#she also then brings up skepticism! c/f prisoner!

[chemiosmotic]

VERY interesting screenshot (this is the deconstructed damsel route)... they look so sad and pathetic, the hand gripping hers is NOT something you see from the other angle.

also this is to my knowledge the only screenshot that occurs from chapter 1 instead of 2 or 3. i wonder what that implies about the Damsel's internality.

[anghraine]

“the sea that divides us” - fic

I meant to write this one through RO (well, to the point where they escape, obviously) and not post until I got there, but... *shrug*

fandom: Star Wars

characters: Baze Malbus; Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor (as Cassia), Kaytoo, Chirrut Îmwe; Jyn/Cassian (pining), Baze/Chirrut (grumpy marrieds)

verse: the queer Rogue One AU, of course, featuring f!Cassian :D

length: 2860 words

stuff that happens: Baze and Chirrut both love Jyn from the start. It’s Baze, though, who likes Cassia. After Eadu, that’s a problem.

This was driven about equally by a) the anon who first asked me about f!Cassian, ty, b) everyone who has enabled me along the way, c) the great fics I’ve gobbled up in the last couple of weeks, particularly @brynnmclean​’s and @incognitajones​’s, d) my interest in the different ways that Baze and Chirrut relate to Cassian and being generally charmed by You Are My People Now murderdad Baze, e) my firm opinion that some transition must have taken place between Jyn and Cassian’s fight and their arrival on Yavin as partners, and f) asthma trouble, because this AU is my happiest of happy places :D

THANK YOU ALL. Except the asthma.

“Does he look like a killer?”

“No. He has the face of a friend.”

If asked, Baze could not have explained what he saw in Cassia Andor’s face. It was sharp, hard, unsmiling, her gaze alternately suspicious or vacant. Not friendly by any stretch of the imagination. Nor was she friendly; at best, she snapped out commands without pausing to question whether they would be followed.

The face was attractive, but that had never been something to sway him. Certainly not in a woman. Her half-shy, wholly charmed looks at Jyn went further, snuck throughout the long week to Eadu.

Within those few days, he cared about Jyn as much as he had anyone but Chirrut. Baze made quick judgments and lived by them, and his snap judgment of Jyn was of a quiet firebrand fighting to survive without losing herself. He couldn’t have seen more of himself in her had she been his sister by blood; in Jyn’s circumstances, he would have been—Jyn. But in his own, he had Chirrut, and she had no one. Without thinking too much about it, he found himself sticking near her in silent solidarity.

Not quite as much as the captain did, however. The two girls constantly hovered together, amorphously concerned and not appearing to much notice.

(“Women,” Chirrut corrected, and Baze scoffed in the face of his evident amusement.

“Children, the lot of them.”)

From his supportive lurk, he couldn’t have missed Cassia’s stolen glances had he tried. He wasn’t sure how Jyn managed it, in fact. But in fairness, Cassia—who rarely missed anything—seemed no less oblivious to Jyn’s stares.

(“We’re watching a farce,” he grumbled.

“I’m not watching anything,” said Chirrut.)

Then, they reached the Imperial facility on Eadu, and … well. That happened. Baze sided with Jyn as far as he did anyone; she wasn’t right, exactly, but he remembered the bodies of the Temple’s dead too well to blame her. Cassia could spare some modicum of forgiveness for a woman she had exploited, a woman whose father had just died in her arms. Still, it didn’t alter his opinion of Cassia, either. He also remembered those last years as a Guardian, clinging to unbending faith under the grip of the Empire. That kind of conviction was not a forgiving thing, and it burned at both ends.

Captain Andor had not burned up yet, but she was well on her way. Baze knew the signs; he’d been there, and found only Chirrut on the other side. Cassia would find what? The droid? More than Jyn had, to be sure—except Jyn had herself, stubbornly whole. Cassia, cool and clear-headed, seemed to exist entirely in fragments.

“The face of a friend, eh?” Chirrut asked that night, because he always had to have the last word.

Baze thought of just agreeing—he was tired, long day, they only had three to the Rebellion, which he did not recall volunteering for—but his soul revolted.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “You’re the one who said she carts a prison with her.”

Chirrut sobered. “She does. I’m sorry for her. But this woman is more dangerous for that, not less. It doesn’t make her a friend.”

“She’s a nice girl,” insisted Baze, halfheartedly pretending that most of his attention lay with unwrapping his repeater cannon. He had space for it. On both ships, Cassia had consigned them to the one set of full quarters available—unnecessarily, but he wasn’t about to give it up to any of these twenty-something children. “They both are, underneath.”

“Far underneath,” Chirrut said. True enough. “The captain, anyway. That nice girl just about put a blaster bolt through an innocent man’s head.”

“So have I,” said Baze.

To his immense satisfaction, his husband had no answer to that. Baze, who could not care less about Galen Erso in himself, undressed and crawled into bed in an excellent mood. He closed his eyes, vaguely soothed by the clatter of Chirrut’s staff and the rustle of his robes as he tossed them aside. He’d always been incurably careless.

Baze was just drifting off when Chirrut spoke again.

“I hope you’re right.”

Longing for sleep, he grunted. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“They have choices waiting for them at the Rebel base, both of them.”

“Probably,” said Baze.

“Choices that could change the galaxy.”

He opened his eyes just so he could roll them. “Uh-huh. Go to sleep.”

All right, he didn’t believe Chirrut’s nonsense. Awake, though, he knew only too well that this Death Star business was galaxy-changing. They had to bring that thing down. For Jyn, that meant playing nice with the Alliance, and for Cassia, backing her up. He certainly didn’t pretend that his or Chirrut’s word would go far, much less an Imperial pilot’s. And the droid would tear out its own wiring if Cassia told it to.

Choices, after a fashion. It didn’t require any Force delusion to see that. And both seemed somewhat uncertain prospects at the moment. Jyn and Cassia spent the two days after their fight sulking on opposite ends of the shuttle.

Not that they said so. Jyn sat in the quiet, meditating with her crystal. Cassia talked over hyperspace lanes with Bodhi and K-2SO, and calculated coordinates.

Sulking.

Chirrut mumbled some absurdity about them finding their own paths in their own ways. But nobody had time for that. Baze stalked around the shuttle, never eager for conversation, less eager for whichever one somebody needed to have with their fearless leaders. When he ran into Cassia’s droid, it was almost a relief.

“Baze Malbus,” K-2SO intoned. “You have walked the same route seven times in the last hour.”

Baze didn’t bother responding.

With a distinct note of irritation, it added, “Is this merely a pointless waste of time and energy, or do you expect to achieve something by it? I can tell you that the odds—”

Ignoring this, he said abruptly, “Can you tell me the odds of the captain apologizing?”

Its eyes flashed, recalibrating. “That depends on more factors than you could contemplate.”

“And?”

“Without additional input, nineteen percent in generic circumstances. That number does not incorporate data relating to espionage activities. I assumed you only referred to her present role.”

“That’s right,” Baze allowed.

“Of course.”

“And how likely is an apology to Jyn?”

The droid managed to infuse deep indignation into the slight shift of its head. “What for?”

Baze and K-2SO stared at each other for long seconds. Finally acknowledging that he was unlikely to outwait a droid, Baze said,

“Galen Erso’s death.”

“Cassia did not end his life,” said K-2SO. “In violation of a directive from the acting head of Rebel Intelligence, I might add. If Jyn Erso cannot grasp that fact, it is her failure, not Cassia’s. I rate the chance of the captain apologizing at four percent.”

“That’s your analysis? Or a hunch?”

“I am a strategic analysis droid,” K-2SO snapped, its usual slouch straightening up. “I do not have hunches. Not that you deserve the details, but three percent is the margin of error I allowed for unknown variables. The raw probability is one percent. Rounded up.”

Baze eyed it skeptically.

The droid said, “Apologies indicate regret.”

“The captain likes what she does?” From what he’d seen of her, he found that extremely unlikely. Even Chirrut knew better—well, particularly Chirrut.

“It seems that your ears are decaying with your brain cells,” said K-2SO. “I did not say that. She intensely dislikes our work. But she does not regret doing anything that furthers the aims of the Rebellion. She certainly does not think she should waste our valuable time and power sources on useless guilt.” Unnecessarily, it added, “And neither do I.”

“Surprise,” Baze muttered. “So how, exactly, was Erso’s death going to further the aims of the Rebellion?”

K-2SO paused. “It wasn’t. That’s why she didn’t do it.”

And Jyn had nothing to do with it. Sure. But he didn’t feel the need to hear Jyn or himself insulted by a hunk of metal and grease, so he only replied,

“You’re telling me that she’s got nothing in that prison of hers that wasn’t for the Rebellion?”

“I don’t know what you mean by prison,” said the droid, primly. “The Empire has never caught us. But she does not do anything that isn’t for the Rebellion.”

“Never?” asked Baze, out of purely disinterested motives that had nothing to do with another young woman on the shuttle. He cleared his throat. “She doesn’t watch out for anyone unless they’re useful?”

The droid tilted its head. “Why would she?”

“Then nobody’s going to be watching out for her when she isn’t,” he said.

It managed to draw itself up into further heights of indignation. “Cassia is always useful. And she has me. I am superior to any collection of organic matter.” Muttering to itself, K-2SO swivelled and stalked off.

A jealous droid. Wonderful.

Unfortunately, Baze suspected that its judgment of their captain could be trusted. Jyn, the injured party, had a much better chance of hearing good sense.

Hearing was perhaps an overstatement. He wandered to her end of the shuttle, and stationed himself in her general vicinity. Neither said anything for a good ten minutes, though the stiff line of Jyn’s shoulders relaxed. A little.

“He must have had all sorts of information,” she said at last.

Baze eyed her from his corner. “Eh?”

“My father,” said Jyn, quite conversationally. “Imagine all the things he could have passed onto the Rebellion. Do you suppose she ever thought of that?”

“Perhaps,” he replied. The Force couldn’t be real. If it were, surely he would not be having this conversation. “Maybe it’s why she didn’t take the shot.”

Jyn’s eyes settled on him, hard and focused. “Did she send you?”

“No,” said Baze. Then he scowled. “No one sends me anywhere.”

Though she remained impenetrably grave, the wariness in her face faded. “Someone should let Chirrut know.”

Baze snorted.

They fell silent again, more comfortable with quiet companionship than speech. Beyond that, no sure approach came to Baze’s mind. Another few minutes passed before either roused themselves to speech.

“So you believe her?” Jyn asked.

“Yes,” said Baze. He would have left it at that, would very much have liked to leave it at that, but at Jyn’s ambivalent scowl, forced himself on. “I’ve seen the captain upset before, in Gerrera’s cell. But she kept a cool head.” Until she realized Jyn might get crushed to death, anyway. “She didn’t at Eadu. She was angry, unreasonable. Something shook her.”

Jyn exhaled. Tucking the crystal away, she said, “I suppose so. It could have been what happened, though. It was chaos down there.”

“She’s an assassin, Jyn,” said Baze, as kindly as he knew how. “For a cause, but—a Rebel spy. For decades, if we can trust her that far.”

Her mouth twisted. “So what’s one more dead Imperial to her?”

“I didn’t say that,” he replied, though … yes. Pretty much. “Back in our cell, she told us that she’d never been in one before. If that’s true, she’s good at what she does. Very good. A raid on an Imperial facility wouldn’t rattle her. But she was rattled.”

“Orders,” muttered Jyn. “That’s what she said.” She sounded unimpressed, but not as uncompromising as before.

Maybe.

“She’s a good soldier girl,” Baze agreed dryly. It was true enough, though; Cassia seemed to receive and deliver orders with equal intention of seeing them obeyed. “I don’t imagine they’d keep her in the field if she weren’t.”

Jyn flinched. But she said in her usual firm tone, “No place for rebels in the Rebellion?”

“They keep their secrets close, everyone knows that.” He folded his arms, knowing he stood on shaky ground and disliking it. “Their spies know enough to carry out orders, and I’d bet not a drop more, unless they run over it themselves. Rogue pilots, maybe. Rogue spies, no.”

“Cassia knew more,” she insisted. “She was the one with the intel this time.”

Baze, following his instincts, kept his mouth shut.

“If that’s why she didn’t shoot—” Jyn paused, hands and lips compressed.

He didn’t risk a direct answer. “For what it’s worth, the droid’s opinion is that she decided your father’s death wouldn’t help the Rebellion.”

Jyn, given the opportunity to deflect onto K-2SO’s many failings, ignored it. She stared up at him with pale cheeks and wide green eyes, looking impossibly young.

“That would mean that Cassia believed me. Believed that Father didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t … she … ”

“Captain Andor is the only one who can answer that,” said Baze.

Jyn didn’t seem to hear. “If she trusts me, then—they’ll listen if she backs me up. Her commanding officer’s a general and the leader of the Rebellion introduced her to me. We have to get those plans.”

With some skepticism, Baze listened to the exact conclusion he’d hoped she would reach. “True.”

“And …”

Jyn seemed content to let the sentence trail into the infinity of space. He cleared his throat.

“And?”

Colour flooded her cheeks. She tilted her chin up, hope and determination hardening over her face.

“Trust goes both ways.”

Baze had the good sense to leave Jyn to her epiphany. Considerably more doubtful about Cassia’s end of the business, he arrived in the cockpit to find Bodhi gone and Chirrut perched in the co-pilot’s seat, amidst various switches and signals and technological paraphernalia. He looked both ridiculous and smug, and Cassia more haunted than usual.

“What did you do to the pilot?”

“Nothing,” said Chirrut virtuously. “The poor man fell asleep.”

Cassia lifted her gaze to Baze. “Bodhi just about collapsed once he had nothing more to do. He’s had a long few weeks.”

“One way of putting it,” muttered Baze.

“I know these routes, anyway,” she went on, “so I can manage well enough from here.”

Remembering their escape from the Death Star’s destruction, he said, “Right. Where’d you stash him?”

“The captain carried him to a bunk,” said Chirrut. He tapped his staff against the floor, the familiar rhythm both irritating and soothing. “I didn’t see it.”

Baze rolled his eyes. Chirrut aside, he couldn’t envision it. Bodhi Rook might not be a large man, but neither was Cassia Andor a large woman. At most, she stood at the tallish end of average, a good few inches shorter than Baze. He suspected she’d lost muscle mass lately—all her regulation clothes hung on her—but her frame would never have been anything but narrow.

“Carried?”

“He was still conscious,” Cassia said. “More or less. I helped him.”

Unperturbed, Chirrut smiled. “The captain is stronger than she seems.”

Cassia slanted him a wary glance. Since Baze would have felt exactly the same in her position, and often did in his own, he let it pass.

Behind him, the door to the cockpit slid open. He half-expected the pilot had already woken, but no: it was Jyn. Good, he thought.

Maybe good.

Jyn slouched into the chamber. She didn’t seem to have thought beyond that; for one long and intensely uncomfortable moment, she and Cassia just stared at each other.

“Any news?” she said.

“No,” said Cassia, her gaze not so much as twitching from Jyn. She wet her lip. “There won’t be, barring a disaster.”

“Good, then.” Utterly stoic, Jyn folded her arms. “Nothing from the Force either, Chirrut?”

The Force doesn’t work that way, Baze almost said, but closed his mouth on it. It wouldn’t work that way if it were real, which it wasn’t.

“No,” Chirrut said. With a tap of his staff, he rose to his feet, while choices that could change the galaxy ran through Baze’s head. Chirrut had his own concept of truth. “Thank you for your time, captain. I enjoyed our conversation.”

“I’m delighted,” said Cassia. If Baze had ever heard a drier tone, nothing came to mind.

Chirrut beamed in her direction nevertheless, nodded in Jyn’s, and headed to the door. Without a word, Baze trailed after him, only pausing once to glance back.

Jyn had flung herself into the co-pilot’s seat, the rigid set of her shoulders just visible from the angle of the chair. Cassia remained in her own seat, her body stiffly upright, and the entirety of it tilted towards Jyn.

The girls might be all right, after all.

“You enjoyed your conversation with the captain,” Baze said, once they accumulated a good distance from the cockpit. They’d never lost money underestimating Imperial craftsmanship.

Chirrut, graceful as ever, seated himself on the nearest bench.

“We had a nice talk.”

“I thought you didn’t like her,” said Baze.

“I never said that.” Chirrut leaned his head against the wall of the shuttle and smiled. Of course he did.

With nothing better to do, Baze sunk onto the bench beside him. It occurred to him that Bodhi was asleep somewhere, Jyn and Cassia busy brooding at each other in the cockpit, the droid off doing whatever it was it did. There was nobody here to draw conclusions or scent vulnerability. Not that Jyn and Cassia … well, they’d see about Jyn and Cassia. If they lived long enough.

Very casually, he slung his arm about Chirrut’s shoulders.

“You’re an old fool,” he said gruffly.

Chirrut, not bothering with subtlety, leaned against him. “You should know.”

[avengerdragoness]

A Safe Haven - Ch 1. [Shiro x Reader]

A/N: Yay, the actual first chapter. Whoop whoop. Here comes some space dad!  I appreciate any and all feedback! I hope you all love it!! <33

_____

Chapter 1: My Characters:

Christian - Male - Reader’s Best Friend

Voight - Male - Pain in the Reader’s ass

Soldiers - around 4 others

_____

“All right. Lets move” you called before boarding the ship.

They were all the similar. Same layout, similar guard changes. You had one goal get your people and get out. Simple. Easy.

You led your group of 6 soldiers. Of them your best friend and second in command Christian.

Each of them had a sword and blaster that had been salvaged from destroyed planets. Or were created back on the planet.

You used only your powers. Having a whip formed in your hand as your weapon of choice for this mission.

You held your hand up, signalling for the troops to halt. Peering around the corner you saw four guards. “I count four. Two sentries two Galra.” telling the troops.

“Christian take out the sentries, the guards they’re mine” you ordered looking back. A newer cadet by the name of Voight scowled. You didn’t want him on this mission, his sister was one of the captives. It’s too personal.

“I want in” he growled lowly. You shot him a glare, “You do as told cadet. Stay put, that’s an order”

Nodding to Christian, you both snuck around the corner. “On 3″ mouthing as he nodded. “1.. 2.. 3″ you mouthed the numbers before cracking your whip and it wrapped around one of the guard’s necks.

Yanking it back he was swept off his feet, dropping his blaster. When he landed in front of you, you swiftly landed a jab to his head knocking him out. After knocking him out his buddy began to shoot at you.

Holding up your other arm a magic shield formed, blocking the blasts as you repeated the motions with your whip. But when you yanked him toward you, you knocked him out with the shield.

Christian had gotten the two sentries. After the coast was clear you motioned for your other troops to follow. The newer members were in awe by your skills. It took years to get to where you’re at and it wasn’t easy getting there.

You didn’t encounter anymore guards on your way to the cells. It was proving to be an easy mission. Getting the cell door open you stood in the doorway, the prisoners inside blocked the bright light from their eyes.

Once their sight had adjusted the refugees that knew you immediately recognized you, “[F/n]” one of them said sounding relieved. You smiled at them all kindly, “Come on lets get out of here, all of you”

The prisoners quickly stood and raced out of the cell. “Where’s my sister?” Voight asked seeing the little girl missing. “She was taken by the guards about an hour ago, she hasn’t returned yet. They took her for questioning” one of the prisoners explained.

“We’re sorry there is nothing we could do to stop them” another apologized. You shook your head “This isn’t your fault. We’ll get you somewhere safe and then find your homes” you explained to the prisoners.

Turning around you saw Voight backing away from the group, “I have to find her!” he mumbled before turning and running down the corridor..

“Voight no!“ yelling after him. Growling you turned to the group, “You get them out of here, if we’re not back in 10 minutes you leave without us. Do you understand?” you ordered.

“But [F/--” Christian began. “Not up for debate soldier!” you said sternly. All the troops but Christian flinched under your harsh tone. He nodded. Returning it before turning and sprinting after Voight.

You stopped at an intersection of hallways trying to decipher where to go. But you heard a shrill scream. It sounded like his sister.

Without a thought you sprinted in the direction, before coming across a room with the door opened. Rushing in you found Voight pointing his blaster at a hooded figure that had his sister by the back of the neck.

“Haggar” you growled. The witch immediately looked to you. A revolting smirk growing on her lips. “I remember you.” she laughed.

Immediately you summoned your whip once more. “Ah ah ah” she warned, “We wouldn’t want to put the poor girl in any danger” her grip on the girl tightened as she yelped in pain.

“I’ll kill you!” Voight yelled. You turned to him, there was only one thing you could do. “Stand down cadet” your tone was firm and intimidating.

“But -” he looked at you. “Did I stutter?” commanding again as he dropped his weapon. You gave him a look that said ‘trust me.’

Turning to the witch you began again. “Haggar if I remember correctly you’re always up for a bargain. I have something of more value than the girl” she looked at you interested. “And what would that be?”

“Me” She laughed at the idea. “I’ve already learned what I can from the powers your mother had, you’re of little value”

“What if I said you were wrong” She scoffed. “And how so?”

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. You allowed your Draconian features to show. The scales formed on your arms, spine, eyes, and neck. Your [e/c] dilating to look like a serpent’s. “As you can see I’m not only of my mother’s descent but also of Draconian blood. I have two powerful forces at my control. I am of two times the value”

Her evil smirk returned. “I stay, they go” you ordered. She released the girl who ran to her brother. Watching the exchange, “I can’t leave you hear” Voight said.

“Go and for once do as your told” you ordered. He hesitated before running out of the room his sister in tow. He will have to take out some guards on his way there but they will make it in time.

You stood facing the witch as guards rushed into the room. They came behind you. Pinning your arms and taking out the back of your knees so you were kneeling. Haggar came up to you and took your chin in her hands.

“Tell me everything about your powers” she ordered. “No” spitting back.

“The bargain was I let the girl go and you stay and give up information” she yelled. “No, I said I’d stay. I never promised to telling you a damn thing” shaking your head out of her grip.

“You will talk, they always do” she backed away from you. A sadistic smile on her face before nodding to the guards. They then jabbed a taser type baton into your side.

You yelled out in pain before everything went black.

The Paladins were training for their next fight against the Galra. They needed to be focused and disciplined. Sadly only Shiro and Keith were showing those characteristics at the moment.

“Paladins we have just come in contact with a distress beacon” Allura’s voice came over the speakers. The training halted as they all ran to the control room.

They entered to hear Coran speaking.  “It’s strange, it’s not coming from a planet but just open space”

“Yes I agree” Allura looked at Coran but noticed the Paladins enter.

“What’s up?” Lance was the first to ask, his arms lazily behind his head.

“It seems we’ve received a distress beacon from a ship but it is not on a planet.” Allura informed them. “Could it be a trap?” Keith asked next.

“It is possible” Coran said turning to bring up the beacon on the map.

“Let’s check it out but proceed with caution” Shiro suggested and Allura set a course.

The refugees and soldiers had been stuck floating for almost a week. The ship was damaged when escaping the Galra ship and had gone as far at it could go. They  were beginning to lose hope until the castle came into view and Allura came over their communicator.

“Hello this is Princess Allura of Altea. We received a distress beacon from your ship.” Christian ran over to the communicator. “Thank goodness. Our engines are damaged and we’ve been stuck here for ages” he spoke waiting a response.

“Yes I see. We will bring you aboard and help with any repairs. Prepare for your ship to be extracted.“ everyone sighed a sigh of relief.

When the ship was brought aboard and the door to the ship opened, the Paladins were surprised to see the number of beings.

“You must be Princess Allura, I can’t thank you enough” Christian bowed to Allura. “You are correct. Are you the leader to these people?” His demeanor turned somber at the question. “No, I’m second in command”

“Where is your leader then?” Pidge piped up next. The soldiers all exchanged a look. “Taken by Galra” one of the soldiers said. Christian flinched at the words.

“Oh my” Allura gasped. “She’ll be alright though, she’s the strongest out of all our people.” Christian assured the refugees, and himself.

“And who are your people?” Hunk was the next one with a question. “A large group of refugees. We’re a safe haven for ex-Galra prisoners” Christian explained.

“Interesting. Why haven’t we heard of this safe haven” Shiro crossed his arms, skeptical of the newcomers.

“It’s been kept a secret for generations. But now we have to get our ship fixed and save our leader. We can’t just leave her there.” Christian turned to the soldiers. Of whom nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps we could be of some assistance” Allura caught their attention.

“How so?” Voight asked cocking an eyebrow.

“We have a powerful weapon on our side. These five are the paladins of Voltron” Allura gestured to the group. 

They had heard of Voltron, but thought it was lost. “Voltron? I thought that was lost” Christian stared shocked.

“It was for a time until I found the blue lion” Lance gloated. “Technically Keith found it” Pidge corrected.

“Anyway we’d really appreciate your help. I’m Christian” he offered a hand. Shiro was the one to take it. “Shiro, we’ll help the best way we can. This is our team, Pidge, Keith, Hunk, and Lance. Then of course the princess and Coran” he introduced the group. Christian did the same with the refugees and soldiers.

“We can’t thank you enough” Christian thanked them, while the others nodded.

“It’s not a problem.” Allura assured with a smile.

After coming aboard the castle it took what would’ve be a few days back on your planet for the ship to meet it’s repairs and for a rescue mission to be planned. Christian and the other soldiers did their best to describe the lay out, but you’re the one who normally dealt with those things.

The refugees were sent with two of the soldiers back to the refuge. There was no need for them to be put in danger again. Christian, Voight, and two other soldiers remained to help.

The plan was infiltrate the ship in pairs. The main goal was to find you and the second goal was to destroy the ship.

While gearing up Christian couldn’t help but say, “You all really have no idea how much this means to us all.” They all nodded at him appreciatively. 

“Lets do this” Lance smirked. Everyone giving a collective “Yeah!”

When boarded, Christian and Shiro were in charge of scoping out the wing you had run after Voight through. They were the most experienced and this was the most dangerous section.

Shiro was uncomfortable, being there reminded of his time as a prisoner. As gladiator. He wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.

Everything was quiet until they began to hear muffled and suppressed yells. Christian’s heart twisted. It took a lot to make you scream, he could only imagine the pain. “That way” he yelled before running toward the voice.

You panted as the Galra commander pulled back the heated rod. You were burned, battered, and bloody. Haggar had left your torture to this buffoon, she had other ‘business’ to take care of.

“Care to talk yet?” he growled in a low voice. Picking your head up, you spat at him. He reeled wiping his face, glaring at you. You gave him a blood stained grin. He grabbed you by your throat. Hands clenching in the restraints holding you to the table.

You felt yourself getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. About to black out before the Galra commander was yanked away. Coughing your head hung as you caught your breath.

“[F/n]! Just hold on alright” Christian said beginning to work on the restraints. Looking up you saw a man in black armor with a purple glowing arm fighting the commander. He was good.

You felt the restraints give way on your wrists and ankles. Christian helped you sit before running to help the man. Guards were going to be there soon no doubt and the Galra commander was getting an advantage.

Struggling to stand but failing at every attempt. You couldn’t just sit here.

Shiro and Christian fought him off the best the could but he was always one move ahead of them. When caught off balance, they were both hoisted by their throats.

Shiro tried to talk to get to the other Paladins help, but to no avail. He had to think of something. Fast.

But before he could think of a plan they both heard the crack of whips. Soon the sound was confirmed when the arms of the Galra were pulled back as he dropped them. Shiro witnessed in disbelief as you mustered all your strength to throw the Galra into the wall.

He was knocked out upon impact. Looking from the Galra to you, he saw you stumbling back as the magic whips slipped from your grasp. He stood and raced over. Catching you before you hit the floor.

The last thing you saw were his grey eyes. Holding you he could only wonder

‘Who are you?’