Archive of Our Own

“Here is the data you requested, Princess Allura. Though I am not sure it will help your cause any.”

“That is for us to decide. We appreciate the Blade of Marmora’s help in gathering the intelligence nonetheless.”

Lance barely suppresses a wince at the edge to the words on both sides. Kolivan and Allura are both very good at the polite diplomat thing, and both of them know exactly what words to say that are not, technically, rude. But both have such a cutting tone to them that it’s almost meaningless.

Lance can’t blame anybody for it, really. It’s been an exhausting couple of weeks, and everyone’s tired on all sides. The paladins of Voltron have been searching desperately for their missing leader, with still no sign of Shiro or where he could possibly have disappeared to. And the Blade of Marmora are dealing with their own struggles, having lost several key operatives in a very short amount of time, when they can’t afford to lose anyone at all.

It hasn’t been easy on anyone, and tensions have been high for a while. The paladins worked really well with the Marmorites to bring down Zarkon, but now that their common enemy is defeated relations have been getting a bit strained. Allura has a little more respect for the Marmorite-Galras, especially Kolivan, after fighting alongside him. But she still doesn’t trust them completely, and it’s clear in the way she interacts with them. And while some of the higher-up Blade guys seem pretty cool, Lance gets the funny feeling that a lot of the lower ranking soldiers aren’t really huge fans of theirs, and that they’re only working with the paladins because their leader commands it.

Plus, Lance has to wonder if everyone is all on the same page. These Blade guys had wanted to take down Zarkon. But Zarkon’s done now, and Lance isn’t entirely sure where that leaves everyone. There’s still a lot of clean-up work to do to take down the Galra Empire, especially now that it’s leaderless. But the Blade seems more interested in targeting this Prince Lotor guy specifically, and less interested in destabilizing the Galra Empire as a whole. For now, they’re still working together, but Lance wonders what will happen when they don’t have a common enemy anymore.

And he’s not afraid to admit, cool as these Marmorite guys are, they kind of scare him a little. Ulaz had taken all of them down single-handedly, and all of these guys have those same combat skills. There might not be a lot of them, but they’re basically Galra ninjas. And that’s cool and all, but Lance also knows he really doesn’t want them as enemies.

But still…even if they make Lance a little uneasy, if Allura’s willing to keep up an alliance, he’s willing to try and play nice. Especially when Keith is currently Voltron’s acting leader, and he’s got connections to the Blade. Keith’s really been pushing for good relations between them all, and it seems important to him. And as much as it grates a lot to have to listen to Keith, he can see how important a good relationship with the Blade of Marmora is to him. And he’s not going to bomb that and ruin their acting leader’s negotiations, or Allura’s attempts, just because these guys make him a little nervous.

Even so, it’s times like these that he really starts to wonder just how long this alliance is going to last.

“Princess Allura,” Kolivan says, “It has been weeks. I respectfully remind you that the Blade of Marmora are not your intelligence network. We have our own tasks to attend to. I understand the urgency of your task, but I also urge you to begin considering the alternatives.”

“There aren’t alternatives,” Keith says before Allura can, eyes narrowed. “Shiro’s still alive. We just need to find him.”

Kolivan eyes Keith coolly. “Remember your trials,” he says after a moment. “Knowledge does not come easily and may have a heavy price to bear, but it does not make it less true. It has been weeks without information about your missing paladin. Truly he was a skilled warrior, and he has earned the respect of myself and the Blade, even without bearing a Blade himself. We recognize strength when we see it. We also recognize sacrifice, and move on. It is the only way to respect those lost.”

“He’s not dead,” Keith snaps hotly. “We just need to find him.”

Lance winces at the tone, and at the words. He wants to believe the same thing so bad, but after weeks of nothing he’s starting to lose hope. Not Keith, though. Keith clings to the idea that Shiro is still alive, just like before, even as he assumes the role of the head of Voltron. Even now, he’s wearing the red paladin’s armor; he’d flatly refused to don the black. “I’ll pilot the Black Lion if I have to,” he’d said, “And I’ll call the shots like he asked. But I’m not taking Shiro’s place. I’m just stepping in for him until he’s back.”

Lance wishes he had that kind of conviction. But then, that’s probably why Shiro made Keith leader.

“We haven’t considered all the possibilities yet,” Pidge interrupts quickly, before the conversation can turn into a shouting match—or worse—that ends up ruining any hope of keeping relations civil. “This data suggests the possibility of some kind of teleportation—“

“Improbable,” one of the other Blade operatives, still wearing the strange three-eyed masks, says. “Your calculations would need to account for temporal abnormalities, and the odds of one happening successfully without harming the subject are exceedingly low.”

“Okay,” Hunk says, “But you’re not accounting for a few other factors, like…”

Lance tunes it all out with a sigh. The science talk all goes right over his head, and he has no idea what anyone is talking about. He’s got a rough idea that Pidge and Hunk are arguing fiercely in favor of some theory that could maybe leave Shiro still alive, if they can find him, and the Marmorites are being bluntly realistic about the actual possibilities of it. Either way, it means everyone’s stepping on everybody else’s toes, emotionally speaking. Lance can tell the Marmorites are getting tired of the paladins grasping at straws and ideals when there are real dangers in front of them. And no one on team Voltron is okay with the Blade’s fatalistic view about moving on after losing a team member, even when they haven’t been proven dead yet.

It’s all getting very tense in here, and Lance can’t even really do anything to help. Allura and Keith are busy running interference with the Marmorites, rocky as that’s going, and Pidge, Hunk and Coran are all preoccupied with examining the data and trying to find a way to save Shiro…if he can even be saved.

(When. When he can be saved. He’s still alive, like Keith said. He has to be. Lance can’t stand the thought of losing anyone in his new family so shortly after being taken away from his old one).

It all leaves Lance feeling a bit twitchy, with all the mounting tensions in the room and no way to deal with it. He stands up and paces restlessly for a bit, trying to pay attention to all the science jargon. He’s not stupid—he had to be smart to get into the Garrison—but this stuff is just so complex it’s beyond him. It’s only making him more frustrated to listen and not know what’s going on, and eventually he’s just had enough.

He needs air. Just for a few minutes. Just to clear his head, and remember why he’s here, and what they’re doing.

He steps out of the command room quietly, and nobody seems to notice his exit; they’re too busy staring at all the holoscreens and discussing amongst themselves. That’s fine with Lance, really. If he can’t contribute, he at least doesn’t want to ruin their concentration. The faster they figure it out, the faster they have a chance to maybe find and rescue Shiro. (No, not maybe. Will. They will find and rescue Shiro).

Once he’s outside the room, though, he hesitates, unsure where to go. Normally on the Castle of Lions he’d take a short walk outside, if they were on a planet. Or head to the bridge to look at the star maps and find Earth, if they were in deep space, just like Coran showed him.

But they’re not on the Castle right now. Instead, they’re in another of the Blade of Marmora bases, this one buried deep in the core of a planet. The base is buried so far down in such intense temperatures that they’d all had to pile into the Red Lion and take special channels down to the base itself. It’s cool and all (relatively speaking), but it means Lance isn’t actually going anywhere until the rest of the paladins are done and Keith can pilot them all back to the Castle safely.

(Lance wonders, briefly, if the Blade can ever build any kind of normal base. Exploding crystal fields, black holes and blue stars, and now planet cores. What happened to a good old fashioned building on a moon?)

In the end, Lance just wanders absently through the hallways, walking without any real goal. It gives him a chance to think, and there are a lot of thoughts on his mind these days. Mostly it’s worry for Shiro—what happened to him? Is he okay? Was he captured by the Galra somehow, or did he get flung somewhere else entirely? Is he even alive? (No, of course he’s alive. He’s Shiro. He wasn’t dead the last time and he can’t be dead this time. He’s alive. He’s alive.)

But there are other thoughts, too, that worm their way into his mind like insidious, traitorous little shadows. Mostly, all he can think of to himself is how useless he’s been for the past few weeks, ever since the battle against Zarkon. He’d helped in that fight and given it everything he’d had—energy, combat skills, piloting abilities, whatever he had to give, he gave.

But after…ever since that fight, there hasn’t been much he can do to contribute. Mostly they’ve just been searching for Shiro, trying everything they can to figure out where he is and bring him back. And Lance has done everything he can to contribute there: he’s flown scouting missions to search a new area, or escorted the princess or Coran in his Lion to places to investigate, or engaged in the occasional skirmish with the other paladins.

But he’s not fooling himself in the long run—that stuff is all little more than busywork. He can’t contribute useful ideas and theories like Hunk and Pidge can, he can’t take care of the advanced technical stuff like Coran, can’t do all the diplomacy or magic like Allura. Even Keith has more to contribute now—maybe he can’t do that other stuff, but he’s at least calling shots and combining everyone else’s ideas into something useful. But Lance? Lance’s thing is sharpshooting—Shiro even acknowledged it—but there’s not much use for a sharpshooter in a search and rescue.

Lance bites his lip as he walks. Quiznak. And he was so sure he’d finally figured out what his position on the team was. He’d finally been starting to feel useful, after Beta Traz. Recognized. But all that’s vanished the moment Shiro di…disappeared.

There’s got to be something he can do to contribute. Some way to get stronger, some way to help find Shiro. Some way to be useful. He hates feeling like dead weight, especially when they’re already down a team member and facing more than one crisis.

“What are you doing down here?”

Lance starts at the digitized voice, and turns around in surprise. One of the Blade agents is standing only a few paces behind him, ramrod straight with the signature blade hilt peeking out over one shoulder. Like most of the Marmorites here, he’s wearing his mask and hood, which explains the odd, filtered quality of the voice.

“Answer immediately,” the Marmorite says, taking another step forward.

Lance holds up his hands placatingly. “Woah! Hey there. Sorry, I was just taking a walk to clear my head. I, uh, actually don’t even know where I am right now,” he admits, after a quick glance around.

He can’t see the Marmorite’s face, but he has a distinct impression the guy is not pleased. “You should not leave the command center,” he says coldly. “Return to it at once.”

“Um. Sure,” Lance says, a little uneasily. This guy is practically bristling, and it makes Lance a bit nervous. Kolivan is pretty cool, and Lance has a lot of respect for that guy, but he’s reminded again that a lot of these other lower-ranking Marmorites don’t seem to like the paladins all that much. “If you could just point me in the right direction, or…” He pauses. “Actually. Do you guys have a training deck or something? Maybe a shooting range?”

Because if he’s going to be stuck here for any length of time, he might as well use it to try and get stronger in some way. Maybe he’s useless searching for Shiro, but maybe if he works hard he can prove he’s at least an asset in combat. Maybe he can at least be slightly less dead weight, then, if Allura and Keith and the others can trust him to handle himself competently there.

The Marmorite lets out a snort of disgust. “We need no shooting range. We have no use for a coward’s weapon.”

Lance feels faintly insulted by this. He wants to snap something back in retort, but holds his tongue, out of nervousness more than diplomacy. He’s never seen any of them use firearms, but he guesses maybe that makes sense. They are the Blade of Marmora, after all. They’re all used to fighting in close combat. Maybe being at range seems cowardly, to them.

It isn’t, Lance tells himself firmly. He’s definitely not a coward. Not when it matters. He’s saved his friends lives with his rifle before. He’s supported his team mates. That’s what’s important.

That’s what he tells himself, but it feels a little hollow in his heart.

“We do have a training deck,” the Blade continues, voice a little spiteful, “But you are not permitted within it. You are not a Blade. You have not unlocked a Blade. You are not of the blood or the brotherhood. Return to the command center immediately and do not wander.”

“Okay, okay,” Lance says, holding up his hands placatingly again. He doesn’t like the way this guy seems irritated, and it’s probably best to play nice for now, no matter how much of a jerk he’s being. “Easy there, big guy. I was just looking for a way to do some training, there’s no need to get upset. I might not be in your fancy club but I’m a paladin of Voltron and we’re trying to help you guys out, so I figured training would be okay. I’m not trying to steal you guys’ fancy Marmorite secrets or anything, so if you just point me—“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish. The Blade moves with stunning speed, the same speed Ulaz had possessed when they’d first encountered him on the Castle of Lions. He leaps forward and slams Lance into the closest wall face-first before Lance can so much as yelp in surprise. Lance’s head cracks against the metal walls hard enough to leave stars dancing in front of his vision for a moment, and before he can recover his right arm is wrenched painfully behind his back. Lance gasps as he feels the strain of it in his shoulder, and realizes that just with a minuscule amount of extra pressure it will definitely be dislocated.

Lance clenches his jaw in pain, and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to try and get his bearings. There are still little spots in in his vision, and his arm already aches, both at the shoulder and at the wrist where the Marmorite has twisted it. It hurts like hell, but he’s had worse—like that one time he nearly got killed trying to save Coran. He braces his free left arm against the metal and twists his head to try and glare at his attacker. “Hey, what the hell are you doi—“

The touch of sharp metal at his throat is enough to silence him abruptly. Lance can just barely see the glow of purple reflected off the metal walls, and realizes with a twist in his gut that the Marmorite has his titular blade resting against Lance’s carotid artery. The blade is oddly warm, not like standard human steel, but Lance has a feeling the end result will be the same regardless of where the metal comes from.

He goes very carefully still, and just focuses on breathing, and trying to keep his hammering heartbeat from thudding straight out of his chest.

“How dare you disrespect us,” the Blade snarls. There’s cold fury in his filtered voice, but for all that his blade and his hand remain remarkably steady as he keeps Lance pinned a hairsbreadth from death. “Our culture. Our name. We have survived for centuries in the shadows, planning and fighting and sacrificing, while you pathetic humans lived in ignorance and naivety on your precious Earth because of us! How dare you disrespect the name of Marmora after everything we have done. You know not what that name even means.”

Oh. Oh, quiznak, Lance screwed up real big this time. He never thought a stupid little nickname would cause quite this bad a reaction, but this guy is raging mad, enough to take a risk like assaulting a paladin. Kolivan has stressed neutral relations with them at least, knowing the importance of the Voltron Alliance working with the Blade of Marmora, but this…this is crazy.

“I’m sorry,” Lance says, very carefully, so the blade against his neck doesn’t dig in too deeply. He can already feel a tiny trickle of blood running down the black undersuit of the paladin armor as it is. There’s a faint tremor from nerves in his voice, but he tries to sound as calm as possible. He has a feeling these guys won’t react well to fear. “I didn’t mean anything insulting by it. Nicknames are just a friendly way to interact with people where I come from. I didn’t realize it would be disrespectful but I won’t do it again—“

“You child,” the Blade interrupts him, sounding disgusted. “Is this but a game to you? Some sort of friendly play-time? Ridiculous. You think yourself a paladin but you’re nothing more than a mewling coward with a coward’s weapon and a coward’s arrogance. You haven’t the right to speak of us.”

That stabs more deeply than the Blade’s sword currently does, and Lance fights hard to keep the cringe off his face. He’s not…he’s not any of those things. He’s not. He’s a paladin and a valued member of the team, and he’s not a coward. Shiro had said as much.

But Shiro’s not in charge any more, a traitorous little voice hisses in his head. It doesn’t matter what he thinks. He’s not here, and you haven’t made an ounce of difference getting him back, have you?

Lance wishes that thought didn’t hurt as much as it does.

“I must respect your leader,” the Blade continues, sounding furious. “He has unlocked the Blade.  Kolivan requires it. But you, you haven’t the right to be amongst the Blades. You have not earned our respect. And you do not know how to give it.”

The Blade’s claws dig into Lance’s wrist a little deeper. The armor deflects any actual injury, but Lance can feel the pressure on his shoulder increase, and he hisses as he tries to twist to compensate before his shoulder is completely dislocated. It’s difficult with the blade at his neck, and he feels the sharp edge dig a little deeper into his skin before he freezes with a wince.

“I do not like you paladins,” the Blade says after a moment. “I trust Kolivan’s leadership, but I do not like your peoples’ arrogance. Your brashness. Your disrespect. You rushed a plan that should have been aborted. You sent inexperienced soldiers to handle tasks that never should have been handled by them.”

“I think you’re forgetting that we won,” Lance hisses back, wincing when he feels another trickle of blood drip down onto his shoulder. “We beat Zarkon. We thrashed half his fleet. That’s what you’ve been working towards for centuries, right?”

“You cost us lives that never should have been lost!” the Blade snaps back. “All of our brothers and sisters are willing to give their lives to the cause, but with reason. Antok should not have been lost. Thace should not have been lost. Ulaz should not have thrown his cover and his life away for you people. Because of you paladins we have lost many of our order when none should have been lost at all. We have sacrificed for this cause more than any of you! What have you given?”

We lost somebody too! Lance almost screams back. Except he can’t do it. To shout that would be to admit that Shiro’s dead for certain to himself, would make it real, and he…he can’t. He can’t let himself think that. Not even to defend himself. No matter how much he’s uncertain about whether or not the statement is true.

Instead, he hisses, “We left our homes to join the cause. I was out there fighting Galra ships. All of us paladins were. We put our lives on the line to fight Zarkon directly.”

“From the safety of your precious Lions,” the Blade says, sounding disgusted again. “Your leader at least showed some bravery, entering Zarkon’s ship alone to take part in the Blade of Marmora’s mission. Your former leader as well, attacking the fleet on his own. What have the rest of you done? Nothing. None of you are deserving of the title paladin. Or of those Lions. Little, arrogant, disrespectful coward, you don’t deserve to be here.”

Lance doesn’t have time to feel the sting in those words; he’s too busy hearing the rage in them. This guy is furious, and he’s got all this pent-up anger at the paladins and all the recent events that’s finally found an outlet—Lance.

Oh God, he realizes, with a cold stab of terror. This guy is really going to kill me.

Pleasantries are done with. Lance is all for trying to play nice, but not when his life is on the line. He tries to twist, using some of the grapple exercises Shiro and Allura had run them through in training to break himself free. But the Blade is equal to that, and he outweighs Lance by at least a hundred and fifty pounds. It’s almost child’s play for him to slam Lance back into the wall and re-secure the blade against his throat. Lance gasps in pain, and tries to scramble for his bayard—but it’s dematerialized on his right side in the armor’s storage, and his right arm is still wrenched behind him and strained to the point of breaking. He can’t reach it with his left, pinned like he is to the wall—and even if he could, his bayard is sort of useless with only one hand.

A coward’s weapon, he thinks bitterly. Yeah. Maybe. He loves the blue rifle, loves how sleek and elegant but still powerful it can be, but at the moment it’s useless. He desperately wishes he had Keith’s sword right about now, or even Pidge’s little taser.

But he doesn’t. He’s a ranged fighter, and he’s outclassed here, and he knows it. And so does the Blade. He feels the sharp edge press deeper into his neck, and even if it’s cowardly he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Let him go!”

Lance snaps his eyes open at the furious snarl, and the blade stops digging into his neck. He glances around wildly as best as he can pressed up against the wall, and spots the speaker just down the hall. It’s Keith—and he looks livid.

Lance has never been so glad to see Keith show up out of nowhere.

Lance can feel the Blade shifting his weight as he turns slightly, and winces as it pulls painfully at his arm, letting out a soft hiss of pain before he can stop himself. The Blade doesn’t seem to care. Lance can’t see his face, but he’s sure that mask is focused on Keith now.

“Initiate,” the Blade says finally. His voice is cold, and full of clearly forced politeness. “I must respect you because you have earned a Blade, even if I disagree with an outsider holding one. Kolivan has chosen, and I respect and trust Kolivan. Your Blade speaks for you. But do not be foolish enough to think you have the right to give me orders, initiate. As a Blade, you are below me.”

Lance winces again as he feels the Blade shifting behind him once more, and knows the agent’s attention is back on him. “And you have no say in this matter—you do not understand what this insult means, either. What it is to treat the name of Marmora with such disrespect. He must learn that lesson. Knowledge or death. Sometimes, they come together.”

Lance feels the Blade’s fingers tightening on his wrist again, and hears the scrape of claws against armor. He bites his tongue to keep from yelling when the pain in his shoulder grows worse.

Keith doesn’t look impressed by the little speech in the least. His eyes narrow, and he glares straight at the Blade. “I’m not asking you as a Blade holder,” Keith says, his voice oddly cold and steely. “I am telling you, as a paladin of Voltron, and the acting head of Voltron—you will release that paladin, under my command, or I will put my sword straight through you.”

Lance’s eyes widen at that. And they go wider still when Keith drops his hand to his side, and the red bayard—not his fancy Galra knife—materializes in his hand. It glows with bright red energy as the bayard forms into the full blade, and although Keith keeps it at his side, the meaning is clear. He glares at the Blade unflinchingly, and repeats, “So let. Him. Go.”

And Lance can’t help but stare, because this is Keith for sure, but he’s never seen Keith look so furious before. Sure, Keith is probably the one with the biggest anger issues on the whole team, and everyone knows that, even if he’s been tempering it better since taking over. Keith’s the shoot-first-and-ask-questions-never guy. Lance has known that since day one. Angry is his thing, but this, this is different. It’s not the wild, fiery rage Keith can work himself into, when he lashes out just for the sake of it.

No, this is something else—focused, almost cold, but still intense in its own way. Keith is restraining himself, not leaping into the fight thoughtlessly. But there’s power in his stance and his glare and his words, and Lance doesn’t doubt for a second that Keith will do exactly as he says to protect Lance, if the Blade forces his hand. It’s fury, but it’s controlled, focused, and something about that—some piece of it almost reminds Lance of Shiro.

And for the first time, Lance realizes he’s actually seeing Keith as a leader figure. He’s been taking orders for weeks, because Shiro wanted them to, but this is the first time he’s really seen it himself. This is more than just team mates looking out for each other—any of them would do that, and even Keith has done it before. This is different—this is Keith taking responsibility for those under his command and using whatever power he has at his disposal to shield them, no matter the cause. It doesn’t matter if he knows Lance inadvertently caused the fight—he fully intends to end it, one way or another.

It’s different than how Shiro would handle it, maybe. But for the first time since that final battle against Zarkon, Lance doesn’t resent Keith being in charge. Because suddenly, he’s seeing exactly what Shiro saw. And stunned as he is, suddenly, he gets it.

The Blade seems to see it, too. Lance feels a spark of terror in his heart as the Blade shifts against his neck again, and winces as the prick of steel digs a little deeper into his skin. He can feel that this guy wants so badly to shred him to pieces.

But he doesn’t act, and that alone is enough to tell Lance the guy is taking Keith’s declaration seriously.

After a long moment, the agent finally speaks. “You were granted a Blade. Few receive this honor. You have earned the respect of our leader. Yet you would turn on your own bloodline—your own order—your own family?”

He sounds disgusted. Furious. But also incredulous.

Keith doesn’t bat an eye at the words, and snaps back with his own response without hesitation, voice still cold and furious but controlled. “They were all my family before any of you ever were, when it mattered. I know who I am, and I know what’s most important to me. I declared it before, and by Blade accepted that and was awakened. If you can’t accept that truth, then I think that’s your problem, not mine.”

His stance shifts just slightly, but it’s enough to bring the red and silver blade of the red paladin forward into greater focus. “Don’t make me say it again, Blade,” Keith snarls. “Release him now.”

The silence is so strong it almost hurts, and Lance finds himself holding his breath as he waits. His life is literally on a razor’s edge and he’s helpless to do anything about it, and it’s terrifying. Especially when he can feel how badly this guy wants to kill him.

But after a terrifyingly long series of ticks, the Blade at Lance’s neck finally pulls away, and the grip on his wrist releases. The Blade gives him a hard shove, and Lance slams off the wall and onto his side on the ground, but he’s free, at least. Lance winces and immediately cradles his right arm against his chest with his left, biting his tongue again to keep from either yelling in pain again or cursing up a storm—at this point he’s really not sure which.

The Blade stands over him, glaring down at Lance with his creepy three-eyed mask. “Do not. Ever. Treat the name of Marmora or our brotherhood so flippantly again, little, arrogant coward. Or I will not spare you. No matter what your leader thinks, and no matter his blood.”

Lance stares upward at him, and swallows after a moment, eyes wide. “Um. R-right. Will do. Sorry for the confusion.”

The Blade snorts, and finally sheathes his glowing sword on his back. He gives Keith one last look, and then turns and stalks down the hall, until he turns a corner and is out of sight.

Almost as soon as the Blade backs off Keith is between him and Lance, and he remains that way, watching defensively, until the agent is finally gone. Only when they are completely alone again does he dematerialize his bayard and turn around to face Lance. “Hey. You okay?”

Lance stares at him. That cold, controlled intensity from earlier is gone now, and he’d almost swear he’d imagined it, if he hadn’t seen it chase off an angry Blade of Marmora with his own eyes.

“Uh. Fine,” Lance answers after a moment, when Keith frowns at his silence. “Alive, anyway. Which is…more than I was expecting.” He shifts awkwardly off of his side into a sit, back against the wall, and winces when it jars his sore arm. “Ow. Quiznak, I thought that guy was gonna rip my arm off.”

Keith offers a hand—his left, mindful of Lance’s injury—and Lance takes it, allowing Keith to help haul himself to his feet. “Doesn’t look dislocated,” he says, once Lance is standing again, “But we can have Coran take a look in a bit. How’s the neck?”

Lance feels at the injury tentatively with his fingertips, grimacing at the blood that coats the paladin’s glove. But it doesn’t feel too deep—more like half a dozen superficial slices where the Blade had kept readjusting his sword. “Think I’ll live,” he says after a moment. “Just need a bandage. I don’t think he cut anything serious….but he was sure thinking about it.”

“Yeah.” Keith’s expression goes from concerned to angry in less than a second. “What the hell were you thinking, Lance? Why would you piss off that guy? Why would you push any of them, but especially that guy?”

Lance stares at him incredulously. The words are the same familiar argumentative tone as always, but there’s something else behind that anger again. Like before, it’s not Keith’s usual prickly irritation or rage; there’s cold control and concern buried in his expression and his voice. Once again, something about it tickles at Lance’s memory and reminds him of Shiro, who rarely got angry but did always have that measure of discipline and control even when he was lecturing them on a screw-up.

So when Lance answers, it’s not with his usual argumentative snark, the way he usually does when Keith annoys him. He answers like he might have with Shiro, almost without thinking about it. “I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t trying to piss him off or anything, I was just trying to clear my head, and maybe find a training deck or something so I could at least try to do something useful while you guys were all busy with the science-and-rescue stuff. I didn’t think he was going to flip out that badly over a little nickname!”

Keith looks exasperated, and shakes his head. “These guys take everything very seriously,” he says after a moment. “Their whole society and culture is very important to them. They don’t give away information so easily. They don’t like working with outsiders. They almost turned me and Shiro away the first time, and even working with us is a huge break in centuries of tradition and secrecy. And they’re not like the Galra Empire, but strength and courage are still really important things to them. You don’t insult a warrior to his face.”

“I wasn’t trying to!” Lance says, indignant. And he really wasn’t. It’s just another screw-up on his part; apparently he can’t even do not pissing off the tentative ally by doing nothing correctly.

Keith sighs and crosses his arms, looking frustrated. He seems to be thinking for a moment, and Lance swears he hears him muttering something under his breath about focus. Then he says more calmly, “Okay. Look. I know it’s not completely your fault. That guy…he’s never really liked us from the beginning. Him and a few others. They weren’t happy about me having a Blade either, and they weren’t happy about having to ally with us. Some of the Blade members think bringing down the Galra Empire should have been a task for only the Galra itself. There’s a lot of anger there and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

And Lance stares in surprise, because is Keith actually trying to reassure him? To mediate?

“Just…” Keith sighs again. “Look, just take it easy around these guys. Stick with us, and don’t talk to them unless you have to, or unless someone like Kolivan is present. The higher members of the order understand the necessity of an alliance, but others…” He shrugs. “Don’t give them a reason to try and stab you again, got it? I know you think you’re being friendly, and maybe on Earth you are, but we’re not on Earth, and these guys are dangerous. Really dangerous.”

Lance only catches it for a fraction of a second, but for just that little fraction, Keith looks exhausted. And it hits him rather suddenly that all this can’t be easy on Keith, either. Taking over a roll he clearly doesn’t want, with the way he keeps insisting on just holding that place until the real leader returns. Trying to hold the line between two groups he belongs to, especially when tensions are getting high and things are starting to break up. Knowing the danger and living with it anyway—and making sure the rest of them live through it, too. And that’s on top of all the stuff Keith’s learned recently about his heritage and his family, and the questions he’s still got to have.

Yeah, that’s really not something Lance envies him for. Any of it.

He grimaces a little, and stares at the floor. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll try to be more careful. And, uh…I’m sorry.”

It grates to apologize to Keith sometimes, but this feels like something he needs to say regardless. But Keith blinks at him and looks deeply confused. “What?”

“For…look, I didn’t piss that guy off on purpose, and it sounds like he didn’t like me or any of us paladins anyway to begin with, but…I still hope I didn’t screw anything up with these guys. And I’m sorry if we did. I know we need them.” He hesitates. “And I know you need to be on good terms with them, too, so you can learn more about your family. And I’m sorry if I screwed that up, too.”

And he means that last part especially. He gets the necessity for diplomacy, but even more important to Lance is family. He’d be furious if he needed to play nice with some group just to be able to see his mom and dad and brothers and sisters again, and some idiot screwed it up because they couldn’t keep their tongue in check. And he can’t even begin to comprehend what it might be like to not have a family always be there for you, but he knows if he were in Keith’s place he’d want to get those answers so bad it would physically hurt. If he screwed that up…

But Keith shakes his head. “Relax. It’s fine. I’m pretty solidly in Kolivan’s good graces…you haven’t cost us anything.” He considers a moment, staring at the wall, and then then adds slowly, “Besides. Even if you did completely ruin everything…you heard what I told him. You guys were first. You were all there when it mattered. I’m not sacrificing you or any of the other paladins to track down family that’s never been around before now. If I have to pick, I pick you guys. I did it before, and I’ll do it again, every time.”

Lance stares. Keith’s still looking at the wall, looking a little uncomfortable, and Lance supposes that makes sense. Keith’s never been the touchy feely type, or the type for grand gestures and poetic words. If he’s not shouting angrily he’s usually the one on the team prone to being completely silent, and only speaking or acting when needed or called on. So he’s never really realized just how much Voltron has meant to Keith until now. He’s known Keith has always been incredibly devoted to the mission, sure, willing to take dangerous risks and examine situations on a broad scale to fight for the universe. But he’s never understood until this moment what Voltron meant to Keith personally. That it’s his family. That it’s the only family he’s ever really had.

And that he’d apparently turned away a chance to find his real flesh and blood family for all of them, and that he’d just risked it again to save Lance’s life without a shred of hesitation.

And to a person like Lance, where family is so intrinsic, that’s…that’s a huge gesture. Bigger than grand words and declarations could ever convey.

Keith tilts his head a little, finally looking back at Lance and frowning. “Hey…you okay? For real? He didn’t hit you in the head or anything, did he?”

“No,” Lance says, shaking his head to snap out of his thoughts. “Well I mean, yes, but I’m fine. Just, uh…thanks. A lot.”

Keith frowns. “Now I know you hit your head.”

Lance scowls at him. “Gee, thanks. No, really. I mean it, okay? I know I don’t say it a lot—“

“—or ever—“

“—but really, thanks for the save,” Lance presses on. “And…and for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing an okay job as leader. Just. So you know.”

Keith blinks at him. “Thanks. But it’s only temporary. You won’t have to put up with it forever.”

“Obviously,” Lance says, with a smirk that he realizes doesn’t feel as forced as he was expecting. “I mean, we’re gonna find Shiro. He’s probably out there drinking nunville on a sweet beach planet and wondering what the hell is taking us so long. But I mean, in the meantime, you’re doing an okay job. Y’know. For not being Shiro.”

Strangely, this seems to reassure Keith more than the direct thanks. Keith doesn’t quite show it, but Lance just barely catches a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. Lance wonders if it has to do with confirmation that he’s doing okay with his job, or being relieved that somebody else is actually backing him up on the idea that Shiro’s still out there with sincerity, and not desperation or denial.

And Lance realizes that now that he’s said it out loud—yeah, he does believe Shiro is still out there somewhere. He’d had his doubts before, but not anymore. He thinks they can do it. He thinks they can find him, especially with Keith leading the charge. He’s never going to forget that cold fury and unwillingness to back down that Keith showed when defending him, and Shiro’s a part of that, too; there’s no way they can fail with that kind of determination on their side. And in the meantime, Shiro picked a better successor than probably even he’d realized.

Lance thinks, for the first time since that battle against Zarkon, that maybe things will be okay.

“Okay, well, let’s get back to the command room, then,” Keith says, gesturing over his shoulder. “Before we come across any other Blade members. They probably won’t give you any crap if I’m around, but I’d rather just avoid that conflict entirely.”

“That doesn’t sound very red paladin-y at all,” Lance says with a smirk. “Shiro will be so proud.”

Keith rolls his eyes, and starts heading up the hallway. Lance runs after him hastily to keep up, falling into step next to him. They make it a full hallway without issues before Lance asks, “How’d you know to come look for me, anyway?”

Keith shrugs. “I noticed you disappeared at some point, and decided to track you down while Pidge and Hunk were going on about their teleportation theory. They were arguing these complex equations with Kolivan and Rakkor and it was all going right over my head, anyway. Allura had it covered, so…”

“Oh, man, is that just as confusing to you?” Lance asks, with a trace of relief. “I couldn’t understand a damn thing they were saying. I felt totally useless in there.”

“Me too,” Keith admits. “I just don’t let on. Look, none of us can be good at everything. You don’t have to be useful every second. That's kind of the point of all the different Lions, right? Pidge and Hunk have got this covered now, but you’ll have ways to help too in different scenarios. And in the meantime, if you really want to work on something—make it your poker face, and get better at not pissing these guys off.” He gives Lance a pointed look.

Lance actually laughs at that. “Okay, I get it! I get it. I will stay put and not piss off the angry Galra ninjas.” He claps a hand over his mouth a second later, and hastily glances around the halls. Thankfully, they’re empty.

Keith stares at him, and says bluntly, “Might want to work on that real fast.”

Okay, yeah. Maybe a little. But at least he knows Keith’s got his back, not just as a teammate, but as family. And even when Shiro comes back—because he will come back—Lance has a feeling that’s a lesson he’s never going to forget.