#Anyway I was thinking of Keitor when I made this but it works for any ship really

[demiboydemon]

[sage-nebula]

9 and 10 for JuMilla, 1 and 7 for Keitor :)

JuMilla:

9.) Favorite aspect of them/their relationship dynamics?

It’s been a long time, but I think it’s the way they’re inspired to just give their all for each other. Like in many ways they’ll do that anyway in just about any situation (especially Milla; she will always do The Most if she feels it must be done), but they’re truly each other’s inspiration and motivation when you get right down to it. Milla decided to sacrifice herself because she wanted to be the Maxwell that Jude loved. Jude punched Old Man Maxwell (basically a god) in the face for Milla. And not only that, but they each uphold their own duties in their own respective worlds because they want to be the person that the other one loves. (And, again, because it’s the right thing to do, but their love for each other is at the forefront.) They’re both capable of miracles, both magical and scientific, but it’s their relationship which inspires them to go the extra mile and I really like that about them.

10.) Least favorite aspect of them/their relationship dynamics? (Can be headcanon)

Probably the way they have so much trouble actually spitting out how they feel. Milla couldn’t bring herself to tell Jude that she suspected / knew that she wasn’t really Maxwell before her sacrifice because she was afraid that he’d reject her / she’d be letting him down. Jude could never bring himself to tell Milla he loved her to her face for similar reasons. They’re a bit better about this in Xillia 2, but even there they lack a true goodbye, and I think it’s because as strong as they both are, they’re terrible at confronting the things that hurt, which leads to there still being some distance between them (figuratively) despite the fact that we know they’ve at least kissed thanks to the waterfall scene.

Keitor:

1.) If you had to change the pairing’s very first meeting, how would you change it?

I mean, I don’t know that we’d even call what they had in canon as a “first meeting” considering that they never formally introduced themselves to one another, haha. This is something I was salty about for a while, but given how JDS and LM are both absolutely terrible at writing relationships, in the end I think it was a blessing. They would have just destroyed Keitor had they actually done anything with it. At least this way it remains untainted.

That said, it really depends on if we want a canon compliant universe or not. If we’re going canon compliant, then I would have had Lotor join the Blade of Marmora at the end of season four, and once there he would have sought out Keith given that Keith is half-galra, just like him and his generals. Keith would have been incredibly wary, of course (but also would have been the one most arguing to give Lotor a chance and hear him out after Lotor literally saved his life and all), but slowly a relationship would have formed between them. I’ve actually written fic of that here. 

As for Paradigm Shift, their meeting there is completely different given how much of an AU it is. I don’t want to spoil too much since I want to actually write out that fic someday, but since I don’t know when I’ll actually get around to writing that fic, and since I’ve dropped plenty of references to it in other fics in the series that I have posted, I’ll just go ahead and say:

In Paradigm Shift, Keith is raised by the Blade of Marmora until he’s three years old, at which point he’s kidnapped by the Empire (assumed dead by the Blade) and taken to the planet Revender. Revender is an Empire-controlled planet near the Empire’s borders, where weapons (both physical and chemical) are manufactured for Empire use. More specifically, it’s an Empire-controlled planet where part-galra are taken / imprisoned / exiled to in order to be used as test subjects for the chemical and physical weapons manufacturing. (Though there are also slums there where part-galra live “freely,” having gone there on their own volition back when there were lies spread about Revender that it was a planet friendly to part-galra, where they could live without facing the discrimination they faced in the rest of the universe. Sort of a, “We, the Empire, don’t like you, but if you stay here on this planet you won’t be bothered.” Yeah, that was a damnable lie, but one purposefully spread to lure part-galra who couldn’t be “legally” arrested there.) Aside from the slums, there are numerous facilities on Revender where tests are carried out on part-galra in order to develop poisons, antidotes, and other scientific breakthroughs, as well as tests to make sure that new weapons are functioning as they should. Theses tests can be anything from giving a part-galra a weapon and having them try to make it through a very deadly obstacle course, to making them fight other part-galra in arenas. Either-or.

Anyway, Keith was taken there when he was three (and the trauma of how that happened wiped his memory of everything before that point). Since he was so little he was originally purely used for scientific testing (poisons, antidotes, but they also took keen interest in his ability to sense quintessence), but when he was around nine he was transferred to the weapons testing division. This is, incidentally, how he met Acxa, and he met her first. She was born and raised in the slums, but volunteered to go to the facility in place of her elderly grandmother, who had raised her after her father was taken to Revender when she was little, and the deaths of her mother and brothers. Note that Acxa didn’t really know what happened at the facilities at the time since she was only about seven herself, but she knew that her father never came back, and that her grandmother was old, and that she loved her grandma and wanted to protect and help her, so she volunteered to go in her grandma’s place instead. Anyway, two years after that Acxa and Keith were pitted against each other in the arena, and Keith got the upperhand but pulled back without killing her, so Acxa turned the tables and very nearly killed him, but spared him just as he spared her. And that set the course for their friendship / found family.

Anyway, since I came up with all of this before anything about Lotor’s backstory was revealed, in Paradigm Shift Lotor is not only around the same age as Keith and Acxa, but he himself was exiled to Revender when he was twelve for “educational purposes” (i.e. for his dayak to abuse him until he was an obedient, monstrous pawn for his father). Lotor wasn’t in one of the slums or facilities, but was instead in the only nice manor on the planet, i.e. a gilded cage. Lotor was given a tour of the facilities, though, as both a “this is how we keep the Empire well stocked with weapons” deal and a “remember that you’re a half-breed yourself, you should consider yourself lucky you’re not here, but remember you could be” type of deal. It was during one of those tours, though, that he was able to sit in on arena battles, and he saw both Keith and Acxa during these fights and was impressed by them and started to formulate a plan of escape.

One year after that (when they’re all thirteen), Lotor disguised himself, escaped his manor, and sneaked into the arena and put himself in among that day’s test subjects / combatants. He ended up going up against Keith, and though he obviously didn’t die (since Keith always tried very hard to spare his opponents), he did lose and Keith actually drew blood. Far from being upset about this, Lotor was actually exhilarated to see that he was right about his feeling about Keith before, and removed his helmet to make a speech in the arena about how, see, part-galra were just as exemplary as any, this form of subjugation was wrong and they should all work together to build a glorious future, et cetera, pretty similar to the speech he makes in his first appearance in canon. Unlike in canon, though, here reality ensued and it went terribly wrong. Far from being inspired by his speech of equality and unity, the audience were put-off, disgusted, and by and large of the opinion that even royal blood clearly couldn’t make Lotor any better than other “half-breeds.” Empire soldiers swarmed the arena and accosted Keith for daring to harm the crown prince, and very nearly executed him on the spot (while Acxa was screaming for him and restrained by other prisoners in the background) for the crime, something that Lotor only just barely managed to prevent by pulling rank through his own confusion and fear that this had all gone so terribly wrong. Keith was still detained, though, and Lotor’s dayak marched him out of the arena by his hair, a fact Keith didn’t miss despite his own predicament. Lotor’s punishment that evening was not gentle. He still has the scars all down his back.

At any rate, once Lotor healed enough to do so, he escaped his manor again one night and went to the facilities, where he located Keith and Acxa and told him that he had plans to leave the planet and start a revolution and he wanted both of them to come with him since he was so impressed by their skills in the arena. Acxa was against this, because she blamed him for Keith’s near execution and didn’t trust him one bit, thinking this had to be a trick given that he was the prince. (And since his stunt had also led to some of the other prisoners on their block being executed to send a message that his words should not inspire an uprising, keep in mind she was not the only one there with a negative opinion of him at this point.) Keith, however, argued in favor of going with him since it was a chance to get the hell out of there, and also pointed out to her that it was two against one so, if it did end up being a trick or trap, they could overpower him and then escape that way. (Note: Lotor gave them space for this conversation so he didn’t hear Keith say any of that.) Acxa made Keith promise that he meant what he said about turning on Lotor if Lotor got shady, and Keith agreed, so the two of them told Lotor they accepted his deal and ran. (Keith wanted to free the others as well, but Lotor and Acxa both pointed out that’d put the rest of the prisoners in danger if they did, so the three of them agreed to liberate Revender’s prisoners at a later date.) It was chaotic and supremely dangerous, but ultimately the three of them managed to steal a janky transport ship that Lotor had scoped out and make it off the planet. (This, by the by, is the same piece of garbage they have when they meet Zethrid for the first time, haha, the one she keeps roasting. It may be a piece of shit, but it lasts them a long time.) Obviously, the promise that Keith and Acxa made never came to fruition, and Keith himself has long since forgotten about it (though Acxa never has), but nonetheless, though they agreed to work together, it was a tenuous truce in the beginning, very much Keith & Acxa + Lotor, if that makes sense. (Though think for a moment how far they’ve come. They went from Keith and Acxa mutually agreeing to take Lotor out and bolt if he got shady, to both of them being supremely protective of him in future stories like The Ultimate Reward and Revolutionary, standing on either side of him and even stepping a bit in front, weapons drawn, when necessary. You know what that is? Growth.

Oh, and also Keith falls in love with Lotor, but you know. That’s just a bonus.)

7.) Favorite headcanon?

I have so many it’s hard to keep track, haha. Off the top of my head and in no particular order:

Keith can sense quintessence, and over time (at Lotor’s suggestion) he trains that ability of his and gets to the point where he can pinpoint specific quintessence signatures if he knows a person well enough. Lotor’s is one of the absolute easiest for him to trace given their bond.

Lotor gets cold easily, but Keith is naturally warm, so Lotor often hugs Keith to him to share some of that body heat. Keith doesn’t mind at all.

No matter the reality, Lotor always verbally confesses first (though usually without using the words “I love you”), while Keith always makes the first physical move. It’s just the way they are.

Lotor gets supremely excited by new historical finds and will often go on about them at length to Keith, who isn’t too interested in history but does love seeing Lotor so excited. Even though Keith isn’t interested in the stories themselves, he always remembers them and usually gets Lotor presents related to them somehow on holidays. The fact that Keith remembers the things Lotor told him like that means more to Lotor than the actual physical item itself does.

Lotor cannot lie to Keith, and Keith does not let Lotor lie to himself. What I mean by this is, Keith can always tell when Lotor is lying, and calls him on it. And if Lotor lies to himself (e.g. by not accepting that Haggar is, in fact, his biological mother), Keith will push the issue until Lotor accepts it because he knows that denial will only hurt Lotor more later on down the line and he refuses to let that happen. The fact that Keith can and does call Lotor on his bullshit when necessary is part of what makes him such an invaluable part of Lotor’s life, and what therefore makes Lotor love him so much (even if he sometimes gets frustrated in the moment).

[dark-unimaginably-stupid-kids]

Not Dreaming of You [Ch 3]

(Because You Won’t Let Me Sleep)

Series- Voltron

Pairing(s)- End Game is Klancelot, with a heavy slight incline toward Keitor simply based on the set up.

Other pairs include minor Shallura, past Rolotor, one-sided Sheith. platonic (??) Plance and even a hint of Heith if you squint real hard.

Characters in this fic in order of most screen time: Keith, Lotor, Lance, Pidge, Hunk, our Lovely Lady Generals, Kuron, Shiro, Allura, Rolo and Nyma

Synopsis: Keith has been tensely living with Lotor for about a year. They aren’t exactly friends, but occasionally they can get along. Suddenly with no explanation their neighbor Rolo moves out and two very noisy whack jobs move in. Somewhere between the loss of Lotor’s old fuck buddy and Keith’s sleep deprivation things start to get a little…odd.

“I’m telling you, there is something wrong with them!”

This chapter: No Lotor or Keith, but a look at Lance and Pidge and how they got where they are today...

---

Chapter 3- Lance is a normal boy with normal problems. Cross my heart and hope to die.

The first thing Lance realized when he woke up was that the light in the motel room was way too bright. Like kick in the teeth glass shards in your eyes kind of bright.

Next, he notices how absolutely parched he is. Lips dry, throat on fire, hell his joints are screaming at him like he’s been dehydrated for days.

When his eyes finally adjust enough to the room another sense comes at him like a pile of bricks.

Everything…smells.

Down to the linen sheets and the small sizzling burn of a cheap lightbulb reaching the end of its life. But on top of that, almost downing him, is the smell of…iron?

… Jeez.

To make his current physical standings worse, he’s alone in the motel room he’d entered the night before with a very attractive partner.

Maybe, Lance hopes, they had some prior engagement to get to in a hurry. Maybe there was a note or something and this wasn’t just a one-night stand.

Though—he doesn’t remember having sex last night either. Though his shirt is off and nowhere in sight…

Lance dragged himself out of bed on wobbly feet. He could see his shoes over by the door where he’d left them, his jacket thrown on the chair—yeah he remembered that too. But then- nothing.

He stumbled over to his jacket and fished out his cellphone. His wallet was still in there too so that was a good sign. It wasn’t like the hot stranger (Who’s name was currently escaping him) had robbed him or anything. There was, sadly, still no note or anything to imply that they ever wanted to see Lance again though.

Maybe he’d done something embarrassing. Maybe he’d drank too much and just blacked out.

His phone reads 5:23AM. Which means, if he wanted to, he could still get home before his mom got up for work if he moved quickly enough.

He’d miss his shirt, but not as much as he’d miss casual family dinners without his mother glaring daggers into his soul for not being home when she says goodbye.

It wasn’t like he’d planned to get a motel room with a stranger but hey, when the opportunity presents itself you take it.

So with one last passing glance over the room, he pulls on his shoes, zips up his hoodie to cover the fact he was shirtless and wanders out of the motel. If he had a little more time he’d probably have made the bed, made sure the bathroom was clean and all that good nonsense because his mother did in fact raise him right but it wasn’t like he could catch a ride home.

Though, again, it really didn’t look like much had happened.

Bummer.

When he was outside he braced himself against the cold and briefly wondered if it was possible to order a Lyft or an Uber home right about then.

Not that he couldn’t make the walk, but this was some extra level chill in the air. Sure, it was March and winter was still just hanging around and he was shirtless under his coat so the cold made sense but this just seeped into his bones and nearly put him to sleep, he felt so damn weak.

Man, the sooner her got home the better. So he decided to jog.

By the time he got home, quietly letting himself into his house, he crawled straight into bed and passed out.

He didn’t hear his mother’s alarm go off nor did he hear her leave, too exhausted like his body was made of lead.

What did wake him up was his sister cooking lunch. She had evening classes at the local community college so this was pretty normal. Lance himself was taking the semester off due to a financial aid mishap so his job was to cook dinner.

He wasn’t sure what it was that had really woken him but by the time he drifted into the living room the smell of his sisters beef patties made his mouth water.

Which was already a feat in and of itself considering how he was still crazy thirsty. He mumbled a quick hello to his sister who rolled her eyes at him for sleeping in so late and let himself into the fridge to get at the Kool-Aid he and his siblings regularly kept stocked.

And, like the gross boy he was against all his mother’s teachings, drank straight from the pitcher.

Veronica shrieked at him and hit him with a spatula, “Asqueroso! Lance, you’re washing that and making more now!”

Lance rolled his eyes affectionately, “Si Mama.”

“Oh don’t call me that,” She hissed before turning back to her cooking. Lance downed what was left of the pitcher and looked her over. She was wearing a long sleeved blue cotton shirt and shorts that, as her brother, he wished she didn’t own.

“You’re gonna change before class right?” He asked.

She blinked at him, “Why? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing! Nothing, it’s just. Cold outside is all.”

“Lance.”

“Ponte pantalones o le digo a mama.”

She slammed the spatula down and gave him the finger before wandering off upstairs shouting about how he better not let her burgers burn.

As soon as she was gone Lance realized quite curiously that the food didn’t smell as good.

How odd.

---

When eating and drinking and taking a scalding shower does not help him feel any better, the lights are still bright everything still smells weird and his skin is still crazy cold he starts to panic.

So he calls his brilliant friend.

If anyone knew what kind of weird shit he’d gotten into last night it would be her. Though, he was a little concerned about calling her up at all since she’d basically dropped off the face of the earth about two weeks ago.

Thankfully, she answered the phone anyway.

“Lance!” She shouted into the receiver. The urgency in her voice almost made him forget his own issues.

“H-Hey Pidge, what’s wrong?”

“Can I come over? Please? Please—your siblings aren’t home right?”

Lance raised a brow but considered this. Marco and Luis were out skating at the park and Veronica was stomping around upstairs like she was getting ready to head out.

“Uh, yeah, Vero is just leaving… Are you okay?”

“I’ll explain when I get there okay? I just. I just need you to keep an open mind okay. And. Unlock the door.”

Lance nodded, then corrected himself by saying so out loud before he wandered over to the door. The light the filtered in through the glass frame landed on his skin and felt way warmer than a sun beam should. Lance almost couldn’t care though considering how cold he’d been just a moment before.

It felt kind of nice.

Until it didn’t. His skin was suddenly very red and stung like a bitch, very clearly a sunburn. How in the hell he managed to burn himself that quickly was anyone’s guess.

He stood there eyeing his hand until Veronica came up next to him.

“What are we looking at?” She asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders and took her hand, holding it in the light.

She raised a brow at this but didn’t flinch at all. That was, until she noticed her brother’s fingers getting red.

“Lance! What—are you okay?” She pulled him out of the light and looked his hands over. He was honestly in too much shock to say much.

“…Tell mom when she gets home, we’ll get the insurance card and go to the doctor tomorrow, okay?”

Lance nods at her before she leaned foreward and kissed him on the cheek, “Maybe stay out of the sun for a bit okay?” She let herself out and told him to lock the door but per Pidge’s instruction he decided not to.

Besides, he was too distracted by the smell.

It was a couple minutes later when Pidge’s bike slammed into the side of Lance’s house and his front door swung open.

The girl practically rolled into the house, covered head to toe in a big green hooded coat, mittens and a scarf.

Lance knew it was cold at night, but the sun was still out and it certainly didn’t need any of that…

“Pidge are you—” he started from his spot on the couch, where he’d curled up with his phone to wait for her.

She didn’t let him finish this sentence though as she launched herself across the living room and onto her friend’s lap. Lance nearly shrieked.

“I’m sorry okay but I promise I’ll explain later and I just—ah…” Her forehead was burned, just like Lance’s hands, and her cheeks were flushed as well. Though whether that was a burn or embarrassment from her current position he didn’t know.

Honestly, he’d never thought of Pidge in this way and really had no idea how he was supposed to respond to the girl’s small knees straddling his waist. Definitely didn’t know how to feel about her hands tugging on his shirt or the way her mouth just hung open like she was the confused one.

“…Oh no.” She leaned into his neck and took a deep sniff of his skin.

“Pidge. Hun. Sweetheart. Please tell me what’s going on?”

She sighed deeply but didn’t remove herself from his lap, “I don’t know if this would still work…it doesn’t feel right…”

Lance groaned, hoping she understood how confused she was making him. Then she made it worse, by removing her mittens and reaching one of her own fingers into her mouth. She winced and pulled out her now bleeding finger, holding it up for him to see.

“What do you think of this, Lance?”

Lance stared at the small bead of blood on her skin.

And honestly…?

“…something is very wrong with us, isn’t there?”

Pidge sighed again and stared up at the ceiling, before letting out a very long and drawn out “Fuck.”

---

Adjusting was… difficult. And honestly, Lance could feel himself losing it day by day. He couldn’t spend too long with his siblings after that first time wit Pidge. He couldn’t enjoy his meals. He couldn’t sleep like a sensible human being.

Something had to give.

So he called her again. She picked up after the first ring, his calls now set to priority.

“Did you learn something?” She asked, not bothering with a greeting per usual.

Lance rolled his eyes and leaned further back against his pillow in his blue walled room. Maybe he’d teach her manners sometime. But considering the fact her current priority was to rid themselves of this ailment they were both suffering from, he wasn’t going to complain. Much.

“Pidgling, let’s go out.”

He could hear the skeptic look on her face.

“Lance.”

“Pidgling. Pidgling I’m serious. Let’s go. Let’s get out. Away from people we care about for a little bit. Just. Find a stranger. Take the edge off.”

He got to listen to her take a deep breath and let it go through her nose loudly. Definitely tempted. Definitely frustrated. Definitely…

“I’m about to reach through this phone and strangle you, we can’t think like that! We don’t know what will happen! What if—”

“What if I find a volunteer?” He hadn’t meant to say it like that, he hadn’t meant to say it at all. But the thought had occurred to him a few times.

After all, they were… kind of living a weird kind of fantasy right now, certain girls had wet dreams about this kind of shit. If he happened to mention it to someone who looked the part and they jumped on it, no big deal right?

He said as much to her and he proceeded to listen to her weigh the pros and cons of such a questionable venture before she made a small short determined sound.

“Okay. You know what? You go. Do your thing. When you’re done come over and tell me everything. I’m just. I’ll be here studying our blood samples.” She said it, she decided it, but she sounded sad.

“Or, and try this on for size Pidglet, you can get more blood samples.”

She groaned into the receiver and it was another twenty minutes before she conceded to be picked up.

Another five to convince her to borrow Matt’s car because Lance intended to drink something.

When they were finally seated around a bar, Lance eyed the crowd and established that everyone looked pretty normal and not fetishy at all.

“I think we came to the wrong club,” Lance offered as he gulped down his second shot of whiskey.

Pidge scrunched up her nose in distaste and turned back to her journal, “Well yeah probably, but you’re the one who chose this place so…”

She read over her notes and tapped her pencil on the spiral. The girl clearly had a problem leaving work at home.

“Well it’s not like we just stop having problems when we walk outside Lance, someone has to fix this mess!” She bit out, looking at him again.

He eyed the empty shot glass and wondered how much it was affecting him because he really didn’t remember saying that out loud. She groaned in exasperation and shooed him off.

“Whatever, go find someone to entertain yourself with while I get some liquid creativity in my system.” She flagged down the bartender and asked for something Lance was sure was very sugary that he’d have to steal a sip from eventually. But, for now, he went to peruse the club goers.

There was an interesting group of girls toward the back, almost looked like the type he’d been inclined to look for tonight if it wasn’t for the fact they were chattering about their missing boyfriend. All four of them. One guy. Lance may have been desperate, but he was not desperate enough to fuck with a guy who had four girls all openly discussing how much they missed him for not coming out with them tonight.

Anyone with that much game should be revered anyway.

Next stop, he spotted a girl with some fishnet leggings, ripped jeans, big thick black choker. Her skin was dark with smattered white patches that appeared to be tattooed on given how they resembled galaxies. As he approached her he realized the white patches were just part of her skin while the galaxies were drawn on every visible inch of her with what was probably the ball point pen sticking out of her back pocket.

Sure, she didn’t scream “bad tastes in wanna-be gothic media” but maybe she dabbled a little.

He sidled up to her, plastered on his most dashing smile and opened with his best line, “Hey there, the names Lance, and you are?”

She blinked up at him, pulling her attention away from her cellphone where she’d been rapidly typing just a moment before.

If Lance wasn’t so desperate, he would have noticed the sadness in her eyes before she seemed to settle on something.

“H-hey.” She shook her head and locked her phone, “Listen, I’m sure you’re a great guy but I’m kind of…not in the mood.”

Lance had been turned down a few times in his life. Came on too strong, too dorky, what have you. But her sincerity surprised him, so he decided to return the favor.

He leaned against the wall next to her and made sure his voice translated this for her. That he wasn’t looking for a hook up anymore and maybe she would appreciate that.

“That’s cool, that’s cool don’t worry about it,” He offered softly, “If you want me to leave I will, but your phrasing leads me to believe things could be…better, is everything alright? Do you need me to call you a ride home?”

She glanced down at her phone but didn’t answer.

“…Or maybe… you could talk to me about it? I promise I’m a good listener.”

He watched the tension leak out of her shoulders and she turned and smiled at him, all previous apprehension suddenly evaporated with just those few little words.

“I appreciate that… my name’s Nyma.”

“Nice to meet you Nyma. So go ahead, tell me about it.”

And she did. In explicit detail. So much so that he had to wonder how much she had to drink despite the fact she didn’t seem to be drinking at all.

Before he knew it Pidge was groaning at his side about how tonight had amounted in absolutely nothing while Nyma continued to prattle on about someone named Beezer who Lance was pretty sure was a dog. Beezer had absolutely nothing to do with the main subject which was how Nyma’s friend had ditched her for the evening but that conversation had ended at some point and Nyma just kept going.

“Tell your girlfriend we gotta go. Man, does she ever shut up?”

Lance shoved her and hissed out a quick, “Rude Pidgeon.” Before turning back to Nyma who’d barely noticed the disturbance.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m really sorry about this but I kind of have to go, my friend here is tired and we came together. We can talk later if you want? Give me your number, I’ll shoot you a text and we’ll meet up some other time, yeah?”

Nyma blinked a few times like she was skidding to a mental halt before nodding sadly, “Oh. Right. Okay.” She held out her hand or his phone and quickly punched her digits into his contacts.

“Cool,” Lance said simply, replacing his phone in his jacket pocket while Pidge groaned again, “It’s a date then.”

Nyma blinked again, as if struggling with the term before smiling, “Well I actually have a boyfriend but yeah, whatever you say, it’s a date.” Her smile was nearly blinding and not at all forced despite what she’d just said.

Lance raised a brow and felt Pidge stiffen at his side before she leaned forward and stared at Nyma, “You have a boyfriend…? But just agreed to go on a date with Lance?”

Nyma didn’t seem phased at all, “Yeah. I mean. I’m monogamous, but there’s just something really compelling about Lance. It feels like it’s okay.”

Lance stared at her in an absolutely horrified silence before Pidge continued their goodbyes for him, “Ooookay! Well, we have to get going, but Lance will totally text you…” Lance heard her mumble “you weird ass sloppy—” which made him hiss loudly to shut her up.

Nyma clearly heard nothing and waved goodbye as the two of them bolted out of the club.

It was a few hours later, curled up on Pidge’s couch feeling so drained and so fucking thirsty, that Lance heard the strangest sound.

The sound of Pidge figuring out something useful about their predicament.

“…Lance.”

“Yeah?”

“You need to call Nyma.”

---

Lance… had no words to describe the date he’d just had.

He just.

Wow.

He and Pidge were currently sitting in a hotel room Nyma had purchased for the evening. Nyma herself was in the shower trying to wash off the mess at Lance’s request and Pidge laid on the floor, half under the bed with her notebook in hand.

“She really let us do that.”

“She really did.”

“All because you said so.”

“…Are we sure that’s why she did it?”

Pidge stared at him for a long moment and he stopped his pacing across the worn grossly patterned carpet.

He’d had the sense to remove his shirt so it was clean and sitting folded on the cushioned chair by the door, but Pidge looked like a demon straight out of hell, her face, her clothes, hell even her hair was a mess. She’d have to shower next and he didn’t care if he had to throw her into the tub it was going to happen.

Not that he apparently needed to go that far though.

“Lance. Lance I can feel my heart beating again do you know what that’s—well of course you do.” She breathed after a moment, still spinning in her euphoria. Lance raked his fingers through his hair and breathed in through clenched teeth.

“We can’t do this Pidge. Can’t just. We could have hurt her.”

Pidge bolted up and there was the decidedly horrific sound of her spine hitting the bottom of the bed but she barely even winced and crawled out the rest of the way, tossing her notebook onto the still clean queen sized bed in the room.

“But! But we didn’t! We need this Lance! We need her—I can’t—I can’t even look at my brother anymore Lance he’s all I have and I look at him and—and I can’t—I can’t even stay in the house anymore I can smell him, please, please I don’t know why you can do this and I can’t but we need this!” Her eyes watered and Lance felt his beating heart seize up in his chest.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if I wake up one morning and find out I hurt him.” Pidge breathed.

Lance didn’t need her to say it. He’d had the same thoughts around Veronica and his younger brothers lately. Hell, his aunt came over the other day and she got a little too close to him when babbling about his taking the semester off and he’d gotten so lost in the idea of—

…

“We need to move. Both of us. We need to move out. And find some other way.”

“Hey guys,” Nyma started, a towel draped over her shoulders while she wore a large fluffy white robe. Lance eyed her neck stiffly and made to wrap a home-made paper towel scarf around her neck.

“Try not to stain the hotel stuff okay, sweetheart?” He mumbled to her.

Her eyes widened as if she hadn’t considered and she smiled at him, “Right! Of course. Will do. Anyway. So, I may or may not have taken a snap getting out of the shower just now and my boyfriend has a couple questions, would it be alright if he came over?”

Pidge eyed Lance like they were about to embark on disengaging an active bomb.

Lance acknowledged this was probably a fair response, but turned to Nyma and figured, why not.

“Nyma, does Rolo live alone?”

[the-glow-in-the-dark-star]

The Familiar Feeling of Being Alone (General rating)

- Keitor (Keith/Lotor)

- words: 1, 551

Summary: Being alone is something Lotor is all too use too. It doesn't make it any less bitter though.

Keitor Week day 6: Solitude

A/n: I'm sorry this is kinda late! So... this is the longest one so far. I hope you like it!

He had always been alone. It didn't matter if he was flying in space or standing in the gladiator ring. He was alone, with only himself to rely on.

He'd learned that at a young age. He was a half breed, half a race that saw him as a bratty weakling, and half a race his own father had driven to extinction. His own father, who had also exiled him at a young age.

He wasn't even important enough to kill and be done with it.

Alone, he learned to rely on only himself. Nobody was going to save him from harm. If he wanted to survive, and he did, he would have to insure it himself.

He learned to fight. He was small and skinny, he couldn't change that, but he could use it to his advantage. He was fast and nimble. He kept his head during a fight, thinking through every movement, every step, every sword swing....

If his fighting style ended up tailored around a spacific type of enemy, well... that was his business.

For so long, it was he, himself, and I. He never thought, in a million years, he would find himself with a... a group. Four other galra half-breeds. Zethrid, Ezor, Narti and Acxa. He proved himself to them, and they to him. They fought side by side. He didn't completely open up to them, but he wasn't completely on his own now either. He had people he could rely on. Zethrid was his warrior, Ezor was his spy, Acxa was his right hand and most loyal, and Narti...

Narti was his best friend. He'd have never admitted that to anyone, but she was. She was the only one who always knew what was going on in his head, probably because of the whole 'mind invasions' thing she had. She was the only one of his general who knew what all of his plans were, what he intended to do, yet she... she stayed.

When he met Narti, she was alone, like him. She had two disabilities, she could neither see nor speak, yet they were afraid of her. The things she could do with her mind...

She was the first of his general he recruted. It was mostly due to his soft spot for her. She struck something in him he didn't even know he had. He'd taken her away from her planet, away from the people who shunned and despised her. He'd given her that cat. The one that had followed him into his exile, one he thought was perhaps not quite natural. Well, Narti seemed that way too, right? Maybe it was a sign. Sign or not, Narti and the cat fit together perfectly. The cat, 'Kova' she said his name was, became her eyes. And extension of her body. In those first few weeks, as she cradled the cat, using it to see the ship Lotor had owned at the time (which was, with all honesty, a piece of garbage, but he'd loved it), he suspected she might cry if she were able. In fact, in her own way, he suspected she was. She would send out mental waves, waves that felt like some kind of overwhelming emotion he couldn't name.

She would talk to him in his head. He was the only one who she would do that with. One day, she asked him something.

'I am susceptible to corruption of the mind. It is the disadvantage to my abilities. My mind is open to those with the ability to find a way in there' she told him 'I want you ro know this. It is my greatest fear. To be used like a puppet. I may control others, but I have my lines I will not cross. Lines we have discussed. But someone else...'

"Narti... where are you going with this?" He asked, lifting his head from her lap. He couldn't sleep at night, so she would help him. She would slip into his mind, gently pushing away all the bad thoughts, letting only good ones in, helping lull him to sleep with memories of lullabies and the feel of Narti's fingers in his hair.

'Lotor... you're the one I trust the most. If something happens, and my mind is no longer my own... I need you to stop it. Even if that means killing me'

He frowned, sitting up and pulling her into his arms, "It won't come to that Narti!"

'Promise me...' she begged him.

"... I promise."

Before he could say anything else. Before they could discuss the matter or he could take it back, she placed her hand on the back of his head. She made him fall alseep. It was the only time she ever done so in such a way.

He never thought he'd have to actually to it. But with everything falling down around them, and it being clear that that witch had invaded Narti's mind, he needed to make a choice, and he needed to do it fast. Angry at that witch, angry at Narti for that promise, angry at his father for being the reason all of this was happening... he ran at her, sword drawn.

She acknowledge him. Stood there and... waited. She had all the time in the world to dodge, to move, to block... but she didn't. She stood there and took the hit.

He didn't expect the other's to understand, but he didn't think they would react the way they did. He didn't think they would intend on turning him over to his father to try and save themselves. He didn't blame them really. He was a failure. He brought Narti with him, exposed her to that witch. It was his fault she got corrupted. They might have stayed with him if the rift had worked. But it didn't. He didn't have enough time to get it operational, it wasn't finished. Still, he'd tried it anyway. He figured the universe owed him this one, right? Just this one thing.

It didn't work. He had no more quintessence, and now he no longer had his generals.

The feeling of complete and utter solitude was even more bitter this time around.

Of course, it was interrupted by his father, come to kill him. The whole stunt with the sun was a gamble. He had no idea if he'd even be able to survive it. A small, tiny part of him, one he shoved deep down, kinda wishes he didn't.

There were worse things then death. Every day seemed to be proving that to him.

He survived though. Survived and, by some strange luck, paused to listen to the radio chatter. He wasn't even totally sure why he went. Maybe it was the thought of having somewhere to hide from his father, or maybe it was the thought of all those people dying... think of him what you will, but he would never blow up whole planets just to get rid of his enemies.

By some strange luck or much needed miracle, he arrived in time. He arrived in time to blow a hole in the witch's ship and stop her from detonating the planet.

It earned him a bed to sleep in, anyway. He was thankful for that. He might be alone in the universe again, but at least he was safe from his father.

He never wanted to get close to the paladins. Not after Acxa, his most loyal, was the one to shoot him. Not after what he did to Narti.

But his solitude was invaded yet again. First by Keith. A half breed with so much passion and determination. His eyes deed pools Lotor found himself drowning in every time he gazed into them.

Then, slowly, the others followed. Allura, Hunk, Coran, Pidge, Shiro, even Lance who trusted him the least. Once again, he was no longer alone.

But he'd messed it all up again.

He'd gone and done what he told himself he wasn't going to do. He opened his heart up. He'd acted without thinking and now he had to pay the consequences of his actions.

He'd kissed Keith.

They had just gotten out of a hard battle. It was... beyond brutal. The other's couldn't form Voltron, Lance had to be rushed to a healing pod and they, himself and Keith, had almost been taken out. If Hunk, bless that wonderful man, hadn't taken out that canon when he did... he and Keith wouldn't have stumbled out of Lotor's ship.

Lotor couldn't help it. He tosses off his helmet and rushed at the other. Keith had only just gotten his helmet off when Lotor had smashed their lips together.

The kiss was far from perfect. Their teeth clanked and their noses bumped awkwardly, but it was everything Lotor had ever wanted. Keith was everything Lotor had ever wanted. He had planned on confessing in a much more dignified and romantic way then this, but he supposed the would have to do.

Except... except Keith pushed him away. His face scared and confused. Before Lotor could regain his composure and explain himself, Keith fled. He ran from the hanger, leaving Lotor standing there alone.

Alone. It was a feeling he knew all too well. Heartbreak seemed to befriend him somewhere along the way as well.

[little-bi-kingtrashmouth]

15-25, 28-31

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

A lot of times the characters come after the name, so I’ll find a name and be like hey yeah that’s a cool name would love to have a character named that and then it goes from there, or I’ll have something in mind and I’ll find a name similar to that, name generators are also great, and sometimes I’ll focus on the meaning of the name because it has some significance, for example I’ve got a character named Ayden and the meaning behind that is fire, firey one and the character is this little ball of fire and energy. Also, sometimes names cycle and they’ll change a lot

16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx?

Okay there’s no fic for this given so I’ll just give my ideas in general, usually from conversations with friends like 99% of my keitor works are from conversations with Bobbie, or like I’ll be reading some like long meta shit and I’ll wanna run with that. Or I want to write something based off of song lyrics too. Or I’ll see if i can find a way to project onto a character, like just recently I wrote a piece about Keith and father’s day because I was having a rough time on sunday

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

okay this is a little more than a single line, this is from this much bigger work that’s been in the making for y e a r s

He leans forward, inches away from Ayden, and grabs his chin. “You are going to die if you do not feed. I am trying to save your life. I cannot, I will not,” he grips his chin harder at that and Ayden growls at him, “I will not take you back dead to Bryson do you understand me? Now, fucking,” he huffs, “in the name of the gods, just drink my blood.”

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

SO MANY 

I haven’t had the time or energy to write a lot of the time, it’s been a rough like 7 years lol also some of them are from fandoms and shit that I just don’t care for anymore, or I reread it and get kinda discouraged because it’s rough and I don’t think it’s going to be good anyway and then I leave it alone

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

this father’s day thing I wrote, I really want to play with the paladins in a different reality but I feel really insecure about my world building so idk

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Definitely, there’s this piece I wrote for my fiction writing class and I mean, to be fair it’s part of a bigger work but the ending just didn’t feel right and I wish I would have given myself more time to finish writing it. 

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

BOBBIE!!! I admire them and their work soooo much, I really love how they capture different characters personalities and you can just tell in the writing that they really care about what they’re writing and they know their characters and just, yeah I love them and everything they do. 

I also really admire some of the people I had in my fiction class because the stuff they write about is really original and interesting and they really know what they’re doing and I just, I wanna be that good. 

also okay, Griffin Mcelroy okay, he says he’s not a writer but the adventure zone balance arc is some of the best story telling I have ever had the pleasure to experience and I wanna write just one paragraph half as good as him. 

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

everything I wrote in 8th grade, just because stylistically they weren’t the best but there’s a lot of not good things I included in my work and just, it’s just painful 

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

I prefer music, I love having some background music while I write and sometimes I think I need to create specific playlists because the music will influence what I’m writing. 

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

I love it but I am s o embarrassed writing them. I love writing them because it’s fun but I’ve been so conditioned to writing for classmates that I’m like nervous to do it, and I’m also insecure as to how it’s going to come off to other people and I don’t wanna be cliche

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

oh yeah several times, there was this piece I wrote where it was a guy coming out to his friend and it doesn’t go well and I was sobbing my whole way through it. I almost cried while writing the father’s day piece, and I cried writing this shiro and keith reunion thing because fuck it was really soft and sad

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

I wish I just, had better technique and also, I swing back and forth from being like don’t do cringey things to also, fuck it there’s only so many ways to say this and I’m doing this for me fuck you. 

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

no because I’ve only posted one, like okay I had shit on deviantart but that was FOREVER ago and those actually got plenty of love. I kinda wish my keitor piece on ao3 got more attention but I also love attention so

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

not really

31) Send me a fic recommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see!

okay this was supposed to be the sender gives a fic rec but I’m just gonna recommend one, and you should definitely go read I See Your Color 

[sage-nebula]

VLD - Walk the Line

Notes: This is my entry for Day 1 of @keitor-universe‘s Keitor Week, the prompt for which is “Half-Galra.” Day 1 was actually two days ago. However, due to a combination of factors (which includes work, my perfectionism, and the length of this piece), I didn’t finish until just now. Hopefully this is still permissable for the event, but even if it’s not . . . well, here it is anyway.

This takes place post S4, under the headcanon (read: desperate wish) that Lotor will join the Blade of Marmora.

(AO3 link)

Idle bodies meant wandering minds, and the Blade of Marmora fortunately didn’t allow much time for either.

That wasn’t to say there was never any downtime. Everyone needed rest every now and again---everyone needed time to recover from a grueling mission, or even five minutes to find some breathing room in the midst of a ten-thousand-year war. But the Blade of Marmora had not led a resistance front against the Galra Empire for ten thousand years by idling. There was always work to be done. There were missions to go on, and intel to be collected and dissected. There were training rooms, too, that one could take advantage of if they weren’t in the middle of an assignment. There was plenty for Keith to do---plenty to keep him mind occupied, body and mind. As a new recruit who had every reason in the universe to want to prove himself to the agents who had been risking their lives for thousands of years to combat the Galra (and as someone who needed to be needed somewhere), Keith was more than willing to volunteer for any task he could get his hands on.

The primary base of the Blade of Marmora was split into several levels and wards. There were multiple observation decks that allowed the Blade of Marmora to view the expanse of space around their base to ensure that, in the event the black holes weren’t enough to keep away unwanted visitors, they could be prepared for any oncoming threats. There was the primary audience hall, as well as the Trial grounds, as well as training rooms. There were more “normal” areas as well, such as a mess hall, and of course the barracks. In addition to all of those areas, the base also had a large wing devoted to research and development, separated into different divisions. There was a division dedicated to decoding encrypted Empire transmissions (and translating other alien languages), a division dedicated to repairing and improving their ships, and a division dedicated to developing and manufacturing new weapons to ensure their armory remained well-stocked. It was to that division that Keith headed now, as a quick errand before he made his way to the tactical wing to discuss their next operation with Kolivan. The data drive in his hand contained information about a possible new source of luxite. It wasn’t guaranteed, and it was possible that what their sensors had detected as being luxite wasn’t actually the same exact metal as what their daggers and swords had been forged from. But with Daibazaal gone, any new potential source of luxite was worth investigating. Once the weapon development team had a look at the data, they would know for sure.

The weapon development division was the last room at the end of the corridor, just before the dock where their ships were worked on. Like most other rooms in the base, it locked automatically as soon as the door slid shut. Keith placed his hand against the lockpad to the right of the door; it took a prolonged second, but after a moment a white-purple glow surrounded the lockpad, and the door slid open. Keith smiled. He couldn’t say why, but it always felt a little good when the Marmorites’ technology responded to him.

The weapons development division had several rooms---workspaces---to its name. The door opened into a small little hallway, and the wall on the right cut away at the end to allow admittance to the first workspace. This room had always felt a little small to Keith. Two long workstations lined the walls to the left or right, with various tablets, monitors, and glowing keyboards spread over them. A door on the other side of the room led to a much larger workspace, but Keith had yet to venture into that room. Despite how badly his curiosity gnawed at him every time he visited, the most he’d been privy to were small glances the few times the door on the other side opened while he happened to be dropping something off. Weapons development was not his field, particularly given how new he was, but he wasn’t opposed to learning. Even if he never forged a knife or dagger himself, he’d love to have the chance to see how it was done.

If nothing else, it would be another way to keep himself occupied.

But that wasn’t important now. He had another task to concern himself with. The first workspace of the weapons development division was thankfully occupied when Keith rounded the corner at the end of the little entry hall, but although the room’s sole occupant looked up when he entered, it only took a tick for it to become apparent that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see Keith.

The weapons development team was comprised of a small, core group of agents, led by an aged Marmorite named Pezak. Older than Kolivan by a good number of years, Pezak had what Keith always thought of as crow’s feet around his eyes, and splashes of grey in his hair. He got on well enough with the other members of his division, from what Keith knew, and Kolivan had never said anything bad about him. Yet every time Keith encountered him, he was met with a grizzly attitude that bordered on cold, and this time seemed no different. Pezak looked up when Keith entered, and though at first his eyebrows were raised and his expression looked open, the moment he saw that it was Keith who had come around the corner, his face fell in what looked like disinterest before he turned back to the tablet he had been studying. It was for all the universe like Keith wasn’t standing in the room at all.

Well, that was tough for a few reasons (not the least of which being that, since Pezak was in charge of the weapons development division, his apparent dislike of Keith meant that Keith really wasn’t going to get anywhere near the other workspaces any time soon), but it also wasn’t important. Whether Pezak wanted to ignore him or not, they both had jobs to do. Keith crossed the floor to join Pezak at the workstation, and when he was near enough, he held the data drive out for Pezak to take.

“Hey,” Keith said. “Garus asked me to bring this to you. He said they found a possible new source of luxite.”

Pezak hadn’t looked up, or even so much as twitched, when Keith crossed the room or held the data drive out to him. He didn’t turn even when Keith spoke, though the moment the words new source of luxite left Keith’s mouth, his brow pinched together in the middle, and his lips tugged down into a severe frown as he said, “That’s impossible.”

“He said they found it in an asteroid at the edge of the solar system,” Keith said. “They’re not entirely sure if it’s the exact same kind of luxite used to forge our blades, but---”

“It can’t be. Our blades were forged from luxite mined from the planet Daibazaal,” Pezak said. He still didn’t look at Keith, nor did he make any move to take the data drive. Sick of holding it (and feeling bothered in a way he couldn’t exactly name by the emphasis Pezak had placed on the word our), Keith set the drive on the workstation, next to the tablet Pezak was examining.

“I know,” Keith said, “but Garus thinks that maybe this asteroid was formed from the debris of Daibazaal. It’s not likely,” he added, as Pezak opened his mouth, “but he thinks there’s a possibility. If nothing else, maybe this metal is an offshoot of luxite that can still be used to make new weapons. It can’t hurt to look into it.”

A dark scowl crossed Pezak’s face, but it was gone before Keith could question it. Pezak sighed heavily, and though he still didn’t so much as glance in Keith’s direction, he picked up the data drive at last.

“Very well,” he said. “Tell Garus I’ll look into it.”

“I will,” Keith said. The door on the other side of the room opened, then, and another member of the weapons development team---Didrin---entered. Keith couldn’t resist standing on his tiptoes to try to steal another glance into the second workspace before the door slid shut again. “Thanks.”

“What’s going on?” Didrin asked.

Rather than answering Didrin, Pezak tilted his head toward Keith and said, “You can go.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was barely even a dismissal, and the worst part was that there was no reason for it. Keith did have somewhere to be---he had to report to Kolivan now that he had dropped off the data drive, whatever he said to Pezak about telling Garus that the luxite was being looked into---but that didn’t mean Pezak had to shoo him from the room before discussing the data drive with Didrin. It wasn’t as if Keith didn’t know what was on the drive. He was the one who had delivered it.

But there was no use in arguing it. In the short time Keith had known him, Pezak had always been like this. Even if he wasn’t, Keith did have somewhere to be. So he gave a short nod to Didrin as both a hello and goodbye, and then spun on the ball of his foot so he could head back around the corner and to the door. It was just after he placed his hand against the lockpad, and the door slid back with a faint hiss, that he heard Pezak speak to Didrin at last.

“The halfling brought this on behalf of Garus.”

Keith froze.

Didrin hissed through his teeth, as though burned by something. “Ooh, that’s not a good thing to say. What is this?”

“It’s a data drive supposedly containing intel on a new source of luxite,” Pezak said. “What’s not a good thing to say?”

Keith placed one foot on the threshold, just enough to trigger the sensor to stop the door from closing. He shouldn’t---he should leave, he didn’t need to hear this---but---

“What you said when you said who brought in this data drive,” Didrin said. “You better not let Kolivan hear you calling him that.”

“It’s what he is,” Pezak said, indignant, and Keith clenched his fists by his sides. His heart was racing; adrenaline was making every one of his nerves feel alive. “And are you telling me that ‘halfling’ is off the table now? We're not even allowed to say that anymore? What---it's not like I called him half-breed, or mongrel, or c---”

“Pezak,” Didrin hissed.

“What? I’m only speaking the truth. Anyone can tell just by looking at him---”

Didrin shushed Pezak loudly before he said, “All I’m saying is you know Kolivan has a fondness for the boy. It’s probably not the wisest idea to let these things be overheard.”

“Overheard by who? We’re the only ones here.”

“Still,” Didrin said. He sounded uncomfortable. “Just---keep it in mind, for future conversations. Don’t call him that so casually, just in case.”

Pezak heaved another suffering sigh. “Fine. Anyway, as I was saying, the hal---this data drive was delivered on behalf of Garus. Supposedly there’s an asteroid that might have metal resembling luxite, and he wants us to take a look to see . . .”

That was it. That was the end of it. Keith forced himself over the threshold, leaving the weapon development division before Pezak could finish speaking, the door sliding shut behind him. Whether Pezak or Didrin would hear the hiss of the door shutting, Keith didn’t know. He also didn’t care. He was clenching his jaw so tightly it hurt a little, and as he made his way to the tactical wing to go over their next strategy with Kolivan, he did so at a pace just under a run.

It wasn’t---at least it explained Pezak’s attitude. He knew now why Pezak was always so cold to him. It was more than he could say for the way Lance had always acted. They spent so much time together as members of the same team, and even now Keith couldn’t say why Lance had always had such a problem with him---why Lance had never seemed to like him. At least now he had a reason for Pezak. That was something. And it was better than nothing; it was better than not knowing. Even if the reason why Pezak hated him was because he was only half-Galra, something he couldn’t do anything about, at least he knew. At least now he knew.

He slammed his hand against the lockpad for the elevator. The white-purple glow was still soft and warm, but when Keith slid his hand off the pad as he waited for the elevator to descend, he curled his fingers into a fist by his side again.

There was no reason for him to be this upset. He knew that. It wasn't as if he had never experienced this before. Even before the rest of the team in the Castle learned that he was part-Galra and had reacted accordingly, it wasn't like things had always been perfect back on Earth. From the sheer number of people who pronounced his last name incorrectly (including one teacher in middle school who, no matter how many times Keith said, “It's ‘Koh-gah-nay,’” still insisted on calling him “Ko-gain” every time she wanted to get his attention), to the social workers and police officers who slowly and deliberately asked him if he spoke English, to the classmates who insisted on mockingly calling him Jackie Chan, Keith had faced his fair share of prejudice in his time. Sure, no one on Earth had known that he was part-Galra (though he imagined that their reactions probably would’ve been along the same lines as Hunk's jabs if they had), but that hadn't stopped them from looking at the fact that he was part-Japanese and ripping on that. If anything, Keith was used to the smaller aggressions, and knew well enough how to tune them out by now (or at least how to stop bothering to tell people how his last name was actually pronounced). 

But he had thought it would be different here. The elevator arrived as that realization settled in his chest, and Keith swallowed hard as he boarded. When he learned that he was part-Galra, he started thinking of himself as Galra. He never really added the modifier. Allura certainly hadn't, when she had first found out, and neither had Hunk. That he was part-Galra hadn't mattered to them. In their eyes, he was as good as all Galra. He was, as Hunk had so kindly put it, “Galra Keith.” Since he was “Galra Keith” to them, Keith had figured he would be “Galra Keith” to others, too. He had figured that the Galra members of the Blade of Marmora wouldn't see him any differently, wouldn't look down on him. They would accept him, because he was one of them. He had passed the Trials, and he was Galra. That was good enough.

. . . But it wasn't.

Keith was used to it. He was more than used to it by now. He didn't fit in with the Paladins, even after they came to terms with his heritage, and as much as he might have thought otherwise, Pezak made it clear that he couldn't fit in here, either. His dad had once told him, “If you straddle a fence, you can’t say you’re in either yard.” His dad had said that to explain why a wishy-washy politician wasn’t actually supporting either of the groups he was claiming to want to help, but now Keith understand the phrase to have another meaning. He wasn't fully human, and he wasn't fully Galra. He wasn't either, so he didn't belong to either of them. Neither yard was his. Neither world was his, and it was something he had to accept---something he should have accepted, a long time ago.

The elevator came to a smooth stop, and the door slid back with a soft whoosh. This entire floor was the tactical wing, and the control room where Kolivan was waiting for him was situated dead center. Keith made his way to the door, yet though he raised his hand above the lockpad to let himself into the room, he hesitated, his hand frozen just before making contact.

No. He couldn’t go in there. Not like this.

Keith lowered his hand, balling his fingers into fists once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, and took a slow, deep breath through his nose. He was fine. He had to be fine. He couldn’t let this---any of this---get in the way. He had a job to do---a duty. They all did. And none of them---no one in the Blade of Marmora would let a personal matter like this interfere with that duty. The overall mission of winning the war was greater than any one of them, and that included him. What happened didn’t matter. How he felt about it didn’t matter. The best thing he could do was not think about it. Expressing his feelings had never helped when he was a Paladin of Voltron. There was no way it would be productive now. He had to focus on the mission. He had to get himself under control. He had to focus.

It took another few seconds (seconds wasted, seconds wasted because of something unimportant), but he finally managed to slow his heartrate, and ease the tension in his muscles. He pressed his lips in a thin line, and after taking another steadying breath, he placed his hand against the lockpad. The glow emanated from his touch, and the door slid back to allow him entry. Pezak might not have approved of him, but the technology in the base sure did.

Not that it was something he needed to think about.

The control room was large, at least in comparison to the weapons development workspaces. A massive, circular console was positioned dead center, and similarly gigantic monitors were fixed to the back wall. Kolivan, as expected, was already there. He was working with the computers in the back, his fingers skirting over the keys as he studied the Galran script splashed across the screen. Yet when the door slid open and Keith entered, Kolivan turned to look back at him. A smile flitted across his face.

“Right on time,” Kolivan said. There was a note of approval in his voice that made the knot in Keith's chest lessen just a little.

“I try to be,” Keith said.

Kolivan nodded, that same approving smile still on his lips, but his smile faded as Keith came to stand beside him. Before Keith could ask why Kolivan was suddenly frowning, his brow creased, Kolivan asked, “Is something amiss?”

For a moment, all Keith could do was gape at him. How, he wanted to ask. How had Kolivan---it hadn’t even been ten seconds. How had he---

“No,” Keith said, and he hated the way he stumbled over that word, that one, simple, easy word. He cleared his throat, and looked at the monitor Kolivan had been examining. He couldn’t read a word of what was on the screen, but that didn’t matter. It was easier to look at than Kolivan was right then. “Everything’s fine. What’ve we got?”

The silence that met his response told Keith that Kolivan didn't believe him. But that was fine; Kolivan didn't have to believe him, he just had to let the subject go. Keith wasn't going to let something as stupid as being called a name get in the way of the mission. He wasn't going to give Pezak even more of a reason to resent a halfling being among their ranks.

Thankfully, after what felt like several seconds (or maybe it was several ticks), Kolivan did as Keith wanted him to.

“There have been reports of increased Galra activity in the Alloran quadrant,” Kolivan said. He turned away from the monitors he had been examining to walk over to the circular console in the center of the room, and Keith followed. One touch to one of the diamond-shaped touchpads on the side of the console caused a hologram globe of a galaxy to flare to life atop the console, and with a gentle swipe of his finger, he turned the globe so they could examine a different side of the map, highlighted in red. “But we've noticed that the Galra ships stationed there aren't part of the main fleet.”

“Are they supply ships?” Keith asked, and his heart skipped unsteadily in his chest as he added, “Or Lotor’s?”

“They are not supply ships, and I don’t believe them to be connected to Prince Lotor, but at this point it is too early to tell,” Kolivan said. Keith’s heart sank. All this time, and there was still no lead--- “The agents we have stationed in the Alloran quadrant have reported unusual activity from the ships stationed there, however. Those reports are what I was reading when you walked in.”

Keith looked back at the screen. The Galra language, when spoken, was full of hard consonants and sharp sounds. There were vowels in there, but the words still clattered when spoken softly, and bludgeoned when shouted. When written the language was no less sharp, but something about it still looked pretty. The way the symbols sometimes curved around before ending in sharp points, like sickles, or struck out in sharp zags like lightning . . . it was the sort of thing tattoos were made of back on Earth. Sometimes Keith liked to trace the symbols with his finger, invisibly drawing them into the crook of his arm during mission briefings.

But as interesting and nice looking as the Galra script was, right now it presented a problem.

“I can’t read any of that,” he said. He hated the words the second they came out of his mouth. Though it was true, the fact that the Galra language was still alien to him was yet another thing that separated him from the rest of the Galra (the full Galra) in the base. They all had no problem reading, writing, and speaking the Galran language. Yet Keith, who was supposed to be Galra himself, couldn’t read a word, and was just left thinking that the script might make for a cool tattoo. It wasn’t like this was anything new, either---it wasn’t like his dad had ever taught him to speak, read, or write Japanese---but somehow it felt worse as he stood there, having admitted it to Kolivan, especially knowing that Didrin thought that Kolivan (unlike Pezak) actually liked him.

But if Kolivan thought less of him for not knowing the language, he didn’t show it. Instead, he hummed a little in a way that Keith, for a split second, thought sounded like a muted laugh before he said, “Then perhaps it’s time you learned.”

Keith’s head snapped up, and he stared at Kolivan with wide eyes. “What? Really?”

“Yes. Learning at least the basics of reading Galran will be crucial in the missions ahead. Learning to speak it will be even more useful in the event we need to infiltrate Empire ships again.” Kolivan strode forward to stand closer to the monitors fixed to the back wall, and looked back over his shoulder to motion for Keith to follow him. “The written script is not that difficult to learn. Come. I’ll show you.”

It wasn’t something they really had time for. They were supposed to be figuring out their next strategy. But the reports on the monitor that Kolivan wanted to assist Keith in translating were mission critical, and Kolivan had a point when he said that learning the Galran language would be beneficial for the missions ahead. Maybe Keith wasn’t Galra enough for some, but learning a language didn’t really have anything to do with that. This wasn’t about how much Galra blood he had in him. This was about learning a necessary skill for the success of the missions ahead.

Keith followed Kolivan over to the monitors along the back wall and said, “Okay. Show me.”

In the weeks that followed, the battle for Naxcela came and went, and the Blade of Marmora gained a new ally in the last person Keith would have ever dreamed of:

Lotor.

Even now, days later, he still couldn’t believe it. Part of his disbelief came from the fact that he was alive at all; he had thought he was going to die, and he had prepared himself for that. He wasn’t happy about it---who could be happy when they were about to die?---but he had accepted it. It was for the greater good. It was the right thing to do. No matter how much Matt yelled at him to stop, no matter how much Keith knew that Kolivan would have called for the mission to be aborted, Keith knew that the only right course of action was to use his ship to blast the Naxcela barrier apart so Voltron could escape. There was no logical guarantee that his plan would work, but Keith hadn’t been operating on facts and figures. In that moment, he allowed himself to run on intuition and instinct. His instinct had never steered him wrong before---his instinct had been part of what made him and Red such a good team, back when he was still her pilot. His ship would have broken through that barrier, at least enough so that Voltron could shatter it the rest of the way. It would have done the trick. He would have been atomized in the process, but the barrier would have broken and Voltron would have been saved. His life was opportunity cost. He could live (or die, he guessed) with that.

But it hadn’t come to that. At the last second, a blast from Lotor’s ship had sliced through the atmosphere and blasted a hole in the barrier. Keith, his instincts driving him before his mind had a chance to catch up, swerved his ship out of the way. The Naxcela mission was saved not because of Keith, but because of Lotor, who had arrived in the eleventh hour to request an audience with the coalition. If someone had told Keith a week ago that Lotor would seek the rebellion out, Keith wouldn’t have believed them. Even now, it still seemed too bewildering to be true.

But it was, and ever since the audience that ended with Lotor undergoing (and passing) the Trials of Marmora, Lotor seemed keen on spending time with him. This wasn’t something Keith really registered at first. He was as aware of Lotor as Lotor seemed to be of him, in that he paid rapt attention during the initial meeting Lotor had requested (and earned, with his saving throw), and was the one who had petitioned Kolivan to give Lotor a shot at the Trials in order to earn himself a place within the Blade of Marmora. Team Voltron hadn’t been willing to give him an alliance, a fact Keith felt was more frustrating than surprising, but Lotor had intel they needed. Lotor could be the key to defeating Zarkon. He was dangerous, and there was no doubt about that, but he was also intelligent and skilled. He could be a powerful ally, and Keith wasn’t about to let that possibility go to waste. If that meant Lotor had to join the Blade of Marmora, then so be it. Keith would fight to give them all that chance.

All the same, despite everything Lotor had done over the course of his presence in the war that made little to no sense (attacking Empire outposts, vanishing for a stretch of months---the list went on and on), the fact remained that he had been their enemy. As valuable an ally as he could be, Keith wasn’t about to forget that. However much others might have thought he was being too trusting, Keith wasn’t one to let his guard down. He wanted to know what Lotor knew, and he wanted to understand Lotor’s more bizarre actions, but that didn’t mean he felt Lotor was wholly trustworthy. Not yet. Lotor would have to earn that.

Yet although Keith was keenly aware of all of this, the one thing it took him a couple days to notice was the fact that Lotor wasn’t content with being the only one observed. Each morning, Lotor joined him for breakfast. Lotor joined him in the training rooms, and walked with him to meetings with Kolivan (which Lotor himself was not invited to). And each day, in the midst of all of this, Lotor would ask Keith to join him for a walk to the observation deck, or would ask him little questions about himself. The questions were always light---harmless. Things like how long he had been practicing swordsmanship for, how many different types of ships had he piloted, and if he had ever been out to the Ellium galaxy. Little, tiny, harmless questions that didn’t amount to very much in the end, but were still more than anyone had ever---or would ever---want to know about him. On the third day of this, Keith stopped dead in his tracks on the way to the ship dock to look over at Lotor, his brow furrowed.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“Doing what?” Lotor replied, his eyebrows raised.

“Following me.”

Lotor looked bemused. “We’re conversing, aren’t we? It’d be rather difficult to continue if I didn’t walk with you.”

“But why are you talking to me?” Keith asked. It struck him, then, that he had interrupted Lotor with his question, and that he couldn’t really remember what Lotor had been talking about. A bit of uncomfortable guilt settled in his shoulders, and with it a brush of confusion, because the fact that he felt guilty about potentially hurting Lotor’s feelings was . . . bizarre.

But then again, so were so many other things about Lotor. For two days and some change Lotor had been following him around, talking about all manner of things, and yet Keith still felt like there was so much he didn’t know or understand about him.

“I find you to be a compelling conversation partner,” Lotor said, without missing a beat. Keith gaped at him. “Do you not feel the same?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” Keith said, and he wanted to kick himself the moment he said it. It wasn’t that he didn’t know, per se, as much as it was that what Lotor said caught him off-guard. But far from feeling offended, Lotor’s lips curled in a wry smile. That . . . that was interesting, but not as much as--- “You like talking to me?”

“Absolutely,” Lotor answered. Once again, his answer was immediate. Keith stared at him. Lotor raised an eyebrow. “Why do you find that so difficult to believe?”

Keith blinked, then frowned, and turned to start toward the ship dock again. “I didn’t say I find it hard to believe,” he said. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Even if they’re words I’ve taken from your face?” Lotor asked. Keith clenched his fists by his sides and said nothing, and Lotor chuckled. “All right. I apologize for making assumptions. But I truly do find you to be a worthwhile conversation partner, Keith. I hope you feel the same way. I think we could be friends.”

Once again, this brought Keith to a standstill. He turned to look at Lotor, eyes wide. “Friends?”

Lotor raised his eyebrows. “Do you feel differently?”

“I . . . no. I don’t know. I---” Keith huffed a sharp sigh, and turned to start down the corridor again. “I have to go to the ship dock to help test the calibration on one of our pods.”

“I know,” Lotor said, and he sounded amused. Why did he sound amused? And why did he want to be friends? They had been enemies, and yeah, they weren’t now, but they had been. And that alone should have meant Lotor wanted nothing to do with him. Plenty of those who had been his teammates wanted nothing to do with him, so why did Lotor, after barely three days, want to be friends? “As I was saying before, I think it might be worthwhile to look into adjusting the throttle on a few of the pods. It’ll increase the noise the engines make, but by so little the increase in speed should still be worth it.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Not right then, anyway.

But whether he said anything else or not, Lotor was unfazed. He continued to want to spend time with Keith, regardless of how many other missions, tasks, or lessons Keith had to do that separated them. The truly confusing thing was that, after about five days of spending time with Lotor, Keith himself began to feel disappointed when he had something that pulled him away from their conversations. So far Lotor hadn’t divulged anything to Keith that would be critical in ending the war against Zarkon, and to that end, a little voice in Keith’s mind whispered that he was wasting time, no better than the Paladins and their circus shows. But even if the things they talked about weren’t mission critical, Keith found that he . . . enjoyed them, nonetheless. Lotor told him little bits and pieces about places he had been in the universe, the things he had done and seen, and Keith shared some of his own stories in kind. Lotor told Keith about his generals, and Keith in turn shared his side of the story of what had happened when he had briefly teamed up with Acxa in the Weblum. Lotor gave him little bits and pieces of Galra history, and in turn, Keith sometimes shared little bits and pieces of Earth history. And on top of it all, Lotor was a good sparring partner. The other Marmorites didn’t like to spar with Keith very much (something he had a feeling had to do with how badly they had wrecked him during the Trials, especially after Nendak laughed awkwardly and said, “I don’t want to accidentally break any more of your ribs,” when Keith had asked her to train with him), leaving him with no one to train with but the base’s A.I. training programs (and that, at least, was much like life back at the Castle had been). But Lotor had no problem sparring with him. Credit where credit was due, Lotor was an excellent swordsman. Keith felt not only some satisfaction, but also a little pride the first time he knocked Lotor’s feet out from under him.

“Incredible,” Lotor said, as Keith helped him to his feet. “No one has ever been able to do that before.”

“Really?” Keith said.

“Well,” Lotor said, “Zethrid did check me across the chest once and sent me clear across the room, but considering it wasn’t a leg sweep, I’m going to go ahead and claim that it wasn’t the same thing.”

Keith couldn’t stop himself from laughing a little at that. Lotor smiled, too.

Two weeks after Lotor joined, Keith felt they had settled into a comfortable routine. Lotor had his own assignments and tasks now (mostly regarding the information he had, and how it could be utilized to better their infiltration and strike back against the Empire), but they still found time to meet up and hang out. As weird as it was to think that he was hanging out with anyone nowadays, and much less Lotor, it was enjoyable and comfortable, and so Keith didn’t want to question it. He just wanted to enjoy it.

But as much as he did like Lotor’s company, there were still times when it was difficult to find him both comfortable and enjoyable.

It wasn’t an issue with Lotor himself. If anything, Lotor carried himself with the air of one who wasn’t aware that there was anyone else in the universe other than him and the specific person (or people) he had decided to pay attention to. But as much as Lotor had so far proven himself to be a trustworthy ally, and as much as he had passed the Trials of Marmora just as fairly as Keith himself had (and, Keith had to admit, much faster and with less injury), the rest of the Marmorites didn’t seem so keen on accepting him. Keith couldn’t necessarily blame them; they had been fighting this war for thousands of years, and Lotor was Zarkon’s son. There was nothing saying that he wouldn’t turn on them at some point. He could understand why they were wary. If he was honest, even he still had some doubts.

The distrust the Blade of Marmora still harbored toward Lotor came at a price, however. When Lotor and Keith walked into the mess hall one day for a snack (Keith himself wasn’t very hungry, but he had become hooked on pechaya juice and wanted to see if there were any bottles of it available), all eyes turned on them. The mess hall was one of the larger rooms in the base; it was at least four times the size of the first weapons division workspace, and even a little bigger, Keith thought, than the control room in the tactical wing. Two rows of long tables not unlike those Keith remembered from school cafeterias back on earth occupied most of the room, and the kitchen and food areas were off to the right. When Lotor and Keith entered, everyone seated at the tables turned to look at them. Yet though Keith looked back, his eyes sweeping the tables for familiar faces (and his heart sinking unpleasantly when he saw Pezak and Didrin seated at one of the far tables, Pezak staring directly at him with narrowed eyes), Lotor didn’t notice. Instead, he headed immediately toward the right side of the room so he could peruse the produce stand, and after giving himself a mental nudge as a reminder that what others thought really didn’t matter, Keith followed.

“Hmm, this should do,” Lotor mused. He plucked a small fruit---an appomeg, Keith thought it was called---from the produce stand, turning it this way and that as he examined it. After a second, he tossed it lightly in the air before he caught it on the back of his hand, rolling it smoothly along his fingers before he turned his hand beneath it to palm it again. He looked over at Keith with a smile. “Are you going to get anything?”

“Uh, yeah,” Keith said. The way Lotor had turned his hand around the fruit had made the fruit look like it hardly moved at all. It reminded Keith a little of a trick he had seen performed in a movie a long time ago. “One sec.”

Keith jogged to the glass drink cooler on the other side of the room to retrieve his bottle of pechaya juice, and Lotor met him halfway on his way back. With nothing more than another little smile, Lotor started to lead the way through the mess hall. It wasn’t necessary; all they had was one fruit and a glass bottle of juice. They could take that anywhere, including back to Keith’s own room. They had no reason to stay there in the mess hall, especially when everyone was once again staring at them as Lotor made his way down the rows of tables.

But though Keith was keenly aware of every set of eyes on them, Lotor still didn’t seem to notice. His head was high, his shoulders back, as he strode right down the center of the rows of tables, and when he finally chose the one next to the table where Pezak and Didrin were seated, he dropped into his seat like it was a throne instead of a cafeteria chair. Without sparing one glance to all of the piercing eyes around him, Lotor tossed his appomeg up in the air once before he caught it again.

Despite how he grimaced at the table Lotor had chosen, Keith had to hand it to him. He knew how to appear cool enough to keep milk fresh.

Keith didn’t want to sit by Pezak, but he also didn’t want anyone in the room (Lotor included) to know that he didn’t want to sit by Pezak. So instead of asking Lotor to pick any one of the other empty seats around the mess hall, Keith followed him to the table and looped around to sit on the other side, right across from Lotor. By this point, most everyone in the mess hall had gone back to ignoring them; the din was rising to a comfortable volume again as everyone resumed either their conversations or their lunches. But although Keith focused on unscrewing the lid off his pechaya juice bottle, he could still feel Pezak’s eyes on them.

“You don’t eat very much, do you?” Lotor asked him. He reclined in his chair, poised in such a way that it really did look like he was sitting in an audience chamber instead of a mess hall.

Keith shrugged. “I eat enough. I had a good breakfast.”

Lotor studied him for a moment. “Hmm. I suppose.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith asked, and before Lotor could answer, he said, “And don’t you need anything to drink with that?”

“Appomegs are quite juicy. I find that getting a beverage with them is superfluous,” Lotor said. He held the appomeg across the table, and grinned. “Would you like a taste?”

Keith raised his eyebrow. He could feel himself smiling a little, but he felt more bemused than anything. “No thanks,” he said.

Lotor shrugged, and pulled his appomeg back to his side of the table, though he didn’t yet take a bite. “As you wish.”  

Keith took a drink of his pechaya juice (and really, for all that he told himself he was bound to be sick of it soon enough, it was just so good), and as he did, he heard Pezak say in a low voice, “Can you believe that? It’s disgusting.”

“Just let it go,” Didrin said quietly.

“I’m not doing anything,” Pezak said. Keith lowered his juice back down to the table. His heart was suddenly racing, and his fingers constricted around the glass. “I’m just saying---well, it’s not really surprising. Of course their kind would stick together---”

“Just---the rosselac was really good today. You should go get some---try some. It’s really good,” Didrin said. “Here, you can have some of mine if you want it.”

“I’ve had enough to eat, thank you,” Pezak said, ignoring the tray that Didrin pushed his way. “And why are you acting like that? You can’t tell me you’re okay with---”

For all that he had made it apparent that he wasn't paying attention to anyone else in the mess hall, Lotor turned and looked directly at them, his eyebrows raised and a little smirk on his lips as he asked, “Is something the matter, gentlemen?”

“Lotor,” Keith said under his breath. Lotor ignored him, and of course he did. At the moment, his attention was focused on Pezak and Didrin. Even if he did hear Keith---and Keith was sure that he did---he wasn’t about to pry his attention away from his newest target. That just wasn’t how he worked.

Didrin’s expression went blank, even as he tried to pretend he was very interested in the rosselac on his plate, but Pezak smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Of course not,” he said. His tone was sweet as spoiled milk. “We’re thrilled to have you here with us, Prince Lotor.”

Lotor's smile didn't fade. He placed his elbow on the table and braced his cheek against curled fingers before he asked, “Is that so?”

“Quite,” Pezak replied. “It does all our hearts good to have Zarkon’s halfling among our ranks. I’m sure you have so much to bring to the table.”

Keith bristled as the word halfling left Pezak’s lips, but as much as it bothered him, it wasn’t meant for him. Not this time. He looked to Lotor, only to find that Lotor looked unaffected, save for the way that although his lips were still curled, his eyes weren’t smiling. There was something shrewd about his expression now---something sharp. Calculating.

Didrin stuck his fork down into his rosselac. “Think that’s probably enough,” he said quietly.

“He asked,” Pezak said, and he flailed one hand in Lotor’s direction. “I’m only answering His Highness’ question.”

“Strange that you would address me by a formality, given your lack of loyalty to the Empire, your seniority over me in this organization, and your disdain for my birth,” Lotor said. His voice held the same conversational tone as before. “But it’s a curiosity I'm willing to let slide for now, in light of more interesting prospects.”

“How gracious of you,” Pezak said sarcastically.

Lotor smiled despite the sarcasm. “I’ve been told it's one of my finer qualities.” 

Pezak snorted a laugh and turned back to Didrin, who muttered something Keith couldn't catch. Lotor ignored this in favor of continuing.

“The prospect I'm more interested in pursuing is whatever issue you seem to take with my presence here. It’s plain to everyone in this room that you have a problem with me, Pezak. That's a fact I’m willing to accept, but one I’d still like the opportunity to do something about. Shall we settle this matter as Galra gentlemen would? As far as I’m aware, the training room should be free for another hour.”

Both Pezak and Didrin looked over now. Lotor had not removed his eyes from Pezak’s face; there was challenge in his gaze that almost made Keith want to volunteer for the match himself.

Pezak, on the other hand, didn’t seem so eager. He stared at Lotor, a spark akin to wariness in his eyes, before he snorted and turned away.

“No thanks,” he said acidly. “I’ve more important things to do today than exchange blades with a halfling.”

At long last, it was Lotor's turn to huff a little laugh beneath his breath as he turned once more in his seat to face Keith. “I thought as much,” he said, just loudly enough to carry over to the other table.

Pezak took the bait. “Excuse me?”

“You remind me of a commander---or former commander, I should say---in my father’s military,” Lotor said. He turned back to Pezak and smirked at the sight of the outrage on Pezak's face. “From your prejudice to your cowardice, you act exactly like him. The resemblance is uncanny. I imagine you’d even get along with the ice worms at that worthless outpost of his just as well as he did.”

Pezak’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat, mongrel?”

“Hey,” Keith growled, and he stood with enough force to cause his chair to skid back across the floor. “Halfling” was bad enough, but to use the word mongrel---

But though Pezak turned to Keith at his outburst, Lotor was unfazed. “It’s an observation,” he said. “Surely a great, pure Galra such as yourself can make the distinction?”

“What I can make,” Pezak said, as he rose from his seat (and it was only now that Lotor stood as well, his hand poised to draw his blade from his belt), “is scrap after I take you---!”

“What is going on here?”

While Didrin put his face in his hands, Pezak, Lotor, and Keith all turned as Kolivan approached their tables. He hadn’t spoken very loudly, but he also didn’t need to. Once again, everyone in the mess hall was staring at them, even as a few of them pretended to be looking at their plates or tablets instead.

“Why don’t you ask your little halfling?” Pezak spat, as he waved one hand in Keith’s direction.

The reaction was immediate. Didrin took his face out of his hands only so that he could lace his fingers over the back of his neck instead, his head bowed. The mess hall had been quiet before, but it was dead silent now, and no one was pretending to read any longer. Kolivan narrowed his eyes, and it was in that moment that Pezak seemed to recognize his mistake. For the first time since the confrontation started, his eyes widened a little in what looked like alarm.

“What did you just say?” Kolivan demanded, his voice lethally quiet.

“I . . .” Pezak said, faltering, before he gathered what courage he had and sputtered, “Well, he is.”

“Pezak!” Didrin cried, and he sat back in his chair at last to throw his hands up.

“He is!” Pezak insisted, and he turned back to throw a glance Didrin’s way before he turned back to Kolivan, whose gaze (to Keith’s eyes) looked even harder. “And you know it as well as I do. I’m not saying anything wrong here, Kolivan, it’s exactly what he is, and he’s more than willing to rub elbows with those exactly like him, so who knows what other sorts of riffraff he’ll be spreading our secrets to---”

Sudden fire flashed through Keith’s veins. “I would never do that,” he snapped. The slights against his heritage, the slurs---those he could handle, however they made his stomach twist. But he wouldn’t stand for being called traitor. That was crossing a line he wasn’t willing to let Pezak walk away from.

Pezak scoffed. “Yeah,” he said, as he gestured in Lotor’s direction. “That’s very believable.”

“That’s enough,” Kolivan said coldly. Pezak shut his mouth immediately, and drew back to stand against his table. Now that he was quiet, Kolivan turned to Keith. “Keith. Please explain what happened here.”

Weeks ago, when he had first overheard Pezak calling him halfling, Keith had decided not to tell Kolivan or anyone else. It wasn’t important. Whatever names he was called, they had no bearing on the mission at hand. And if it meant that he wasn’t truly accepted---that he didn’t really belong---that was something he could accept. It was something he had to accept. In any case, it had never been in his nature to run to someone else with his problems. He wasn’t in the business of tattling on someone who hurt his feelings. He never had been, even as a child, and he wasn’t about to start now.

But this was different. He wasn’t the only one affected now. Lotor was, too. And even setting that aside, Kolivan might have used the word please, but Keith knew common courtesy when he heard it. Kolivan wasn’t making a request. Kolivan was telling Keith to report on what happened. No matter how much Keith might have wanted to keep the incident to himself, he didn’t have very much choice in the matter.

So he said, “We---Lotor and I---were having lunch.” Kolivan glanced at Lotor, who smiled benignly back as Keith continued, “Pezak had a problem with our being here, and he said so to Didrin. Lotor overheard them, so he called Pezak on it. Pezak said he was happy Lotor was here, but he was obviously lying, and he called Lotor a---halfling, so Lotor challenged him to a duel. Pezak refused, Lotor called him a coward and compared him to one of Zarkon’s commanders---”

“Former commander,” Lotor said, and there was a note of proud amusement in his voice. “I banished him to an outpost in the Ulippa system, and then my generals and I stole a teludav from said outpost. I don’t believe he holds his rank any longer.”

Keith huffed, but otherwise ignored him. “And then Pezak decided to pick a fight here in the mess hall instead of in the training room as Lotor had previously suggested, calling Lotor a . . .” Keith swallowed, and waved one hand in the air as he tried to force the word off his tongue. It took another couple of ticks, but finally he bit out, “. . . mongrel, while he was at it.”

“I see.” Kolivan stared at Keith for a second longer before he turned to Pezak. “Pezak, apologize. Now. To both of them.”

“What?” Pezak said, aghast. “Kolivan, you can’t be---”

“Did I stutter?” Kolivan said, his voice hard.

Pezak closed his mouth, his jaw clenched, and when he turned his eyes on Keith and Lotor, he did so with an expression that suggested he had just shoved an extremely sour fruit down his throat. “I’m sorry for calling you . . .” He stole another glance at Kolivan, whose expression was as glacial as it was before, before he finished, “. . . names.”

“It’s fine,” Keith said, even though it wasn’t.

“No harm done,” Lotor said, smirking, “so long as you’ve learned your lesson.”

The look Pezak gave him was as disparaging as they came, but he had no chance to say anything before Kolivan interrupted him.

“I will see to it that he has,” Kolivan said, and he turned toward the rest of the mess hall and raised his voice as he said, “The Blade of Marmora does not approve of, nor tolerate, this sort of bigotry. Those who choose to fight alongside us are valuable allies regardless of their birth. Those who have proven their worth by passing their Trials and have joined our ranks are one of us, regardless of their birth. Prejudice and discrimination are hallmarks of Zarkon’s empire. The belief that others are inferior because of their race is a belief that has allowed the Empire to oppress, subjugate, and slaughter countless millions for thousands of years. It is a belief that is not welcome here. If that is something that anyone within our organization cannot accept, then those individuals need to take it up with me. I am more than ready to explain to them exactly why their bigotry will not be tolerated here. I hope this is clear.”

A murmured assent rippled through the mess hall. Most people returned to pretending to eat, though some continued to stare avidly at the scene that had unfolded.

Kolivan turned back to Pezak. “Pezak, come with me. We are going to discuss this further.”

Pezak looked as though he wished to argue. His face was contorted in a grimace, and for a moment he opened his mouth as if to say something. A second later he closed it again, as if thinking better of it, and nodded.

“Yes, sir,” he ground out, his eyes on the floor.

“After you,” Kolivan said. He gestured for Pezak to take the exit nearest their side of the mess hall, and without lifting his eyes from the floor, Pezak spun on the ball of his foot and headed off in the direction he indicated. As Kolivan started past their table to follow after, Didrin looked up at last, his eyes wide and an anxious smile on his face.

“I---you know, I’m sorry, too, Kolivan,” Didrin said. Kolivan raised his eyebrows, and Didrin seemed to take this as a prompt to go on. “I told him not to say all that stuff out loud, out here where you and everyone else could hear, but he just---he didn’t listen---”

“You told him not to say those things in public?” Kolivan asked, and though Didrin hesitated, as though realizing his mistake, he nodded slowly. “Good to know. You can come with me as well, Didrin. It seems as if you and I also have matters to discuss.”

Didrin’s shoulders slumped, but unlike Pezak, he didn’t seem to remotely want to refuse Kolivan’s command. He pushed himself up from his seat and walked after Pezak, his head bowed. Kolivan watched him for only a moment before he turned back to Keith at last. On instinct, Keith stood a little straighter, but Kolivan’s eyes softened as he looked back to Keith.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Kolivan said quietly.

“It’s fine,” Keith said again, because the last thing he wanted was for Kolivan to have to worry about him. Kolivan had enough on his plate; they all had more than enough to focus on. This wasn’t worth Kolivan’s attention. “It’s nothing---”

“It isn’t,” Kolivan said, and Keith shut his mouth. Kolivan put his hand on Keith’s shoulder, and squeezed it gently. “If that ever happens again, please tell me.”

Keith’s throat felt suddenly choked, as if he had taken Lotor up on his earlier offer to share the appomeg, but had swallowed it whole instead of just taking a bite instead. He nodded in lieu of speaking, and Kolivan---taking that answer for what it was---gave his shoulder another bracing squeeze before he exited the mess hall after Pezak and Didrin.

Once Kolivan left, the other occupants of the mess hall slowly and clumsily began to return to whatever they had been doing before. The din---voices and clattering silverware---steadily rose, even though the sounds were clumsy and unnatural. Keith turned back to Lotor, and felt his heart jolt when he saw that Lotor was watching him. That was weird---there was no reason for him to feel so startled. They had come here together, so it was only natural that Lotor would have looked to him now that the incident had ended.

“As exciting as that was,” Lotor said, showing that he, at the very least, saw nothing startling or unnatural about their present situation at all, “I’m afraid it’s rather killed my desire to stay here. Shall we relocate? What we have here is easy enough to take on the road.”

Keith cleared his throat, and reached for the cap to his juice bottle. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Let’s go.”

They took their lunch, light as it was, to one of the unoccupied observation decks. Lotor went straight for the window when they arrived, and sat with his back in one corner, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Keith, too, sat against the window, but in the opposite corner. He stretched one leg out, but kept his other leg drawn up, his arm draped across it. They had been quiet on their way to the observation deck, Lotor for once not asking probing questions or making observations about the war or organization, and Keith similarly at a loss for what to say. But after another moment of prolonged silence, Lotor’s eyes on the stars outside of the window, Keith finally asked, “How did you manage to look so calm back there?”

Lotor didn’t look away from the window, and though his lips twitched, he didn’t smile. “I looked calm because I was calm,” he said. “Nothing Pezak said was bothersome.”

“How?” Keith asked, and when Lotor looked over with slightly raised eyebrows, he clarified, “How did that not bother you? He called you a---a---”

“Mongrel,” Lotor said, and though Keith felt something lash through him---something akin to fire and ice all at once---Lotor let the word roll of his tongue like it was nothing more than 'apple' or 'basket.' “Mongrel, cur, half-breed---I’ve heard them all before. It isn’t anything new.”

Keith turned his glare to his knees. “Still.”

“After a while, Keith, you grow desensitized. This attitude is not new, nor is it exclusive to Galra. Many Galra don’t appreciate those of us who aren’t ‘pure,’ but many non-Galra don’t appreciate those of us who are mixed with this particular race. This experience must be new for you, but given time---”

“It’s not,” Keith said, before he could help himself. He looked up to see Lotor staring at him, curiosity like fire in his eyes, and Keith looked away again. “Not totally.”

“How long have you known about your heritage?”

“Not very. I only learned recently. But . . .” He took a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just say that there were some people on Earth that---they didn't know that I’m Galra, but it didn't matter. What they did know about me was enough.”

The weight of a thousand questions hung in Lotor’s silence before he finally said, “Part-Galra.”

Keith frowned, and looked back. “What?”

“You’re part-Galra, Keith,” Lotor repeated. “You and I---we're part-Galra. The universe may look down on us for it, but it isn’t something either of us should shy away from. We are part-Galra---that is an important part of the foundation of who we are as people. Rather than accept the unjust shame others try to foist upon our shoulders for it, we should instead embrace it. We are part-Galra, but that makes us no less capable of achieving our potential. It makes us no less extraordinary.” Lotor grinned, and something about his sudden smile was fierce. “I’d say it makes us more.”

If you straddle a fence, you can’t say you’re in either yard. That was what Keith’s father had said to him so many years ago. Those words had taken on a new meaning for Keith, but as Keith locked eyes with Lotor and felt his heart lift along with Lotor’s smile, he realized that there was another way to look at the situation. They were both part-Galra. Both of them had ties to either side of the fence they were placed on. But Lotor wasn’t straddling the fence. Rather than remain seated, passively accepting the stares of those in the yards on either side of him, Lotor had chosen to stand. He stood atop the fence, walked along it, and now he was offering a hand to help Keith do the same.

Keith smiled.

“Yeah,” he said, as Lotor’s smile grew. “I agree.”

(Ko-Fi)