laurel practicewear she was wearing and he was so angry at himself for choosing to come here that didn’t think he could handle seeing that stupid insignia right now.

“I came because getting out of Rubianna is hard.” He said in a soft voice. “I was doomed to be a melon farmer or something. So I worked really hard at dance. I vowed to come to the city and find something that I could do or the rest of my life.”

“Did you?” She asked, her delicate fingers tracing the outline of his spine.

He nodded. “Yeah, I want to fly.”

At his words she let out a loud snort. “My apology, but you want to what?”

“I want to fly.” He repeated, more firmly this time and turned to face her. His face burned, his vision was blurry. Suns, was he crying. He was totally crying. “I want to fly and touch the clouds and explore other places. I don’t want to be doing leaps and performing mid terms or wear costumes.”

“But that is dangerous!” She hissed. “You know the odds of surviving alone are second to none! We don’t have the physical capability!”

“But with technology we might.” He retorted back loudly. “And I’d rather wait a hundred thousand cycles to be in the air once then to spend the rest of my life in a damn studio doing something I absolutely despise!”

With that he stormed off, scooping up his jacket and bag as he passed them. He let the tears of pure frustration roll down his cheeks, not caring how many first years on break saw him and whispered to their friends. He was so angry at everything. He shoved open the front doors with a loud bang, ignoring the gasp from a nearby teacher. He didn’t care, couldn’t care. He just wanted to be alone. No. Not alone. He wanted to be with the flyers. He blindly stumbled towards the forest, setting off on the well walked trail that he knew led him right to the outpost station that served as the Flyers club center. Above him the clouds that had been threatening to break all day finally did. Rain drizzled down, soaking him in cold water. He was ruining his dance shoes and he didn’t care.

The outpost was empty when he reached it, which was probably for the best as he was in no state to answer questions about what was wrong or if he needed a hug. He just scribbled his name on the sign in form, dumped is wet bag in a cubby and stalked into the cave where the Flyers lived. Just seeing the cave helped to alleviate some of Vivirdian’s stress. The cave was dimly lit by gleaming clusters of crystals. The Flyers huddled around the darker parts of the caves, squeaking softly to each other. There weren’t as many now, most of them must be out hunting he figured. Acantha was probably among them. She usually made herself scarce around the outpost anyways. He lied down on the cool stone and looked up at the ceiling counting the Flyers.

He spotted a tiny male, Zephyros. He was a young Flyer, just born at the end of last term. He was only about the length of Vivirdian’s calf, but he was a strong boy. He remembered how two moon cycles ago the poor pup had torn his wing while learning to fly. Dr. Fletcher had sewn it up in the outpost while Vivirdian had stroked the little Flyer’s ears, telling him what a brave boy he was. The pup had squeaked helplessly throughout the entire procedure, but did not squirm. When he’d been reintroduced to the herd he preened, showing all the pups his new ‘battle scar’. Vivirdian smiled at the memory. He was just as boastful as his father, Ion.

His eyes scanned the herd looking for other familiar wings and ears. He spotted a few from the group of pups he’d been helping to nurse two year after the cave flooded and many Flyers drowned. They were now strong and healthy, but he could still imagine them as tiny babies, clinging to his arms and whining for extra slices of melon or blossoms. By now most of them had mates and some would soon have pups of their own. All grown up and he’d missed host of their milestones because of dance.

Never stop working towards your dream.

He asked to drop out of the competition team after that. Ms. Bussel praised him for focusing on things other than dance, but also expressed her deep remorse at his departure. Something about his work ethic and determination… he wasn’t really listening. Now he had more time to spend with his Flyers. Jey was disappointed, but she assured him it was fine. Clearly, it wasn’t fine, because she broke up with him later on in the term. Fortunately they stayed friends as the break up was more mutual. They both had different interests and were romantically growing apart. It was probably for the best. They were better friends then they were lovers anyways.

Vivirdian stuck with the dance academy, but he never rejoined the competition team. Sometimes he missed the camaraderie he felt with his fellow teammates and he missed the travel and competitions, but these moments were few and far between. He was a lot happier now that his entire life wasn’t dance and studying. His life was still busy, however. As he got older his workload and responsibilities increased in just about every way. Exams for physics and zoology, company roles for dance, and the growing number of Flyers in the herd took up just about all his time, but he didn’t mind. At least he had a balance now, and he still got to hang out with Oran and Jey in classes.

He and Oran found themselves with a lot of time alone together now that Vivirdian was no longer committed to Ms. Bussel’s competition hell practices. They spent that free time just hanging together, something they’d never really done. Usually it was the three of them, Vivirdian, Jey, and Oran. But now their evenings were spent with only two. They used some of their free time to study like the good boarding school students they were, but Vivirdian had a great number of memories of their misadventures on the school grounds. They grew closer as a duo, even closer than Vivirdian and Jey had ever been. It was nice to have a guy friend for once. There were just some things that Oran got that Jey just didn’t. He remembered exploring the woods with Oran and realizing that he would have never got Jey to even come near the words. But Oran was always ready for an adventure. He had always had to work around Jey’s schedule when it came to doing things, but Oran was always willing to just drop what he was doing and follow Vivirdian. Oran didn’t care that Vivirdian didn’t want to be a dancer. He just wanted Vivirdian to find his dream.

“I just can not believe you wasted 7 years of your life on dance.” Oran snickered one day while they were out on one of their adventures. They were sitting on the rivershore, shirts flung over a nearby stump. They’d just gone for a swim in the creek and were now letting the sun warm their skin.

“Me neither,” Vivirdian said with a sigh. “But I’m glad I did. I wouldn’t have met you or Jey if I haven’t. I’d probably be picking melons at this time actually. They’d be in full harvesting season.”

“The fact that you still keep track of melon seasons is hilarious,” Oran snorted, running a hand through his damp gray hair. “I guess what they say is true. You can take the boy from the south but you just cannot take the south from the boy.”

Vivirdian chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but you certainly weren’t complaining when my mom sent me those melon jams and cookies.”

Oran rolled over and playfully flicked Vivirdian’s forehead. “Whatever farmboy. We should head back before Jey beats us to the apartment and steals all the hot water.”

In his eighth and final year at the academy he was made the Darius Laurel Senior of the Year, which granted him a full tuition scholarship for the year. He was pleasantly surprised to be named Senior of the Year. Apparently his willingness to try so many different things caught the attention of his instructors who heralded him as the ideal Darius Laurel student, diverse and committed. He was just glad to get the money to take the burden off of his parents. His parents had worked so hard to keep him in school. They’d never been able to afford a ticket to see him or bring in him home for break, but they did make it for his graduation. It was tearful reunion for Vivirdian. He hadn’t seen his parents in person for more than 8 years.

After graduating the Academy Vivirdian applied for the military with Oran, opting for genetic testing to see if he carried the gene required for flight. In the meantime he prepared for military life in a half common year training facility. He had a huge advantage as his rigorous dance training made him physically fit. Oran wasn’t as lucky. When Vivirdian was flying through the physical examinations with ease Oran was struggling to keep up, but his performance improved with time. It was great having Oran to joke around with through the grueling workouts. He kept things light.

Jey wrote to them regularly from her new job with the Royal Dance theatre. She was an apprentice in Ms. Bussels’ company, and when she wasn’t performing she taught a first year dance class at Darius Laurel. She was living the dream in the city and couldn’t be happier according to her letters. Sometimes she teased Vivirdian for dropping dance, asking if he missed it. He responded by informing her that Ms. Bussels’ dance classes made his military training look like a walk in the park, and the sad part was that he was definitely not lying about it either.

Towards the end of their training Oran and Vivirdian finally heard back from their genetic test, both were miraculously positive for the gene and both had been subsequently accepted into the air force academy. It had been such an amazing feeling. After all this time his dreams of flying were finally coming true, and he had a friend to share it all with. Oran was right next to him all throughout training and flight school, earning his certification just mere common minutes behind Vivirdian. When they were giving their assignments they were assigned to the same company, not that there were many other companies to be assigned to in the first place.

Squadron 5 was a 20 man squad that focused on scouting known Galra bases and keeping an eye on borders. The cities and settlements all had powerful particle barriers to protect them, and the Galra were not stupid enough to attack, especially with how hard it would be to get reinforcements. The Ambrusians outnumbered the Galra too much to make any attack worth it. The Galra Empire had more or less given up on trying to take down the Ambrusians. It wasn’t as if the Ambrusian army could launch an attack on the Galra, but that could very well be changing in the next few years. The military was developing new aircraft and technology all the time and Vivirdian was just waiting for the day he’d be called into real combat. For now though he contented himself with border patrols.

He and Oran couldn’t really get time off in their first few common years of service. They were stationed at a base out in the East, near a settlement called Kipu and made their way back to Eternia only for the festivals they assisted as patrolmen. When they did find their way back to Eternia city they always had a place to stay with the Fletchers. Admittedly it was odd to be back on their childhood campus wearing military uniforms instead of their academy get up, but it was free room and board so Vivirdian didn’t really have much to complain about. Staying on the school grounds had the added bonus of seeing the Flyers again. Oran didn’t understand his ‘obsession’ with the creatures, but joined him and Jey on their nearly daily visits. Jey had started to come around to the Flyers. She had started to help Dr. Fletcher with their care after Vivirdian graduated. She was more fond of feeding the pups. The full grown Flyers creeped her out a bit and she shied away from them, but at least Vivirdian wasn’t alone on his visits to the Flyers.

“How is flying going for you two?” Jey asked on one of their visits back in the city. It was for the Yam Festivals, one of the city’s busier times. The whole place was decorated elaborately for the occasion and for a good reason. This was the first Yam Festival Ambrusia would be celebrating with the newly crowned king and queen.

“Really well actually,” Oran answered as he cut various fruits up into chunks for some of the younger Flyers to snack on. “It is not very exciting, but to be honest I do not need a war to enjoy my job.”

“Me neither,” Vivirdian agreed as he folded some of the outpost’s towels and stacked them neatly. “The flying is exhilarating enough.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Jey smiled, leaning against the counter. She was still dressed in her dance gear, a black leotard and bright patterned leggings. Her bright pink hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and now flowed down to her waist. “It is a shame, however, that you two will be spending the Yam Festival up in the sky,”

“A bit,” Oran sighed wistfully, sliding the slices into a container with his knife. “I do miss some of the festivals we used to attend here. All the bright lights, the special food, the special science experiments used to do to make yams into a renewable source of energy. What about you Vivirdian?”

“On the contrary I don’t think I’ll be missing the festival nearly as much as you are,” Vivirdian chuckled, swiping a bit of sweat off of his forehead. “As a dance student we always had to prepare some sort of performance for the public. My feet ache at the memory of it.”

“Oh yeah,” Jey snickered, flicking a strand of her hair back over her shoulder. “That was not always fun, especially with Ms. Bussel breathing down your neck to point your toes and align your hips, though now that I am an instructor myself I do feel her frustration. But will you not miss the other activities Virdi? Or at the very least the wonderful displays?”

He shook his head. “On the contrary I think they’ll be even more beautiful from the sky.”

“Typical Vidri,” Oran chuckled. “You have your heads in the clouds, you know? A million peses in the air.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged nabbing a slice of melon. “I’m an airman.”

Just as Vivirdian had suspected the festival was even more spectacular from above. Flying high in the sky with only the drone of his engines he couldn’t hear the vibrant live music or the shrieking sounds of delight, but he could see the festivities lit up brighter than any night sky. The specks of light glistening beneath him was like a glittering jewel, something beautiful and precious. He was mesmerized by it as he circled over head on his patrol. He wanted to stay up here forever and just memorize the city lights that were scattered beneath him.

But he wasn’t even able to enjoy them to the end that night. Nobody had suspected the attack. Nobody had even known that the Galra had that many soldiers down on the surface. To this day how it was pulled off was unknown, and most of the events Vivirdian much later.

During the ceremonial dance, Jey’s very first public solo as a professional dancer, the first Galra aircraft was spotted. At first Vivirdian thought he was dreaming when he sighted the purple jet. After a moment of his initial shock he called in to base, but his connection was jammed. He couldn’t make a signal message. He panicked for a moment, trying to find a workable channel, but none worked. He took a deep breath and forced himself to become calm. He need to attract their attention and hope Oran and the others would be able to get to base to report. He picked up speed and loaded up his ammo. He knew he didn’t have many shots. Each one would have to count.

He dived towards the single jet before realizing the Galra weren’t alone. Out of the sky came dozens of other planes. Vivirdian swallowed his fear and began taking aim. He’d practiced for hours in the simulations back at the base and was easily one of the best shots of the younger recruits, though he had nothing on the veterans. Still, shooting in training can hardly be compared to the real deal. He held his own for a brief period of time, diverting much of the Galra’s attention, but eventually the inevitable occurred. His left engine was hit by a shot first. As it exploded he listed to the side violently, losing altitude. Alarms blared in his jet and warning messages he’d only seen in training flashed across his screen. He only had a second before the second engine was taken out and he was plummeting towards the ground.

He barely managed to eject himself from the plane. Fear and panic flooded his senses, he vaguely remembered pulling the string to release his parachute. The action was done more out of muscle memory from the hundred of emergency protocol drills he’d been put through in training. He fell to the ground, collapsing in a boneless pile of adrenaline. Now what? He should probably contact somebody.
Oran.

He had to contact Oran.

He reached for his intercom praying he could make contact, and dialed the signal for Oran’s intercom. After a few moments of static he got the beep that confirmed he’d connected.
“Oran!” He rasped out.

“Vidri! Where in the ever shining sun are you?” He asked. In the background he could hear various explosions, and fought the urge to ask what was going on.

“I… I was shot down, but I think I took a few of them with me.” Vivirdian said quickly. “I’m in the forests just outside the north wall if you could-”

His sentence trailed off as he saw a purple and red flash in the distance. It was unmistakably a Galran cruiser. Vivirdian felt his heartbeat pick up again. There was nowhere to hide from the heat radar on those things. He was going to be killed, or worse, captured.

“-main base, and I will send ‘em your location.” Oran said over the intercom. Vivirdian hadn’t even heard what he said. He needed to destroy his radio before the Galra got here. They could use it to listen in on military instructions or track down other pilots. “So hang tight!”

“I can’t.” He said quickly into the mic as he pulled the box of his intercom out. “Oran, listen. I don’t have much time. I can see a cruiser headed my way and I can’t hide from them. I have to go.”

“Wait, what?!” Oran yelled. “Vidri!”

“Thanks, for being my friend,” Vivirdian managed is as calm a voice as he could manage and pulled out his close range pistol and aimed it at the box.

“Vidri! Wait! I love y-” He heard Oran’s voice be suddenly cut off by the ringing blast of his gun. The box shattered, flying into a million pieces, severing his friend’s last words to him. But Vivirdian didn’t need Oran to finish his sentence. He knew what those words would be.

I love you.

Chapter Text

There was screaming, screaming so loud it rang through out his mind and pulled him from his fitful sleep to the present. He clamped his hands over his ears, trying to deafen the sound even just a bit but it was no use as he realized the screaming was his own. Vivirdian curled up into a tight ball on the hard bunk in his cell. It was pitch black. He did not know how long he’d been in here, but it was too long. Perhaps his homeland had forsaken him and his friends and family assumed him dead. Maybe that was for the best as Vivirdian didn’t know if they would want him after this. He certainly wouldn’t. Who would want to be around this.
It had been a gradual process at first. He wasn’t even sure how or why it first began, but he knew it all started with a buzzing under his skin. A burning, itching buzz. Then his smooth tan skin began to whither away in flakes only to be replaced by patches of rough skin covered in soft fuzz. At first he did not know what was happening, only that he could do nothing to stop it. Then shortly after his skin changed his ears changed. They were no long small and pointy on the sides of his head. Now they were large and bat like sticking from the top like those of the flyers, but even that was not enough for him to realize what was going on. It was only when the claws and the teeth grew in that he finally realized what had happened. They’d turned him into a Galran.
Ambrusia’s Darius Laurel Remembers Lost Alumni and Holds Out in Hope
The capital city of Ambrusia, Eternia, was swathed in the smoke of remembrance as the nation mourns the loss of its people. Though the official numbers are not in experts estimate that around 20,000 lives were lost in what is now being called the Eternia Massacre. This massacre marks as the largest mass killing of people by the Galra on the planet since they first manage the breach the barrier some 1000 common years ago. The effects of the slaughter are not just felt in Ambrusia’s capital, but all over the planet. The massacre occurred during a harvest festival that attracted many tourists not only from Ambrusian settlements, but other nearby planets as well. “As a galaxy we are united in grief,” The King said in a statement released last sun in response to the attack. “Our people wish for peace to all those affected by this horrible atrocity.”
In wake of the seemingly unfathomable tragedy occurring two common weeks ago hundreds of tassels of the fallen have been burned in loving memory. The Ambrusian culture remains to be one deeply rooted in the dignity of the soul and the celebration of life itself. When an Ambrusian is born a tassel is made containing the elements of their place of birth. This tassel is added to for every common year of life and every major milestones. Upon death this tassel is burned as a symbol that all life comes to an end. The tassel will then release different colors of smoke as it burns, telling the story of a soul, starting with the outward strands, the most recent events, and coming to an end at birth. Sociologists believe this provides great comfort to a grieving family, especially those who have lost a loved one to sudden tragedy. “The burning of the tassel allows for a community to find the happiness of a life even in great tragedy. It serves as a reminder that life has its happy moments.” Says plaxon sociologist Ruzb. “The practice dates back to ancient times, even before the Altean Ambrusian alliance.”
But not every tassel of those lost has been burned. As many as 300 Ambrusians are unaccounted for in the death toll and are presumed missing. Their tassels will be saved and preserved until they are either are found or assumed dead. Among the hundreds of tassels, one holds particular interest to many. It is currently being kept at the Darius Laurel Academy for Advanced Studies in Eternia City. It belongs to Lieutenant Vivirdian Cohen (pictured above with fellow classmates Oran Fletcher and Jey Elleana) a graduate of the academy’s prestigious dance program. He graduated as Senior of the Year from the Darius Laurel Academy with a side study in various courses of the science programs. He is well remembered by his teachers and peers as hardworking, quiet, and polite. A great number of students, alumni, and faculty have come together to help his family during this terrible time.
On the evening of the attack Vivirdian was on aerial patrol when he came into contact with Galra drones. He made several attempts to radio in, but all lines of communications were blocked through Galran interference. Vivirdian made the noble decision to attract attention away from the rest of his squadron and hopefully give the others time to get away and radio the main base. He was able to shoot down at 4 drones before being shot down himself and crashing in a nearby forest. Evidence on the scene reveals that he managed to parachute from his aircraft, make a final call to Lieutenant Fletcher, and smashed his own radio to prevent Galra tracking. But wasn’t found was Vivirdian. There was no blood to indicate an injury or death. His final message to Fletcher, choppy as it was, revealed that he may have been captured by the Galra. His whereabouts are currently unknown, but his family and the community of Darius Laurel pray for his swift and safe return.
Anyone with information pertaining to his capture is urged to contact the Ambrusian Intergalactic Embassy. Anyone who provides information leading to his return or to discovering his fate will be rewarded a sum equal to the value of their discovery. Vivirdian’s distinguishing features are bright white hair, tan skin, amber/gold eyes, and the AVIATOR gene mutation. To learn more please visit the Access page regarding missing Ambrusian military personnel.
-The Interstellar Inquirer
Exp.875. That was what his jailors’ called him. It was branded on his arm, burned there after he’d arrived at the compound with the hundreds of other Ambrusians the Galra had captured in the assault. They were all herded into a small cramped space, forced to remove their clothes and be inspected by the soldiers. It was humiliating, standing there and being scrutinized by enemy scientists, but Vivirdian refused to let it show. He kept his face a mask of calm, staring ahead and refusing to let fear shine through, not even for a moment. He couldn’t let them know how uncomfortable they made him feel, couldn’t let them know they were getting to him.
They were sorted out, healthy from the weak, old from the young, and sent them to different groups. Vivirdian was one of 20 selected in his group. They were given regular prisoner’s garb to wear, then they were branded with hot metal. As soon as they were stripped of their clothes and identities they were sent to the labs and thrust head first into live experimentation.
When Vivirdian tried to look back on those first few cycles, even many common years later, his mind was assaulted by a series of painful images. He could gain no information from any of it except the fear he felt at the time. Well, not just the fear, the pain too. Pain from what he did not know, but the pain would last all his life. It would strike him at random moments. One moment he’d be fine, then he’d be doubled over, hardly able to breathe through the pain that raged throughout his body. Sometimes these episodes would last only a few seconds, other times it would take hours before it passed.
He wasn’t sure when things began to stabilize for him in the laboratory, only that when he did he was locked in a completely dark cell with no light. His cell was small, only containing one mattress, pillow, and a blanket for warmth. He could hear no other sounds from outside his cell, except for the occasional screams of prisoners or Galran chatter of guards. He was generally left alone now, except for when food was pushed through a slot twice a day. There were no more doctors or painful trials, just the never ending quiet and pressuring darkness.
He knew that the darkness would not kill him, not like it would the others, but that gave him very little consolation. His genes had stored up sunlight minerals that he could live off of, but for how long? Eventually that storage would run out, and then he would waste away. Was that what they were planning to do with him? Have him die out as slowly as they could? It sounded like something they would do, just to see what would happen. Well, he knew what would happen. Without the sun’s rays his blood would not be able to carry the energy to his cells. He would grow weak and eventually die.
Every time he woke in the ‘morning’ (for he had no way to gauge time other than the familiar clack of the slot opening and closing) he knew he was another day closer to his inevitable, pitiful demise, but did he let himself fall into bitterness and self pity? Absolutely.
Sometimes he’d sit in his cell, in the dark and quiet and just let question after question run through his mind making no attempt to answer them. How long did he have to live? Would he ever see Oran or Jey again? What about his family? Had he been declared dead yet? Did they burn his tassel? No, it was custom to wait 7 common years once a person has gone missing before burning their tassel, unless his family had given up hope already. Had they? How long had even been in here?
He’d let himself carry on like that for hours until finally he felt mentally numb. He couldn’t think or feel anything anymore except emptiness and he had to fill it. So he’d get angry, so angry. The anger blazed inside him, ripping away at his sanity and convincing himself that he deserved this somehow, but that was something he pushed deep down, afraid that if he thought too hard about it that he would be able to prove it as true. So instead he searched for other things to focus on.
He spent the first part of his captivity cursing everything. He cursed his captors for doing this to him. He cursed his friends and family for not coming to help him escape by now. He cursed Zarkon for waging war on the universe. But mostly, he cursed his body for reacting this way to whatever the Galran had done to it. He felt his body change and was powerless but to watch in horror as his fingers morphed to claws sharp enough to cut through solid metal. He cowered when every minute sound was suddenly amplified to his new ears. His skin, once so soft and smooth, was now fuzzy and rough to him. He hated it, hated it all, hated himself.
His self hatred doused his anger, turning the blazing coals to just stone cold ash. His body was not his own any longer. It had been violated and mutated from something strong to something horrific, monstrous, shameful. If he was ever found what would his people think of him. Could they ever trust him like this, wearing the mask of their enemies? No, they wouldn’t. He certainly wouldn’t if he was in their position. He wouldn’t want to even be around himself, not with those fangs and claws and ears and skin. Who was to say the transformation had stopped at the physical level? Who was to say that he was just as bloodthirsty and ruthless as the others?
After a while he grew tired of beating himself up this. He realized he couldn’t control what had happened to him, only how he reacted, and he couldn’t let himself become undone by this. But it was easier to tell himself that than to actually believe it, especially when his thoughts were the only thing to keep him company. He could not stop the thoughts, but he could distract himself from them.
As far as things he could do in his cell he was very limited. It was empty aside from the small bunk that served as his sleeping place, just a bare room from as far as he could tell. He would walk around the room, with one hand placed on the cool metal wall to guide him. He would focus on the wall’s texture, where it was smooth and sleek or dented and scratched, how it indented around the bolts that stitched two panels together. Focusing on something outside himself gave him a way to push away his darker thoughts for a while, but they always creeped back in, seeming to swallow him whole. When walls weren’t enough he tried to ignore his new Galra features, and at first it worked, but then the way he sensed the world began to change, particularly how he heard.
His hearing had become sharper. He could hear everything. He could hear the heart beats of the guard outside his cell door. He could hear the footsteps of guards approaching. He could know hear them talking and laughing in a mix of Galran and Common speak from the break room. Over time he was able to hear the echoes of his own breathing and assemble a crude layout of his surroundings in his mind. That part would have been cool, if it also wasn’t a sign that he was no longer Ambrusian.
It was times like those that he was glad he could not see himself in the dark, but he could still feel those alien features. He had to watch his tongue so not to get cut on his newly grown K9s. He had to be careful when he used his hands so not to draw blood from his claws. Some days were better than others though. It seemed that whatever they had done to him failed to completely transform him. The galra features came and went with little warning. Some days he would wake up with horribly itchy skin, sharp claws and ears that flicked and flattened at every sound. Other days his skin would almost completely smooth, with nails bitten down to the quick. Those days were rare, but they did happen. They were a brief respite in his otherwise hellish existence.
When ignoring his new body stopped working he began stretching, just as he had when he was stressed as a kid. He would practice every stretching and strengthening exercises he’d been taught at Darius Laurel, even the ones he hated. Once he’d exhausted every single one he would run through his routines, letting himself be guided by muscle memory or making up his own to the old songs of his settlement. Moving his body seemed to give him a kind of catharsis, a release of all his pent up thoughts and fears. Dancing was almost empowering to him.
The Galra could rob him of his home, his body, his mind, but they could never take away his roots. They could modify him in any way they wanted, turn him into any terrible creature they wanted, but they could not take away who he was. He was Vivirdian Cohen, a graduate of the Darius Laurel Academy of Dance, a two time Southern Sectional champion. He was a brother, a son, a friend. He was a pilot of the Ambrusian military and he’d felt true freedom from the cockpit of his aircraft. If he focused on these irrefutable facts he found it a little easier to wake up in a jail cell. It was still hard to will himself to keep breathing, but it wasn’t as soul crushingly difficult.
There were days when the pain and the itching became so bad that he could barely breathe. On those days he did not dance, but he did not lie idle either. He kept himself busy, playing hand games with the wall, singing old Rubianna songs, or speaking aloud the old ambrusian myths his parents used to read to him and his siblings. When he was younger he always dreaded having to gather in the living room every sun after dinner and listen to their parents recite the old tales. He would much rather be playing in his room or practicing for dance, but every day he resignedly sat in the living room and listened to the same stories over and over again. He never really appreciated those moments with his family until he was at Darius Laurel. The number of nights he longed to curl up in a fluffy blanket and listen to his mother retell the Flyer and the Sticker Sucker were immeasurable, and how he longed for it now.
Every night he tried to lull himself to sleep by remembering his parents’ voices as they took turns reading from that battered leather bound book, but as the days wore on even his memories seemed to be slipping away from him, starved from lack of light and connection to the world. Sleep did not renew his energy as it once had. He was barely able to force himself to choke down the standard mush they fed him. He knew he was probably dying. He recognized the signs from the warnings he’d received all his life. The clammy skin, the fatigue, the decreased appetite. His body was decaying slowly and once more he was powerless to stop it.
At least he didn't have to deal with galra features. His body did not have the energy to let them form. He took a little consolation in the fact that he would not perish in the form of a Galran, but it wasn’t fact he got a chance to relish in. He didn’t really have the energy to think about much of anything anymore, just vague whispers from somewhere. It was at this point that he seemed to just leave. He wasn’t really conscious anymore. He was just a shell of a body, taking in air and letting out in slow sigh. This was the end. How long had he survived? Had it been 7 common years? No, it can’t have been that long, but if it was at least he was never going to be seen like this. At least he’d never have to see his mother’s shocked face, or Oran’s…
Oran Fletcher, his best friend, no, more than that. Oran had always been more than just a friend to Vivirdian, but Vivirdian had always just been too stupid to recognize it before. All those evenings where Oran would wait outside the dance wing for Vivirdian to get out of class just to walk with him to the dorm. All those hours spent laughing together, eating together, being together. They were closer than Jey and Vivirdian had ever been, could ever be. Nobody could ever make Vivirdian feel as at ease as Oran could. Oran, with his contagious laugh and bright eyes. How could Vivirdian not have recognized that fluttery feeling in his chest for what it was when he’d first felt it. It was a feeling like flying, a glorious swooping sensation with fresh air whipping your hair and sunshine warming you skin, but with this feeling there is no fear of falling to your death. Vivirdian always felt so safe with Oran, even now in total darkness just remembering him let a peaceful safe feeling spread through his body. He’d been practically living on his memory the entire time he’d been imprisoned.
Oran. He’d never see his best friend again. He could barely recall his face now or those last words he’d said to him. What had he said? Vivirdian felt like it had been something important but he couldn’t even attempt to remember it. His mind was too far gone, he was too far gone. He just wished he could have seen his friend one last time.
In the distance something exploded. Alarms blared outside his cell. There were panicked shouts and the sounds of guns firing. Vivirdian felt a twinge of annoyance. The least he could have been given was a peaceful death but he was even robbed of that luxury…
“Check all the cells.”
“But sir, they all look empty.”
“I do not care. Check all the cells.”
Voices chattering in Ambrusian filled his ears. He felt comforted by his home language. Maybe he could get them to talk to him. Maybe they could tell him what became of his friends and family. He just needed to get their attention.
He summoned his remaining strength and rammed his fist against the wall. The metallic sound echoed loudly in his ears. There was silence. Had they left? No, they couldn’t have left him. He would not be alone, he refused to be alone. He desperately smacked his hand against the wall again trying to scream, but all that came out was a pitiful whimper. He heard footsteps and voices coming closer.
“Over here! Listen!’
“What are you waiting for, bust that damn door open!”
Bang!
The door was flung open and blinding, luminous, glorious light flooded the room. Vivirdian felt his hand grow limp, flopping uselessly down on the bunk beside his wasted body. Shadows filled the door rushing into the room. Perhaps he was dying, and these people were here to lead him into what came next. At this point he was welcoming it. Let it end… let it end…
“Dear suns and stars, that’s an Ambrusian! I thought this place was deserted!”
“How long has hee been here, look at him… his skin… his bones...”
“Don’t just look at him you spineless sticker sucks, call the medics! We need to get him out of here… where is…”
Missing Pilot Found
After 2 common years of searching the missing ambrusian pilot Lieutenant Vivirdian Cohen has been safely returned to his home planet. Vivirdian was a pilot on patrol during the Yam Festival Massacre. He was shot down and then taken prisoner by the Galra with some 400 other captured ambrusian soldiers and taken to various Galra prison planets.
“We are so thankful to have one less life lost in this horrible war.” Said a military spokesperson during the statement release last sun. “And we are so grateful to have Lieutenant Cohen back safe and sound.”
Cohen was recovered in a raid on the planet Xanu after the military received a tip that the planet housed more than just a Galran base. After numerous biological scans scientists were finally able to confirm the location of an underground base beneath the large military communications center. A volunteer squadron of space cleared pilots traveled with a team of Nymphae to retrieve and information they could on the whereabouts of any of the missing soldiers and civilians. The biological scans of the facility showed no indication of Terra Positive life forms, meaning no sign of ambrusian life. Despite this, squadron captain Oran Fletcher made the command to have the laboratory searched for any remaining prisoners, a move that saved Lieutenant Vivirdian Cohen’s life. When Cohen arrived back in his home planet his pigmentation level was just below a 0.4. Most Ambrusians enter a coma at levels beneath 2 or 1.5, depending on size. Cohen was reported to be conscious throughout the jump back to the Helian galaxy, communicating with Nymphae medics through hand squeezes and blinking.
Based on the information retrieved from the lab Vivirdian underwent dangerous and painful live experimentation. The type of experimentation was not revealed in the statement release concerning his rescue and recovery, only that he was cut off from all light for a majority of his time in captivity. Many doctors and scientists marveled at how well Vivirdian’s body kept up despite the sensory deprivation. Most ambrusians can survive only 15 to 10 cycles without exposure to light, but Vivirdian has lived without it for 2 common years.
Vivirdian’s survival is no random accident, it’s the result of the AVIATOR gene mutation. The AVIATOR mutation is a codon error that allows for the storage of light energy within cells. The mutation was once thought to be rare, and while it still is not by any means common, it is being reported more and more frequently among rural populations, like the small settlement that Cohen was born and raised in. But even among those with the AVIATOR gene mutation, doctors consider Vivirdian’s survival as nothing less than extraordinary.
“The built up energy serves as a generator for whenever the body has need of it.” Explained an ambrusian geneticist. “We still have much to discover about the benefits and drawbacks of possessing the gene, but at this time we know that it is one of the few ways that allows for Ambrusians to enter space. An excess of the energy is of course harmful, but as long as the person exercises regularly they should be able to live just as any other person.”
Before joining the Air Force and beginning his space exploration training Vivirdian was a very active dancer. Hailing from the southern settlement of Rubianna, he grew up working his family’s melon patch while taking dance lessons on the side. After graduating from his local school he applied and was accepted into the prestigious Darius Laurel Academy of Dance. Scientists believe that Vivirdian’s intensive dance training taught his body to run more efficiently and to conserve even the excess energy. This can be seen in teacher’s comments throughout his dance career.
“I always said,” Ms. Bussel, a dance instructor at Darius Laurel, said in an interview taken shortly after his disappearance. “That if Vivirdian was not sweating then I was not working the class hard enough.”
Military officers have made similar remarks regarding his high stamina and endurance.
Vivirdian Cohen (shown below in his hospital bed holding up a message for his mother that says ‘I love you’) was last reported to be in stable condition after undergoing an emergency repigmentation procedure at the Royal Ambrusian Hospital in Eternia City. He will be returning to his birthplace in Rubianna to finish recovering after being released from Royal Ambrusian. When asked about what he most excited to see he promptly wrote out on his communication board ‘oran and jey’, the names of his two best friends from Darius Laurel.
-The Interstellar Inquirer
Vivirdian decided as he read over the news article later that they definitely could have chosen pictures that didn’t make him look so… weak. The first picture is from the inside of the infirmary of the Nymphae ship. His skin had taken on a translucent look. You could see the veins winding like roots beneath it. He was somehow paler than the bed sheets he’d been placed upon. His eyes were barely cracked open, two amber slits looking up dazedly at the camera as a tube pumped oxygen into his nose. His cheekbones jutted out, looking as if they might break out of the thin fabric that kept his skull together. He looked starved and broken, limply lying there on the gurney as a medic connected tubes to machines and Oran Fletcher holding his hand.
Vivirdian didn’t even really remember there being a photographer in the ship with them. He didn’t even really remember being in the ship at all. He had a vague sensation of being lifted onto the gurney and pushed into the ship. After that his memory went completely blank until he woke up after the repigmentation operation. He did sort of remember being interviewed briefly after that and taking the second picture as a message for his mother. That second picture wasn’t so bad. He had only been minorly sedated at the time, but was sort of propped up on his pillows, pulling his mouth into a grin. He was still pale and starved, but no longer a breathing skeleton.
His first few cycles in the hospital he spent mostly in and out of repigmentation treatments. His brain was foggy and fuzzy from all the pain medication he was on at the time. He spent most of his days in a doze, only truly rousing to answer the doctor's’ questions or when his family came to visit. They rented out an apartment near the hospital so they could be with him. It was good to see his mother and father’s faces again, and hear his siblings laughing at each other’s antics. He never thought he would ever miss them as much as he had in that lonely cell.
One other thing to note was that his Galra features didn’t come back. The doctors speculated it was because his body couldn’t support it in its current state. They were already dissecting strands of DNA in an attempt to figure out how it worked. He wasn’t sure if they would ever be able to truly comprehend what had happened to him or if they could fix it. The doctors developed some kind of hormone suppressant for native Galra halflings in the past and planned to put Vivirdian on it once he was out of the hospital, but nobody knew how well it would work in his case. He wasn’t galran by birth, but hopefully it would work anyways.
At first only his family could visit him, but then after 3 cycles the doctors finally allowed for Oran to visit him, partially just to stop Vivirdian’s pleading, partially to stop Oran’s pleading. At that time Oran came into his room he was sitting up in his bed, looking out the window at the royal gardens. Either Oran had opened the door so quietly or Vivirdian was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear him enter.
“You always did like the gardens.” He had said quietly. Vivirdian froze. That voice… he whipped his head around to see Oran Fletcher, standing there in his crisp navy blue uniform. His gray pepper hair was neatly trimmed and his uniform hat was tucked under his arm. He was two years older, two years taller and leaner, but his eyes were the same, bright and curious and warm.
“Oran,” He breathed, moving to stand, but his legs would not cooperate.
“No, do not get up,” Oran said, coming to his bedside. His military boots clacked softly against the hard floor. He sat down on the edge of Vivirdian’s bed, taking his hand. “I can scarcely believe you are here right now.”
“Neither can I.” Vivirdian said with a dark chuckle. “How’s Jey? I haven’t heard at all from her yet.”
“She hasn’t been able to call or visit.” Oran said, avoiding Vivirdian’s eyes. “I mean, I was barely cleared for visitation. Actually she wrote a little note for you…”
Vivirdian watched Oran dig around in his pocket and pull out a soft cream envelope. He hand it to Vivirdian who examined it. His name was written there in Jey’s neat print. He never thought he’d ever see those letters, the letters of his name, written in that handwriting. He swallowed the emotions welling in his throat and set it aside. If just one word was enough to cause his eyes to water than who knew what an entire page of it would do to him. He didn’t want to burst into tears here in front of Oran, so he set it aside on his bedside table. He’d read it later.
“You know,” Vivirdian said, clearing his throat. “I thought about you a lot when I was… yeah.”
“Really?” Oran asked, glancing up.
Vivirdian nodded.
The silence pooled between them, a thick syrupy puddle.
“You look good.” Oran said after a moment.
Vivirdian snorted. “You don’t have to lie to try to make you feel better Oran. I know I look like shit.”
Vivirdian’s was still raspy from underuse in his time with the Galra, but at least he could speak now. At first he’d been forced to rely on a communication board to talk to his doctors. Everything would freeze as he painstakingly pulled the pen across the Helio Glass, tracing out words that had once come so easily to him but now slipped through his fingers like sand. He would mix up letters or words or they’d just be illegible altogether or a mixture of all three. Sometimes it was impossible to read what he wrote, which frustrated Vivirdian. It was such a relief to be able to communicate verbally again.
“I am serious,” Oran said, his lip twitching upwards a bit. “Compared to how you looked when I found you in that cell you look absolutely stunning.”
“If you say so, captain.” Vivirdian chuckled weakly. “Did you really lead that squadron?”
“It was not like anybody else was volunteering to do it.” He shrugged a bit. “Well, they were actually, but I sort of took charge anyways. You know how I can be.”
Did Vivirdian ever. Oran could be just as bossy and blunt as Jey but laid back at the same time. He’d give you an order in such a casual way that it felt more like a request than a demand, but you also knew it would be inadvisable to disobey it. It made him an effective leader at school. He was always being elected to take on some big role in a group project or club even when there were more talented or experienced members who could have done it. Vivirdian could easily see Oran shoving the real captain out of the way in the squadron.
“Thank you for coming after me,” Vivirdian murmured. “I thought I was going to die in there to be honest.”
“You are welcome,” He sighed, squeezing Vivirdian’s hand gently. “And when I first saw you I thought you were dead, or going to die. You were so frail.”
“I know,” He said, glancing over at the newspaper headline and the image of him in the gurney. “I bet my mom had a heart attack when she saw that photo.”
“Oh give Mrs. Cohen more credit than that,” Oran snickered. “She lives in rural Rubianna. I bet she has seen it all. This is nothing.”
“She cried for half an hour when she first came to see me.” Vivirdian pointed out.
“Hey,” Oran raised his hands defensively. “I would too if I was seeing my son for the first time in nearly two common years.”
“It feels like I was away longer than that.” Vivirdian mumbled, letting his head fall back on his pillows. He turned his head to look out the window again. The warm season was in full swing now and the flowers blossomed beautifully under the golden sunlight, their petals swaying back and forth as if in a duet with the wind.
“I cannot imagine that time passes quickly in a dark place.” Oran said in a voice so soft it was nearly a whisper.
“No,” Vivirdian said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t. If anything it seems to come to a standstill.”
“I am so sorry,” Oran whispered shakily. Vivirdian felt something warm drip onto his hand and he looked over to see that Oran was crying, his tears puddling on their joined flesh. “I should have come to your aid the moment you radioed in. I could have picked you up and gotten you to safety. I could have-”
“Stop.” Vivirdian said.
“No,” He breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don’t you see it’s all my fault? I could have saved you two common years of captivity but I didn’t. You… you should hate me.”
Vivirdian reached up and grabbed Oran’s shirt collar, pulling him down until they were eye level. He looked into those fretful blue eyes past the guilt and sorrow and anguish into the very soul of Oran Fletcher. Oran had stopped talking, staring right back at Vivirdian’s eyes. He hiccuped quietly, a tear sliding down the milky surface of his face, pas his nose and to his lips, those two perfect slivers of pink.
And then Vivirdian was pressing his lips into Oran’s, a gentle touch of soft skin to skin. Oran’s lips were softer at the edges, a little chapped in the middle. The mixture of smooth and chaffing sensations was oddly delightful, Vivirdian thought. His lips felt so warm, like a mug heated by its hot contents. They tasted a little salty, with a hint of Oran’s toothpaste, again, not a bad combination, just a little odd.
At first Oran had frozen when Vivirdian had placed his lips on his, but then he relaxed, cupping Vivirdian’s face with a soft hand. His index finger traced the area where his jaw bone meant his neck, moving up and down that little line over and over again, barely even coming in contact with his skin. He had fixed his head to the side so the angle was just right. His mouth moved languidly over Vivirdian’s, as if to ravish the taste of him. The fingers on his free hand entertained with Vivirdian’s, squeezing their palms together.
It was a tender, comforting kiss, conveying emotions neither boy would ever be able to put into words. The bottled feelings of longing, heart ache, relief, and guilt all poured out in a single cathartic act. Every new slide of Oran’s lips told Vivirdian a million things. How much he’d missed him, how much he’d worried, how amazing it felt to be with him now. Vivirdian had never had a more fruitful conversation in his life and he never had to say a word.
When they finally broke apart, panting a bit Vivirdian finally spoke.
“On the contrary, I love you.” He murmured, running his hand through Oran’s peppery gray hair. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened to me, okay?”
Oran nodded slowly, then raised Oran’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “But do not think for even a moment that I am never letting you go again.”

Chapter Text

Lance

“And everybody just seems to trip over themselves for him!” Lance said exasperatedly, plopping the stack of books next to Lucivida. “And, uh, here’s all the books I could find with titles that contain either the words ‘brain’ or ‘neurology’.”

“Thank you Lance,” Lucivida said with a smile, pulling the stack closer to where he sat criss-cross applesauce in front of the bookcase, filing away various binders and volumes. “I greatly appreciate you helping reorganize my room. I just can’t believe I let fall into such a state.”

“Well I bet even Einstein had a messy workspace occasionally.” Lance smiled.

“Who’s Einstein?” Lucivida asked curiously.

After that embarrassing dance lesson Lance ended up offering to help Lucivida clean up his room. Lance usually didn’t like cleaning things at home, but this wasn’t his home. Lance wasn’t an organized person when it came to his own stuff, but he was more than happy to help others out. There was something relaxing about searching and sorting for him that he just couldn’t quite figure out.

They’d made quite a bit of progress in the past two hours or so. All the papers were off the floor and in folders or the trash. Lucivida had cleaned up all the medical supplies and tools letting Lance gather the books up into stacks. He’d given him a little translator scope, a little device that he could use to translate the ambrusian letters into Commo. It was just a small rectangle made out of plastic like material. It was sort of like a credit card, but it was clearer than glass and when it was held over a chunk of ambrusian text blue english letters flashed over the surface. Lance used this to help sort out different kinds of texts based on the themes of their titles. Once he’d amassed a sizable amount of books in a pile he sent a stack over to Lucivida to sort into his electronic bookshelf.

Lucivida owned what had to be the universe’s coolest bookshelf. It was computerized, much like everything else. It was controlled by a little screen built into the wall. Lucivida could tap in a book title or subject and select the book he wanted and the shelf the book was on would come whizzing to the front. Lance of course wondered why they were sorting the books at all if the computer found the books for him anyways.

“Well, I like to put like books together,” He’d said simply. “That way if I see another book that might help it’s right there. Best to have as many resources as possible.”

Lance guessed that made sense.

As he and Lucivida began to clear away the debris of Lucivida’s genius Lance got a better idea of who Lucivida was as a person. Though most of his room was dedicated to his work, the corner that served as Lucivida’s personal space spoke volumes about him. As Lance carefully peeled away the blueprints and notes he began to reveal neat rows of photographs that seemed to chronicle Lucivida’s life. The first ones Lance saw featured a young Lucivida, chasing Imagene around the castle, or standing outside of a big stone building on his first day of school. There were some photos of scenery. Maybe places he’d been or places he wanted to go. Some of them featured a couple that must have been his parents.

There were a few books that looked like little kids chapter books and young adult novels crammed into a basket by the mattress. Most didn’t look like they’d been touched in a long time. A thin layer of dust had settled over their covers and spines. Lance blew them off and set them neatly in the basket. There were also a number of puzzle books and brain games. There was one sphere like contraption with a grid inside. Lance wasn’t really sure what it did, but he guessed the goal was to match up the dots on the grid with the dots on the sphere, but he hadn’t the slightest idea how to do it. He sighed and just set it back in the basket and looked around for another task.

“I just don’t understand his appeal,” Lance huffed, settling himself down next to another large heap of unorganized books.

“You mean Keith?” Lucivida asked, clicking a keypad to send a new shelf back into his archive and peered over at Lance. “Were you not just listing off reasons why he’s so likable?”

“Those weren’t reasons why he’s likable!” Lance scoffed indignantly. “You misunderstood me. They are reasons why he is so irritating.”

“I’m not sure I agree,” Lucivida said, with a little smirk. “You said, and I quote, ‘He’s so handsome, smart, and he’s got that badass bad boy vibe’.”

“And for some reason people just love him because of that no matter how much of an asshole he is!” Lance protested, narrowing his eyes at Lucivida, who raised an eyebrow at him. “He’s got flawless skin without moisturizer, and that dark hair that really brings out his eyes. To be honest I can’t even decide what color his eyes are. Sometimes when I’m looking at them they’re like this deep gray, like storm clouds rumbling. Then suddenly it’s tinged with these little flashes of purple, like amethysts glittering in a dark cave, lit up by a flashlight, or maybe like those pictures of galaxies you see from the NASA website. Then sometimes they’re just black, like his hair, but not in a creepy demonic way. It’s kind of warm I guess, more like smoke… and…”

He realized he was staring off in a daze, a fingertip loosely tracing the gold embossed title of a book. Shit, had he really just gone off on a tangent about Keith’s eyes ? He let out an exasperated groan and flopped backwards onto the floor of Lucivida’s room, pressing the book to his forehead. He’d just gotten steamrolled by those gay thoughts and dragged Lucivida along for the ride. There was literally no heterosexual explanation for this one. He couldn’t even hope that Lucivida wouldn’t pick up on his obvious crush.

“I don’t see how that is infuriating,” Lucivida chuckled.

“Well it’s infuriating to me!” Lance retorted. “I hate not being able to concentrate on anything but his stupid laugh even when he isn’t in the same room as me!”

Lucivida snorted and Lance felt his cheek blaze with embarrassment. Shut up Lance! Just stop talking!

But Lance did not stop talking.

“Well I mean,” He spluttered, scrabbling for a way to salvage this. “It’s not that I can only focus on his laugh! I think a lot about his nose and how it scrunches up in this cute little way when he cracks up and how when he sleeps his arms sort of naturally stretch out like he wants to wrap them around something. And then there’s this thing he does when something’s on his mind or he’s worried. He always crosses his hands over his chest and stares down at the ground and sometimes when he does that I wonder if he’s thinking about me and oh my God I just-”

Lucivida laughed and Lanced wanted to just cram himself into the trash with the spare bits of paper  and be sent to the garbage disposal where he belonged. Or if God was truly merciful he’d just incinerate Lance on the spot, not that God had ever been merciful to Lance in the past. First there was that whole abuela BS, then ADHD, then getting stuck in cargo class, and when he finally made fighter class he was abducted by a flying space cat far away from his warm home and loving family to fight purple furry aliens one of which happened to be the guy he had just been rambling about.

“I see,” Lucivida laughed. “That would be very distracting if all you could think about was this one guy.”

“Exactly!” Lance said, then realized what he’d just confirmed. He decided then and there that it was no use. Better to just get it over with. “Okay, I give up. I really, really like him. Happy yet?”

“Oh, I’ve known that for quite some time Lance.” Lucivida smiled, ruffling his own brown hair absent-mindedly. “I more or less figured it out within the first 10 minutes of meeting you.”

“Was I really that obvious?” Lance asked, lifting the book off his face to glance at Lucivida.

“I am afraid so,” Lucivida met his eyes and grinned smugly. “You should have felt your own pulse when you took his hand. I was a little concerned you might be having a myocardial infarction.”

“You mean a heart attack?” Lance muttered, wondering if he could find some way to prevent these people from reading his mind through their feet. Maybe if he found thicker soled shoes.

“Yes!” He beamed brightly. “Excellent knowledge of medical terminology!”

“My mom had a minor one a few years ago,” Lance shrugged, sitting up and refocusing his attention on sorting the books and not thoughts of Keith. “She was okay, doing great actually last I checked, but it was pretty scary at the time. It was my first year at the Garrison. They pulled me out of class and had the school's’ guidance counselor tell me. It was awful because they wouldn’t let me go see her. I had to finish out that week at school first. Not a good week for me.”

“A heart attack is pretty severe, so I can understand why,” Lucivida nodded, reaching for his glasses. “In emergency medicine it’s one of the few things that bumps a person up in triage, or common terms the waiting list. Not that I am advising you give yourself a heart attack in order to skip the line. It’s usually a bad sign to be the patient they wheel back right away.”

They worked in silence for a while after that. Lance tried to push the whole Keith conversation out of his mind, but he couldn’t. He was a complete idiot, just blurting out his crush like that. He didn’t think Lucivida was the kind of person who would tell anybody, but still. This whole embarrassing thing would have never happened of course if people didn’t just realize how much of an ass Keith could be. If they knew even half of the things Keith had said or done they wouldn’t be running over to waltz with him so eagerly. But of course, everybody loves Keith… and now Lance did too.

Why was Imagene so eager to dance with Keith anyways? Lance had been right there, doing the exact same steps and she’d just zipped right past him like a brick wall. Surely Lance wasn’t that horrible of dancer. Okay, well maybe he was with that weird yam dance, but it was probably because it was made up by wacky aliens and he’d only just learned it. With some practice he was willing to bet that he could do so much better than Imagene, then Keith would want to dance with him.

“If you’re concerned about Keith liking Imagene over you,” Lucivida said suddenly. “Or Imagene like Keith at all I wouldn’t let it worry you too much.”
“Why would you think I was?” Lance said quickly. He was. He totally was.

“Call it a hunch,” Lucivida smirked a bit. “Genie’s got a particular taste in guys: ones who don’t exist.”

“Wait you mean… she’s gay?” Lance asked, pausing his sorting. This he wanted to hear.

“I am, uh, not sure what this ‘gay’ means…” Lucivida blinked, looking slightly confused but waved it away with his hand. “But I mean that she’s not really interested in guys, or any person really.”

“I’m confused.” Lance said, setting down the book in his hand. “Do you mean?”

“Genie’s very secretive,” Lucivida sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “She doesn’t really talk to many people outside of Ellea, Vivirdian, and myself. Even in school she never had too many friends, but it never bothered her. I don’t think she ever wanted friends. She’s never expressed any romantic interest in anyone either. When I asked her about it she said she wasn’t really interested in having a spouse or children, that Ambrusia would become her wife and its population her children.”

“And she was being serious?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not just saying it to be poetic.”

“Well, we were 14 at the time,” Lucivida shrugged with a little laugh. “So she could have been saying it to be poetic, but I don’t think so. She’s very devoted to her role of queen, very dedicated to her people.”

“As long as those people aren’t galran,” Lance mumbled, feeling a twinge of anger rush through him. He kept trying to push it away, the knowledge of what Imagene had done, but for some reason he couldn’t. It was just always there when he thought of her, simmering just below the surface.

“I know what she did was heinous,” Lucivida said in a quiet voice, staring at the floor. “But… she’s been through a lot since then. We’ve gotten her help with it and I honestly believe she is much better.”

“She tried to murder your friends,” Lance said, trying not to get angry. “She did murder some of them, nearly murdered the rest. They didn’t do anything to her.”

Lucivida looked at Lance with those violet eyes and let out a long breath of air. He looked worn out, much older than he truly was. “Life was not kind to her, nor I. Don’t make me regret telling you about that incident.”

“Sorry,” Lance sighed, feeling a little guilty. “It’s just… so…”

“Unpleasant to think about,” Lucivida finished. “I know. Nobody thinks that their family or friends, the ones they spend the most time around, think they know better than anyone, would be capable of doing such horrible things, but you rarely see what’s on the underside of the mountain. You see only the outermost layer. It’s only after you scrape away the layers of snow and rock that you can find out what lies beneath.”

“You’re pretty wise for a sixteen year old,” Lance said, hovering the translator scope over a new book.

“Nah,” Lucivida chuckled softly. “A lot of my sayings come from Vivirdian, who steals them all from this one book of proverbs that he carries with him.”

“Is it that… Egg something dude?” Lance asked, vaguely remembering Imagene quoting somebody.

“Ecledies,” Lucivida corrected him. “He was a very famous philosopher in his day. He is credited with establishing the first advanced academies.”

“Like a college?” Lance asked, sliding a new stack of books over to him. “That’s where you go after you graduate high school, to get a deeper education.”

“Sounds about right,” Lucivida replied, slotting a book into the shelf. “Our education starts at age 4. Most children are taught to read and write by their parents at home before coming to school, so that saves time. The first 3 years are centered around formative grammar, mathematics, and sciences needed for daily life. Then the final four are a bit more advanced, focusing more on culture, foreign language, history and the arts with a little boost in math and science. Education is mostly focused on what’s actually needed in the real world. Generally you graduate lower schools by 10. Parents usually enroll their children in exploratory programs to help them discern what their calling is. Most kids enter an advanced academy at 11 and graduate at 16, sometimes sooner or later depending on the field. I know Vivirdian spent 8 years as a dance student, it’s not uncommon for the arts and sciences to take longer to complete their programs.”

“Wait,” Lance froze, turning to look at Lucivida. “Did you just say Vivirdian was a dance student?”

“Yes,” Lucivida nodded, raising an eyebrow. “He studied at the Dance Academy at Darius Laurel. It’s a very good school, as I recall he ended up winning a partial scholarship.”

The image of Vivirdian in dancing attire flashed through Lance’s mind. “I thought he was a bodyguard or military officer. I never would have guessed he was a dancer.”

“I don’t think he ever danced professionally,” Mused Lucivida, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “But I know for a fact he graduated from a dance program. I do not believe though that he used it for anything. I’m pretty sure he just joined the military, but I haven’t really asked about it and he doesn’t really talk about it too much.”

“Huh,” Lance mumbled, dusting off a book cover. “I wonder why.”

“Well, I think I know why,” Lucivida said, pushing in another book. “But it’s not really my business to share his story.”

Lance helped Lucivida finish up cleaning and then found himself walking to the ballroom. He couldn’t get the image of Imagene running up and taking Keith’s fingertips out of his head. He tried to remember Keith’s reaction, but he’d been so focused on Imagene’s hand that he hadn’t even looked up at Keith’s face, but Keith didn’t exactly pull away from Imagene, clearly it hadn’t repulsed Keith the way it repulsed Lance that she’d done that. Would she do that at the Yam Festival? What if she asked him dance during that stupid waltz? What if he said yes? Lance could not let that happen. He’d just have to master this dance so Imagene would ask him to waltz instead and leave poor Keith alone. Yes, that was why. Not to get Keith to ask him to dance. Not at all.

He ran through the steps, listening to a recording of the dance he’d borrowed from Lucivida and thought he was getting the movements down now. At least he wasn’t tripping over himself during that weird transition with his feet, but there were a million other places where he was screwing up and it was getting a little frustrating.

“I am never going to get this stupid waltz,” He grumbled, stomping his foot. He heard somebody snicker behind him in the doorframe.

“Well you certainly won’t with that attitude,” Vivirdian chortled, stepping into the ballroom, his shoes clicking softly against the marble tiles.

“I didn’t really receive good instruction.” Lance grumbled, feeling frustrated.

“Keith seemed to be getting it just fine,” Vivirdian countered, his mouth twitching up to a smile. “Imagene certainly seemed to think so.”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest, furrowing his brows at the sounds of Imagene’s name. He was getting tired of thinking and hearing about the ballroom incident.

“You know,” Vivirdian said calmly, a smile still playing at his lips. “If you want me to help you so you can dance with Keith at the festival I think you’ll find that I am more than qualified to do so.”

“I don’t want to dance with Keith!” Lance corrected. “I want to be better than him!”

“Ah, my mistake,” Vivirdian chuckled. “But regardless of your motive my offer stands. Would you like my help?”

Lance glanced up at Vivirdian. For a moment, still slighted by his earlier comment, Lance was tempted to say no, but Lucivida’s words came back to him. Vivirdian had trained to be a professional dancer. If anybody could help him with this it was him. He sighed and let his arms fall to his sides.

“Will you… please help me learn the Yam dance?” He asked, letting out a puff of air.

“Certainly, but first you’ll have to relearn… whatever this is,” He wiggled a finger to indicate Lance’s everything.

“Hey!” Lance protested. “What do you mean all of this? ”

“Your feet,” He said, making an almost disgusted expression. “What are you doing?”

“Umm, pointing my toes?” Lance said, putting his hands on his hips and lifting a pointed foot into the air to show him. “What does it look like?”

“A mess,” Vivirdian said dryly, taking Lance’s foot in his hands. “You’re rolling it to the side.”

“Ow!” Lance yelped, even though the feeling of Vivirdian rotating his foot forward didn’t actually hurt. “That’s how you’re supposed to have it, duh. Let go of my foot.”

“Fine,” Vivirdian did, and Lance’s foot dropped to the floor, the toe thumping on the floor. That actually hurt, but Lance didn’t let it show. No weakness must shine through when going toe to toe with the enemy, so to speak.

“Maybe on Earth you roll your foot,” Vivirdian said, pointing his own foot forwards. “But for the Yam Waltz if you do it you’ll misstep right on beat one. It’ll twist your body sideways. To keep your direction straight, point it forwards.”

Keith

The Ambrusian gave a shit about their yams. The morning of the Yam Festival dawn bright and lit up the fairgrounds. Vines twirled around the large columns, their bright orange and yellow blooms waving politely at the passersby. A large group of workers were helping to finish up a large, circular stage in the center. There were large, brightly painted banners bearing different symbols swayed gently in the wind. The signs were written in several languages, one of which was Common. Stalls were constructed by merchants hoping to profit off of the tourists and citizens that would flock to the festival. Some sold sweet smelling treats and fresh produce, others little trinkets and souvenirs. There were several little tents for speakers and shows. There were even some setups that looked like carnival games, though Keith couldn’t figure out the goal of the game. Ellea tried to explain one while they were doing the final check over with Lucivida and Imagene, but he didn’t really get it.

The Yam Festival was gearing up to be something special, that was for sure. Keith just wished he was able to appreciate it. He’d woken up that morning and just knew it was going to be one of those days. The days where he wasn’t quite in touch with reality. He couldn’t really explain it. It was just a feeling he got, that something was off, but not a thing he could name. His head would feel kind of loose, like it was just a sudden movement away from popping off. He sort of felt like he should have a headache, but he didn’t. It didn’t matter, it just prevented him from really focusing on anything or thinking clearly and he hated it.

That morning his name had to be called 2 or 3 times before he actually registered that combination of sounds as his name. Right now it just felt like a word people were trying to use to get his attention, like calling over by clicking your tongue or calling it a ‘good dog’. The name Keith just didn’t feel like his name, but it wasn’t like he had another name for himself. He just felt like he wasn’t this Keith that everybody was addressing. All these memories and past experiences weren’t actually his. He was a spectator in his own life. Things just happened and he had no control over it. Even his reflection wasn’t his own. That wasn’t him in the mirror staring blankly back at him. It was a black haired, pale skinned stranger.

“Is everything at peace paladin?” Imagene asked as they loaded into a hay cart to travel to the next area for inspection. Lance was already playing in the hay with Ellea.

“Yeah,” He said, climbing up into the hay frame. “Uh, do you guys normally travel with hay rides?”

“Not usually,” Lucivida strained as he hefted the door of the cart close. As it slammed the cart lurched forward and began to rumble along. “But it became tradition some 4 thousand years ago to travel by hay cart while inspecting the fairgrounds to make the experience more authentic.”

“As if it’s not authentic enough,” Imagene chuckled leaning back. She was wearing the ‘traditional festival garb’. They all were. For the girls it was a simple knit dress and leggings made from a soft material. Most seemed to be dyed in deep, rich hues like red, brown, orange, and green. Imagene’s was a deep violet like her eyes. Her brown hair was pulled up, braided back into a romantic tuck. Her golden circlet was replaced by a circle of leaves and twigs painstakingly woven in her soft brown hair. It was lightly dusted with a golden powder to signify her status as royalty. According to Lucivida all the eligible maidens wore empty wreaths and boys (“Or girls!” Lucivida added) who were interested in them would place the buds of yam blossoms into the branches. When it was time for the Yam Waltz the girl would pluck a bloom from her wreath and whoever’s flower she plucked would dance with her first. When she was ready to switch partners she picked up another flower until they were all gone. Then she’d seek out whichever partner she liked best. It was meant to symbolize a woman in bloom but to Keith’s spacy mind it just sounded like a lot of heterosexual bullshit.

He tugged at the red shirt he wore. It was made out of the same material as Imagene’s dress. Their festival clothing didn’t differ from the girls in very many ways except that they wore pants. They too wore a wreath that was to be filled with blossoms. Keith wasn’t really looking forward to that if Lance was right about Keith being the ‘hot one’ at the Garrison. It wasn’t like he could just refuse a flower given to him by a stranger. It was probably super rude in Ambrusian culture though he wasn’t about to ask. He just hoped none of them expected him to follow up on their bud though he wasn’t sure how they would.

“Keith!” Ellea called, pulling him out of his thoughts. She was crawling into his lap, reaching for his head. “I want to see your wreath!”

“Ellea no!” Imagene said with a little laugh. “It took me forever to weave that into his hair! I won’t have time to redo it if it comes loose.”

Ellea pouted, sticking out her lip and crossing her little arms defiantly over her chest. Vivirdian had insisted that she was too young to wear a wreath yet. She’d fussed and fought but compromised when Vivirdian offered to braid a sprig of white blossoms into her hair. He’d done a very good job.

“You can look at mine,” Lance said, pulling his free. He hadn’t had enough hair to weave his wreath into though that didn’t stop Lucivida from trying. “Here,”

Ellea took it reverently and ran her fingers over the woven sticks. She settled down into Keith’s lap, pulling one of his arms around her. He took the hint and pulled her into a hug. “Mom and dad met at a Yam Festival, did you know that? They weren’t much older than Genie and Luz.”

“Uh,” Keith said after a moment’s hesitation, silently cursing himself for not staying aware. “No, I actually didn’t.”

None of the royal charges spoke of their parents often. Keith guessed that was probably for the best. Losing your parents in such a violent way wasn’t something a person recovered from after a good night’s sleep. Keith didn’t even know who his parents were or what they looked like and he still missed them.

“Ah yes, the royal love story,” Vivirdian chuckled fondly, settling back into the hay. “I remember hearing about it as a student in the academy. Nobody would shut up about it actually.”

Vivirdian along with other members of the military were not exempt from the festive clothing. He wore a navy blue version, like his uniform, with a golden clip pinned to his chest that served as identification. Some of the younger members of the military wore wreaths in their hair, but Vivirdian did not.

“Well, it was a good story!” Lucivida laughed, leaning against the wall of the cart. “A classic romance story! She was a farm girl from the north, the daughter of a produce peddler. They exchanged buds and when she reached up into her wreath it was his she plucked first, and she never removed another bloom from her crown the rest of the night. They courted for 4 common years before he proposed. A match made by the Sun! Psychologists believe that the reason for the story’s popularity was that it showed a common girl rising above her status and becoming royal. It was very appealing at the time especially considering the overall mood of the country.”

“Ah yes,” Vivirdian rolled his eyes, still smiling. “You and the directors of the 20 or so romantic comedies released with a similar plotline would get along wonderfully. Did you know they were at one point planning to make an interpretive dance out of it at my school?”

“I think it sounds like a good story!” Lance piped up from next to Keith.

“You would,” Imagene said, playing with some straws of hay.

Keith stayed silent, trying to discern where his mind had gone.

It did not return at lunchtime when the parade began.

He’d spent the morning following Lance and Ellea as they wandered from attraction to attraction and tried to avoid adding to the conversation unless he was spoken too. It wasn’t hard. Lance and Ellea were chatty enough to more than make up for his absence. Plus they were distracted by the games and little rides set up. Keith made the excuse of motion sickness to avoid most of the rides. It was partially a lie, partially the truth. He didn’t think his wobbly head would be able to handle a jerky ride right now.

It was a beautiful day for a fair. Not a single cloud dared to threaten the day of fun, though the sun showed no mercy on the crowds of people that flooded the paths between the stalls. Most were Ambrusians, with pointy ears and brightly colored haired, but there were quite a number of foreign creatures too none of which Keith recognized from their early travels with Voltron. Some looked humanoid with tails or weird ears or noses, but not all. Keith thought he saw what appeared to be a giant a cockroach haggling with a merchant. Keith couldn’t understand their conversation through the furious clicks and hisses but he guessed that from the intensity of their exchange it was a very heated debate.

At lunchtime Vivirdian met up with them, a little flustered from seeing Lucivida and Imagene onto the floats. Ellea instantly began to beg Vivirdian to put her up on his shoulders so she could see better. He let out a sigh and did so as the parade began. It started with a marching band carrying odd instruments and playing an upbeat peppy tune. Keith listened to the announcer cycle through a few languages before finally broadcasting the name of the band. It was some local upper academy ‘Showband’ and their ‘step guard’ which looked to be like a regular high school color guard. They were pretty impressive actually. The crowd cheered and clapped as they performed their brief routine and began to move again.

Floats carrying representatives of different organizations rolled passed, their riders waving a smiling to the crowd. Keith was pretty sure there was a ‘Ms. Yam’ pageant or something because one float was covered in girls and boys in fancy clothing and sashes with elaborate floral crowns. After a few floats had passed the parade would pause as another group would step out to perform. Keith guessed they were having some sort of contest between the groups because he could make out a few uniformed Ambrusians scribbling furiously on clipboards as each one took to the street. They cheered each team on, but when a group was announced as the Darius Laurel Advanced Academy of Dance Vivirdian hollered the loudest.

“Wow,” Lance snickered, nudging Vivirdian. “Somebody has favorites.”

“It’s my Alma Mater,” He shrugged chuckling a bit. “What can I say? That and one of my best friends is the leading instructor and choreographer to the parade groups this year.”

At these words Keith squinted into the crowd, trying to remember what Vivirdian had said Jey looked like. Short, athletic body shape, vividly pink hair… he didn’t have to look hard.

“Vivirdian!” A voice called. A shock of pink dashed towards them and threw a pair of pale arms around the large man, who laughed and returned the hug.

“Jey!” He grinned. “You’re looking well.”

“I hope I do half as well as you,” She smiled brightly, clapping her hands together.

She was a vision in pink. Pink hair all tucked up with vivid magenta blossoms woven through it. Her cheeks carry a spattering of pink freckles flecked over her pale skin.
“Jey! Jey!” Ellea chirped excitedly, clinging to Vivirdian so not fall off from his sudden shift of weight.

“Greeting princess Ellea,” Jey smiled, curtseying a bit. “I hope you are enjoying the festivities today!”

“Yes!” Ellea beamed. “Jey, when will you come teach me to dance again?”

“Oh,” She breathed, thinking for a moment. “Now that the Festival season is over there is only the coronation to prepare for, but that is only 2 weeks. Soon my little sweet, soon.”

Ellea seemed satisfied with that answer and refocused her attention on the parade.

“I trust the twins are well?” Jey asked Vivirdian, who nodded in response.

“Imagene’s working overtime to make up for her absence and I doubt the coronation will slow her down.” Vivirdian said with a fond fatherly chuckle. “And Lucivida’s working for his clinical hours. He’s so excited to earn his titles.”

“They are basically your children, are they not?” Jey grinned, the music of the parade changing a different tune as another band stepped forward. “It’s a pity you and Oran never had children of your own, but I really can’t think of a better man to raise royalty. They’re such fine kids, the pride of the royal family.”

Keith decided not to point out that they were the entirety of the royal family.

“I’m not the guardian of the royal family,” Vivirdian corrected, though his chest did puff out a bit in pride. “They are technically wards of the state. I am just a protector, a caretaker or sorts.”

“I see,” Jey said, then she addressed Keith and Lance as if seeing them for the first time. “And who are these two? I’ve never seen them around before. Hold on, they aren’t Ambrusian.”

Lance opened his mouth to introduce himself but Vivirdian didn’t give him the chance. He pretended to steady his balance, shifting his foot so it accidently ‘smashed’ Lance’s. Lance let out a yelp, staggering backwards a bit.

“My apologies Lance,” Vivirdian said, flashing both boys a quick look to stay quiet. “Jey, these are two representatives from a distant galaxy. They arrived a few days ago from the planet, ah, Earth was it?”

Keith nodded, catching on to Vivirdian’s implication despite his muddled mind. Vivirdian was covering for their presence. They were not supposed to reveal their status as paladins to anybody outside of the military just yet.

“Uh, yeah,” Keith nodded to confirm Vivirdian’s words. “Earth. You probably haven’t heard of it.”

“Interesting,” Jey nodded in a way that said that she wasn’t all that interested.

After that Vivirdian and Jey soon melted into easy conversation that varied from discussing local performance theatre to catching up on recent life events. Their dynamic was relaxed and casual, the atmosphere that tended to surround two old friends.

“So,” Lance said turning to Keith. “Exactly who was that?”

It took Keith a moment to process he was being spoken to, and another to realize he’d been asked a question.

“Oh,” He said quickly. “That’s Jey. She was his good friend in school, and his ex-girlfriend. They seemed to be on friendly terms though.”

“An ex?” Lance asked, his eyebrows raising up. “I’m not going to lie, it never even occurred to me that Vivirdian ever had romantic interest in anything really.”

“He’s got a boyfriend,” Keith said blankly. “I think he does at least.”

Lance’s eyebrows jumped higher on his tan face. “You think?”

“He didn’t say whether or not they were currently an item,” Keith said, looking away awkwardly.

“So he told you about it,” Lance began slowly. “But didn’t actually tell you if he was technically in a relationship at this time?”

“More or less,” Keith sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. His brain only  loosely connected Lance’s words together into a coherent statement and struggled to fish out a response from the murky mess of mush that was his mind. He just wanted to find a nice, quiet, secluded area and curl up and not have to think about anything.

“You sure you’re okay?” Lance asked, giving Keith a quick once over. “You’re acting kind of weird.”

“I’m fine,” Keith insisted, unable to keep a twinge of agitation out of his voice and immediately felt guilty. He shouldn’t take his frustration over his shitty mind out on Lance who had nothing to do with it. He let out a sigh feeling some of the anger leave his body as he did. “Really I’m fine Lance. Just having an off day, okay?”

“Oh!” Lance nodded, seeming to understand what Keith meant without further explanation. “Dude, that sucks. If you want to go somewhere quiet or… is there something on your mind?”

“There’s nothing on my mind,” Keith muttered, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair. “And that’s the problem I guess. I can’t really focus.”

“Oh,” Lance said snapping his fingers. “It’s one of those days. I see. Just tell me if you need something, okay?”

“I need a full bottle of ZZZQuil,” Keith said immediately, feeling his lips twitch upwards.

“Mmm don’t tell me if you need that,” Lance laughed for a moment, then went quiet as the implication of Keith’s words seemed to hit him. “Keith, are you actually okay? Because that is not usually what ‘okay’ people say.”

“I’m just tired.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I didn’t sleep too well last night, that’s all.”

‘Not too well’ was a huge understatement. He’d barely slept a wink last night. His mind had been so full of Vivirdian’s story that he just couldn’t quite settle down.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said. “I, uh, don’t know how to fix that?”

“You don’t have to,” Keith chuckled. “Let’s just try to enjoy the rest of the day.”

Things got a little better for Keith after that. He still had trouble focusing, but it wasn’t too awful. Lance tried to keep him more in the moment, including him more in the games and activities. Imagene and Lucivida joined them for the second half of the day now that they’d finished with their official duties. Keith tried to sit out when they came to the amusement rides, but Lance always figured out a way to corral him into it. Fortunately the rides stopped when poor Lucivida had a mini panic attack when their cart got stuck in a dark tunnel. After that they focused more on the games and other activities such as the contest tents and bands.

Later in the afternoon the group was joined by Jey, who announced that she was finally complete with her instructor duties until the awards, and a tall man wearing a navy blue uniform. He had a lopsided smile and salt and pepper hair and greeted Vivirdian with an affectionate peck on the lips. He introduced himself as Oran Fletcher to Keith and Lance, shaking their hands firmly and upon learning that Keith and Lance were pilots struck up an eager conversation about aviation. Keith was actually glad he got to meet Jey and Oran. Vivirdian had never mentioned either of them before and Keith had been starting to wonder if they had died.

“When are you coming home Oran?” Ellea asked, playing with a colorful stone she’d found. “Vivi misses you! He talks about it all the time.”

At this Vivirdian choked on air. “I do not!” He spluttered.

Oran chuckled, glancing over at Vivirdian. “Do you really miss me that much? Geez Vidri, I had no idea. The letters you send me are always so bland. “‘Today before lunch I took Ellea down to the park so she could socialize with peers her own age’. It’s like reading a daily schedule!”

“You know I can’t send too detailed letters.” He mumbled, cheeks pinkening a little bit. “Otherwise I would.”

“Awww,” Oran smiled and kissed his cheek. “Well, for your information lady Ellea, I just finished my final mission, that’s why I haven’t been here. I’m taking the next few cycles off to spend time with my husband and our soon to be crowned queen.”

At this Oran turned and tucked a loose strand of Imagene’s dark hair behind her ear. “I remember when you were just a little tot, toddling around your papa’s office. It is hard for me to fathom that soon you’ll be the one in that desk and we’ll all be the ones vying for your attention.”

“In a way we already do,” Lucivida snickered. “Genie barely has time to help me with my studying anymore and I can’t remember the last time I saw you play with Ellea in the garden.”

“Ah yes,” She said, rolling her eyes a bit. “I am such a horrible sister because I’m so busy running this planet. Now, why don’t get something to eat?”

Ambrusians seemed to have a certain festival foods just as humans did. There were plenty of sweet fruit and vegetable flavored foods, especially of the yam variety. Keith saw many stalls bearing various pastries and candies in several odd languages and prices. Some vendors handmade and twisted colorful loops of hard candy and individually wrapped them for their customers. They sort of reminded Keith of candy canes or those sticks of hard candy you could buy in certain special markets, except these were colored strands braided and woven together elaborately into different shapes like stars or flowers. They were kind of pretty to look at and it was almost a shame to eat them. After Keith took a bite he quickly got over his shame, they were delicious. Keith didn’t have a sweet tooth really, in fact he didn’t usually like sweet foods, but he actually bought a few extra pieces of the candy. It wasn’t too fruity and it wasn’t too sweet, it was just right for his tastes.

There were many other foods sold besides desserts. Keith passed smoking firepits and grills where vegetables and meat were grilled and seasoned then wrapped in flaky dough like a mini meat roll. There were huge vats of steaming stew and soups served out in mugs for the sake of portability. He saw a mini sandwich shop set with an incredible array of toppings. Oran pointed out some of the foods and informed the group of their origin. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about the festival foods.

“I had to do a presentation over festival foods for a Cultural Studies class,” Oran shrugged when Lance asked him. “I guess the information just never really left me.”

Behind the food, Keith’s favorite activity of the afternoon had to be the treetop themed obstacle course. He was pretty sure it was meant for little kids, but Keith didn’t have to be young to be amazed by it. It wasn’t like those weird ones he saw at school fairs as a kid with the fading or peeling paint and the walls that looked like cardboard cutouts. No, this was a genuine treetop. There were vine swings suspended from thick branches. There were swaying rope bridges, monkey bars, and wooden shoots for slides. Vivirdian said that the tree had been used for the obstacle course for 3 centuries now, but Keith would have never guessed it was that old from the condition it was in.

Lance challenged him several time, trying to beat him, but Keith was a lot faster than Lance and probably more in shape. What Lance lacked in speed though he more than made up for stamina. Keith could feel his body draining by round 4 and time gap between their finishes steadily shrank until finally, on the 6th try, Lance beat him. It wasn’t even by that large of a margin, but Lance lauded his victory over Keith all the same. Keith let him. Lance rarely had the opportunity to be better than somebody in anything really. That and Keith was really tired. He just let himself lie on the grass, panting until he finally caught his breath.

“Okay,” Imagene said, chuckling as she helped Keith to his feet. “We have time for one last thing before we need to head over to the center area for the awards ceremony. Since Lance has been choosing for the last… 6 times in a row I think we should let Keith choose.”

Keith slumped a bit. He really didn’t want to choose anything except a place to take a nap. He didn’t want to do anything that required a lot of motion or jerking around. He glanced around the scene and spotted the boarding station for the gondolas that traveled above the fairgrounds on suspended tracks.

“How about that?” He panted, pointing towards it. Imagene peered through the crowd to see where he was pointing.

“You mean the carriers?” She asked, then smiled. “Actually that’s a perfect idea. We can ride it to the center stage and save the energy it takes to walk there. Good choice.”

“Count on Keith to pick the boring rides,” Lance groaned exasperatedly. Keith was too tired to fight him on this one, but he did throw him a weak glare.

“Are you sure you want to go up?” Oran asked Vivirdian gently. “If not Jey and I can keep an eye on the kids for you. You don’t have to go up with them if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“I’m fine with it,” Vivirdian soothed him. He raised Oran’s hand he was holding and kissed his knuckles.

Keith watched them as they all loaded into the gondola. The way they spoke and interacted was so casual yet intimate at the same time. They clearly had been together for many years and cared deeply for each other. Watching them Keith felt like he was intruding on something private that wasn’t meant for the public to gaze upon at their leisure. Still, he didn’t want to look away. Oran and Vivirdian gave Keith a little hope for his own bleak future. Oran had stuck with Vivirdian despite Vivirdian’s traumatic past. Keith knew he’d be so lucky if he ever found his own personal Oran.

Once they were all safely on board the gondola lurched to life, lifting them up into the air, high above the festival. Keith found himself pulling away from the main conversation and just leaning over the edge, looking out over the fairgrounds. Now Keith could clearly see Vivirdian’s appeal to flying above the Yam Festival. The sun was beginning to set now, casting a hazy glow over the scene below. Ambrusians and aliens strolled through the streets, wreaths bobbing as they walked through the bustling pathways. Lanterns around the area were being lit and people were pulling on cloaks and shawls as it rapidly began to cool. He could hear the laughter and dull chatter of the festival goers below him mixing with the soft strains of the upbeat traditional music and the soft hum of machinery pushing the cart steadily forward. It was almost hypnotic to him, lulling him into a peaceful, quiet state. His eyelids began to droop as he rested his head against his arms.

His mind still wasn’t totally in his head, but it wasn’t so distant now. He felt more present and real now than he had all day. His thoughts felt hushed and sleepy, but not as cut off from him as they were earlier. Right now though he didn’t have a need for them except for the occasional musing, like about wondering how rude was it to doze off at a carnival on a foreign planet and how much longer it was until he could curl up in his comfy bed. He let himself drift off a bit, sometimes half in a dream, sometimes half in reality. He tried not to slip away completely, but his exhaustion got the better of him and he dropped off into a dreamless sleep with a little sigh.

Chapter Text

Lance

Lance was the first to notice Keith had fallen asleep. He glanced over when he realized it was weird that Keith hadn’t made his presence known in a while. Lance knew the guy wasn’t exactly a big talker, especially in groups like this, but usually he piped up occasionally, just to assert himself. Keith was resting with head in his elbows, leaning against the railing of the gondola. He was beginning to slide down a bit, falling to the side towards Lance. His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling in an even steady rhythm. His lips were parted slightly in the most adorable way. Lance felt his little gay heart flutter softly in his chest at the sight. He gently wrapped an arm around Keith, pulling him down so his head rested in Lance’s lap.

“I think Keith’s down for the count.” Oran chuckled, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to Lance “Here, cover him with this.”

“Thanks,” Lance said on sleepy Keith’s behalf and draped the jacket over the boy like a blanket. Keith mumbled something in his sleep but didn’t wake up “So Oran, what exactly is your job? I haven’t heard Vivirdian talk about you too much, or at all really.”

“I’ve been busy!” Vivirdian argued when Oran turned to give him a slightly affronted look. “I’ve been working overtime to keep up with everything that’s going on. I am sorry if I haven’t had time to sing your praises.”

“I talk about you all the time at work!” Oran said, clearly trying not to laugh. “I talk about how amazing you are and how we basically raised the ruler of this nation. I even keep pictures on me so that if I am ever found dead people can see those pictures and say ‘now that is one fine family’.”

“They aren’t our children Oran.” Vivirdian pointed out.

“Uh, yes they are,” Oran corrected. “We are the closest thing they have to parental figures you know.”

Vivirdian opened his mouth to reply, but just let out a huff of air. “Just answer Lance’s question.”

Oran grinned, swiping a hand through his peppery hair. “I am a pilot in the air force. I have that weird gene that allows me to spend extended periods of time up above the surface. My job is an odd mixture of border patrols, teaching new recruits, and recon. I actually just returned from a prolonged recon trip today, but it was not all that exciting, just bioscans.”

“Sounds like an interesting job,” Lance said. “Better than your boyfriend’s no doubt.”

“You mean the babysitter,” Oran laughed, glancing at Vivirdian mischeviously.

“I am not a babysitter!” Vivirdian protested, his lips twitching upwards in amusement. “And actually we’re married.”

“Oh my Suns, do not get them started.” Jey chimed in, smirking a bit. “I hardly live a day without a reminder that Oran Fletcher and Vivirdian Cohen are the most married couple in the Helian galaxy. ‘Hey Jey, I was talking to my husband...’ ‘Jey you remember our wedding when...’ ‘Jey did you know that my husband…’ They are just so proud of each other and just do not shut up about the other ever. It is a little annoying actually.”

“I loooooove my husband,” Oran purred, nuzzling noses with Vivirdian, who was blushing a bit, but still grinning.

“I am married to the best man in the universe,” Murmured Vivirdian, pecking Oran’s nose.

Lance laughed, leaning back a bit and watching their affectionate display. Lance had never met a bonafide gay couple before. Hell, before Keith came out to him he hadn’t actually known a bonafide gay person. Growing up in Cuba there hadn’t really been many opportunities for exposure to it. He’d heard about gay pride in the news and on the internet, but it had seemed like a distant dream to him. He never really imagined he’d ever be in a place where a couple could be so gay in public and not fear retribution, but now that he was in such a place he realized it was a wonderful sight. Here was this couple who had made it. They’d worked their ways through the dating pool and found their matches. They’d pushed through all the obstacles and made it here. It gave him hope that just maybe one day, if he ever returned to Earth, that he could live the same similar life with Keith.

Lance glanced down at Keith and smiled a bit. Keith looked so peaceful with his head lying in Lance’s lap and chest rising and falling in time to his slow inhale and exhale. Lance never thought he’d ever fall in love with Keith, but there was no doubt that he had.

“What about you Lance?” Oran asked, casually wrapping an arm around Vivirdian’s waist. “Dating anyone?”

“Not at this moment,” Lance replied honestly. “I’m trying to focus on the, uh, task at hand than my  love life. Besides, I can’t really think of anybody who would be able to put up with all of this.” He gestured down his body.

“Oh, I am positive there are more than a few,” Jey assured him, her eyes flickering down to Keith snoring softly into Lance’s crotch. Lance felt heat rising in his cheeks. Maybe letting Keith use his lap as a pillow wasn’t such a wonderful idea after all. He looked away quickly.

“Even if you can’t think of any now I’m sure you’ll meet some.” Vivirdian added, nudging Jey gently as if to say ‘knock it off’. “This festival has been known to stir romance in the past.”

“Ah yes,” Lance chuckled, rolling his eyes just a bit. “Tonight I will meet my true love via Yam dance.”

“I say you will not need a yam dance,” Oran said with a sly grin. “You could very well be staring your true love in the face. Or you could say they have been dropped right into your lap.”

“Oran!” Vivirdian hissed sternly. “We do not play matchmaker!”

“What?” Oran shrugged innocently. “I can’t speak my mind? You cannot tell me you did not notice it. It was like you with Jey in our 4th year. Oh yeah, remember that ‘Aubade’ dance? There was so much sexual tension in that piece I thought I was going to die watching it.”

Jey snorted, covering her face with her hand. Vivirdian’s face turned bright pink and he spluttered uselessly.

“I was 15!” He protested weakly. “How could I have demonstrated any semblance of sexuality?”

“Well, I might have to agree with you there,” Oran said with a nod, his lips twitching up into a smirk. “After all it took us so long to get to that point I was honestly wondering if you asexual.”

“We’ve been over this,” Vivirdian muttered, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m just not good at picking up cues, that’s all Oran. I swear to the Sun and back that is all it was.”

At this point Lance’s chest hurt from laughing so hard. He wasn’t even actually laughing at this point, just clapping his hands slowly, chest heaving but no sound escaping his throat. He realized this was probably the hardest he’d laughed in months, or however long it had been since they left Earth. There hadn’t exactly been a lot of time for fun and games on the castle, not with a ten thousand year old war to fight. Crashing here on Ambrusia, as stressful as it had been initially, was Lance’s first real vacation since he joined Voltron. Here he didn’t have to worry about early morning training sessions, or weird emergency drills, or real emergency situations. He and Keith were truly safe for the first time since they’d been abducted by Blue. (Well, maybe abducted isn’t the right term for it. It was more of a choice for the 5 of them, but still.)

“Hey I’ve got a question,” Lance managed after they’d all calmed down a bit. He was still breathing hard, and his ribs still ached a bit, but he could finally get out a sentence without bursting out into giggles. “How come you’ve been… been able to keep everybody safe from the Galra for so long?”

Oran immediately sat up, stared Lance in the eyes and said: “We do not.” Then he folded his arms and glared at the floor of the gondola angrily, as if it was its fault that the protection wasn’t as great as it should be.

The gondola went gravely quiet as all the lingering laughter vanished with Oran’s words. The atmosphere changed from bright and cheery to dark and somber. Even the twins, who were now holding a dozing Ellea, had gone silent, suddenly aware to change in conversation and listening intently. Lance had the horrible feeling that he’d once again stepped on another emotional landmine.

“What Oran means,” Vivirdian said finally after the quiet had grown painful. “Is that our method hasn’t been the most effective in protecting our citizens, but it has withstood 10,000 years of war, so I do not think we can discredit it as completely unuseable. It is a barrier system, installed by the Alteans many years ago and maintained by both ourselves and our allies. It’s essentially a multi tiered particle barrier built to not only withstand great attacks but also to project them back at the assailant. A built in defense system if you will.”

“It actually absorbs energy and either stores or reflects it.” Oran muttered, narrowing his eyes at the ground. “So it powers itself as well. Furthermore if one of the layers malfunctions the system reroutes its power to bolster up the layers beneath it. It is considered virtually impenetrable to many, but there are ways in.”

“He means,” Vivirdian sighed. “That the Galra still manage to slip in. It isn’t often, but it happens. About 3 times a Helian Interval, or in common speak, a year.”

Vivirdian wrapped a comforting arm around Oran, who leaned into him and let himself relax a little bit.

“The Galra do not give us as much trouble as they used to,” Jey added quietly. Her voice was soft and hesitant, almost as if she wasn’t sure if she had the authority to speak on this matter. “Once they realized that, despite Ambrusia’s large size and quantity of life, we hold little quintessence they did not focus on us so much. Our people and animals do not require much quintessence to survive for we already get out energies from the Sun and Ambrusia herself. I suppose our inability to aide in the war effort does help to keep the attention off us. Sooner or later though I suspect our refugee intake will be seen as a threat and we will be eliminated, or they will finally be able to conquer us. It has been predicted that the Galra have the technology to over power the barriers but just are not using their full strength as we are not deemed as overly important.”

“Jey is correct,” Imagene said, speaking for the first time in their conversation. She too kept her eyes on the floor, but she wasn’t glaring at it like Oran was. Her eyes were just focused there blankly, arms locked securely around her sleeping little sister. “Our spies have confirmed that the Galra do have the ability to take over at any time, but just are not concerned with our planet. Their main forces have not really even reached us yet, and probably won’t for some time. Mostly it’s patrols and invasions we have to worry about. They like to come in here every now and then and remind us of the inevitable, almost like a demonstration. Some examples are the Yam Festival Massacre, Southern Settlement Massacre, and Eternia Invasion. Though the loss of life is often just catastrophic, these incidents do not happen as often as rebel attacks.

“They can be rather vicious,” Lucivida murmured. “Since they’re Ambrusians they have a better biological understanding of what hurts us and how to make the most of what they do. The Galra just shoot blindly and hope to take out a big target. The rebels are less dead more precise. They don’t take as many lives, but the ones they do take are important and hit hard. Whether it is the throne, a new law, or a new official, they make their point loud and clear.”

A gust of cool wind blew through the gondola, swaying the cart back and forth on its creaky joint and making its riders shiver and reach for their jackets. Lance found himself tucking his knees up to fit behind Keith so his legs would be better covered by Oran’s coat. He saw Imagene tighten her hold around her sleeping sister to better keep her warm as Lucivida shifted his body to guard her from the wind.

“Everything seems peaceful here,” Lance said, looking down at the scene of Ambrusians in the streets below, chatting to one another amiably and taking part in the festival. “It’s sometimes hard to imagine that anybody would be unhappy with how things are run.”

“Well, no government will be liked by all of its subjects.” Imagene said, smiling a little bit as she switched her focus to her little sister. “It took me years to realize that no matter what I did there would always be criticism against it. I cannot please all, but I can do what I know is best. Besides, only a fraction of Ambrusians call themselves rebels. Most vent their frustration in articles and essays, often sent personally to me, and that’s that. Only the hardened radicals act out violently. For the most part though I find they are not truly against my policies, more my titles. Rebel groups want to remove the throne from the equation. They think that the future of our country would be better off in the hands of the people.”

“Maybe they would be,” Lance said without thinking. Every head snapped up to stare open mouthed at Lance, even Oran. Lance immediately began to backpedal. “Sorry! I did not mean it like that. I’m sure you’re a great ruler Imagene, but I come from a country with a very different form of government and I guessed I was always raised with the idea that my government was the best government, you know?”

There was another moment of horrible silence. Lance could physically feel their eyes drilling themselves into him, raking down his body, taking in every inch of his lanky limbs and tan skin, judging him for his impulsive mouth. It made him want to squirm in discomfort. He hated having people look at him, for any reason. It felt itchy and wrong. He always felt like he was on trial again, and their eyes were condemning him. This was one of the reasons he avoided being the center of attention in large crowds. He liked being a star in small settings, but those were for good things, this was not a good thing.

Lucivida cleared his throat, mercifully breaking the silence. “Okay, that’s understandable Lance. I’ve grown up under only one form of government as well. I can see how it would be easy to fall into that. How exactly does your government work?”

Lance thanked the Sun, the Stars, and even the Moon, even if it was a jealous fuck boy. He began to ramble about how America’s government worked. (He momentarily considered using Cuba’s former government, but technically he was an American citizen now) As he walked everyone through the process of election and checks and balances they began to calm down, though the atmosphere remained uneasy. Jey kept her arms folded over her chest defensively, and Lance could tell Lucivida’s teeth were clenched. Vivirdian’s face became unreadable, as if he was neither in favor of or opposed to this new form of government Lance was introducing them to. Oran seemed pretty open to it actually, asking a few clarifying points here and there. Imagene however was a completely different story. Her face was like Vivirdian’s, a mask of level headed calm, but when Lance made the mistake of meeting her eyes he could have sworn all the warmth drained from the world right on the spot. Her eyes were sharp and cold, two violet pools of ice glaring coldly at him. He couldn’t help but glance up into them occasionally, shivering each time he did. He tried telling himself it was just the growing chill of night settling in.

“So your officials are elected by the people?” Lucivida asked. Lance nodded. “Absolutely fascinating! And you don’t worry that they are uneducated or under qualified to make that decision?”

Lance shrugged. He’d never given that much thought before. “I guess that’s what the electoral college is for, but I think it’s more important that people get a say in the laws that are made.”

“I think you are deluding yourself,” Imagene said cooly. “You get a say in who is in office, yes, but not the laws that are actually passed. It’s like a mother getting her toddler to behave by telling them to ‘choose a pair of shoes’ instead of ‘put on these shoes’. It gives the child a facade of control but in reality they have none, they’re still putting on the shoes.”

Lance felt like he’d just been struck dumb. As he mulled her words over in his mind he realized she was right. They didn’t actually have a choice in their government. If Pidge were here she would be all over this. That girl was a huge conspiracy theorist. She had whole files dedicated to the evidence related to different theories and spent a lot of her free time researching new ones. On the rare occasions they did hang out as a team, Pidge was always trying to convert them to her conspiracy agenda.

“Genie,” Vivirdian said in a warning voice, giving Imagene a stern look.

“What? It’s true,” She said with a little shrug of her shoulders. “You know it is.”

“I do not think it is wise to be insulting the government of worlds you are trying to ally with.” Oran added with a little smirk. “I would think one would try to not disprove their form of government.”

“Well, diplomatic proceedings are almost complete anyways,” Imagene sighed, chuckling a little bit. “But I do suppose an apology is in order. I apologize for saying what I did. I think I took your comment a little too personally though I am sure you did not mean for it to be an insult.”

“It’s okay,” Lance said. “I’m sorry for what I said too, it’s fine, really.”

It wasn’t okay. Lance hated feeling like the only thing he could say was the most inappropriate thing a person could say in that given situation. His words would just blurt out without any forethought or meditation and only in the horrified silence that followed would he realize that what he had said was insensitive or rude. He would always have to scramble to cover himself, or apologize if the situation warranted it, but he’d replay the moment in his head over and over again, until he wondered if he’d ever not feel awful about it. But did he ever learn his lesson? Did he ever stop himself from impulsively speaking without thinking first? No. Never. His life felt like an endless stream of fuck up after fuck up after fuck up.

Pidge

“Ready?” Shiro asked, his hands cupped and ready. She planted her hands firmly on his shoulders, stepping so her foot was resting in his cupped hands.

“Yeah,” She croaked, then cleared her throat. It was another hot day, and they’d been trying to conserve their water. When she spoke again it was in a much clearer voice. “Beam me up, Scotty.”

Shiro chuckled softly and lifted her up. He pressed her ankle into his chest, allowing her calf to lean a bit against his cheek. His free hand kept her leg steady. Now the fruit was just a few feet in front of her, but not close enough to lean forward to reach, not unless she wanted to topple over on top of poor Shiro that was.

“Can you scoot forward a bit?” She asked and he nodded, taking a few steps forward. They had to be slow, because every subtle shift in Shiro’s body made Pidge wobble precariously in the air. She remembered how she used to make fun of cheerleaders as a little kid. She said that it wasn’t a real sport and that anybody could do it, but now, balancing on one leg several feet above the ground, she was starting to rethink that mindset.

She pulled out her bayard and reached forward to grasp the branch the cluster of fruit was hanging from. Then she sliced through the thick, vine like stem to cut the fruit free. It fell to the ground, nearly missing the basket they’d placed carefully beneath it. She grinned as as she retracted her bayard and felt Shiro set her gently down on the ground.

“Think that’s enough?” Shiro asked, examining the clusters of pink and orange fruit.

“I think so,” Pidge said, dusting off her hands. “It better be anyways, it’s nearly sun down and I don’t want to miss whatever we can listen to on that weird alien radio show.”

It had been days since she and Shiro had last tried to scan the radio waves for Keith or Lance. Now they only used the radio to listen in on a show they found that broadcasted in English for some reason. It had taken a huge emotional toll on the pair of them to sit there, listening to silence, praying to pick up anything that might tell them about their friends. Pidge had known what it was like, to sit on the other side desperately waiting for contact from loved ones and friends. The dull, hopeless ache was familiar to her, but still just as painful. Sometimes she’d get overcome with a sort of crazed madness. Some sort of feeling would rise in her stomach and she’d drop whatever she was doing and race for the helmet thinking that this time some cosmic energy or paladin bullshit had tipped her off and if she just scanned the waves she’d pick up something, but she always came away empty handed. Finally it got too much for both of them, and Shiro locked away her helmet and laptop, only letting her on it for limited periods of time, but it didn’t really matter. Pidge didn’t want to encourage herself to keep getting more and more discouraged.

Once the pair had accepted their inability to make any further contact with the others and had decided to just make as best a living for themselves as they could on their little patch of alien terrain. Every morning they drew water from their reserves, just enough for the day. Next they usually did any cleaning up in the cockpit: straightening bedding, rolling up blueprints, etc. Then they set to work gathering food or materials or whatever they could. Around midday they’d stop to eat lunch. By this time the sun grew unbearable, so they’d retreat to the shade the sitting Green Lion provided for a little siesta. While the Great Takashi Shirogane took a nap Pidge usually worked on a private project, like figuring out how to build separate housing for her and Shiro. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Shiro, it was more that the idea of sharing the Green Lion’s cockpit was less and less appealing every day. She missed running water and air conditioning dearly.

When she wasn’t drawing up blueprints, she was experimenting with the environment around her. Shiro had forbidden her to leave their little island of land without him, which limited her freedom a bit, but there was still plenty to work with. She found a running fresh water stream and often went creek stomping in the boots of her paladin armor. Pidge and Matt had gone to summer camp every year where they went creek stomping and caught crawdads and made rock paint. There weren’t exactly crawdads to chase after, but there were plenty of rocks. By rubbing them together she could make different shades of ‘paint’. It was more like colored water actually, but if she mixed it with the clay like deposits she’d found in the rock shelf it gave her a more substantial color pay off. The rock paint also helped to cool down her hot skin after a day hard at work. The creek was usually lukewarm at best, the rocks in the shade made cool paint. Plus it seemed to act like a sunscreen. Once she’d drawn a dick on her arm and now her forearm was all tan except for that one phallic patch of white skin. Every morning she redrew it to ‘test the UV blocking properties of different rocks’. Shiro just shook his head and didn’t address it.

That was the nice thing about crashing with Shiro. He didn’t feel the need to talk about or try to fix Pidge’s odd behaviors. Sure, he occasionally said “language” when she was being particularly foul or perverse, but he didn’t punish her or even call out her other odd behaviors. Like there was that one time he found her burying her feet in the muddy river bank and instead of questioning it, joined her in piling up mud around her feet and ankles until she had ‘mud shoes’. If Pidge’s mother had seen her she would have asked why Pidge felt the need to make literal mud shoes and then criticize her for doing so. All Shiro said was: “Now you don’t have to worry about getting your shoes dirty, they’re literally made of dirt!” Even though he let her have fun and explore freely he was still an authority figure. Shiro was the dad friend. He was just as worried and concerned with her safety as an actual parent (plus dad jokes), but with all the awkwardness and physical contact avoidance of, well, Shiro. It was nice to have somebody who was still looking out for her, but wasn’t about to ground her.

After their siesta ended they usually tried to focus on just relaxing for the rest of the evening. The first few days had been awkward because of the age gap. Shiro was like a father figure and it made trying to interact with him feel weird and forced, but as it turns out when you get stuck on an alien planet and only one other person you tend to grow really close in a short amount of time. Soon their dynamic became less commander and cadet and more brother and sister. They made up a version of Space Volleyball™ by weaving reeds together like a net and using squishy fruits as the ball. Once they played paintball using seeds filled with colorful liquid and launched them using handmade slingshots. Finally, after a long day of doing literally nothing, they cobbled together some kind of dinner, got washed off, and bunkered down in the Green Lion for the night.

There were several upsides to their new way of life. Aside from the abundance of free time and a whole planet to explore, they weren’t always worrying about getting attacked by the Galra. Most likely they were thought to be dead or trapped in a wormhole, either way Voltron was effectively taken out of the picture and there was no longer a reason to track it down. This meant that Pidge and Shiro were safe for the first time in a long time. It was great that they didn’t have to worry about emergency attacks, but whatever stress was relieved by this was ultimately reapplied with the thicker, ickier emotion of guilt: they’d literally failed the universe. They never talked about it, after all who wants to have a nice long chat about being a huge failure. Let’s just drag up all those faces of the aliens they’d met who were counting on them to protect and defend their worlds against the Galra and think about how they were all doomed to enslavement under Zarkon and the Galra empire.

It was easier to just not talk about it at all.

When they made it back to the cockpit Shiro unlocked Pidge’s laptop and helmet and handed it to her.

“You get the show set up, I’ll work on making dinner.” He said.

She took the technology with a little grin. “Aye aye Cap’n.. Make mine medium rare.”

“Sorry cadet,” Shiro chuckled, taking the fire starters out from the supply tin. “Your only choices are raw or burnt to a crisp.”

“You know we need to find some other food source.” Pidge said, following him as they exited the cockpit. “It’s not exactly healthy to eat fruits only.”

“Sorry Pidge, we agreed to conserving the pre-made ration meals,” Shiro said, gathering up kindling for their little fire pit. “Maybe we’ll encounter some sort of mammal or fish we can eat once we start exploring the planet.”

“Which we never talked about when we’re going to do that.” Pidge grumbled, sliding down to sit against the paw of the Green Lion.

The Green Lion sat proudly up, the sun glinting behind her head, her metal form glinting brightly. She kept a silent, regal vigil over their little island like the great Sphinx of Egypt. She provided shade and shelter for the two paladins, but didn’t provide answers to the outside world. At first this had frustrated Pidge to no end, but now Pidge was just grateful for what she did give.

As Shiro worked on the fire Pidge used the comm spec radio on her helmet to pick up signals. She tried to limit herself to just scanning for the broadcast of English, but found herself dialing it to the wavelengths the paladins usually communicated on. She turned the knob on the helmet as slowly as she dared. She pressed the helmet’s earpiece to her head, desperate for anything, any signal that their friends were still alive. She even stopped breathing, scared it would cover up any sound. But she was again greeted to nothing but static. She let out a disappointed sigh, not even sure why she bothered and was about to crank the dial towards the broadcast’s frequencies when suddenly she heard it. When she did she gripped the helmet, wishing her very heart would cease to beat just in case that was going to drown it out. She swore she could hear it again, s very buzzy, staticy voice… but after a few minutes she realized that anybody trying to find a voice would hear one in a field of static. There was no voice.

“Did you find it yet?” Shiro asked, nursing a little flame.

“Nearly,” She called back, somehow managing to push down how upset she was.

Chapter Text

Pidge

“And welcome back to the Eternia Audio Broadcast. Today we are celebrating the annual Yam festival, a time to honor our agricultural roots and appreciate all our farmers do.”

Pidge ate her cooked kebab slowly, savoring the warm, tender flesh of the fruit. She and Shiro ate in silence except for the radio/audio broadcast or whatever it was called. The sun was beginning to set and the shadows were becoming long and dark, but their bonfire chased the shadows to hide behind their respective owners, casting a soft orange glow over their little corner of the world. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was back home, having a family bonfire in their backyard, but the image would only hold for a few seconds before cold hard reality resettled over her.

“Do you think we will see another royal love story this year Rove?” One of the hosts asked.

“I am not sure Laer,” Replied Laer’s partner. “I think that the story of King Aen and Queen Havea was once in a lifetime sort of thing. Besides, princess and reigning regent Imagene has more things to concern herself with over romance, especially with her upcoming coronation.”

“But our polls say that the princess would be viewed more favorably if she were to find a husband!” Argued Laer. “The public would like to see their ruler in a domestic family setting raising children and such. They would like her to be less proactive in the Southern Settlement Restoration Act and attending less public forum events as they find her presence ‘intimidating’. Seeing her as a wife and mother would greatly raise her appeal.”

Pidge made a disgusted noise and nearly spit out her piece of kebab. “Good to know sexism is universal.”

“Not every futuristic alien race is as progressive as the ones we’ve met I guess” Shiro chuckled lightheartedly.

“This planet sounds whack,” Pidge grumbled, tearing into her kebab a bit more viciously. “For one they think a ruler wanting to be involved in her nation’s politics is intimidating, for another they celebrate yams. I bet they’re way behind technology wise. I bet they’re worse than Earth.”

“Technological advancement has no correlation with progressive views,” Shiro reminded her, poking at the fire with his now empty kebab stick. The glowing logs crumbled a bit with every little tap until the little tent of sticks collapsed sending up a little cloud of bright sparks.

Pidge watched as the fiery confetti fluttered up into the quickly darkening sky, like little orange shooting stars. She let out a huff of exasperation and hugged her knees to her chest. Of course Shiro was right about that, but still.

“To be honest I don’t understand the fascination that surrounds the life of royalty.” Shiro said. Pidge looked up to see him pulling out his stick from the flames and smiling a bit at the fire dancing at the tip of the wood. She smirked a bit at that. Despite being a top spacecraft pilot Shiro still acted like a little kid at heart. Just the kind of of guy you want leading the universe’s most powerful weapon.

“I agree,” She said, pulling her shirt over her knees. “Some people can’t even have a baby in peace any more.” Then with a glance at the radio she added: “Or attend a festival apparently.”

“Yeah,” Shiro sighed as his ‘torch’ went out. He stuck it back into the flames. “I guess that’s just the price of being famous, no privacy.”

Pidge watched the fire lick the quickly blackening stick and let herself think over Shiro’s words. She looked down at her knees and wondered if when she returned to Earth (if she did at all that was) would she be just as famous as this princess. It wasn’t like you could just pilot a giant robotic lion and save the universe and not have somebody remember your name. Her mother frequently said similar things about celebrities when they saw the headlines of tabloids and newspapers. Being well known came with a lot of perks, but there were a lot of downsides too. Related to the no privacy thing, there was no way anything you said or did would ever go unnoticed by the public. Your entire life, even the parts that happened before you became famous, would come under intense scrutiny. It was like the whole world was waiting for you to just mess up so they could slander your name through the press.

And speaking of press, Pidge would be the first to admit she liked seeing what people had to say about her, but it wasn’t as if she could just look up her name and find everything anyone has ever said about her ever. There just aren’t any news articles about Katie Holt or Pidge Gunderson for that matter. The only things there were the obituaries for her brother and father and the numerous news stories about their disappearance. If she were famous at least all those posts would be pushed down by stories of her accomplishments or whatever she did to catapult herself to stardom, and if she were really big there would be new stuff to look at all the time, but she couldn’t pretend that all that stuff would be positive. There would be a fair chunk of negative comments and fake stories no matter what she did and the worst part was that she wouldn’t have to look herself up to hear it. It’d be broadcasted all over the TV, radio, and internet just like this poor princess who was apparently not the frail little girl her people wanted her to be.

“Shiro,” Pidge said after a moment. Shiro looked over at her to show her he was giving her his full attention. “Do you think life will ever be, you know, normal again?”

“Define normal.” He said with a little laugh. “You mean will we ever return to Earth?”

“Partially.” She frowned a bit, but not in displeasure. “I guess I’m asking if you think that we’ll ever be able to just go back to how our lives were before we became the paladins of Voltron.”

Shiro leaned back a bit, biting his lip. There was maybe half a minute of silence before he spoke again. “Pidge, I don’t know. I would really like to say yes, because I want to believe that I can return to Earth and live like I was never abducted by the Galra from Kerberos, but I don’t think I will be able to, and it’s not just that. It’s not just my experiences. By becoming paladins and meeting aliens and traveling across the galaxy we’ve changed the course of human history. Our lives and our planet will never be the same.”

“So I guess we’re going to be immortalized in history books.” Pidge sighed. “I can’t wait to read the lines ‘Universe saved by 4 teens and a young pilot who really just flew by the seat of their pants the entire time’.”

Shiro snorted. “Nah, they’ll make us out to be 40 year old pros because the scientists can’t handle that the first people to discover alien life were just teens.”

“Yeah,” Pidge grinned. “All the adults at the Garrison always seemed to get mad about how good I was, like they didn’t want to be inferior to somebody younger than them.”

“It’s not fun to watch somebody with less experience surpass you,” Shiro said, picking up his stick again to poke the fire. “I remember watching Keith in the Garrison just whiz through his training, he was even better than I was.”

“You knew Keith at the Garrison?” Pidge asked, raising her eyebrow and letting her feet slide out from her shirt.

Shiro nodded, turning over a log. “I was his mentor.”

“Mentor? What do you mean?” Pidge furrowed her brows. “I never had a mentor.”

“Well, you didn’t need one.” Shiro replied easily. “You were probably classified as ‘well adjusted’ and didn’t need one. Keith on the other hand needed a little help.”

“‘Well adjusted’?” Pidge raised both eyebrows so they disappeared behind a curtain of her brown bangs. “That makes us all sound like science experiments instead of space cadets, like they were observing us.”

“They were.” Shiro said casually, like he admitted to spying on young children every day. “Hey, they weren’t about to send somebody into space who couldn’t handle it. It was more to ensure your safety.”

“So Keith wasn’t ‘safe’?” Pidge asked, dragging her toe in the ground. “Why is he with Voltron then?”

“No, no.” Shiro said hastily, clearly realizing that what he had said did not come out the way he wanted it to at all. “No, Keith it perfectly safe to be around and I trust him to pilot the Red Lion, but he just had some… behavior issues.”

“You’re talking like lawyer defending a criminally insane murderer.” Pidge teased. “A history of behavior issues like what? Don’t tell me he was burning cats because apparently that’s a sign of some really serious stuff.”

“No, he wasn’t hurting anyone or anything.” Shiro said, relaxing a bit. “I mean, he got into a few fights, but usually he was the one getting hurt more than anyone else. That’s why they assigned me to mentor him. The Garrison hoped that somebody older would be able to provide guidance and put him on the right path. They knew he was a talented kid and didn’t want to lose him.”

“Plus it wouldn’t look good to boot out the poor orphan,” Pidge snickered. “How did Keith even go to the Garrison? I’ve seen his little… hobo hut. He’s not exactly loaded.”

“Uh, scholarship I think.” Shiro said, scratching the back of his neck.

The conversation fell into a lull after that, leaving the pair to sit in the night air, watching the fire burn lower and listening to the radio talk about the Yam festivities. Apparently there had been a parade, and there was some sort of ceremonial play going on now, which was to be followed by traditional music. They didn’t mention anything else about their princess, focusing instead on the story of some official, new laws regarding agriculture, and the many representatives from different planets. It was strange, listening to a radio show that discussed a completely alien culture. Pidge listened quietly, not really paying attention until she heard the following lines:

“Speaking of allies,” Laer said. “The military recently released a statement regarding the identity of the two individuals who have been staying with the royal family. They are diplomats from the planet Earth seeking to form an alliance with our great planet and hopefully our entire solar system.”

Pidge’s head shot up and her jaw dropped. She glanced over at Shiro, who was staring stony faced into the fire. If it wasn’t for the fact that the stick he’d been holding had completely fallen from his now slack hand Pidge would have thought that he hadn’t heard it at all. Pidge held her breath as the broadcasters spoke again.

“Yes,” Rove confirmed. “And in these times of increasing Galra activity it is very reassuring to know that our country marches on to defend itself. What all does this report say again?”

“Not much, though that is the nature of the military.” Laer replied. “Hopefully the Council of Diplomacy will formulate a new statement that will give us more insight into our potential new allies. The only things we know for certain are that the diplomats’ names are… Keith Kogane and Lance McClain and that both speak fluent Common and have been staying as guests of the royal family as they require extra protection.”

‘Two individuals… diplomats from Earth… Keith Kogane and Lance McClain...’

There was a moment of silence where Pidge thought the world had just stopped. She took a big breath and let out a laugh that quickly turned into a sob. Sweet, glorious relief flooded through her body and she felt borderline euphoric. Keith and Lance were alive. They were alive. There was still hope for Voltron after all and that meant hope that she would be able to see her family again.

Hunk

Hunk was spending a lot of time in the astronomy observer thing. Seeing as how he couldn’t really train without Shiro, save anybody on his own, or really help in the efforts to look for the other missing paladins. All he could do was follow either Coran or Allura around, and he did… until they told him to please let them work in peace. After that Hunk did a lot of thinking and wandering and finally found himself sitting on the floor of the universe projector room. He would scroll to Earth and just stare at the little green planet. Now he was beginning to understand why Lance had been so homesick. Earth looked so small and far away, and who knew if Hunk was ever going to see it up close again. Suddenly he felt a pang in his chest as he thought about all the things he’d left behind on Earth, like his fluffy quilt, his moms, his pair of socks with the skateboarding dogs printed on them. He might never see any of that ever again. He might never see Lance again, or Pidge, or Keith, or Shiro.

It was then that Hunk put his head in his hands and began to cry. If only he were somebody else, then he might be able to help out some. Pidge’s talent for computers would have helped Coran fix some of the technical glitches, Keith and Shiro would have been able to help out in defending the castle from the occasional odd enemy, (Hey, not everybody was okay with a giant castle flying through their airspace and Hunk didn’t blame them), Lance would have been able to keep the group’s spirits up with his jokes, but Hunk wasn’t able to do anything for the group. He couldn’t even fix his stupid Lion.

“You seem a little downcast,” A gentle voice said.

Hunk whipped his head around to see Allura standing in the doorway. She was in her nightgown still and must have just woken up from when Coran forced her to go to bed. She walked towards him, a hand holding up her pale blue skirts delicately. The blue light from the projector gave her silvery hair the illusion of glowing.

“O-oh!” Hunk leapt up, his voice cracking a bit. He hastily wiped his eyes. “Downcast? Me? Nah, no way. I’m Mr. Ray of Sunshine over here! Everything is… fine.”

On fine his voice got all high and squeaky and Hunk knew he wasn’t fooling anybody. He sniffled and looked away in shame, not wanting the princess to see him bawling because Hunk knew he wasn’t a pretty crier. Not like Lance. Lance still looked like a model even when crying. (Like, Hunk knew he wasn’t gay but he could appreciate a thing of beauty when he saw it)

“It’s okay to be upset Hunk,” Allura assured him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know you must be going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah,” Hunk sighed. “I mean, I guess it’s a lot. I don’t know, sometimes I wonder if I’m just overreacting.”

Allura blinked. “Er, I don’t think you should worry about that Hunk.”

“Really?” He asked, wiping his nose on his sleeve. To her credit, the princess only recoiled mildly at this crude gesture. Apparently Alteans did not produce mucus like humans did the sight of it was really disgusting.

“Yes,” She nodded. “You have lost the closest thing you have to a family out here. I can’t imagine how horrible that must be.”

Now it was Hunk’s turn to flinch. He knew Allura was just trying to be kind, but her words were just another reminder that he really didn’t have it nearly as bad as others. Allura had actually lost her family, her country, her culture and hadn’t even been able to tell her father goodbye, and here Hunk was, crying because he couldn’t get his Lion to talk to him. Hunk felt even more pathetic now. Why did he have to make everything about him?

“Hunk,” Allura said, a little more firmly. Hunk flickered his eyes up to meet her own. “I know that maybe you feel a little upset and think you shouldn’t feel this way, but I promise you that what you are going through warrants whatever emotions you are feeling, okay?”

Hunk sighed. “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Allura said. “Now would you like an embrace to celebrate our amity?”

“Do you mean a hug?” Hunk asked, lifting his head up a bit hopefully. Hunk liked hugs. His big body was practically made for them.

“If that is what it is called on Earth, yes!” Allura chuckled and opened her arms. Hunk felt himself tearing up again as he wrapped his own arms around Allura’s thin frame. She was surprisingly warm. Most smaller people Hunk hugged generally had a colder body temperature. Lance and Pidge, for example, always had colds hands and skin, but Shiro was always so much warmer. Hunk buried his face in the warmth of her shoulder and began to cry again, letting out all of his pent up emotions over the past few weeks.

“We’ll find them,” Allura murmured, rubbing his back soothingly. “I know we will.”

Hunk wanted to believe her, he really did, but he wasn’t sure he could. He didn’t want to get his hopes up in case things didn’t turn out okay, but he didn’t want to burden Allura with his worries.

“Okay,” He sniffled after a moment. “Sorry for crying all over your nightgown.”

She waved him away. “It’s just a nightgown and trust me when I say it’s been through worse. Fortunately Coran is a miracle worker when it comes to getting out stains.”

Hunk briefly wondered what kind of stains couldn’t be resolved through the futuristic laundry devices the ship had, but decided that it was better not to ask.

“So this Ambrusia,” Hunk began, wanting to turn the subject away from weird stains and missing friends. “What exactly is it and who lives there and will they hurt us? Also are they evil.”

“I think are they evil and will they hurt us are kind of the same thing.” Allura chuckled, pulling up a keyboard. Her slender fingers tapped quickly over the keys. “Regardless, I can actually show you some data we have on the Ambrusians, but I can’t guarantee it will be current. 10,000 years is a long time for a species to change and evolve.”

She tapped in a final command and the sky above them whirled, the stars changing their positions to show a completely new arrangement, but none of these new formations were any constellations Hunk recognized even from their current position. The view zoomed in on a planet to project a 3D model of green and blue planet, not too unlike Earth. Altean symbols flashed up on the screen, probably displaying some set of facts, but it wasn’t like Hunk could read any of them so it wasn’t exactly helpful.

“Ambrusia, also known as Planetary Creation Experiment, is the greatest and also least known scientific feat of Altea.” She said in a calm informative tone. It kind of reminded Hunk of his professors at the Garrison. “It is a massive conglomerate of different materials that have been proven best for life compatibility. Just making the planet was a massive effort that took nearly 300 years, but as amazing at that was it is nothing compared to the next phase of this experiment on artificial life.”

“Why do I feel like this about to get really creepy and-slash-or dark.” Hunk said. In his experience, the words ‘experiment’ and ‘artificial life’ usually meant genocide or weird labs and Hunk just wasn’t a fan of that.

“Well, do you find plants and animals creepy?” Allura asked, a little confused. “Because that was phase two, making new plants and animals to inhabit the planet and create an entirely new ecosystem all from scratch!”

“Can we skip the how this happened and get to the ‘Who are the Ambrusians’?” Hunk requested, then realized that might have sounded a little rude. “Not that this isn’t fascinating and all, no offense Princess, I just… want to know who they are whether or not they can help.”

“None taken.” Allura said with a little smile. “But to understand the Ambrusians it’s best if you know how they came about. The Ambrusians were a final phase of the experiment, creating using Juniberry and Altean DNA. After they were transplanted into the soil Altean scientists left the planet to its own devices. We wanted to see if this new life form would take and how it would shape the planet. When we returned to the planet under the guise of diplomats seeking alliance we were amazed to find that they had constructed their own civilization.”

Pictures flashed across the screen showing aliens with thin, veiny skin like flesh toned leaves in a vaguely tribal setting. There appeared to be homes made of stone or bricks, and big structures that reminded Hunk of those pictures of old south american ruins. A few showed Alteans and Ambrusians side by side, and here Hunk could really see the resemblance. They both had the same pointy ears and human like features. Two legs, hands, hair, eyes. They didn’t seem to be any harm.

“So, they’re plants?” Hunk asked slowly.

Allura nodded. “Yes! Being part plant makes them more dependent on the sun and their planet of course, meaning they could never really leave their atmosphere, but it has a lot of advantages. They are hardy and healthy, and since plants have both male and female parts they would never-”

“Ahhh!” Hunk clamped his hands over his ears. He had a bad feeling that if he let this continue Allura was going to start showing him some nasty photographs of… yeah. He didn’t even want to see human genitals let alone freaky alien genitals. “Oh no! I do not need the alien birds and bees talk. The human one was bad enough!”

“The... what and the what?” Allura asked, looking thoroughly confused. “What is… a bee?”

Keith

Keith woke up to the sound of the brakes on the gondola scraping against the metal and it wasn’t exactly the best way to wake up. He groaned and slapped his hands over his ears.

“Keith’s awake!” Lance grinned. “How was your nap?”

“Fuck,” Keith breathed, rubbing his eyes. If anything he felt more exhausted and more out of touch with his mind and body. He had the overwhelming desire to curl up into a ball and just do nothing as long as he could, but he really didn’t have that option. Instead he just took a deep breath to gather himself before replying to Lance.

“Yeah, it was fine,” He mumbled, sitting up.

He felt something on his body shift down and panicked for a moment. He looked down to see some sort of jacket had been draped over his body. Blearily he picked it up and tried to match it to the owner, but his brain wasn’t making the connections he needed to match the jacket to the owner. Fortunately he didn’t have to.

“I believe that is mine,” Oran said, taking the jacket from Keith’s hands. Keith just sort of watched him blankly, which Oran seemed to take as a sign of reluctance. “I mean, you can wear it if you want but uh, it is mine.”

“No,” Keith said, finally pulling an answer out of his scrambled brain. “No, that’s fine. Sorry uh…”

But then somebody grabbed his arm and his brain, already muggy and staticy, short circuited. He stared at the tan hand wrapped around his wrist and let his eyes trail up the arm to see the owner of hand grinning down at him with those bright blue eyes and fuck. Keith didn’t know what to do. He tried searching the archives of every Relatable Teenager™ article he’d ever read regarding crushes. Of course, every Relatable Teenager™ article was geared for the straight guy, but surely he could use some advice here right? Well, he might have, if he could even remember it.

“You just going to sit there all night or what, mullet?” Lance asked.

Fuck. Keith was pretty sure cute pet names was in those articles somewhere. If somebody had an affectionate nickname for you did that mean they liked you as a friend or as more than a friend?

“Uh… no?” Keith said intelligently and after a second or two of silence he stood up as if to prove his point.

Ah yes, Keith Kogane was the king of suave. Fucking idiot.

If Lance picked up on his odd behavior he didn’t show it. Instead his hand slipped to connect with Keith’s, the slender fingers slipping into the valleys between Keith’s and gripping over his knuckles and that’s when Keith’s brain shut down completely. He was running on fear and testosterone. Lance’s palms felt so smooth against his own rough hands, and they were so warm, it was like holding one of those hand warmers people put in their gloves. Keith had never held hands with anybody since he was a child and he’d forgotten how it felt. Heat prickled at the back of his neck and his ears as he stared down at their joined hands and the only thing he could say was:

“Oh, that’s gay.”

It was blessing of the Yam Gods that just then Vivirdian called for their attention, his loud voice booming over Keith’s breathless one and drowning out his words. Keith was too busy trying to reassemble his scattered mind to actually listen to Vivirdian, something about sticking together as a group and finding a spot on the lawn. The next thing he knew Lance was speaking to him again and he’d already missed the first half of his sentence.

“...for this evening?” Lance asked, still smiling brightly. Keith had to look away to regain his train of thought even though that thing had derailed years ago.

“Uh, sorry what did you say?” Keith asked sheepishly. “I couldn’t hear you over the crowd.”

“I asked if you were ready for this evening.” Lance said again, rolling his eyes and chuckling a bit. “I’m going to rock your socks off with my dancing.”

“Not sure you can call it dancing!” Imagene teased light heartedly and Keith had to suppress a snort of laughter.

“I’ll have you know I have since received special instruction!” Lance snapped in mock annoyance. “I asked Vivirdian to teach me how to do the Yam waltz thing and he helped me and said I was fine.”

“I said you did not step on my toes as much,” Vivirdian corrected, carrying a still sleeping Ellea. “Now come along, we need to get moving if we want a decent seat.”

When Vivirdian had said ‘lawn’ Keith had in mind a small patch of grass in front of a building of some sort. He was not expecting a massive plot of land on hills that rolled inwards to form an all natural stadium. It was like walking into one of those huge football fields, but instead of seating there was just a huge expanse of grass with sections carved out by little pathways illuminated by columns of what appeared to be glowing crystal. Each crystal had different signs hung on them that denoted each sector in what appeared to be five different languages, including common speak. Hundreds upon thousands of festival goers filed into their sectors, spreading out blankets and pillows to sit on and face the large center of the stadium.

The center appeared to be a huge circle of just dry earth. Somebody had painted an odd design on it that reminded Keith of those henna designs he’d seen… somewhere. The bright white lines and shapes contrasted with the soft brown ground. Around the stage like surface there were lanterns suspended from large wooden poles.

“Welcome to the Lawn.” Lucivida announced excitedly as he surveyed the area. “Man, I haven’t been able to sit here in, what is it, 3 festivals?”

“4,” Imagene corrected, straightening her yam branch crown. “And it serves you right for being a giant nerd!”

“An appreciation and devotion to the study of neuroscience does not make me any less of an Ambrusian.” He sniffed, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Imagene chose to ignore this statement. “You need to put on your arm band, nerd.”

Lucivida nodded and fished out a red piece of cloth and quickly tied it around his arm, or tried to. “Can you…?”

“Of course,” Imagene chuckled helping him tie the cloth around his arm. Keith realized the cloth seemed to glow faintly in the increasing darkness of the night. As he looked around he noticed a few more glowing armbands secured around seemingly random individuals.

“What’s that?” Lance asked.

“It’s an indicator of his medical training.” Vivirdian said, motioning for the group to follow him. “Everyone who has completed some form of medical training is legally required to wear one. That way they can be easily identified in case of an emergency.”

Lance nodded approvingly, swinging his hand (which was still holding Keith’s) back and forth between them as they strolled behind Vivirdian and Oran. Lance had insisted that they needed to stick together in such a big crowd and that this was the easiest way to stay close. Keith didn’t exactly resist even though he knew it would be more effective to hold hands with one of the Ambrusians than each other that way if they got separated from the group they’d have somebody who actually knew what was going on. If Keith and Lance were separated from the group together they’d just be two really confused teenaged boys in a sea of aliens. Keith didn’t have any actual evidence but he was pretty sure that was a recipe for disaster. Somebody would end up crying (probably Keith who was already on the verge of an existential crisis) and the other wouldn’t know what to do and they’d just get more lost and more distraught. But Keith figured that hey, at least they’d be lost and distraught together. Any excuse to be near Lance was a good one to him.

Chapter Text

Lance

As it turned out the yam festival ‘yams’ were not actually yams and Lance was pissed. He felt lied to and betrayed. How could an entire culture be centered around something and not use the correct name for it? This was NOT a yam. It was still an orange-yellow color, but that was where the similarity ended. In taste and texture it seemed to be like a cross between a pepper and a baked potato, spicy and a little mushy, but more cooked carrot mushy than sweet potato mushy.

“It’s just the linguistics” Keith hissed in his ear the fourth time Lance opened his mouth to complain about it. “This is an alien planet, of course the yams aren’t what you’re used to!”

“But it’s weird!” Lance shot back, lifting a forkful of chopped up fake-yams for Keith to see. “You haven’t even tried them yet! You can’t tell me to shut up until you see what I’m talking about. Eat them!”

Lance waved the fork in front of Keith’s mouth, making fake airplane sounds. Keith reel back, wrinkling his nose.

“You’re not feeding me like a baby.” Keith protested, batting lightly at Lance’s hand. Though his words were chosen to reflect annoyance his tone couldn’t hide the faint amusement.

“Oh c’mon!” Lance whined pleadingly. “It’s just yams, or fake-yams I guess and besides when you taste them you’ll know what I mean!”

“Oh my god- Fine.” He snapped and took the mouthful fake-yams from Lance’s fork into his mouth.

“Is it common to feed each other on Earth?” Lucivida asked, watching them with new intent. “In the other meals we have spent together I never noticed this behavior before.”

“I mean,” Keith replied, covering his mouth with his hand. “Sometimes but not really? Also these are kind of spicy, but also bland tasting? Kind of like peppery carrots...”

“See!” Lance said in triumph. “They aren’t real yams!”

“Of course they’re real yams!” Imagene shot back in a voice mixed with irritation and amusement. “Do you think your planet has a monopoly on names for vegetables?”

“I think that’s enough,” Vivirdian said a little firmly. There was no mirth in his voice and Lance took that as a sig that it was time to drop the subject.

“So,” Lucivida said, apparently also picking up on Vivirdian’s hint. “Sometimes people on Earth feed each other?”

It was a weak conversational point, but it was a lifeline and Lance was willing to take it.

“Mothers often spoonfeed their babies when they start eating solid food.” Lance said, spooning up another forkful of yams. Before Lance could bring it to his lips Keith swooped in and took another bite. Lance scowled at him as Keith chewed and swallowed innocently. “And sometimes couples feed each other too.”

“So feeding each other is a sign of romantic love?” Oran asked with a grin, lifting up a spoonful of yams and glancing at Vivirdian.

“Absolutely not.” Vivirdian chuckled. “Spoon feeding here is only for the extremely young, sick, or dying.”

“In the Suertia culture spoon feeding is symbolic of the caregiver becoming cared for,” Imagene hummed. “A child will feed their mother by hand during the last few days of life.”

“That’s morbid.” Lance said without thinking, then after realizing the meaning of his words began to backpedal. “I mean, not in a bad way just-”

“It’s alright,” Imagene laughed softly. “I can see how some Ambrusian traditions can seem a little macabre to those outside of our culture, but think about how odd some of your traditions seem.”
“Ok little miss ‘what the fuck is a handshake’.” Lance teased. Everybody around them laughed.

It had taken a few tries to explain the concept of a handshake to the Ambrusians. They just didn’t seem to understand why it would be a standard form of greeting when just saying hello was more efficient and spread less germs, or at least that’s how Lucivida explained it. Imagene just wanted to know why they shook hands and when Lance couldn’t give her a good enough reason asked why he bothered with it in the first place to which Lance obviously had no answer. It did seem kinda odd to greet new people with firm hand grasping now that he thought about it, but it also seemed odd not to shake people’s hands since he was so used to it.

“Oh!” Jey gasped out grabbing Vivirdian’s hand and getting to her feet. Lance could tell she was a dancer from the way she lifted her spine, like a slinky slipping back into an upright position. It reminded him of the way his own former dance instructor moved. “Vivi! They are starting the program! We need to get down there or else we will upset Ms. Bustle and she has not exactly changed since graduation you know.”

“I’m well aware of that Jey,” Vivirdian sighed getting to his feet. “Oran can you pass me my- ah, yes, thank you.”

Oran handed him a bag he’d brought along and got to his feet, enveloping Vivirdian in a hug, a tight one.

“It’s only a little while,” Vivirdian chuckled warmly, hugging him back.

“Why do they make you do it though?” Oran asked with a pout. “I feel like I am being cheated out of my own dance with my husband.”

“Because I’m the only one in the military with this level dance training willing to make a fool out of myself every revolution.” Vivirdian replied, managing to free himself from Oran’s embrace. “Now, keep Ellea out of trouble, and don’t let Imagene scare off every potential partner. Apparently her PR depends on her getting married.”

“So… let Imagene scare off every partner,” Oran said with a smirk. “But in a way that is subtle enough that they cannot complain to the press. Got it.”

Vivirdian laughed and allowed himself to be lead away by Jey, who was practically dragging him away at this point. As he left Oran’s face fell from a smile into a frown. He folded his arms over his chest and turned away. Lance couldn’t quite pin his expression. Worried? Disappointed? Was he scared Vivirdian would be unfaithful?

“I don’t think you have much to worry about,” Lance said, trying to be reassuring. “I think Vivirdian is a pretty good guy. I don’t think he’d cheat on you.”

Keith elbowed him in the ribs, glaring at him. “Wow, that was insensitive.”

“Hey!” Lance protested. “First of all ouch, that fucking hurt, second of all I’m just trying to reassure him.”

“You have no idea what he has been through-” Keith began on what Lance assumed was a lecture, but Oran stopped him.

“It is alright Keith,” Oran sighed pulling on a smile. “Lance does not know what I assume you know.”

“What do I not know?” Lance asked immediately, curious as to what was going on.

“None of your beeswax.” Keith grumbled, turning away, his flower crown bobbling a bit with the movement.

“What Keith means to say,” Oran said firmly, but not in an angry tone. “Is that it is a deeply personal issue. How about we drop it for now?”

“You should count out your blossoms with me!” Ellea suggested with a grin, clambering into Lance’s lap and reaching for his crown of branches. Lucivida laughed and lifted it up out of her reach.

“Careful Ellie,” He said. “You might crush them if you aren’t gentle.”

“I won’t crush them!” Ellea whined in protest, climbing up onto Lance’s shoulders to try and grab the crown.

“Hey!” Lance laughed, trying to lift the little girl off of him. “Ellea, that’s my face! And give me back my crown!”

Imagene scooped the protesting little girl off of Lance’s shoulders. “I think we all need to settle down and focus more on the program.”

“When you say program do you mean Vivirdian having to slow dance with his ex?” Keith asked bluntly.

Imagene smirked. “That might be part of its appeal, but the program’s main focus is a play put on by Darius Laurel students about a traditional Ambrusian myth, one of my favorites actually.”

“Ambrusian myth?” Lance grinned, sitting criss cross applesauce on the blanket. “Considering the contents of the last one I heard about I am excited for this. Are we going to hear anymore about that guy that was so salty that his crush was gay that he eja-Mph!!”

“And that’s enough of that!” Keith announced slapping his hand over Lance’s mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence. “Let’s not bring that up in front of a seven year old girl.”

Lance scowled at Keith and in retaliation licked his hand. Keith yelped in shock and reeled back, wiping his hand on his pants in disgust. Imagene and Lucivida laughed.

“What the hell Lance?” He spluttered. “What are you, nine?”

“On a scale of one to ten, yes!” He grinned and settled down to watch the Ambrusian festivities.

The New Mother

Once, a long time ago, there was a small farming village hidden among the greatest of forests. It had once been a grand nation, but the splintering of its leadership lead to war and left it a small and impoverished community. The inhabitants of the village only practiced their faith as a sort of tradition and very few believed in the power of their actions and words. Of this small number was a very pious couple.

The tallest of the couple was named Elvina and the shortest was called Ravu. Though they had followed all the recommendations (marrying early, participating in the yam festival, eating a rich diet, praying to the great mother Ambrusia) they were never blessed with a child. This greatly upset the couple as all they had ever wanted was children of their own to love and care for, but they knew better than to curse the Sun or Ambrusia for their misfortune. Instead they cared for any orphan child that was left to them, considering each a gift, but the council of their village forbade any couple without children of their own from adopting and the couple could only care for the child until a more permanent home was found.

Every morning they would set out a bowl of yams on their porch and sprinkle on soft spices as an offering to the goddess and a prayerful plea to blessed with a child. Unfortunately, their piety seemed to be in vain. Many common years passed and the couple was still as barren as the ground in the driest deserts. Soon they would be past the childbearing age and then there would be no hope for them. Still, they carried on, trying their best to not let their gratefulness to their mother fester into bitter hate. But it was difficult not to curse her name whenever they went into town and saw all their friends teaching their own children the prayers to the mother who had never brought them life of their own.

One morning it became too much for Ravu and he couldn’t leave their home. His great grief had stricken him ill and he was too weak and full of despair to even rise from their bed. Elvina tried to comfort him as much as she could, but she was in tremendous pain as well. She cared for him with all her heart and strength until he died. She wept bitterly in the time that followed, knowing now that she never have a child of her own. Still, she continued to honor Ambrusia, though her heart was not in it.

One day, not long after her mate’s death, she was walking into town when she felt pull in her soul to step off the trail and instead head for the ruins. Knowing the mother worked in mysterious ways, she obeyed her instinct. As she walked by the stream that led to the ruins she realized how neglected and forgotten this part of the wild was. Ever since the center of worship to the mother had moved to the town people had stopped coming down here and as a result the area was unkempt.

The pathways were covered in rotten fruit that had fallen unpicked from the trees above. She carefully cleared it away, burying it in the dirt so it could renew the mother. She cleaned the stones that marked the paths, wiping away dirt not with a spare rag but with her own cloak soaked in sacred oils. It took most of the remaining morning, but finally the trails were restored to a fraction of their former glory.

As dirty as the pathways had been so too were the streams. Once a clean, sparkling flow of water, they had turned stinky, stagnant and murky. She discovered why as she passed a large nest made by some river dwelling creature who had long since died that blocked up the flow’s source. She waded into the water and took it down, allowing fresh clean water to flow into the river once more. By now it was well past noon and the sun scorched her skin, but she did not stop, not until her task was finally finished.

The great mother watched Elvina work silently, not calling out for help or complaining as her aged joints ached. Most mortals would merely pass by the mess that time had left and head straight for the ruins to plead their case to her. Because of their selfish hearts the mother would not listen to them. The people of the village, believing the mother must have left this place, moved their place of worship to the town because if their cries were to fall on deaf ears they shouldn’t have to walk so far.

Elvina finally reached the ruins to find the altar in just a sorry state as the rest of the area. With delicate care she swept away the dirt and grime and wiped it clean, then she set out a small offering of yams and spices just as she had done at dawn on her own porch. When she had finished she knelt at the foot of the altar and closed her eyes in prayer, but before she could even say the first words of the well recited hymn, she was interrupted.

“Stand my child,” A voice commanded. “You need not say a word, I already know your what lies in your heart.”

Elvina opened her eyes and was in awe. Before her stood a woman, skin as tan as the dusty earth, hair a swirling torrent of dark sea water. She was clothed in a terrain of the planet, snowy peaks glittering her neckline like jewels, meadows and streams embroidering her body. Though the myths described her so differently Elvina knew who this woman was: the great mother Ambrusia.

“I do not deserve to look upon your face,” Elvina whispered, sinking into a low bow. “In my heart I have doubted you and in my mind I have cursed you.”

“You are as worthy as any of my children,” Ambrusia assured her, lifting her chin up. “I have heard your desperate cries and your bitter anger, but most importantly I have seen your great devotion. My children have grown complacent and I have long sought for somebody with great piety to lead them back to my breast, back to their roots, to be their new mother. I believe you are the one who I must entrust.”

“But I am not a mother,” Elvina said with sorrow in her voice. “I have not one child of my own.”

“Parenthood is not by birth,” Ambrusia reminded her. “Take this crown, and show it to your people so they will follow you in restoring this land. Before you had no children, but now all shall know as their queen and mother.”

And so Ambrusia created a wreath of yam branches and placed it up on her head. Elvina did not understand how this wreath would convince her village, but she trusted in her mother. She left the ruins and went into the village. Upon reaching the center of the town the wreath blossomed to reveal beautiful flowers, and all who saw were amazed and knelt down around her, praising her as the new mother.

Keith

Keith wasn’t sure what to think of this myth. Were people really expected to believe that just a blooming crown was a sign that an old woman, probably filthy from landscaping the ruins all day, was the chosen one sent by the earth goddess? Surly they would need a little more convincing than that? Keith had to remind himself that it was just a myth. At least it wasn’t as weird as the other one he’d been told, he had to say that.

“Well, I guess it was just a kumb-YAM moment Keith.” Lance grinned when Keith vented his frustration to him in quiet whispers. Keith groaned but couldn’t suppress a little laugh.

“A what?” Imagene asked, having overheard their conversation.

“Nothing,” Lance chuckled, waving her away. “So, now that the play is over, what’s next in this program?”

“The display of unity between the military and the arts,” Oran answered simply.

“He means Vivirdian waltzing with his ex,” Lucivida clarified with a snicker, nudging Oran with his elbow.

Oran smirked. “Yeah… that too.”

“Shh!” Ellea shushed them all, holding her finger up to her lips. “They’re starting!”

Sure enough the stage was lighting up again to reveal it had been cleared of all the props used in the play. All that remained was a couple in the same starting position that Keith and Lance had learned for the Yam Waltz. It was hard to see from how far away they were from the stage, but Keith could tell it was Jey and Vivirdian from their hair. A moment later the music began to play, and the couple began to move.

At first Keith thought they were just going to do the same version of the Yam waltz he had been taught. It contained many of the same core steps and movements of what they knew, but it became obvious that this was something completely different. It was full of more complex partner moves and even a few lifts. By the end of it he was breathless just from watching. The pair moved together as one unit, a solid and confident pair. Keith had known they had been dance partners in school but this was teamwork on an entirely different level.

“Woah…” He murmured as they swirled together to the music.

“He is incredible isn’t he,” Oran sighed, watching the dancers with a fond smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. “I knew he was a dancer but I had no idea he was that good.”

“This is honestly nothing.” Oran chuckled. “When we were in school together they competed as a duo all the time and this is only a fraction of their skill.”

“Vivirdian told me about that.” Keith said. “You three were all friends, right? And you and Vivirdian served in the military together?”

Oran glanced over at Keith. “Yes, we did. Just how much of his life story did he tell you?”

“Quite literally all of it,” Keith grinned.

“What a babble breather,” Oran muttered darkly and Keith laughed. “Anyways, I think it’s time for you to join in the Yam Waltz. Genie, pass me Ellea, I’ll hold her during the dance.”

“C’mon Keith,” Lance said, grabbing Keith’s wrist and pulling him to his feet. “You’ll save the last dance for me right? The best for last?”

“Not sure about the best,” Keith teased him, pushing him away lightly. “But sure, I’ll save it for you.”

“What do you mean not sure about the best?” Lance protested, but Keith didn’t give him an answer, he’d already accepted a hand somebody had offered him to dance.

As a kid, Keith had dreaded school dances. For him, a delinquent with no friends, it was always a painful event. He would sit at one of the cafeteria tables, watching young couples awkwardly spin around the dance floor to a slow song. The music was always out of date, and the decorations lackluster at best, nonexistent at worst. (Nothing says under the sea like some weird fish drawings done by middle schoolers plastered to the wall) Nobody ever asked him to dance, or sat down at his little table to speak to him. It was always just dull lonely night for him. The only reason he went was because he was socially obligated too, that and there was always the drama of a couple breaking up that he just couldn’t miss.

The yam dance however was nothing like a school dance. Even though he had been too out of it to exchange too many blooms he found there were many people eager to be his dance partner. The music may have been thousands of years old, but it felt perfect to occasion. It was fun to dance for once. He didn’t feel awkward about his short height, or how his arms were too long to be graceful. Everybody here was just trying to celebrate and didn’t seem to care about who he was or what he was doing.

Still, Keith felt self conscious every time he caught sight of Lance. Lance’s wreath had been full of many colorful flowers and every partner he had was just as gorgeous as the the flowers they had exchanged. Keith couldn’t help but stare as Lance laughed at some joke his current partner, a very pretty blue haired girl, was telling him. His smile was so bright it lit up the night. Keith wondered briefly he had ever given anyone a reason to smile like that, wondered briefly if he ever would be able to.

Lance

Lance was now convinced there had to be something magical about those fake yams. Throughout the day he had received many from boys and girls alike, but had been wondering how he would actually find them all once they were in the lawn. For some reason though they seemed to find each other on their own. He’d finish the dance with one person and then turn away and spin right into the arms of somebody else he’d exchanged flowers with. He kept going, wondering how long the song would loop until her twirled right into somebody unexpected: Imagene.

“Woah!” He said as he took her hand. “I don’t remember receiving a flower from you.”

“I know,” She smiled sweetly. “But I see you’ve run out of partners, look.”

She gestured up to his wreath of yam branches and he glanced up. All the blooms had closed into little buds, all except for the one person he hadn’t danced with yet: Keith.

“Woah,” He breathed. “That’s incredible.”

“I know,” She chuckled. “And don’t ask me how it works because I couldn’t tell you. Oh, sorry, I think I stepped on your foot there.”

Lance winced at the sensation of his toes being smashed. “Ahaha, yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not nearly as skilled a dancer as Keith made me look in that ballroom.” She confessed. “I allowed him to just lead me through the steps and he managed to keep a straight face every time I accidentally stepped on his feet.”

“I thought you looked great,” Lance assured her honestly. “I was kind of jealous for a minute.”

“Of my facade of dancing ability?” She asked with a mischievous smirk. “Or that I was dancing with Keith?”

Lance turned pink, not answering her question because of course she was right, on both ends. Mercifully she didn’t press him to give a response.

“You know,” She said thoughtfully. “I believe the next round is the last dance, but I don’t think you’re aware of the Ambrusian tradition of the last dance.”

“Hm?” Lance said, pulling himself together. “What last dance tradition?”

“Well,” She smiled, stepping in, then out, then back in again. “Usually you share a kiss of gratitude with your final partner.”

Any semblance of composure instantly melted away from him at those words. A kiss? What kind of hellish tradition was that? And why the hell did it have to be with the last person he danced with? And why the hell had he saved his final dance to be with Keith? This was not good. Not good at all. Lance looked at Imagene, jaw hanging open and cheeks burning.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” He managed after a moment. She only grinned, twirling out of his arms as that round ended and Lance found himself face to face with Keith.

“Hey,” Keith breathed, grinning up at Lance. He was breathless from dancing, but he looked like he was having the time of his life and Lance thought he was going to die.

“Uh, hey,” He managed, taking Keith’s hand into his own. “Have fun?”

Keith shrugged. “I guess, about as much fun as one can have in an alien yam festival.”

“So a lot of fun?” Lance asked awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Keith replied, wiping his forehead. “I never thought I’d ever find dancing to be this enjoyable.”

“Well,” Lance smiled, praying the dim light would be able to hide his flushed face. “I mean… yeah…”

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow in concern. “I’ve never known you to be at a loss for words.”

“I am now,” Lance puffed out. “Imagene just told me something and it kind of messed me up.”

Keith glanced over to where Imagene was dancing with another boy. Lance followed his gaze. “Really? What did she say?”

“Uhhhh…” Lance scrambled to make something up on the spot, but the only thing he could think about was the way Keith was looking at him with those big purplish gray eyes and pink lips that looked like soft petals and how his hair was plastered to his forehead from perspiration from dancing for so long. Lance wondered if it would look like that when he was perspiring from another physical exercise, then he immediately wondered how he had not figured out he was (sort of) gay before now.

“Lance?” Keith called his name with those plush lips as the song came to a close, the rhythm slowing down as Lance’s heartbeat began to escalate rapidly. “Are you sure you’re o- MMPH.”

Pidge

Pidge held up the cracked reflective glass staring at herself, wrinkling her nose to make a silly face. Her reflection mimicked her, new freckles darting up to chase after her cheeks, lips pursing sourly. It was the face she used give Matt when she was trying to tease him for something. The cracks in the glass distorted the picture, dark lines rippling across the image, contrasting with her lightly sun tanned skin.

It was the day following their discovery of Keith and Lance on another planet, and though they were both desperate to reunite themselves with their teammates, Shiro made an executive decision they should focus on catching up on some aspects of hygiene they had neglected before they became too wrapped in devising a plan to do so, and first up on that list was haircuts.

Pidge had to agree that she could really use a trim. Her hair seemed to be growing faster, much faster than usual. It was already touching her shoulders. Shiro said that one of the weird aliens told him some of the native fruit species had ‘magical’ hair growing properties. At the time Shiro hadn’t believed it because hey, these were the same sentient creatures that refused to believe in pants, but now that both paladins looked like they could be hair models they could believe it. Okay well, maybe not the magical part, but there was definitely something in that fruit that was more or less hair steroids.

Earlier that day they’d washed their hair in the creek, using some of the fruit juice as a sort of shampoo. It hadn’t lathered, but it definitely did a good job of cleaning up the dirt and sweat that lingered on the strands. Now that Pidge had let it dry in the warm sun it seemed fuller. When she ran her hands through it the strands felt like silk flowing as easily as liquid.

“We better save some of this,” Shiro chuckled wiping the remains of the juice on a spare rag.

“Why?” Pidge asked. “We’re space warriors, we don’t need to keep our hair soft and shiny.”

“No,” Shiro said with a small smirk. “But you know how Coran likes to take care of his mustache.”

“That’s true,” She nodded, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “And I remember Lance was oddly obsessed with his own appearance at the Garrison. He practically had an apothecary under his sink.”

“We should take some of the seeds then,” Shiro said. “Maybe we can find a way to grow them on the ship.”

“Good idea,” Pidge nodded, rubbing off a lingering smudge of mud from her arm.

Now that they knew Lance and Keith were alive things weren’t so tense. Pidge hadn’t really noticed how strained and worried the atmosphere had been until it was gone. It was like seeing sunshine after months of rain and ice. Instead of accepting their fate to be stuck here forever they had begun working on a way out. Their current plan was to try and design a radio or other broadcasting system to signal to whatever planet had Keith and Lance. Unfortunately they didn’t really know how they were going to do that. Pidge had thought about tracking down the signal and just using their helmet radios, but right now the best she could get them to do was play some weird alien music that sounded like a combination of 8-bit and slow jazz.

“So what do you want me to do with your hair?” Shiro asked, sitting down behind her. “Just the same as before?”

Pidge chewed her lip for a moment. “How good are you at cutting hair without scissors?”

There weren’t any scissors in any of the supply kits in the Lions. The best thing they had was a razor blade and some odd sharp metal shards that would probably be okay as long as they were careful.

“Do you think the Galra did this?” He asked with proud grin, gesturing to his own head. “Absolutely not.”

She laughed. “Okay, okay… I kind of want to try something different, if that’s okay. Can you shave the sides, but leave the top part a little long? Like, not 2012 emo side bangs long, but… you get my drift?”

He thought for a moment, tilting his head and looking over her hair. “I mean, I definitely can, but what’s up with the sudden desire to shave you hair? Are you sure you’re Katie Holt.”

“Positive.” She grinned, adjusting her glasses. “I’m just not as… conservative as the rest of my family.”

He snorted, tying back a section of her hair with a piece of string. “Believe me when I say your brother was definitely not conservative.”

“Yeah,” Pidge agreed, setting aside the makeshift mirror and letting her mind wander briefly into the usually forbidden realm of her family. “He’s pretty chill, but he can still be really annoying at times.”

“Tell me about it,” Shiro chuckled fondly. “He used to talk through his ideas out loud. One time he barged into the pilot’s cabin at 3 am and just started rambling for a solid hour about a problem he was having with a certain rock composition. It was completely one sided but he managed to actually figure out the issue on his own. I mean, it wasn’t an ideal situation but it was kind of awe inspiring to witness.”

“That sounds like Matt,” She grumbled, her voice losing a bit of its softness. She rested her chin in her hand letting out a soft puff of air. “He’s so smart, going to blow the world away.”

“He’s not the only one who’s going to.” Shiro said, his voice softening a bit. He worked his fingers through her hair, beginning to slice away locks of hair. It fell softly to the ground, sprinkling her shoulders like thin coating of light brown dust. “And I have a feeling more than just the world is going to be blown away but what you do.”

“I got abducted by a robot cat thing completely by accident and was more or less forced to save the universe.” She countered. “He chose to do so by going on the Kerberos mission and making new discoveries with my dad.”

“They were collecting ice cores.” Shiro reminded her, cutting through longer sections in a diagonal shape to create what Pidge could only assume hairstylists referred to as ‘layers’. “They weren’t saving the universe, and I don’t think it was a mere accident that we became paladins.”

“Well what else could it be?” Pidge asked sourly, flicking a rock away. “Please don’t tell me you believe in fate or destiny or some Naruto bullshit like that.”

“Hey, I grew out of my anime phase a long time ago, don’t call me out like this!” Shiro laughed and Pidge couldn’t resist a little smirk. “And no, maybe not destiny or any supernatural force, but I don’t think it was just a complete coincidence we were together as a team that night. Maybe it has something to do with that quintessence thing Allura and Coran keep talking about but never explain.”

“Maybe…” Pidge murmured, mulling the idea over in her mind. “Quintessence is actually the word for what was believed to be ‘dark energy’ in medieval times, but in some Altean book I read that it was life energy, the combination of the 5 characteristics of the paladins or something and apparently they all resonate with each other, like harmonic notes.”

“Maybe that’s why we came together.” Shiro said, shaving away even more of her hair. “We were called to each other through our own energy, if that’s even possible.”

“Maybe…” She murmured, closing her eyes.

She let her mind drift a bit, focusing on the soft melodies of the alien radio show. She blocked out the sound of the knife cutting through her hair and for a brief moment she could almost pretend she wasn’t on another planet, thousands of lightyears away from her own. The sunshine came from a very different star, but right now it felt just as warm and familiar as the sunshine back on Earth. She could imagine that she was just lying on the beach of the lake near their home, listening to music, waiting for their mother to call them over for some snacks or to reapply their sunscreen.

“All done,” Shiro announced brushing the little hairs off of her shoulder. She opened her eyes and batted his hand away, brushing off the remaining hair herself. “Take a look.”

She took the makeshift mirror in her hands and raised it so she could see what Shiro had done. The sides were neatly trimmed, almost completely shaved. The top part was kept long so it swept over her forehead.

“Woah…” She murmured, running a hand through her bangs. “That’s… really good. Thank you Shiro.”

“You’re welcome!” He beamed, grinning at her with obvious pride. “I’m glad you like it.”

She grinned, fluffing up the top section up. “I can’t wait until my family sees this.”

“I can’t imagine they’ll be overly pleased,” Shiro chuckled, putting away the knife.

“You won’t believe how my mom reacted when I told her I cut my hair.” Pidge laughed. “She was terrified I was turning into a lesbian! Jokes on her, I was a lesbian the entire time, even if I wasn’t ready to admit it then.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only gay one on this team.” Shiro sighed. “And I’m glad you’ve owned up to who you are as a person Pidge. It took me much longer to come to terms with my own sexuality.”

“Well if this radical deep space adventure has taught me anything it’s that life is too short to spend in the closet.” She snickered. “And I can’t believe my team leader likes it up the butt.”

“Actually I’m panromantic and asexual,” Shiro corrected her. “So I like it all but don’t actually want it anywhere near my butt.”

Pidge burst out laughing. “That’s… the best way… to share that news…”

As they laughed together the faint music coming from Pidge’s helmet fizzled out, only to be replaced by static and cut off words. This wasn’t exactly unusual. The helmet wasn’t exactly the best at keeping itself set to just one frequency and the music often cut out. She was just about to do so when Shiro stopped her, grabbing her wrist.

“Wait.” He commanded, brows furrowed in concentration. “Can you hear something in the static?”

Chapter Text

Imagene

Imagene thanked her final partner and turned to face Lucivida who was glancing over across the lawn with a look of mild concern mixed with bewildered amazement. She glanced to where he had focused his attention and grinned. Lucivida was staring at a pair of sweaty humans locked closely at the lips and completely oblivious to the outside world.

“How long have they been…?” Imagene began, but her twin didn’t need to hear the rest of her question to understand what she was asking.

“Since the end of the last chorus,” He murmured, running a hand over his forehead. “I never thought anything short of an aphrodisiac would ever… They are just so awkward… What did you do?”

“Not an aphrodisiac Luz,” Genie snorted, resting her arm on his shoulder and leaning on him. “But I couldn’t take the needless pining any longer so I used my powers of persuasion to convince Lance it would be culturally offensive to not kiss Keith at the end of the song. Maybe now I can get some proposals done without feeling one of them aching through the floor.”

“I don’t condone whatever you did…” Luz let out a breathy laugh. “I do agree that the pining was just out of hand.”

Lucivida and Imagene were very close and he told her absolutely everything, including Lance’s odd rambling about Keith. This, coupled with Keith’s mopey footsteps and their overall awkward conversations that completely offset the dinnertime atmosphere, convinced Imagene that something had to be done and that she was just the person to do it. Was her plan flawed? Absolutely, but it was the best she could come up with on such short notice.

“Hey the head of security-that’s my husband if you didn’t know-needs to know when we are leaving so he can arrange undercover- what in Ambrusia’s breast are they doing?” Oran asked, beginning to giggle. “Oh my sun and stars… Genie, what did you do?”

Around them families were beginning to regroup and trickle down out of the area. Workers were filing out to discard the waste some inconsiderate individuals had left behind.

“Why does everyone assume it was me?” She asked with a little laugh because she knew why.

“Because you are the only one with a track record of messing with people’s love lives,” Oran chuckled. “Remember the chocolate incident?”

“I couldn’t let you and Vidri break up!” She protested, giving him an exasperated look. “He got so depressed that during the cycle you two were separated he let me go into public without my circlet on 3 times!”

“That is pretty serious,” Oran admitted, with a little smirk. “And do not get me wrong, I am grateful for what you did now that I can safely laugh it off, but at the time it was… terrifying.”

Imagene grinned, focusing her attention back to Keith and Lance.

Keith

What the fuck.

What the fuck.

He was kissing Lance, the blue paladin of Voltron who up until very recently Keith had been certain was a one on the Kinsey scale and was just another straight boy crush, another helpless and self destructive obsession made worse by their close proximity. In the past he’d always fallen for the straight guy. They were flirty and cute and Keith was a sucker for that combination. No matter how often he told himself it was a recipe for heartbreak he would find himself slipping down into that hellish bliss called infatuation. He’d watch from afar, knowing he could look but he could never have such a luxury. Besides, who’d want him anyways? Keith saw himself as stale, day old bread sitting next to freshly made cake in a bakery window. People would pick him up because he was half off (desperate in this case), not because he was genuinely appealing.

But then there had been Lance, who had experienced first hand how high maintenance Keith could be and never ran away. He stayed with him through that weird freak out in the bedroom, and though he’d been upset he’d somehow managed to forgive Keith after the trial incident. He’d felt himself falling hard, too hard and knew it was needless heart ache, but then Lance had come out to Keith as bisexual, and something in him had soared to life. It had made Keith hope for a future he thought impossible. He might be stale bread but goddamnit didn’t he deserve happiness too.

Lance, Lance, Lance he thought nonsensically, initial shock evaporating as Lance tilted his head just a bit and it made their contact just that much better. He felt Lance’s arms snake their way around Keith’s back, pulling him closer and Keith was more than happy to oblige. He wanted to be close, closer. He leaned against Lance’s chest and let his eyelids fall shut as he sank he could only describe as joy. It bubbled over in his chest like a cold soda on a hot summer’s day, cooling the fire he didn’t even know was raging in his body.

Something like giddiness swept over him and he suppressed the urge to giggle because to him this was just absolutely insane. How could this have happened to him? What did he do to make God happy and what did he need to do to get this to happen more often? Shit, he was getting way too excited. Was this what it like to be drugged? He panicked for a moment, wondering if there was something in that, but then he told himself to just shut up and enjoy this.

Lance

He hadn’t exactly kissed many people before, but when Lance had imagined what kissing another guy would feel like, the word soft had never come to mind. He was always taught that men should be rough, rugged, stoic, and had just assumed that would translate to every aspect of them, but he guessed that wasn’t entirely true, at least it wasn’t true for kissing Keith. His lips were like velvet strips of cloth, unbelievably soft under Lance’s own. They were pliant and plush, like carnation petals.

The more Lance thought about it the more Lance realized that Keith himself was a soft person. Though he tried to hide it under layers of brooding attitude and a mullet he was just as squishy and cozy as Hunk. Soft fluttery lashes that framed wide grayish purple eyes and tickled Lance’s skin, cheeks flushed a soft pink from dancing, breath hot and warm and oh my god he was kissing Keith.

He hadn’t even realized this was something he’d wanted to do until he was standing in front of the guy. Okay no that was kind of a lie. The urge had happened once or twice before, or maybe more than that. Usually it was during sparring sessions on the castle, when they were wrestling on the mat, a tangle of sweaty bodies and fast breathing and adrenaline. But what guy wouldn’t get a little gay when their faces were inches apart? Especially when face to face with a guy like Keith. Lance didn’t exactly enjoy admitting it, but Keith was… pretty hot.

Should Keith even be attractive to Lance? Was Lance even attracted to Keith? Though he was pretty sure the answer to both questions was yes, the years of catholic theology classes and daily mass came back to him in a rush and for a moment, just a heartbeat, he wondered if he was just faking all this for attention, or if this was just a phase, or if he should be disgusted by what he was doing at that moment because it was unnatural or immoral or both… But it was hard to think that when Keith’s eyes fell shut and his lips moved against Lance’s because how could something declared sinful by so many for so long feel so right?

It was like something in Lance’s chest finally slipped into it’s rightful place. All the questions, the thoughts, the emotions made sense in a way they hadn’t before. It felt like what he imagined putting on glasses for the first time would feel like, or slipping on hearing aids. Before his senses had been obscured and fuzzy and now they stunningly in tune with what everybody else had been telling him about for years. Here was the life he was supposed to be living, the old Lance was a lie.

He’d known he wasn’t straight, had accepted that or so he thought. When Keith told him he bisexual he’d finally been given a name to what he’d been feeling all his life, but there had still been that air of doubt. Hell, even when he’d finally acknowledged that he could just maybe have a tiny crush on Keith there had been doubt. How was he supposed to know if this was real or just hormones fucking around with him? Over time he would have come to the right answer on his own, but this certainly sped things up.

Or was it making it worse? A vision of his abuela flashed through his mind. It was a moment he hadn’t thought about in so long but suddenly came to him in vivid detail. Lance had been 15, which meant his family had already moved to the States and they were just visiting Cuba. It had been Christmas Eve, the topic of Lance’s estranged Aunt Isabel came up at the dinner table. Isabel had been the oldest child of abuela’s children, and already had two kids in college, one of which had come out as gay. Abuela originally had only cast aside the grandchild as ‘defectuoso’ in spanish, or defective, but when Aunt Isabel had defended her child his abuela declared that she was unwelcome in her home.

“It was because she let that boy join that damned alliance,” His abuela hissed. Lance saw his mother visibly flinch at her tone. “I told her not to, that the gays were just going to poison his mind like they do. ‘Get ‘em young’ is what they say of course, the young are always naive, ignorant, and stupid. They expect things to be given to them, refuse to work! And the gays promise that and that’s all they need!”

“Now mama,” Lance’s mother said. “Not all young people are like that. Remember how hard Lance worked to get into the Garrison in America?”

At this his abuela paused. Lance could see the inner battle she was waging in her mind. Her wrinkled brows work back and forth as she scrutinised him. To her it was an absolute that all young folks were lazy and Lance, who was already born out of wedlock and therefore horrible in his own way, was most definitely a young person. But all those years of Lance attending mass with her, teaching at Sunday school, and sheer manual labor to earn his tuition money were not totally lost even on someone as hard as her. Oh how she had doted (or her odd version of it) on Lance and bragged about him to all her friends.

“Yes, my grandson!” She had said as loudly as she could after Christmas mass that evening so all could hear. “He’s the one in the orange suit, that’s his school uniform. He attends the Garrison in America, earned his own tuition and everything. Doesn’t he look just striking? So handsome, just like his father you know. We couldn’t be more proud of him you know.”

She was still stern and disapproving of his… existence as a whole but she’d warmed up to him significantly over the past year. “Yes… but my Lance is not like one of them .”

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that she was just old fashioned and probably drunk, but he still had to clench his fists underneath the table.

“She let him go to a pride parade remember?” His abuela continued. “She was just encouraging him! He was never ‘gay’, just seeking attention.”

So was Lance bisexual? Or was he seeking attention. Did he want Keith to kiss him or not oh God he just didn’t know. And Keith’s hands-one tracing soft circles on his chest and the other cupping over the curve of Lance’s jaw- were not helping him make up his mind. Keith’s tongue tapped Lance’s lips, as if waiting for Lance to give him express permission which he granted eagerly. Each tender touch helped melt away at his doubt a little more, until it lay in a spineless puddle at his feet alongside his dignity. But as his abuela’s words sounded through him again the puddle began to curdle. He just couldn’t be gay, but he totally was, but how could he be, or not be because now Keith’s tongue was in his mouth.

At that startling sensation, undeniably euphoric, jolts of electricity rocketed through his body shocking his skin. His body buzzed and hummed in resonance, vibrating at just that frequency to shake him at his core, and Lance, confused and over stimulated and in way over his head did the only thing he could remember from his flight training classes: if something you do causes something you don’t like, stop doing it. So he pulled back from Keith.

For a moment Keith chased after his lips, eyes opening to lidded, gray half moons looking up at him through an unfocused haze.

They must have been at it for longer than Lance had realized because they were both panting. Keith wiped his mouth, and Lance noticed how swollen they had become and knew that his lips probably didn’t look any better. He hastily wiped away at any lingering spit, feeling his cheeks burn. He shouldn’t have kissed Keith so suddenly like that, he didn’t even know if Keith had been okay with that, he’d just done it. He could have just played ignorance on the whole tradition thing and-

Nobody around them was kissing. Not one couple was locked together in any way resembling a kiss and in fact the ones around them were giving them odd looks. It was clear to Lance that he had just been tricked into kissing Keith by Imagene. He whirled around to where he knew the others were standing and saw that they were all clearly suppressing laughter. Lance’s jaw dropped open, and he spluttered a few incoherent sounds as he stared at her. He wasn’t sure if he was angry, embarrassed, or upset. Probably a mixture of all three emotions if he was going to be honest with himself.

“Lance?” Keith said in a quiet voice, raising a hand to his spit shiny lips. “What the hell was that?!”

If Lance hadn’t been so flustered he might have been able to detect the soft tones of awe in Keith’s voice, but at that moment he couldn’t focus on anything except how he had just been played a fool in front of his crush… or possible crush… He was still working it out okay?

“Gah!” Lance finally sputtered out as many words as he could as fast as possible, his tongue tripping over the words. “I am so sorry Keith. I didn’t give you any warning I just swooped in and bam! Making out! In front of everyone! Fuck, I am so sorry. Goddamnit I am such an idiot. I didn’t even know if you wanted it or… or if you liked it! I mean, I liked it and I guess hell yeah I wanted it but… I didn’t want it to be like that, but that was really good, don’t get me wrong. BUT it’s not like you had to like it because I know I haven’t had a lot of experience kissing girls or guys so it was probably terrible and-”

But then Lance was cut off by a pale hand, Keith’s hand, reaching out to grab his chin and pull him back down into another kiss. This wasn’t the paced ascension like the previous kiss. This was just dizzyingly high, pulling Lance upwards so fast it stole his breath. It was harsh and heavy, Keith’s mouth moving mercilessly against Lance’s own, lips crashing against each other like waves.

Lance wrapped his hands around Keith’s waist again, one of his hands sliding up the back of his shirt by ‘accident’. Keith let out a breathy gasp into Lance’s mouth and arched up into him to press against Lance’s chest, leaning back on his hand for support. Lance felt Keith’s teeth nip teasingly at Lance’s lip, the little spark of pain doing absolutely nothing to help the fact that his pants felt like they were shrinking around his hips and oh ok that was a hand-

BOOM.

An earth shaking noise broke through the fuzzy haze of lust coating Lance’s mind and broke the pair apart. Disoriented, Lance looked around for the source of the disturbance. Any lingering thoughts of Keith were shaken from his mind as he saw one of the large illuminated crystals that jutted out from the ground shift, cracks forming in its previously pristine surface.

“Terrashake!” Lucivida cried reaching for Lance’s wrist, pulling him away from the crystal. Lance managed to loop an arm around Keith’s middle, dragging him along.

The remaining Ambrusians in the lawn began to scream in terror running as fast they could in all directions, as if unsure where to go. Where were they go for safety during an earthquake? There were no buildings nearby, not that seemed particularly safe in this situation. In fact this field was pretty safe, except for the large cracking crystals. As if the universe was trying to prove a point, Lance watched in horror as a huge stone crumbled and crashed to the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust. What happened next he didn’t know because Oran was forcing them down into a braced position. He and Vivirdian linked arms around the group in a vain attempt to shield them from any debris crushing them.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head down, covering his neck with his hands. Was he going to die here? Just after making out with a guy for the first time? Was this God trying to tell him not to be gay in the cruelest way possible? He’d never see his family again, or the other paladins, or-

But then, the shaking stopped and all was quiet. Deathly quiet. Lance wanted to see what was going on, but when he lifted his head Vivirdian pressed it down.

“Not until the all clear,” He breathed firmly.

As if that had given her permission to make noise, in the middle of the Ambrusian huddle Ellea began to sniffle, then burst out into tears. Imagene pulled her close to her chest, murmuring something that Lance couldn’t understand. It took him to moment to realize she wasn’t speaking the common language, instead an odd assortment of hard vowel sounds mixed with a few soft clicks. She must be speaking her mother tongue to comfort her little sister.

“It is safe!” Called out a voice and Vivirdian sighed letting go of Oran’s arms and sitting up.

Around them other people began to cry out, some in physical pain, others in fear, others in grief. Parents called out to console their wailing children. Ambrusians in uniforms that Lance guessed were like policemen began to help round people up and lead them safely through the rubble. Medics were dashing out into the area carrying medical bags and pushing what appeared to be gurneys.

“Is everyone okay?” Oran asked, scanning over his charges. Everybody seemed to be shaken, but physically unharmed. “Genie? Ellie? Luz?”

“We’re fine,” Lucivida puffed out, getting to his feet. “I think they’re going to need me on the field, so I’ll meet you back at the castle.”

“No,” Said one of the men in uniforms. A whole group of them had surrounded them like a guard. “Our reports coming in say that the terrashake knocked out power and has destabilized the foundation. We have deemed it unsafe for you to return there tonight. We are making arrangements to stay in a bunker-”

“I do not think it is advisable to take Ellea into a dark bunker in her current emotional state.” Imagene said, still holding a sobbing Ellea close to her. “Nor do I find the idea appealing.”

“But your highness,” The guard said. “A bunker would be the easiest for us to move you too and keep you safe.”

“How about our apartment?” Oran offered, speaking to Vivirdian, who pondered this thought.

“It’s in an underground location,” He mused. “We’ve got the supplies for an overnight visit and we know it’s easily defendable. Yes, I think our apartment will be a good alternative to a bunker.”

“But sir,” The guard protested, clearly a little flustered. “I have orders to-”

“And I have the final say on everything regarding the safety of the royal family.” Vivirdian cut him off. “Please tell your commander that I request about a half dozen undercover agents as a walking guard to the vehicle that will transport us back to my apartment, and then as many as they feel necessary to protect our home.”

The guard nodded and scampered off.

“Are you sure you only want 6 guards?” Oran asked with a little frown. “I’m sure the press will be ready to swarm Genie with questions.”

“I’m counting on the confusion to give us a little cover.” Vivirdian said. “Alright everyone! Get close and stick together. Do not answer questions, do not look at cameras and do not get separated.”

Instinctively Lance reached for a hand, Keith’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, squeezing Lance’s hand comfortingly.

“Yeah,” Lance breathed, nodded. “I’m okay, sort of. Wild night right?”

Keith paused, chewing his lip. "Yeah... pretty wild..."

Hunk

Hunk held his paladin helmet in his hands, staring into the visor. He felt like he was searching for something in the glass (or whatever Alteans used for glass), like a crystal ball. Unfortunately his reflection was just the same old dark skinned, brows furrowed Hunk it had been for the last half hour or so and didn’t appear to be changing any time soon. He sighed, setting the helmet down in his lap and staring up at the ceiling in his room.

He kept telling himself that they had a lead on reconnecting with the other paladins, or sort of had a lead. Hunk wasn’t genuinely convinced that a bunch of artificially engineered plant people would have outlived Zarkon. They were basically just slightly altered Alteans, and the planet Altea hadn’t exactly fared all that well against the Galra. There was no guarantee this Ambrusia still existed and if they did who was to say they still remembered the Alteans as allies? Or had any of the information they were supposed to have? Hunk groaned, realizing he’d fallen back into the worry hole he’d been trying to keep himself out of.

It was then that he heard a soft buzzing sound. Instinctively he fell quiet, listening for it. His mind went straight to enemy infiltrators. Had the Galra broken in and taken control of the sound system? Were they about to announce their presence through the speakers or… or… but no… The sound wasn’t coming from the speakers. It was coming from his helmet.

Gingerly, he picked up the helmet again and slipped it onto his head, listening intently. After a moment he heard it again, a soft buzzing sound. He adjusted the dials and closed his eyes to give his full attention to this mystery sound. It was faint at first, a gentle low vibration that seemed to fill up his mind and soothe him. As it grew louder he He knew this sound, he heard it every time he stepped aboard the Yellow Lion. But this couldn’t be Yellow’s purring, Yellow was offline… or…

He leapt off his bed, tossing his blankets to the floor. He sprinted down the hall towards the hanger, dressed in PJs and wearing his yellow paladin slippers. It was late judging by the dimmed lights. The castle’s lights naturally dimmed and brightened to replicate a day night cycle. Everybody was probably in bed and Hunk wasn’t exactly a quiet runner. First of all there was the initial stomp stomp stomp he made from slamming his feet into the metal floor. The slippers helped to muffle some of the noise but it was still pretty loud, probably loud enough to wake the others up. Then there was the added noise of Hunk’s desperate panting. Hunk had never been a very athletic kid to begin with and running just wasn’t really his thing.

Finally, he reached the hanger (not the one with the cool slides and stuff, he didn’t want to put up with all that so he just went straight to the area) and took a minute to catch his breath. He leaned against the automatic sliding door frame and glanced behind him. Judging from the lack of Alteans following him he hadn’t woken anyone up: thank the lord for small blessings. He wasn’t in the mood for answering questions as to why he was running down the hallways so late at night.

After he managed to return his breathing to a regular steady flow he looked over at the Yellow Lion. She sat there in her usual upright position, looking regal as ever despite the scratches and dents. Hunk had personally hand washed away every speck of dirt and had hammered out some of the larger dents as long as they weren’t too close to areas that seemed to cover wires or other advanced alien technology.  

He raked his eyes over her, searching for any sign of life, but she seemed as offline as she had been before dinner. He let out a sigh, realizing he must have just been imagining the sound. He had been thinking about it after all. He turned away, deciding he just needed some sleep, and was just about to head back for his room, when he heard it again, a distinct, low purr.

He whirled around to see Yellow’s eyes flickering to life and her head turning to face him. He felt himself tearing up as a grin spread across his face. A sob of joy and relief was wrenched from his throat as he ran once more towards his lion, clutching his helmet to his chest. The ramp that lead up to the cockpit lowered and Hunk found himself practically sprinting up it, for once glad about entering his lion. Her purring comforted him as he entered into the familiar cabin, filling him with hope, real hope.

He walked over to the flight chair and sat down, feeling the machinery work around him. At his touch the dashboard lit up, signaling that all systems were online and ready to go. Yellow continued to purr in his mind, as if she was welcoming him back and Hunk sank into the sound, glad to be back. Though he tried to deny it, this all felt so right. It always had, even from his first moment at the helm, but he’d been so scared to admit it. He had been scared to accept that he wasn’t just a human from Earth, that he was the yellow paladin of Voltron and he was destined to save the universe. But truly he’d missed this, he’d missed Yellow.

Something in his gut pulled him to touch the odd symbol on the screen, which was blinking faintly. As he did the screen lit up displaying pictures of a blue, black, green, and red lion face with some more odd altean scripts following them.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” He asked allowed, not actually expecting an answer. “Because I can’t read altean, yet. I want to one day, but right now I can’t so uh… oh.”

The symbols began to shift into something more recognizable: English, in an oddly familiar scrawl.

“Thanks,” He said with a little smirk. “You read Pidge’s diary too?”

Yellow seemed to chuckle around him, as if to say ‘something like that’.

Hunk poured over the text. It was choppy and a little hard to understand, partially because the lion probably had only a limited experience of the language, and partially because Pidge’s handwriting was honestly atrocious. Fortunately Hunk had a lot of experience with deciphering her chicken scratch. It took him a minute but he got the general gist of what was on the screen. The information was mostly status like statements. If he tapped the blue lion he was told that the blue lion was in flyable condition, but a bit battered especially in certain areas. Hunk couldn’t find any information on whether or not Lance was alive or where he was, but just knowing the blue lion was okay gave him some relief.

Hunk knew he should probably go find Coran and Allura. They would really want to know about this breakthrough and they’d probably be able to read the altean and tell Hunk more about what was going on, but right now he didn’t think he could handle all the questions and excited voices. He could barely handle the feelings of happiness crashing through his body. Yellow was back, which meant hope was back.

And that was all he needed to know that it was going to be okay.

Chapter Text

Keith

Keith was honestly unsure how they managed to get back to the apartment in one piece. Just as Oran had predicted the press had been out in full force, the horrific event not deterring them one bit from swarming the group and firing off question after question. Vivirdian instructed them to keep their heads down and not respond to anyone. It helped that Keith didn’t understand what most of the reporters were asking as most seemed to be speaking the same chittering language Imagene had used with Ellea.

They had to travel clustered together with guards on all sides. Imagene carried Ellea, pressing her head into her chest to protect her from the flashes of what Keith assumed were the Ambrusian equivalent of cameras. The little girl was clearly overwhelmed, clutching at Imagene’s clothes and crying quietly into her sister. Imagene did her best to alleviate the stress, but whatever tender words she could murmur were drowned out by the chaotic shouting of the press.

Imagene herself looked a little tense, brows furrowed, voice strained to remain soft and soothing. Keith could tell it was killing her not to answer anything the fanatic crowd was asking her, but she kept a steely unyielding expression throughout their hurried walk to the vehicle Vivirdian promised would lead them to where they were staying for the night. Or she almost did.

It was just as the door to the weird hovering machine (could it be considered a car?) that greeted them that a loud voice rang over the others in an aggravated tone. Imagene had just passed Ellea to Lance who was already seated next to Keith with Oran on Keith’s other side. At the sharp statement she stood straight up and swiveled around, her skirts fluttering in the evening air. She opened her mouth to throw back a reply when Vivirdian shoved her back down into the car and closed the door behind him.

“Ya toa nu!” He hissed in a sharp, irritated voice.

Imagene gave him an affronted look and came back at him in what sounded like the same alien language. They exchanged this banter as the rest of the party watched in awkward silence until Ellea let out a choked sob. Oran’s brow twitched once, and then he yelled some short expression in the same dialect. The pair was so shocked by the outburst that they stopped bickering, instead staring at Oran in seemingly stunned silence. Oran just glared at them for a moment before folding his arms and refocusing his gaze to the window. After that the only noise was the sniffling of Ellea.

“I apologize,” Imagene sighed after a few minutes, finally breaking the quiet. “As you can imagine we are all stressed, but that is no excuse for our immature behavior.”

She looked at Vivirdian pointedly as she said this.

“Princess Imagene Cynara Lumeno Rossia,” Vivirdian said in a near snarl. “Can I remind you that I am not the one who fell for a very obvious emotionally baited remark? And I am not the one who called me a-”

“Enough!” Oran snapped, and the two fell silent once more. “She made a mistake, no need to threaten a trial about it,-Oh my sun, do not give me that look Vidri! Did you think telling her off in Malivian would get passed me? I took the same language courses as you!-and Imagene you really should have known better then to give in to a blatantly rude inquiry about your brother. You both are upsetting Ellea and have no doubt frightened the paladins, and yes Vidri, I know they are paladins. Solovette told me when I arrived. She thought I ought to be informed as to why two alien refugees were given the same level of protection as the future heir to the throne. Regardless, can we please put it aside? We’ve all had a stressful night.”

Imagene and Vivirdian nodded awkwardly, and stumbled over apologies. The car (?) was plunged once more into tense silence. It dragged on as they moved above the terrain trees, people, and buildings whizzing by beneath them. Keith wasn’t sure how long it was before Lance finally broke it.

“So uh…” He said, clearing his throat. “What… what happened back there? Was that an earthquake or something?”

“Here we call it a terrashake,” Imagene murmured, not lifting her eyes from her shoes. “They aren’t uncommon, especially in this area, but usually we can predict them and prepare beforehand. It is odd that we were not informed of an incoming shake.”

“Oh…” Lance managed. “Okay, cool. But the reporter? What was that?”

Imagene stiffened and a shadow of anger flickered over her face. “Just a rebel apologist I suppose. He called my brother ‘voda miti Luciden’. So disrespectful.”

“He referred to the prince in a… feminine term,” Oran elaborated at the look of confusion on Lance’s face. “It was his… well, I guess I should let him choose if you should be priviledge to that information.”

“If he hadn’t gone to assist in emergency medical care they would not have dared to say such a thing.” Imagene muttered darkly. “Just shows their true cowardice.”

“I thought you lived in the castle,” Keith spoke to Vivirdian, wanting to divert the conversation away from this.

“Oh, stars no,” He sighed. “I do have quarters for nights I am on call, and nights when Oran is stationed elsewhere, but my actual place of residence is a small housing unit along the border of Te-Ke, a nature reserve.”

“It’s a very nice place.” Oran added. “Walking distance to the gardens and our old school, easy to protect, plenty of nearby attractions with a lovely array of dining opportunities-not that Vivirdian ever takes me on a date night.”

“We are always working,” Vivirdian said, managing to crack a smile. “And we spent 2 cycles in Rubiana last planting season!”

“Yeah, helping your family plant melons.” Oran countered. “I hardly call digging out suckerclaw dens a relaxing date night.”

From Lance’s lap Ellea let out a shaky giggle, watching the playful banter.

“Correction: I dug out dens, you kept trying to catch suckerclaws.” Vivirdian chuckled softly, the tension beginning to leave his face. “We did plenty of other fun couple things.”

Oran grumbled something about a skewed sense of romance as the vehicle entered into what appeared to be a cave. The car went completely dark except for a few narrow strips of light embedded into the floor. Keith could barely make out the smooth surface of the walls of the tunnel or cave or whatever this was.

“Almost there,” Vivirdian announced. “I want everyone to get ready for bed as soon as we step in. Oran, you’re in charge of ensuring that while I speak with the guard sent ahead and call up to whatever team is working with Luz. I want him back as soon as possible.”

“Where are the paladins going to sleep?” Ellea asked, voicing the question on Keith’s mind. “They can share my bed, I don’t mind.”

“I really don’t think you want that,” Lance said, a hint of humor returning to his voice. “He kicks and screams in his sleep.”

Keith slumped because he was right. Still… “And you sleep talk a lot, and most of the time it’s not even English. Just something about armor for nachos.”

Lance made some kind of choking noise, unable to formulate a coherent response to that.

Keith understood what Vivirdian had meant when he said the place would suffice as a safe place to stay. Their apartment turned out to be one of thousands carved into a complicated underground system. They would be safe from any kind of aerial attack, and furthermore the security was unbelievable because these apartments housed many high up military officers according to Oran. Their vehicle had been checked twice, and everybody had their identities verified before they were even allowed into the housing levels. It was almost like a mini neighborhood. Keith saw front ‘lawns’ with an odd assortment of flags and multicolored lanterns. Instead of flowers the inhabitants appeared to be growing colorful, glowing crystals.

“I thought you said you didn’t want us to be in a bunker.” Lance said when they finally stopped outside of one of the many near identical dwellings. “This is… basically a bunker.”

“You’ve never been in an actual bunker, have you Lance.” Imagene said with a little chuckle.

“How come there weren’t this many guards with us at the festival?” Keith asked. The question had actually been pestering the back of his mind all day. He’d thought it odd that the Council, who had forced both paladins to endure a complicated truth test, hadn’t sent hundreds of guards to protect the heir to the throne. Heck, he was surprised she had been allowed to go at all.

“Oh they were there,” Genie assured them. “They just didn’t swarm around me. That would have intimidated the public and I would have been unable to liason with my people.”

She slid out of the car (car?), assisted by one of the many security officers who had beat them to the premises. A few were already talking to Vivirdian in rapid Ambrusian. He seemed to be directing them to certain areas.

As she stepped out onto the stone she gave the officer a grateful nod. “I am terribly sorry we have disrupted your regular patrol schedule.”

The guard puffed out his chest in pride, then he bowed reverently. “It was no issue, your majesty. And it is always a pleasure to serve the royal family.”

Imagene flashed him a winning smile, chuckling as if amused though Keith knew her well enough to know it was fake. “I’m afraid I’m not a ‘majesty’ just yet. Just a little longer, then you may use that title though I can’t say I won’t miss the simpler times.”

“You must forgive me,” The guard drawled taking her hand and flipping it over to the palm, pressing it to his lips as if it was the most precious thing he had ever held. “You always hold yourself in such a regal way. I was just so struck by your beauty that I forgot that you are not a queen just yet, though you more than look the part.”

Imagene’s eye twitched, but to her credit she kept her smile plastered to her face. She lifted her hand to hide her mouth as she forced a flirtatious giggle. “Oh, you flatter me too much sir… ah, what is your name again?”

“Heavynne,” The guard said. “I was just transferred to the palace to be a part of your personal guard team for the coronation and beyond.”

“How… wonderful.” She managed. “I suppose I will be seeing you around quite often then in the coming days.”

“Oh yes!” Heavynne beamed. “I will be looking forward to it with much anticipation.”

“As will I,” Genie said before turning and making some gagging face. Keith stifled a laugh.

“Okay that’s enough flirting, you heard Vivirdian,” Oran said as he directed them into the dwelling, glaring at Heavynne. “Bedtime, and you all need showers. I had no idea humans perspired so much. Don’t they stink Ellea?”

The little girl let out a hiccupping giggle as Oran pinched his nose as Keith and Lance passed them.

“It’s not my fault you don’t make deodorant,” Lance mumbled and Keith snorted.

Keith didn’t spend too long in the shower, didn’t need to. He didn’t have a lot of hair to wash and didn’t feel like scrubbing down. Besides, six more people including Lucivida had to take showers after him. He didn’t want to be even more of an inconvenience than he already was. He just sort of rinsed himself off then shimmied into a borrowed pair of pants from Oran. The fabric was soft and warm against his skin, but the garment itself was a size or two too big. Keith had to keep hiking it up to prevent gravity from pantsing him.

After offering his shower to Imagene (Lance was still using the guest room shower) he made his way out to the living room where Oran was setting up a place for them to sleep. The Cohen-Fletcher apartment was kept clean and need. The pair shared Shiro’s minimalist taste that seemed to accompany military life. They had a small living area adjacent to the little kitchenette that appeared to also serve as a dining room. They had no curtains to cover the large windows that looked out over the cliff’s edge.  They didn’t have any carpets or rugs. Their furniture was just standard living essentials: tables, chairs, a small matching living room set. The couch cushions looked to be unstained and fresh, new even, or at the very most rarely used. There were no frivolous wall ornaments, it was all just bare paint. Keith had the odd feeling that their decor was made to be easily left behind, like a hotel room.

The only thing that marked it as their home was a picture framed in the entryway that showed a much younger Oran and Vivirdian. They both wore similar military uniforms, though Vivirdian’s appeared to be more decorated. They stood together, Vivirdian with one arm wrapped around Oran and the other gripping something like a forearm crutch for support. They were both grinning, both clearly insanely happy about being together. Keith couldn’t help but reach out and brush the dust away from the smooth frame. He kept looking at their expressions, the sheer joy they had. For some reason he just couldn’t seem to look away.

“That was taken when Vivirdian was receiving his Royal Merit of Valor,” Oran said quietly from behind Keith, making him jump. “Jey took it. He looks pretty good, right?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Keith stammered. “I didn’t mean to snoop I just-”

“Peace paladin,” Oran chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You have done no harm here. If you double tap the frame the picture will change, go ahead. If Vivirdian has already revealed so much about himself to you I see no reason not to show you a more happier side of our lives.”

For the first time Keith allowed himself to fully take in Oran’s appearance. He was just as Vivirdian had described him: salt and pepper hair with a cowlick in the dead center, a playful almost mischievous smile that rode up higher on one side of his cheek than the other. But there were new features that Vivirdian hadn’t described. Oran had small ears, or at least smaller ears compared to the rest of the Ambrusian population and not nearly as pointy. He had a slender build, but still athletic. He was almost the perfect middle ground between Shiro’s buff and Lance’s skinny. His skin wasn’t as translucent as the twin’s, but he was still nowhere near the dark shade of Lance’s or Vivirdian’s. Freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks, and they jumped up whenever he smiled.

Hesitantly, Keith pulled his gaze away from Oran and tapped the screen. The picture faded into a headshot of Vivirdian. A much, much younger Vivirdian with no purple mark on the side of his neck pronouncing his altered Galra genes. His hair was a bit longer too, shiny and white, almost glowing against the basic gray background. In the corner there was a crest of some kind and an inscription Keith couldn’t read. It appeared to be some sort of school photo.

“That was from our final year of school,,” Oran announced, reaching over to tap the screen. A new photo of an even younger Vivirdian, this time wearing some sort of athletic gear and holding himself in a sort of dancer’s pose with his leg raised to show some honestly astounding flexibility. Next to him was Oran, trying to mimic him but clearly failing. His leg wasn’t anywhere near the height of Vivirdian’s, and he was clearly struggling to hold himself up, hand resting on Vivirdian’s shoulder to hold himself up. “Oh look, there’s me. I liked him even then, but I don’t think he knew. Never has been the best at picking up social cues but it’s a rather endearing trait.”

For some reason that statement reminded Keith of Lance. Lance genuinely didn’t know when to shut up, even when it was abundantly obvious to everyone else in the room. He asked questions most people would realize were inappropriate. He didn’t understand the sensitivity of certain topics. He didn’t understand how to modulate his voice, like at all. Nobody ever needed to ask around for Lance because you could always hear him from a mile away. Though at first they were kind of annoying, over time they had grown on Keith and he’d only just now realized it.

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled before he could stop himself. “It really is.”

He flushed as Oran’s eyebrow quirked upwards and praised the lord when Oran didn’t comment on what he had said. Instead he just tapped through the screen to reveal more photos.

“Is it true Vivirdian and Jey dated?” Keith asked, watching the photos flicker by.

“Oh yeah,” Oran nodded. “I was head over heels for him then and it was honestly torture, but it all worked out in the end right? Always does.”

Does it? Keith thought to himself, looking down at the photos. Maybe it did for Oran and Vivirdian, but what they had achieved seemed intangible, almost unreal to Keith. Okay sure, he had just made out with Lance just a few hours ago and Lance hadn’t seemed to mind but… that didn’t mean a happy ending. What if it was just a misunderstanding? It probably was, knowing Keith’s luck. Keith just felt like he wasn’t meant to have a happy life, and sometimes he wondered if he was meant to have one at all.

“Here’s one of Vivirdian and the twins.” Oran said pulling Keith out of his thoughts. He was showing him a photo of two little kids with matching excited smiles and heads of curly brown hair. They were probably only ten or eleven, holding up a decorative piece of paper with elegant Ambrusian script embossed over it. “That was their graduation day, pity their parents could not attend.”

“You guys really did raise them.” Keith noted as Oran showed him more photos of the younger royal family. In many of what appeared to be milestone photos there was a distinct lack of the king and queen. Keith felt a sympathetic twinge in his chest. He’d never had parents at his milestone moments either and he knew it hurt.

“I… suppose in a way we did,” Oran agreed tentatively. “Not that their parents didn’t take part in their care, they just were not always able to be present. It still feels almost disrespectful to them to say we raised the kids, but it is hard to ignore the mannerisms we passed down to them. Their mixed southern and central dialects, Imagene has my rebellious streak and Lucivida can be just as calm under pressure as Vivirdian. They share a lot of our morals and habits and it is hard to ignore those traces of us.”

Listening to Oran’s words made Keith wonder about the long line of foster parents he had as a child. Did they leave their own marks on him? At first the thought sort of scared him, but then he remembered that not all of his foster families were awful. Papa, Martha, and the Petersons were all fine examples of some of the better homes he’d stayed in. He didn’t mind knowing he’d picked up Lindsey Peterson’s love of running, or Martha’s habit of doodling on everything. But again, those were just people from the good homes, Keith had plenty of experiences with not so loving families as well. He shivered a bit, pushing some old memories back down before he could think about them too much. Keith certainly had been influenced by every foster parent he’d stayed with in both good and bad ways.

To get his mind away from such a dangerous topic he tapped the screen and a different photo faded into view. In this photo a couple was lying together on a bed, the sun casting its illuminating golden glow over their faces, glinting off of their hair. The bigger one was lying back with his head on the pillow, white hair falling out over the soft gray sheets. The smaller one was practically laying on the larger one, his body covering most of his partner’s left side, head nestled in the dip between his collarbones. Their fingers were entwined in a loose grip and they seemed to be dozing peacefully, eyes closed, faces completely relaxed. It took Keith a moment to realize that this was a picture of Oran and Vivirdian.

“Jey caught this one too,” Oran said, smiling fondly as he looked down at the photograph. “It was taken several common weeks into his hospital stay following his imprisonment. They’d kept in a sun room all morning and a decent chunk of the afternoon and back then absorbing artificial sunlight drained a person of their energy fairly quickly. I was basically living with him at this point. He would cry every time the doctors tried to remove me from his room and nobody really wanted to tell the former prisoner of war ‘no’. They reluctantly agreed to let me stay on the condition that I kept myself clean.”

“He basically threw a tantrum until he got his way?” Keith smirked.

“More or less, but it was all fake,” Oran grinned, setting the frame back up on the wall with the photo of the young couple snuggled close together still showing. “All those dance classes stressed an importance on facials and boy can he pull that off. What a diva.”

Keith grinned as he imagined the buff body guard throwing fake tantrums just to keep his boyfriend in his hospital room.

Lance

The events of the festival were completely shoved out of Lance’s mind until he was crawling into the blankets on the couch that Oran had pulled out into a bed. Funny how an earthquake can make one forget about kissing their crush after dancing with them in a festival that essentially celebrated a falsely named vegetable, but that all came rushing back the minute he saw Keith lying flat on his back, hands folded over his chest, staring up at the ceiling. His lips were no longer puffy from kissing, and he wasn’t flushed and panting, but he still looked just as good and god damnit Lance needed to calm down.

He slid awkwardly into the bed next to him, trying desperately not to look at him because he knew that would make it even worse. They sat (or laid rather) in silence before Keith coughed, then spoke.

“So uh,” He said awkwardly. “The festival was… cool.”

“Yep,” Lance replied, trying not to implode on the spot.

There was silence between them, a verbal silence at least. Lance could literally hear his heart pounding in his chest. Was Keith going to acknowledge what had happened between them? Lance both hoped he did and prayed to God he didn’t, not sure what he wanted to happen more, or rather he was terrified of the implications both could have.

“You’re a good dancer,” Keith said after a minute, breaking the silence.

“What did I tell you?” Lance grinned, chest puffing up with pride. “After all I am one of Cuba’s best.”

“I thought you said it was a fluke?” Keith teased him, snickering a bit.

“Fluke or not you know I would’ve won,” Lance chuckled, glancing over at Keith, who was looking at Lance.

The soft moonlight illuminated his face, giving his pale skin an almost silvery glow. His moonless night sky of hair captured the moonlight so it reflected back in a starry sheen. He was looking at Lance with those eyes that could never quite decide what color they were. And he was smiling at Lance with those lips, the lips that only hours before Lance had tasted for the first time. How could be so hungry for something he’d just had? He’d had a hint, a tease, he wanted more, but… did Keith want that?

“I think you liked it.” Lance snickered, poking his chest in what he hoped was a playfully flirtatious way. “If your reaction afterwards was any indication-Oof!”

Keith cut him off by smacking him with a pillow. It made a muffled fwap sound as it hit his chest. Lance squawked in protest and pounced on Keith, tickling him in retaliation for the unnecessary assault. Keith laughed loudly, trying to cover himself with his arms to no avail. Lance had literal years of tickle monster experience with his huge family. Resistance was futile. He hit all the worst places: his belly, his chin, his underarms, everywhere even remotely sensitive until Keith was crying out for mercy, gasping out giggles breathlessly beneath him, but Lance gave him no quarter. He pinned him down, straddling Keith’s waist. He mercilessly tickled the red paladin until Keith reached out and grabbed his chin, pulling him into a hot, sloppy kiss.

Lance nearly inhaled his tongue in surprise, but once the shock wore off he leaned into it, letting out a contentedly sound at their lips sweet reunion. Keith hummed in agreement, licking Lance’s lip in a way that made his breath hitch in his chest. Keith leapt on that lapse in concentration and in a single fluid motion he flipped their positions, legs hooked around Lance’s waist. Lance let out a frightened yelp that made Keith giggle into Lance’s mouth. He felt Keith’s hand ride up his shirt, fingertips warm and searching, and boy was that a new sensation. Keith’s fingers road the ridges and valleys of his ribs. He clenched at Keith’s shirt and his breathing hitched as Keith’s hands found-

“Are all humans this openly sexual?” Imagene’s voice called out, laced with annoyance.

The pair instantly separated, flinging themselves back so fast Lance could have sworn he had whiplash. He was panting from both surprise of being walked in on and from kissing Keith, or had Keith kissed him.

“Jesus Christ Imagene.” Lance choked up, looking up at the princess, who’s arms were folded across her chest. “You don’t just startle people in such an intimate moment.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned against the doorway she had been standing in. “And you shouldn't make love on a stranger’s couch, but sure, call me out on startling you.”

Keith made some sort of choking noise as Lance exclaimed “Making love?!”

“Shh!” She shushed them furiously. “My sister is sleeping in the room right next to this one! Do you want to spoil her innocence?”

Lance bit back a comment about how her innocence was probably already spoiled by living with a mass murder, but figured he better not push his luck. He just grumbled something about exhibitionism and crossed his arms. Meanwhile Keith appeared to be trying to melt into the couch cushions.

“Sorry for… snapping…” She sighed running a hand through her hair. “Rough night.”

“Yeah,” Lance replied. “And by the way, no, humans are not normally openly sexual, we just- just uh…”

“I blame hormones.” Keith blurted out hoarsely and Lance snorted.

Imagene’s lips quirked up into an amused smile. “Well, on Ambrusia physical affection in public is usually very limited. In relationships a person considers physical intimacy to be a gift to their partner or partners. It is not meant to be displayed for all to see. That is why when you and Keith kissed during the festival you attracted a lot of attention, not that I dare to think for a moment either of you were concerned with your surroundings.”

“Wait so that kissing tradition was a lie?” Lance asked, almost incredulously. “Oh my god! It was! I fucking knew it!”

Imagene snickered, holding her hand up to hide her face. Clearly she thought this horrible situation was highly amusing when in fact it wasn’t.

“Kissing tradition?” Keith asked, his voice quavering a bit in a weird way.

“I told Lance it was tradition to kiss your final partner in the Yam Waltz,” Imagene smirked, an air of smugness playing at her voice. “I’ve gotten plenty of backlash from my twin already about it, but it was the best way I could think of clearing the air of this… odd tension.”

Keith stared at Lance with this odd expression on his face that Lance wasn’t quite sure how to read. Shock? Hurt? Anger? Confusion? All of the above? Either way it made something in Lance’s gut twist up into a painful knot.

“So… you didn’t…” Keith began, his voice quiet and soft, then sort of fading away as his expression solidified into a sheet of metal: cold and unreadable. “Why did you kiss me then if you didn’t mean it?”

Panic coursed through Lance’s mind. No, no, he had wanted to kiss Keith, maybe not the way he had but he didn’t regret it, not for a moment because he was so gay for Keith. But as he opened his mouth to tell Keith all this and more, his mind just went blank. He stuttered, searching for the words that usually flowed so easily from his mouth. For the first time in his life, Lance McClain was struck dumb. He felt lie he was back in the Blue Lion all over again, struggling to remember what to do in a crash. His mind was just empty, to full of confusion and panic to formulate a single word let alone an actual sentence.

“I… no…” He managed, but Keith held up a hand to cut him off and Lance swallowed whatever he was going to say.

“Lance, stop. You’re just trying to hurt me,” Keith said in that same hard, harsh tone he’d used after the trial. He tossed the blankets aside and stood up. “You and everyone else. Fucking go figure.”

From the doorway Imagene watched in open mouth horror, as if it was just dawning on her the severity of the situation at hand. From the hallway Lance could hear Vivirdian’s voice, concerned and questioning as he came closer to the living room, sitting room, whatever the fuck this was.

“Keith, no,” Lance said, finally finding his voice. “It’s not like that, I did want to kiss you. I just needed an-”

“For once in your life could you just shut the fuck up?!” Keith snarled, whipping around and Lance let out a terrified squeal, leaping back in fear because Keith was sprouting fangs. Long ivory daggers ending in sharp tips that could easily rip out Lance’s throat. Purple was spreading over his neck and face, cropping up and growing like inkblots as a pair of ears began to elongate from his head. His eyes flickered for a moment before flickering to life with a yellow glow. His fingers lengthened into clawed tips.

Lance was frozen to the spot from sheer terror as the soft boy who’d he’d been tickling into submission just minutes ago morphed into a monster in front of him. Joyful giggles turned to roars of fury as the beast bore down on Lance.

Chapter Text

Hunk

“So, you are saying the yellow lion told you that everyone is alive?” Allura asked breathlessly as she jogged behind Hunk and Coran.

“Y-yup!” Hunk gasped out and wondering for the second time that day/night if he was going to die of exhaustion just from sprinting down the halls.

Man, even with the months of paladin training under his belt he still wasn’t able to run very well. Coran and Allura were clearly forcing themselves to slow down and stay with Hunk. They knew the palace better than Hunk did and could easily dash ahead to the Yellow Lion’s hanger. Hunk wasn’t sure if they were sticking with him as a friendly gesture or if they were as concerned as he was about death by running.

“And you got this all from a staticky transmission?” Coran inquired.

“Not… not exactly.” Hunk managed as he skidded around a corner. “The static… thing came first… then I ran to the… hanger… and…”

He let out a rasping cough that forced him to stop. He doubled over, taking deep choking breaths in a vain attempt to quench the burning in his lungs. He saw the Alteans stop, exchanging looks of concern.

“I’m-m fine.” He rasped, still breathing heavily. “It’s just my… asthma… need my inhaler… which is back… on Earth…”

“Your what?” Allura asked in confusion in alarm.

“You mean this?” Coran asked, fishing a yellow L-shaped device from his pocket.

Hunk stared in choked awe as he reached out his hand for the device and quickly raised it to his mouth to take a dose of it. He slumped down on the floor and closed his eyes, trying to take deep (but slow) breaths. It took him a minute or two to regain his voice.

“How did you… How did you get that?” He asked.

“Lance gave it to me after you all formed Voltron for the first time and did the same with Pidge’s nut pens. Told me what it was, how to use it, and when to use it.” Coran answered cheerfully. He dug around in his pockets and pulled out two Epipens that Hunk recognized as Pidge’s. “He wanted to see if we could replicate them, just in case.”

Hunk blinked, staring at the pens in Coran’s hands. Then he wasn’t staring at anything because his vision was blurring from the tears forming in his eyes. Lance was just too good and pure for the universe or Hunk. He buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath, and then another, forcing himself not to start bawling.

“Is everything alright?” Allura asked, kneeling down next to him. “Hunk?”

“He’s just… a really good friend you know?” Hunk hiccupped, his voice quavering. “I haven’t had an asthma attack in, like, two years and Pidge is only really allergic to this one weird jungle nut that’s super rare but lethal to her I guess? So it wasn’t like we were in danger all the time but he insisted on taking our stuff with him everywhere he went and I…”

Hunk’s rambling tapered off as he began to cry.

“Yes,” Coran mused. “The Blue Paladin is traditionally very compassionate and concerned with the wellbeing of his friends. It seems to me Lance goes above and beyond with this trait.”

Hunk nodded and sniffled, wiping his eyes. “Sorry for forcing us to stop. I know you’re both excited to see this. Sorry..”

“Don’t apologize,” Allura soothed, helping him to his feet. “Your health matters too, though I can’t deny feeling anxious over this.”

“Let’s walk,” Coran suggested. “I have a funny feeling the hanger will still be there in the extra minute or two walking adds.”

Hunk nodded and began to walk towards the hanger. “So, uh, do you think we can try calling one of them?”

“Depends on if the other lions are also awake and running.” Allura replied, working her jaw. “Hopefully this means I will be able to locate the other paladins. I will be so relieved if we can.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Hunk said.

“The universe probably agrees.” Coran seconded as they approached the large hanger doors. “But can you reiterate what exactly happened?”

“Okay,” Hunk nodded. “So I was just chilling in bed-”

“Chilling?” Allura interrupted, obviously confused. “But each room is kept at the ideal temperature for whoever inhabits it.”

“Princess, it’s an earth expression that means to relax.” Coran informed her and she nodded in understanding.

“Okay, so I was chilling in my room,” Hunk continued. “And for some reason-don’t ask I honestly can’t tell you why- I had my helmet on my chest. Suddenly I heard this weird sound and at first I thought it might be intruders or something but no, it was coming from my helmet. I don’t know I just got this feeling that I should go check on Yellow so I got up and ran to the hangers and there she was, awake and fully functional.”

“Amazing,” Coran murmured thoughtfully. “The bond between paladin and lion has become quite strong in such a short amount of time.”

“I mean, I guess?” Hunk said, not really understanding the importance of that statement. “I’m just glad I figured out Yellow is working.”

“Why didn’t you come to us right away?” Allura asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I, uh,” Hunk swallowed. He knew he had nothing to hide or anything but… still… “I guess I just wasn’t thinking? But hey, we’re here now right?”

“Yes…” Allura said, her tone implying she had more to say beyond that, but instead she just closed her mouth and nodded.

The lion sat just were Hunk had left it, eyes still lit and doors open, as if awaiting his return. Hunk led the Alteans up the steps and into the lion, revealing the still glowing dashboard and the status screen of the other four lions. He watched their eyes widen in surprise, soften in relief, then refocus as they set to work, reading the Altean script quickly.

“We can translate the screen,” Coran said, stepping forward. “But the lion will only respond to Hunk’s touch, so if we can call them I will direct you on what to press.”

“Okay,” Hunk said, sitting down into his pilot’s seat. “Tell me what information we’re looking at.”

“The green lion is in the best shape according to self run diagnostic reports,” Allura announced, her finger extending to underline a little string of symbols. “The crash was well controlled by the pilot- I mean, by Pidge. Only damage to the ship appears to be one of the legs, but someone has… has fixed it.”

“Pidge?” Hunk guessed, hopefully. “She’s mostly a computer whiz but she can handle some of the most delicate instruments like a pro.”

“I… I won’t know for certain until all the lions send in quintessential bioscans.” Allura said. “But I pray it is Pidge and not the Galra.”

Oh shoot. Hunk hadn’t even thought of that horrific possibility, and it was probably for the best that he didn’t.

“The green lion may not have sent in its bioscans, but look,” Coran pointed to a dot blinking by the image of the black lion. “I think Shiro’s lion has.”

“Sounds like Shiro,” Hunk sighed tapping the dot. It expanded to reveal a wall of Altean symbols.

“The black paladin and lion is often known for being punctual and thorough.” Allura said in an odd, far off voice.

Hunk glanced at her. The princess looked a little odd, multifaceted eyes looking glazed and unfocused.

“Mmm,” Coran mumbled absentmindedly, obviously not listening. “Yes… it appears as though the black paladin took a nasty smack to eye but was able to stagger out alright after the crash. He must have wandered away because his quintessence is not picked up again for quite some time.”

“So Shiro went back to the ship?” Hunk asked.

“Yes,” Allura confirmed, seeming to come back to herself. “With… with another. Let me see the quintessential code.”

Coran leaned in over Hunk, squinting at the symbols before letting out a gasp of surprise. “That’s Pidge!”

“It’s what?!” Hunk said incredulously. “He was with Pidge? Are you sure? Like, a hundred percent positive?”

“He… He’s right,” Allura said, sounding almost awed. “That is definitely PIdge and Shiro.”

“So they’re together!” Hunk beamed. “Oh man, that’s awesome. Are they okay? Can the lion tell you that?”

“It can give me a basic rundown of their condition.” Coran responded, analyzing the text. “Yes… yes! They are still healing but overall in very good health. Still, they are stranded on this planet completely unprotected from assaults from both inhabiting aliens and the Galra.”

“Then we should go get them!” Allura announced, standing up a little straighter. “Immediately. Where are they?”

“We can’t just divert course to pick them up Allura,” Coran said. Just then a little blue blip appeared on the screen and a text box fell open.  “We really should get that information so we can fix the lions as we- oh. Well, uh, nevermind.”

“What does it say?” Hunk asked, a little nervous at the sudden change of Coran’s tone.

“It says,” Allura replied, a grin spreading across her face. “Shiro and Pidge are in a planet with the same solar system as Ambrusia!”

Lance

Claws raked down his cheek and lips and Lance tasted blood and felt blinding pain. His vision blacked out for a split second as the force of the attack left him slightly dazed. His vision cleared just in time to see Keith lift another hand (paw? who cares it had claws which meant it wasn’t safe to be where Lance was) and managed to roll out of the way clutching his jaw. He could feel warm blood trickle down his palm and watched a ruby droplet fall to the floor.

He looked up to see that Keith had slashed through a pillow and odd green stuffing was spewing from the ripped cushion. He also saw Imagene grab a tall… thing (a lamp maybe?) and raise it up over Keith’s head. Lance’s eyes widened. Yeah no, that wasn’t going to happen regardless of whether or not Keith had just maimed him. He refused to let Keith get injured.

Lance leapt up and tackled Imagene to the floor, preventing her from bashing Keith’s head in with the metal rod. In shocked she dropped the object to the floor and Lance managed to smack it out of reach before straddling her waist with his legs and latching onto her tightly. She kicked and struggled against him, trying to get free. Lance locked his arms tight around her and barely dodged an attempt to break his nose by slamming her head back.

“Let me… go!” She spluttered, trying to ram her chest up into his arms.

“And hurt Keith?” Lance rasped out. “Not a chance!”

“That’s… not… Keith!” She managed between kicks to his shins. Lance took a hard blow and bit his lip to keep from crying out.

As if in response to his own name Keith let out a low growl, primal and inhuman and that’s when Lance realized that between protecting Keith from Imagene while simultaneously protecting both Imagene and himself from being attacked by Keith was not going to be an easy job. When Keith lifted his hand again to slash at them Lance forced himself to roll out of the way, taking the writhing Ambrusian princess with him.

Lance thanked his lucky stars that Imagene was petite and probably not thinking straight in the moment. He knew Imagene was military trained, probably more so than the average soldier in self defense especially. If she wasn’t panicked she could have most likely easily fought her way out of his grip and decimated Keith before Lance could stop her. Plus, her size made it hard for her to put a lot of force behind her blows. She, like Lance and Keith, had a smaller build. She was clearly taught as they had been to strike fast, not necessarily hard. Still, he couldn’t let down his guard, especially since she’d just chomped down on his fucking finger.

“Ow!- yes it is!” Lance managed. “He’s part Gal-”

But Lance was cut off by Imagene lifting her hips up off of the floor and bringing them down with considerable force right onto his groin. What she lacked in actual power she made up for in sheer boniness. Lance was forced to let go of her as a flash of pain rocketed up his spine. He doubled over clutching at his jaw with one hand and between his legs with the other, letting out a moan of agony.

Imagene scrambled away, reaching for the object. She raised up again, like a baseball bat. Lance forced himself to fight through the nauseating waves that were crashing through his body and leap up, putting himself in between Keith and Imagene just as she swung and he lifted a fist to knock her aside. Imagene, realized she was about to hit Lance, managed to slow her swing enough that it only felt like a dull thump against his side, but Keith, either too blinded by rage or just too far Galra, hit Lance with full force in the ribs.

Lance felt something shift, pushing inwards into his lungs. Somebody was screaming and Lance didn’t know who it was until he recognized the sounds of mixed whimpers and sobs as his own. If he hadn’t been in pain now he most certainly fucking was now. He couldn’t breathe, yet at the same time felt the impulse to take deep breaths to fill his lungs. The result was white hot pain that left him almost numb to any other sensation.

It was here that he finally blacked out.

Keith

Rage and confusion swirled through Keith’s mind like two fronts forming a tornado. The winds howled, combatting each other for power and only ending in a deadly stalemate. But looming over it all was the feeling of knowing that he’d been right, nothing good would ever last for him. He’d been foolish to believe for even a second that Lance would ever kiss him unless coerced because Lance was just another straight boy to break Keith’s heart. Another soured memory and person to hate, just like everyone else, and Keith was sick of it. He was sick of being the one always alone, always hurt, always searching for comfort he knew would never actually come and perhaps that was why he split. Hard.

But this time splitting didn’t feel the same. When Keith usually split on somebody he would feel a tidal wave of rage consuming his being. It was so powerful he could actually feel it. It felt like a large pair of claws constricting around his lungs, almost as if his lungs were shrinking. He could feel his brain whiting out as he lost control of his senses and would just go loose on whoever was the unfortunate victim. But this time there was no sharp claws closing over his chest. This was worse. He could feel something ripping his ribcage open and releasing something inside of him. It felt like someone was using a surgical rib spreader on him right there. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as everything seemed to blur. He didn’t know what he was doing, what he was saying. He was overwhelmed by the pain of everything.

Was somebody calling his name? He couldn’t process anything he was hearing, or doing for that matter. It was all he could do to force his lungs to gulp up as much air as they could between the pulsing pain in his chest. When somebody grabbed his wrists and pinned him against a wall he heard himself snarl. The sound felt almost ripped from him, something he could have never made under any other circumstance. Then he let another, equally odd yelp as something pricked his side.

Instantly the storm inside slipped down the drain, leaving him empty and his skin prickling pins and needles. He slumped against whoever or whatever was in front of him bonelessly, breathing hard.

“Breathe slower Keith,” A low voice instructed him and he did as told. “It helps the transition. That’s it, perfect.”

Somebody shifted his head to the side so as his vision cleared he found himself staring only at a sun tanned neck with a dark splotch on the side. He looked down to see a similar toned hand slowly pressing down on a syringe plunger, injecting some amber liquid into his side. It was only halfway emptied into him, and at the rate the user was pressing wouldn’t be finished for quite some time. Keith closed his eyes, feeling dizzy and oddly drowsy. Slowly his other senses began to function. He could feel the pain of the needle becoming more distinct and the other voices in the room became clearer.

“-ve him to our room…”

“We need… medic..”

“Too many questions… can’t…”

“Luz?... he…”

“Galra!”

still half purple,” Vivirdian interjected. “And I think I might have to use a booster, Lucivida warned me he requires a different ratio of the suppressor than I do.”

“I’m more worried about the sedative than the suppressant.” Oran replied, a frown playing at his voice.

Keith heard hurried footsteps returning to the room, the floor creaking a little beneath their feet.

“Genie did you get a hold of Lucivida?” Vivirdian asked. “What did he say?”

“He… he said,” Imagene breathed, voice sounding shaky. “He will slip out early but there is no way he can leave now. He wants you to send pictures of the wound and then treat with glo-goo and compression. Also ice his ribs and keep him still until Lucivida can see him.”

Keith cracked open his eyes. He could only see half of Imagene over Vivirdian’s shoulder. She was leaning in the doorway, but this time looking like she genuinely needed the support. Her pale skin was paper white, and she was shaking.

“And Keith?” Vivirdian asked. “What did he say about him.”

“Subdue and sedate.” Imagene responded, her voice becoming more steady now. “How did he…?”

“Keith is part Galran,” Vivirdian answered. “I promise that I will explain it all later. For now just help Oran treat Lance.”

Imagene opened her mouth as if to protest, but Lance cut her off with a painful whimper and she ducked out of sight.

At the pitiful sound Keith struggled against Vivirdian, wanting to find Lance and stop whatever was hurting him and comfort him. But Vivirdian held him firmly.

“Just stay still Keith,” Vivirdian murmured. “Almost done.”

“Lance…” He choked out. Shit, had it always been this hard to breathe?

“He’s fine,” Vivirdian assured him. “Just close your eyes and try to relax.”

Keith let out a whimper of confusion, nuzzling himself into the neck. The hand that supported him up squeezed him comfortingly.

“Not much longer,” Vivirdian assured him. “It’s almost empty.”

“You should be careful with that,” Oran warned from somewhere behind them. “That’s a dosage for you, not Keith.”

“He’s still half purple,” Vivirdian interjected. “And I think I might have to use a booster, Lucivida warned me he requires a different ratio of the suppressor than I do.”

“I’m more worried about the sedative than the suppressant.” Oran replied, a frown playing at his voice.

Keith heard hurried footsteps returning to the room, the floor creaking a little beneath their feet.

“Genie did you get a hold of Lucivida?” Vivirdian asked. “What did he say?”

“He… he said,” Imagene breathed, voice sounding shaky. “He will slip out early but there is no way he can leave now. He wants you to send pictures of the wound and then treat with glo-goo and compression. Also ice his ribs and keep him still until he can evaluate him properly.”

Keith cracked open his eyes. He could only see half of Imagene over Vivirdian’s shoulder. She was leaning in the doorway, but this time looking like she genuinely needed the support. Her pale skin was paper white, and she was shaking. She looked like she’d seen a phantom, but perhaps not one she wasn’t unfamiliar with.

“And Keith?” Vivirdian asked her. “What did he say about him?”

“Subdue and sedate.” Imagene responded, her voice becoming more steady now. “How did he…?”

“Keith is part Galran,” Vivirdian answered her calmly. “I promise that I will explain it all later. For now just help Oran treat Lance.”

Imagene opened her mouth as if to protest, but Lance cut her off with a painful whimper and she ducked out of sight presumably to tend to him alongside Oran.

At the pitiful sound Keith struggled against Vivirdian, wanting to find Lance and stop whatever was hurting him and comfort him. But Vivirdian held him firmly.

“Just stay still Keith,” Vivirdian murmured. “Almost done.”

“Lance…” He choked out breathlessly.

“He’s fine,” Vivirdian assured him. “Just close your eyes and try to relax.”

Keith nodded and took a shuddery breath. Shit, had it always been this hard to breathe? He felt like something was pressing down on his chest, preventing him from filling up his lungs with all the air he needed. Maybe it was a side effect of the injection or just something residual from… earlier. What had even happened earlier. When Keith tried to force himself back to moments from even just minutes ago all his mind could return to him was a howling storm of odd images and emotions, none of which made any sense to him.

He sort of zoned out after that. He was vaguely aware of Vivirdian moving him to a lying down position on something soft and covering him up. There was a little conversation after that, but Keith couldn’t seem to pay attention to much of it. He heard footsteps as they carried something into another room, a heavy something from the sound of it, but he didn’t know what it was. Mostly he kept himself curled up into a tight ball and his eyes shut, drifting into a light doze.

He did dream, but it was mostly a scattered mess of incoherent pictures. He knew what they all were, but not what they all meant. He knew the short flash of the tire swing that Papa had constructed for him, and the bright flowers that grew in front of the Petersons home. He recognized his desert shack and all the papers and maps strewn about aimlessly. He couldn’t even count the number of empty ramen containers that lay in the corner or the piles of crumpled up papers with useless notes scrawled on them. He really wasn’t the cleanest or most organized, but hey, he’d found Voltron right?

Some images replayed over and over in his head with no real meaning. He couldn’t seem to find a connection from one thing to the next, and didn’t really want to. After a little while his brain became quiet and he managed to find himself in a dreamless sleep. He didn’t wake up until he heard a soft click of the door closing as somebody entered. There were some footsteps, then silence for a few moments. Then somebody spoke.

“Luz?” Oran called from somewhere else in the house. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” Lucivida replied quietly. “Is everyone asleep? And is everyone okay?”

Keith rolled over, pulling the blanket up over his head in a vain attempt to block them out. He felt heavy and sleepy, content to doze on that couch for as long as he could.

“Yes, we’re all okay,” There was some rustling before Oran continued. “And as for sleeping, just about everyone is out. I even forced Vivirdian to take a mild sleeping aid just a little bit ago-though I doubt it will hold him long- and I’ve been sort of dozing out here with Keith to ensure… safety.”

“Keith’s safety or everyone else’s?” Lucivida asked. Keith could hear him opening one of the electronic cabinets and setting something that sounded like a mug on the counter. A moment later he heard the sound of liquid pouring out.

“Both.” Oran chuckled dryly as if the answer wasn’t all that funny. “We used a full syringe on him plus a booster and he still has ears. I’m honestly worried Ellea will come out here and scream. The guard would probably bust down our- how long have you been wearing that?”

The pouring stopped. “Wearing what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Oran said. “How long have you been wearing it?”

“Oh, well I… Uh…” Lucivida began shiftily. “Since I got up? Look I have to go check on the paladins.”

“That is way too long.” Oran scoffed. “And they can wait. Go change out of it right now.”

“What?” Lucivida said. “No! You said it was urgent! I faked a stomach ache just to get off early!”

“It was urgent when it happened 2 common hours ago. Change first,” Oran ordered, his voice becoming firm. “You can’t stay in that all day and as a doctor you should know that. Besides, Lance has stopped bleeding, we just need you to examine him.”

At the words ‘bleeding’ Keith’s eyes snapped open. Lance had been hurt? Was he okay now?

“I’m not a doctor yet!” Lucivida protested as his voice tapered off as he made his way back to the bathroom, Oran’s light footfall following him.

Keith waited until he heard another door shut before he sat up. He was lying on the couch in Vivirdian and Oran’s living room, but it wasn’t as neat as it had been earlier. For one the pillow across from his was ripped open, and for another the few items in the room were out of place, as if they’d been knocked over or even thrown. But the worst of it was the new red splotches were splattered about the room. They all seemed to lead to a pile of dried burgundy on the floor.

Lance.

It all came back to him in a flash. The whirlwind of emotions, the pain, the loss of control. He could barely make out distinct images from the mess of memories. Lance, looking terrified. Imagene’s cry of surprise and anger. How his claws had ripped as easily through Lance’s cheek as if his flesh was nothing more than colored tissue paper. He remembered Imagene raising that rod and then how Lance, clutching his still bleeding jaw had protected him from her attack.

He pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle his whimper. He’d hurt Lance. He’d gone full on Galra and had hurt Lance . He was so pathetic he couldn’t even control himself. What was the point of all that therapy if in the end it hadn’t helped? Wasn’t he supposed to be able to calm himself down when things became too much? He wanted to curl up into a ball and just lie there until he died.

Suddenly he heard the bathroom door open and Keith quickly laid back down to feign sleep as Oran and Lucivida passed by. Lucivida was noticeably hunched over, hands folded over his chest.

“Really Lucivida it’s not that noticeable,” Oran assured him. “Especially since you’ve started treatment.”

“It’s noticeable to me,” Lucivida grumbled sulkily. “I do it more for me than anyone else…”

This time Keith waited until he heard the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing before he lifted his head again. He was torn between running to see Lance and just plain running. He wanted to get the hell away from this planet with it’s weird people and weird traditions. He didn’t want to sleep on a bloodied and torn couch, he actually missed his lumpy shack mattress. Fuck, he actually missed Earth. He missed blue skies and the desert and his own sun. But he couldn’t go back to Earth, and besides, there were still just as many innocent people to maim there as there were here.

“Keith?” A sleep husked voice called. Keith turned his head to see Vivirdian standing in the doorway. He looked almost older than he usually did, white hair disheveled from sleep. He blinked at Keith blearily for a moment, before smiling gently. “I thought I felt you stir, is everything alright?”

Keith looked away hugging his knees to his chest. He didn’t want to talk, because he knew if he did he would probably start blubbering like a baby.

Keith felt the weight of the sofa shift and knew Vivirdian had taken a seat next to him.

“I don’t know how much you remember,” Vivirdian spoke in a quiet, soothing voice that reminded Keith of Papa. “But I want to assure you it’s not entirely your fault what happened.”

“All of it.” Keith managed in a choked whisper. “I remember all of it. And yes, it is my fault, all my fault. I’m a monster.”

Then, with a warning hiccup, he began to cry. Vivirdian made a sound of sympathy before wrapping an arm around him and pulling him into lean on Vivirdian’s chest. Any other time Keith would have tried to wriggle out of his grip or otherwise swat him away, but this time he could barely protest it. Vivirdian whispered calming words into his ears as he stroked his back soothingly.

“It really isn’t,” He continued once the initial sobbing had subsided. “No, listen to me Keith. I felt the same way when I first learned what I was. There is a scar on Oran’s left thigh, a knick above his collarbones, and so many more from my own episodes. I’m not proud of it, but I do know it’s not my fault, not entirely.”

“How?” Keith breathed. “How is it not my fault when I can still see Lance’s blood beneath my fingernails and hear his screaming? I hurt him! I could’ve stopped it!”

“Because what happens to you is not your fault.” Vivirdian said firmly. “You did not ask to be this way. You didn’t ask for Genie to trick Lance. You did not ask for your past. What happens to you shapes who you are and how you act and that plays such a huge factor Keith. Yes, your emotions are hard to control, no one here certainly expects a young boy to keep his composure all the time, especially not when said boy is on a heavy hormone suppressant.”

“I could have killed Lance!” Keith whisper shrieked. Vivirdian wasn’t getting it. “I didn’t reign in my emotions or even try to control myself. I just… let go and the Galra take over.”

“And I hate to say this,” Vivirdian let out a huff of air. “But that part is your fault.”

Keith winced at those words, unsure if it was a relief or reprimand.

“It’s hard to explain this,” Vivirdian sighed. “Because to say it’s not your fault would be to blame it all on your Galra lineage which is something you cannot control or change. To say it is entirely your fault implies that you are a horrible person, which you aren’t. I know you aren’t, Lucivida knows it, Imagene knows it, Lance knows it, everyone who knows you knows it.”

Keith had fallen still, listening to Vivirdian’s words quietly, almost holding his breath.

“It is both your fault and not your fault.” Vivirdian said. “It is a complex equation of your past, your present, and who you are. You can’t control what you are or what happens to you, but you can control how you react to it all and that is what makes you who you are. Does that make sense?”

No, not at all.

But Keith nodded anyways, wiping his eyes.

Chapter Text

Hunk

They spent all night and most of the next day at a computer system in the hangar working nonstop with the new information streaming in from the lions. Coran intercepted the new information and sent it to Allura who would translate to Hunk. A lot of what they received were diagnostic testing performed during the lions’ brief hibernation. It gave them status updates on the connection systems and mechanics which is why they bothered to tell Hunk. As it turned out the 10,000 year old Altean psychic robo cats had very similar mechanics to those found on Earth so Hunk helped explain to Allura . (Pidge would have probably used this to point to the existence of aliens on Earth before humans but then again finding the Blue Lion kind of did prove that theory…)

What they received seemed to come in waves from each Lion, as if the machines were scrambling for whatever information they could find and sending it out in large chunks. Most of it came in no particular order, which left the group piecing each new report together to create a timeline of events following the crash. So far they knew that Pidge and Shiro were currently living inside Green’s cockpit and both their lions were in working order, but not exactly stable conditions. Lance and Keith must have also landed together as reports from Blue showed frequent spikes in their quintessence. But they didn’t appear to be living there now, and hadn’t for a while. Hunk decided it was best not to wonder too much on why they evacuated Blue, he had enough to worry about.

What really concerned both Hunk and the Alteans was the very slow trickle of intel they had received from Red. It appeared that now all the Lions were awake, so there was no reason for the very little data output. Well, there probably was but no one wanted to think about that either.

“This report is kinda weird…” Hunk said, squinting at the translated document on his tablet.

“What is it?” Allura asked, looking up at the Yellow Paladin with those brilliant eyes. Her fingers kept moving at the same rate over the keyboard as she focused her attention on Hunk.

“I’m comparing these early scans from Blue to one performed just days later and it doesn’t make sense.” He explained, chewing on the tip of the electronic pen. “Because here it says the carburetor has only lost about 50% of its ability, then here it doesn’t even register the carburetor, and then in this most recent scan its restored to full working order.”

“What?” Allura asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Can I take a look at that report paladin?” Coran asked, turning his gaze away from the monitor, He too had a freaky ability to keep using a keyboard without looking at it.

Hunk handed the tablet over to Coran who held it up with one hand, still managing the console with the other. Hunk was a little awed at that ability.

“Yes…” Coran mused, frowning a bit. “That is odd, almost like the machinery has repaired itself, but as advanced as the Lions are even they couldn’t completely fix this kind of damage. Look at the gear shift and engine photonic plates too.”

“Hmmm… You’re right.” Hunk murmured, squinting at the points Coran indicated. “And the inner drive regulator was completely-’

“Excuse me. but I don’t understand,” Allura interrupted, peering over Hunk’s shoulder at the tablet. “What are you talking about?”

“Well princess,” Coran straightened, voice taking on that matter-of-fact voice he always used for his teaching moments. “An inner drive regulator-”

“No,” She cut him off abruptly before he began what was sure to be a lecture. “I meant what are you trying to say? That somebody is repairing the lions?”

“That is exactly what we are saying,” Coran confirmed. “But neither Red nor Blue has sent in recent quintessence scans so we don’t know who or what is doing it.”

“Maybe it’s an ally?” Hunk offered hopefully.

“I doubt it,” Allura said, examining the report herself as she leaned against the dashboard, one hand against her hip. “We have been gone for over ten thousand years. Whoever is doing this may not even know what Voltron is, or they do and…”

Allura didn’t finish that sentence. She didn’t have to. Hunk and Coran could pick up on her implications all too well.

“Anyways,” Coran said, clearing his throat. “Since we know Pudge and Shiro are living in Green why don’t we send them a call and see how they are doing? I just their final coordinates so I can actually call them now. Oh, and in a piece of happy news, Blue just sent me their location, but I won’t be able to pinpoint a signal to call until they follow up my last ping!”

“Oh yeah!” Hunk grinned, happily latching onto any topic that wasn’t the potential danger that the remaining primary colored paladins were in. “Can we call the  Please?”

“Absolutely,” Allura nodded. “Where exactly did Blue say they were though?”

“Let’s take a looksie,” Coran replied, swiping down rapidly on his tablet. “I just had them up… not that… no, no… Aha! Planet PX64 in the Helian Galaxy!”

“Wait, the… the Helian galaxy?” Hunk repeated.

“The Helian galaxy indeed paladin!” Coran smiled, clicking his heels together excitedly. “Famous for holding some of the most exquisite jungle biospheres in that section of the universe. That planet in particular bears a fruit that is a wonderful hair tonic, better than nunville!”

Allura whipped around and began inputting coordinates into Yellow's console. A map made of twinkling lights- stars Hunk supposed- swirled into view, zooming into a particularly bright sector to reveal a large solar system.

“There is the planet Pidge and Shiro are on,” Allura announced breathlessly, pointing at a smaller planet. Then she shifted her finger to a very large planet nearby. “And that is PX64

“Just a hop, skip and a jump away as Shiro would say!” Coran exclaimed gleefully, then frowned. “Well, maybe not an exact hop, skip, and a jump… more like 3 hops… 5 skips… and a half jump away? No… 2 hops… hmmm.”

“So Shiro and Pidge are basically right next to the plant people?” Hunk asked, almost daring to hope that for once things were looking up for Team Voltron. “And Lance is with the plant people?”

“Yes!” Allura said happily. “They are… I can’t believe… my stars… Do we have anything on Red’s location?”

“Not yet,” Coran shook his head. “And something tells me we won’t for a little while. In the mean time we can call the Green Lion!”

“Yes,” Allura nodded. “Let’s give Pidge and Shiro a call, then we should all go to bed so we can make our final jump in the morning, is that clear?”

“Yes princess!” Coran agreed, finger moving rapidly over the keyboard.

Hunk snapped his fingers into a military salute. Allura only looked at him funnily before shaking her head and mumbling ‘human customs’.

Hunk took that to mean ‘at ease’.

Hunk turned his attention to Yellow’s console to make the call. He didn’t need the buttons translated to know what they did, but his fingers fumbled a little bit as he pressed them.

There was one soft tone as the signal connected, then another, and another. The three of them all waited with baited breath, staring at the screen and hoping and praying that any second now someone would pick up. But with every tone Hunk’s hopes dimmed a little more. Of course nobody was going to answer. He’d been foolish to even dream of it. On the ninth tone he reached out to cancel the call when the screen lit up.

And standing there flushed and panting for air wearing an odd green tank tied up at the waist and glasses without the frames… was Pidge.

“Hunk!” They cried excitedly, their voice catching and breaking as tears filled their eyes.

Hunk made an odd whimpering sound in reply, too choked up to speak.

“Pidge, is that you?” Allura asked. “Are you hurt? What happened to your hair? Where is…”

Her voice trailed off as a large figure staggered into the Green Lion, a metal hand clutching at a stitch in his side.

“Shiro!” Coran gasped, grabbing Allura’s arm and shaking her excitedly. “Look Allura! It’s Shiro!”

Shiro looked up at the sound of Allura’s voice. “Princess?”

Allura covered her face at letting out a shuddering sob of relief and Hunk could relate. Coran wrapped an arm around her comfortingly. They all sat there for about five minutes, crying and just affirming each other that yes, it was really them.

Surprisingly enough, it was Hunk who finally got a grip on himself first.

“Pidge,” He sniffled, wiping his eyes. “W-what happened to your hair?”

“My h-h-hair?” She stuttered, then glanced up and grinned, running a hand through the floofy top. “Shiro fixed my shoddy haircut. He did a pretty nice job, right?”

“It looks a bit like his,” Allura noted, voice still strained. “But with a more rounded front end and a touch of femininity.”

“Strong, yet soft,” Coran mused, twirling his mustache thoughtfully. “It suits the both of you quite well.”

“Not so sure what her father will say about it though,” Shiro teased. “Might be too rebellious.”

Pidge shoved him playfully. “Shut it prison break.”

They all laughed at that for a moment before being interrupted by a soft beeping sound from the Yellow Lion.

“What was that?” Pidge asked, tilting her head in curiousity. “Also why are you all in your pajamas, isn’t it like midday for you guys?”

“It’s the sound of new information coming in from the lions.” Coran answered, crossing over to the Altean computer and pressing a few buttons. “And also Hunk woke us up in the dead of the night cycle and we’ve been working nonstop at the lions ever since.”

“Speaking of lions,” Shiro said, his face and tone quickly falling back into leader mode. “How are things doing? This is the first time Green has actually been online since the crash. I assume Yellow is working too, but anything new on the others?”

“All the lions are back online,” Allura informed him and began giving the pair of them the rundown on all the information they’d learned in the past few hours along with Hunk’s little side notes here and there. Pidge and Shiro listened intently, absorbing every single word: Shiro with the intensity of a general, Pidge with the fascinated curiosity of a scientist. They waited for the pair to finish before speaking again.

“So,” Shiro said slowly, still digesting all that information. “Lance and Keith are alive… and staying with… I’m sorry can I hear that last bit of information again?”

“They are on the planet Ambrusia,” Allura clarified brightly, pulling up a 3D image of the planet on her tablet. “The planet was artificially created by Altean scientists. Much of its plant and animal life was also created from scratch by Alteans and its inhabitants are actually made from recoded Altean and Juniberry DNA. We were interested in studying how biospheres evolved and changed over time but needed a controlled sample for it.”

“So you… created your own complex lifeforms?” Pidge said breathlessly after they’d picked their jaw up from the floor. “How?”

Allura shook her head. “My specialty does not lie in genetics paladin, I cannot say.”

“But guys, look at them,” Hunk reached over and tapped a few things to pull up a picture of an Ambrusian. “Plant people.”

Pidge let a shriek of glee. “Their skin looks like leaves! And their hair…”

“I didn’t know you liked alien biology number five,” Coran commented.

Pidge screwed up her face into annoyance at the name ‘number five’.

“I don’t,” She replied dully. “But this is about as close to a cryptid in space as I’m gonna get.”

“Well, if all goes well they will be able to help us more than your, er, Mothman.” Allura continued. “Coran says that the Ambrusians were entrusted by my father  with critical information regarding Voltron that might help us make repairs, not to mention a very much needed and very valuable ally. The planet itself is very large and holds an abundance of natural resources.”

“Including Keith and Lance!” Hunk added excitedly. “And you guys are super close so we can just wormhole over there, pick you up, then go and pick up Keith and Lance, and Voltron is back together once more!”

Pidge let out a whoop of victory and Shiro a relieved sigh.

“Er… not quite,” Coran called from where he was reading the most recent report. “I, uh, don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”

Allura frowned in concern and made her way over to Coran, reading the report for herself. Her forehead creased in worry, then in alarm as her eyes went further down the screen. The atmosphere changed from one of relief to fear in about 0.2 seconds.

“What… what does it say?” Hunk asked tentatively, almost scared to know the answer.

“It’s a… it’s from Red.” Allura began quietly, as if she needed to start with what was easy to say and build herself up to the more difficult pieces. “It seems Red has been, er, holding off sending information so they could find and relay this very important message immediately.”

“What does it say?” Pidge asked, adjusting the frames so they sat higher up on her nose. “Is it about Keith and Lance?”

Allura nodded, still not looking away from the tablet. She opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t seem to form the words she needed.

Coran rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder and said what she couldn’t manage. “It appears that both the Red and Blue paladins have been captured by the Galra.”

It was probably the first time since Coran’s announcement about being the only Alteans alive that Hunk had ever heard the advisor speak with such grave solemnity. His hand on Allura’s shoulder may have been gentle, a much needed anchor, but his face was a crypt, hollow and dark and somber.

“This quintessence report tells us that a troop of Galra soldiers swarmed the lion. See these spikes in activity?” Coran continued, flipping the tablet around so the others could see something that very vaguely resembled a line graph beside a table of data. “They are all Galra coded energy, except for this odd one that I can’t quite identify. Then here is Lance and Keith’s own quintessence entering the scene. Lance heads into the ship while Keith leaves. We see here Lance picking off a few soldiers before I believe being subdued here. Then it shows a Galra and that one odd energy taking Lance out of the decimated lion headed in the direction Keith left in.”

Silence filled the room again as the 5 of them attempted to wrap their minds around this new predicament. Nobody knew what to say or do.

“But they aren’t captured!” Pidge blurted suddenly. “Shiro and I heard an alien podcast announce that two ambassadors from Earth named Keith and Lance were staying on Ambrusia, remember Shiro?”

“Yes,” Shiro nodded quickly. “Though before that we did receive a distressed call from Keith saying the Galra had overrun the Red Lion. Then something interrupted him and… he never called in again. If he was really an ‘ambassador’ don’t you think they would have given him the chance to radio in?”

Pidge shut her mouth at that, comprehension seeming to fall over her eyes like a veil.

“But… but didn’t you say Blue was being repaired?” Hunk said in confusion. “I don’t think the Galra would repair the most powerful weapon used against them.”

“Unless they planned to use it against us.” Pidge offered. Her voice was quiet, almost scared. “Think about it. You said the Ambrusians had the plans to Voltron, right? What if that extra quintessence is an Ambrusian, or whatever they’ve evolved into.”

“What’s the use of repairing the lions if they couldn’t use them without a paladin?” Shiro said, tone sharp and distressed. “The Lions only respond to a paladin’s quintessence, remember?”

“They have a paladin,” Pidge mumbled blankly. “Two of ‘em. And didn’t we find stores of quintessence on their ship? No doubt that witch, Haggis or whatever, could figure out a way to mimic Keith and Lance’s quintessence and manipulate it to activate the lions.”

Shiro’s jaw clenched at the mention of that. He rested a hand over his robotic arm, a remnant of his time with the Galra. “We can’t let that happen. Keith and Lance can’t go through that.”

“They won’t.” Allura said firmly, finally finding resolve. She looked up and those multi colored eyes burned with an intense ferocity. “As princess of Altea I refuse to let this happen. We will warp to the Helian Galaxy, collect Pidge and Shiro, and plan our assault on the planet Ambrusia. Is that clear?”

“Er, princess?” Coran interjected hesitantly. “None of us have slept in nearly two day cycles. It’s unwise to head into this exhausted and blind. I say we pick up Shiro and Pidge, then we spend a day cycle recovering and regrouping. We can use that time to run scans on the planet and determine an optimal course of action using the data we collect.”

“You could probably dock the castle on this planet,” Shiro offered. “It’s quite nice.”

“As long as you don’t mind the weird alien missionaries.” Pidge grumbled.

“What?” Hunk asked, confused.

“Nothing.” Pidge waved him away. “But we also need to finish repairing paladin armor and fix the lions up the best we can. I really don’t want to go into battle with that hug crack over my breast plate.”

“Alright,” Allura sighed. “You all make a fair point. We will warp to Shiro and Pidge and dock at their planet. Then we will all get some rest, pull together our resources, collect as much information as we can, make repairs, do what we must. Then we will rescue Lance and Keith. Now, is that clear?”

“Yes princess.” Shiro replied firmly.

“Aye aye cap’n.” Pidge grinned, obviously delighted at the prospect of assaulting an entire planet.

“Good, now prepare for travel, we are warping to you immediately.” Allura announced, and with that she ended the call.