.
.
At first, it looks like nothing more but a shimmer crossing over his vision.
It melds into a short, hunched figure passing in the background, before dissolving out of existence. He blinks rapidly, trying to refocus on his violet-hued and glowing surroundings, wincing slightly.
"Lotor?"
Keith's eyes narrow, roaming over him. They both have withdrawn into one of the stronghold's corridors for privacy and fortunately beyond the patrols of the Galra sentries. Beyond meddling and any amount of staring. Keith's tone rises in softness and deliberation, gravelly with concern. He's so peculiar, Lotor realizes with mounting, silent admiration. Irresistibly complex.
Perhaps that's common for most of the half Galra species like himself. It's no wonder he's drawn to them.
"Ah, yes…" Lotor says carefully, neutrally. "Of course. I'll be able to provide what your leader Kolivan requires of me. Additional spacecrafts should not be an issue either."
"Thanks," Keith whispers, tugging off his Marmora hood.
His black hair appears tousled and loose, hanging over Keith's brow. Lotor's fingers curl together sternly, before lifting and gently combing it out of Keith's left eye. The very tip of a rosy-lavender fingernail drags across Keith's cheekbone. It leaves a streak of blotchy, heated pink to pop against his pale skin.
It happens too often… Keith's naked body littering with scratches and fang-marks.
But never out of malicious intent. Never.
Lotor would sooner throw himself into the raging, ion-charged flames of the Kral Zera ceremony and end his reign completely.
He feels Keith begin to tense in anticipation, when their hips press up, Keith's back landing against the corridor's wall. "Was there… anything else of dire importance…?" Lotor murmurs, smirking and watching as Keith's irises darken away into thin slits of grey-blue.
There's no expectation of an answer, when Keith's lips pushes against his, opening up and exhaling to Lotor's mouth and his tongue nudging him open. Before he closes his eyes, Lotor notices the marring of greenish-yellow against Keith's temple and part of his forehead, as if his skull impacted a hard surface repeatedly. He intends to find out why it exists.
A breathless, light chuckle escapes him, reverberating between them when Keith's arms circle themselves and yank around Lotor's neck, dragging him in closer, tightening.
"My Lord Emperor, forgive me for the interruption…"
One of the sentries marches over, lacking any trace of humiliation or prudence about the situation, and bows. Keith's sinewy, armored leg begins to lower from wrapping around Lotor's waist.
"The Altean princess wishes to seek an audience with your Lordship."
Lotor untangles himself from his partner and straightens up, putting distance between them, clearing his throat. "Very good," he speaks up formally, flushing as brightly as Keith of this he is most certain. "Inform the Princess Allura that I shall join her briefly in the throne room."
As soon as the Galra sentry vanishes, marching away with heavy, dulled footsteps back to the main corridor, Lotor returns to the warmth he's been denied, burying his face into Keith's throat stubbornly.
He feels Keith's hands return, holding onto his sides.
"Whatever beautiful thought you are holding inside your mind at this moment… keep it alive for me," Lotor tells him quietly, grazing a featherweight kiss against Keith's pale, rounded ear.
Being separated like this, for movements, and then for phoebs, it's nearly exhausting.
"Mm, I gotta report back," Keith says lowly, nodding but tilting his head into Lotor's palm cradling him. His lips red-raw and swollen. He goes obediently pliant against the constant, grinding pressure of Lotor's mouth, licking within the depths and rolling their tongues heavily.
"Good boy…" Lotor breathes, exposing his frontal-fangs in a widening, proud smirk when Keith groans, unable to control his tremors, and flushes again. He needs those deep, steadying inhales, retreating from the corridor and from Lotor without saying anything, heading for another area of the central command ship. For now, it's acceptable. They're needed by the others in their mission.
In the more brightly lit, interconnecting corridors, he narrowly avoids getting clipped by Lance and Pidge zooming by on one of the hover-scooters for lifting and transporting machinery, hollering at the top of their lungs. Pidge tumbles off with another moment, violently landing on her shoulder and crying out.
Nearby, Hunk passes him in a deep, intense conversation with what Lotor recognizes as one of the head cooks of this warship. "You really want me to try the new recipe…?" Hunk asks uncertainly.
Theyre's more passing observations than matters that Lotor needs to involve himself in.
He glimpses Allura strolling by the bridge's entrance. "You summoned me, princess," Lotor announces, concealing his surprise through a lighthearted, teasing joke. Allura tuts, grinning.
"I do believe there's hardly such thing as summoning an Emperor in his own warship."
"Yes, that may be true. Forgive me, princess, but wasn't I to greet you in the throne room?" Lotor questions. He has to admit to being mildly intrigued by her willingness to maintain their friendly disposition even with their history and how Allura's hand rests to his forearm, leading him.
"There's no need for it," Allura says cheerfully. She politely entwines their arms, matching his stride. "Now… I wanted to thank you personally for inviting myself and Voltron…"
They walk along the two lowermost levels of the gigantic, stationary warship, conversing about their joint plans for the more ravaged planets and their lifeforms, and for the ones still enslaved by the rebellious Galra factions. "I may be able to persuade them, given we have been successful about obtaining the needed quintessence," Lotor muses, staring through a view-port into the dark, star-dotted chasm of outer space. He folds his arms. "This may be an odd thing to say, but… I feel as if this has happened before…" Allura frowns, and Lotor elaborates, unfolding an arm to gesture, "Perhaps with our fathers when they had been united as brothers-in-laws… I believe it is a feeling that has been nagging me."
"I would not doubt your feeling then," she says, inclining her chin and raising her eyebrows politely. Lotor can't describe it any better. He can only endure what this means for him.
Their conversation fades when Allura greets the other paladins crowding by some of the imperial guards, oohing and aahing about the newer, more presumably lethal weapons.
"So you just press this baby here, and POOF! dust to dawn?" Lance exclaims, a little too gleeful when the guard flirtatiously snuggles against Lance's back, guiding Lance's armored hands with their furred, mauve claws, positioning and wrapping Lance's fingers around the trigger.
"Oh god, that's really horrible," Hunk moans, porridge-grey and clutching his stomach.
"Hunk? You good?"
"Think it was the stew… oh my god…" A nauseatingly loud gurgling noise erupts from Hunk's belly. He bends forward suddenly, grasping his own knees, vomiting onto Lance's boots and the guard's uniform. The guard's hand on Lance's finger instinctively pulls on the trigger.
The vaporizer-weapon activates, jetting a bright blue light and engulfing a wide-eyed Keith.
It's only a tick, and then he's gone.
Lotor gawks at the pile of ashes left behind, breathing heavily, numb to the collective panic and screaming—
.
.
—a shimmer, iridescent and forming into the background—
"Lotor?"
He blinks.
Keith looks over him, eyes narrowing. The stronghold's corridor aglow in violet and pulsing energy. Lotor's mouth feels tacky, dry as brittle bone. Why does his chest feel so knotted up? His heart racing?
"Ah, yes," Lotor mumbles, palming over his face for a moment. "The spacecrafts as well…?"
"Kolivan asked about them on top of the surveillance files and the access codes to the Guirretan base outside the asteroid belt, yeah." At the following and nearly grim silence lingering between them, Keith scrunches his mouth and tugs off his hood, asking worriedly, "Lotor…? What is it?"
He doesn't—
"Nothing. I'm quite alright." Lotor gazes up, dropping his hand and his expression struggling to become neutral. "Let the Blades of Marmora know I'll arrange everything myself if need be."
A slow, tentative nod. "I gotta report in," Keith mumbles, eyeing him and softening against a close-lipped, fumbling kiss. Lotor grasps over his shoulders, rubbing down comfortingly as his partner whines out a trembling, delirious note, latching onto him and hugging Lotor's waist, dragging the tips of their noses together. A hot, pleasurable quiver bolts up Lotor's own spine.
"Of course."
Keith vanishes down another corridor, and Lotor follows him into another set of corridors until one of his sentries barrels right into him. "My Lord Emperor, forgive me for the interruption—"
"Inform the princess that I will address her concerns in the throne room," Lotor says curtly, smoothing back his pristine, silvery hair and glaring. He waits for a bow, and for the robot-sentry to march away with its command, turning around and heading towards the bridge.
Right next to him, Lance and Pidge zoom by on a hover-scooter, whooping and making a sharp right turn. Lotor witnesses as Pidge ends up sprawled on the floor, clutching her shoulder painfully.
As Lance jumps off the scooter to help her, calling her name, Lotor feels a violent, awful swooping in his gut. His skin feels irritable and clammy. He disregards the other two, hurrying towards the more open-air sector of the warship. Among the guards and sentries, Hunk walks alongside the central command ship's mechanic now promoted to head cook, furrowing his brow.
"You really want me to try the new recipe…?"
Lotor stops in front of them, his yellow eyes widening in terror. "No!" His voice rips out of him, drawing in the attention of two of the bigger guards. "No, you must not!"
Hunk takes a step back, putting up his hands defensively. "Uhhh…"
"My lord?"
"Seize him! Do not let him escape!" Lotor yells out, pointing towards the shocked, fearful cook being thrown down by the guards. Hunk ends up being grabbed as well, shoved down onto his knees while protesting. "Burn the food! All of it! Don't let anyone consume it!"
"Lotor?" Allura races over, panting and clenching at her robes. "What is all of this?!"
In the chaotic blur of emotions and motions, she leads him away from the increasing number of imperial guards and bystanders, tugging on his wrist. Lotor ends up seated on the floor, hands gripping his knees as Allura huffs down on him, her lips curling into a grimace. "Would you please mind explaining to me why you have ARRESTED one of my paladins?" she demands.
"Aah-I… …" He slumps over, his lavender-hued features contorting behind his fingers as Lotor covers his own face, sliding his hands downwards. "I feel like… I've been here before…"
He doesn't… none of this makes sense.
One of the guards approaches, stiffly bowing. "My lord, something has happened," she exclaims, passing one of the holo-devices to him with Allura peering curiously by Lotor's side. "We have secured the area and are maintaining an investigation, but there appears to have been a casualty during this…"
The amber holo-screen flickers to life, repeating a single piece of chrono.
Lotor's heart jumps into his throat. Keith, on screen, gets sucked into an airlock hatch, as it whirs open and tosses him into the dark-abyssal chasm of space without his helmet activating—
.
.
—it all goes so shimmery, blinding him—
"Lotor?"
Wasting no time, he pitches Keith aside and slams him up against a violet-glowing wall, neglecting the shout of Lotor's name and rushing for the adjacent corridor of the stronghold.
In the middle of sprinting for the opposite sector of the warship, Lotor collides into the two occupants of the Galra hover-scooter, knocking both Lance and Pidge onto the floor with painful, surprised groans. Within a couple of doboshes, he reaches the airlock hatch, pressing for an emergency shutdown of not just this hatch, but all of the nearby hatches in this sector.
The lights above dim, then rapidly blare into a quick succession of violet-pink flashes. Lotor gasps out in relief, clenching his fists. Sweat slicks into his long, silvery-white hair.
He's about to return to the bridge when a low, thunderous rumbling overtakes all sides of him.
.
.
Keith, impaled upon a platform beam that had fell loose from the ceiling, with fresh, red blood drooling off his lips — Keith, eyes glassy and bulging and deadened, arms flopping as Shiro and Coran yank him out of the malfunctioning trash compactor — Keith, wordlessly fainting, poisoned by one of Acxa's darts as she lashes out in a greedy, love-driven jealousy—
But, always—
Always—
He hears Keith calling his name (the fourteenth time? a twenty third time?) in the wash of lovely violet shimmer, and this time, Lotor says nothing and clasps onto Keith's hand, leading him.
When Lance and Pidge whiz by, yelling their enthusiasm, Lotor reaches out at the exact tick needed and catches Pidge one-armed. "Holy crow," Lance mumbles, scrambling down from the hover-scooter while Pidge stares over at Lotor in bemusement, still being cradled. "How'd you do that…?"
"I would recommend walking the rest of the way," Lotor says firmly, helping her back to her feet. He continues to lead Keith who now frowns at the back of Lotor's head, but doesn't pull away.
"You will be making the food for tonight's banquet, is that understood?" Lotor orders Hunk, interrupting his conversation with the warship's newest cook. The paladin hesitates, glancing at Keith who pointedly shrugs, but then agrees. Lotor makes eye-contact with the cook who blanches and salutes, nudging an elbow into Hunk's torso so Hunk clumsily salutes as well. "You will supervise."
So far, nobody seems to remember. Anything.
Lotor's fingers tighten to Keith's hand. Even Keith… he doesn't…
"Keith! Lotor!"
Allura waves to them, giving a friendly, small grin.
"My apologies, princess," Lotor murmurs, tilting his head in acknowledgment and watching her puzzled by his stern and ominous expression. "There is a delay to our business. I must take care of something else first."
She gazes between the two half-Galran beings, and then politely nods back, retreating for the corridor.
"I'm going to ask something of you, Keith," Lotor tells him, going for a cart of weapons and lifting the guard's vaporizer. The exact one. "I fear you will not like it."
"What is it?"
"A test." Lotor gently hands Keith the now whirring object, presenting the muzzle to his own chest and holding it steady. "I need to know if I can be harmed in this reality," he explains.
Despite Lotor's calming voice, Keith goes pale. "Reality? Lotor, what the hell is—?"
Lotor unholsters his stun-gun, raising it to the middle of Keith's eyes. "I need you… I need you to pull the trigger, Keith," he repeats, much to Keith's fear and indignation. "It is no longer a request."
"… I'm not gonna do that."
His fangs gleam out in the open, as Lotor clenches his jaw, trying to not quiver in his sorrow and his own terror. "Do not make this test about you. I do not want to do this." A period of silence follows, where Keith stares back into his eyes, lowering the vaporizer in his hand. Lotor's breathing hitches. "Very well," he murmurs, knocking the stun-gun to his own temple.
Keith's eyes widen.
"NO!"
Everything slows down, as if engulfed within the shimmering in front of Lotor's eyes. The figure in the background solidifies into a purple-and-yellow cloak, hunching over and glowering.
"You fool…" Haggar spits out.
"Somehow I had a notion it was you." Lotor doesn't remove the stun-gun from his flesh, but glowers right back at her. "It had the makings of a witch's influence all over it… …"
"Nothing and no one is worth the cost of your life."
"Is that why I am trapped in this hellish loop? Forced to watch the person I love die endlessly because you don't believe he is good enough?" He's already infuriated beyond compassion and patience, but watching Haggar shudder and hiss at the mention of Keith is enough to allow him to see red. "You have warped reality to your own gain, and it is revolting, and it is VILE—"
"It is what is necessary," she insists hoarsely. "To teach you that love is weakness."
"Your weakness, not mine. Or else you would have rid of my stain of an existence and taken Zarkon's throne for your own." Lotor allows a cruel, ugly laugh to escape him, reverberating in the iridescent, all-consuming shimmer when she doesn't offer a rebuttal. The stun-gun lowers.
He takes a step forward in Haggar's direction, those yellow eyes slitting dangerously.
"If you ever manipulate him, or any fragment of our time together again, I will sever all ties with you. You would do well to remember I do not make false promises, Mother… …"
To his overwhelming relief, the shimmer dissipates into nothingness.
Time resumes its pace, with Keith locking his arms around Lotor's wrists, but finds the stun-gun already clattered to the ground. The question burns in Keith's eyes, but Lotor shushes him, embracing him fiercely and savoring the familiar, heavy rhythm of Keith's breathing and his heart.
He needn't explain right this tick.
Not right now.
.
.
Voltron isn't mine. Cool cool cool it's time for me to post my gift for Keith Birthday Exchange on Tumblr! I was assigned to Kei (fiery-mullet) also on Tumblr and I'm not gonna lie,,, I really liked what I did with this. I've never tried a time loop fanfiction idea! IT HURTS MY SOUL AND I REALLY REALLY REALLY LIKE IT. I hope you guys liked it too and the sweet sublime SUFFERING mmm please feel free to leave a comment/thought on this! I wanna know if anyone had an emotional reaction to this!