Bohemian Rhapsody was a beautiful song, even though it brought too much conflicting thoughts and feelings up. A sense of unlimited hope for the tomorrow and yet the feeling of a never extinguishable fatigue. Lance would forever be amazed by the song. He first heard it when very young, his papa very adamant on showing the great classics to his children. Lance grew up listening to that song, he learned English with it, hell, he even learnt how to play it on some instruments—he could not play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on a piano to save his life, but he could play Bohemian Rhapsody with his eyes closed. That's how much of an influence the song was in the boy's life.

So it was not surprising when he would catch himself singing it in his mind, under his breath, or even out loud for the world to hear. The world could use some great music. And it was not surprising when this habit stuck with him for his whole life. Singing softly while doing homework. Sighing the lyrics out when feeling down. Screaming the melody when excited. Just keeping the song in his life unconsciously. He was never bothered by it, even when he could not think about anything else but the song.

Lance could say with no doubts Bohemian Rhapsody was a constant in his life, one he appreciated very much. Even more fighting an intergalactic war, helped to keep him grounded.

Is this the real life?

Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide

No escape from reality

Open your eyes

Look up to the skies and see

When the beautiful princess said they would have to fight a war, Lance immediately heard the very first part of the song—his song—playing in repeat in his mind. Was that the real life? Was that just fantasy? He hoped so, but when he had to leave the Castle of Lions—Castle of Lions, can you blame him for thinking it was all a very believable fantasy?—to get Hunk's lion, his hopes of it all being just a very detailed dream were gone. He was then a warrior, fighting to protect the universe, and—more importantly—Earth. His Earth. His home. Where his family was, probably waiting for him to finish his education in the Garrison and come back to them.

Come back to a warm meal and comfy bed. To long hugs and brilliant smiles. To his mama fondly playing with his hair and his nephews enthusiastically telling him about the new game they made up last week.

God, he was terrified. He could not lose any of them, he promised himself he would not lose any of them, he swore to the universe in between the resonating lyrics of Bohemian Rhapsody in his mind that he would give everything he was with no hesitation if that meant they would be safe. Happy.

Lance swore to his family he would do anything he could so they could see the next day.

Anything.

I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy

Because I'm easy come, easy go

A little high, little low

Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me, to me

Mama, just killed a man

Put a gun against his head

Pulled my trigger, now he's dead

Mama, life had just begun

But now I've gone and thrown it all away

The galra were the enemy and Lance should not hesitate to fight them. To shoot them. It was their lives or his, and he chose his. Not because of him, but his life would cost the team their lives too and he promised his family he would protect them. That included his space family.

That didn't change the fact he preferred to fight against the sentinels. They were robots, not really sentient. He could take them down without remorse. Sadly, he couldn't say the same about the guards. Every shot was a torture, he didn't want to do more damage than just incapacitating them. Shoot the legs and they can't walk, shoot the arms and they can't fight. Shoot the head and they can't do both.

Lance hated it.

Maybe because he was human, and human story is filled with war. And wars are filled with innocents. Every time he shoot, he wondered if the guard had a family to go back to. He wondered if the galra had any idea of what exactly their empire was doing. He wondered if the galra was fighting willingly, or was somehow forced to join the cruel war.

He could clearly see his teammates didn't share his thoughts. He didn't blame them. It's so much easier to pick Black or White than to understand all the hues of Gray in between.

Focusing on the battlefield once more, the sound of his weapon piercing his mind loud enough to muffle the song playing for a few seconds.

He just prayed his mama would forgive the blood in his hands.

Mama, oooh

Didn't mean to make you cry

If I'm not back again this time tomorrow

Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters

Too late, my time has come

Sends shivers down my spine

Body's aching all the time

Goodbye everybody I've got to go

Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth

Everything happened like a blur. In a moment they thought everything was alright, the next they were fighting Lotor and his generals and a few moments later they were fighting the galra on Earth. First thing Lance thought, the ever present song playing in the back ground of his conscience, was that he failed. He failed to protect Earth. He failed to protect his home. He broke part of his promise.

The Universe was truly mocking him, wasn't it?

Cruel, cruel entity, the Universe either had an incredible pleasure in messing with the living, or it had an extremely strong sense of fairness and the living were the ones to blame. Both theories seemed plausible, together they tasted like truth.

Lance fiercely promised to keep the other half of his first promise even if it ripped him apart the moment he hugged his nephews. Staring at each member of his family, he screamed to the Universe—inside his mind, he didn't want them to think he had lost his mind yet—that he would fight, that he would not let them be taken from the world of living.

He was able to keep the promise. Because somethings were just impossible and for him to take down that galra ship alone was impossible. He would die there, he could feel his eyes closing and the voice of Freddy Mercury ringing in his ears. That same taste of fatigue came, and for a moment he truly related to the words Queen was telling him.

He wondered what mama would've said if she knew what her precious youngest was thinking.

Mama, oooh (anyway the wind blows)

I don't want to die

I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all

I see a little silhouetto of a man

Scaramouch, scaramouch will you do the fandango

Thunderbolt and lightning very very frightening me

He laughed. Sitting on the almost comfortable bed of his room, he watched his nephews sing the song of his life animatedly. His family joined soon after and he was sure everyone could hear their voices. Good. Let the Universe hear the voices of those Lance was giving his life to protect.

His team came to check some time later, and even he couldn't resist. Lance could proudly say his voice was the loudest.

Gallileo, Gallileo,

Gallileo, Gallileo,

Gallileo Figaro – magnifico

But I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me

He's just a poor boy from a poor family

Spare him his life from this monstrosity

Lance hated to receive information about the war. He knew it was necessary, but the simple fact that there was a war was enough for him to want to stay in bed and never get up. He also hated to see the others who were fighting the war with him. They did not deserve it. No one did.

Lance just wanted the war to stop.

He just wanted to go back to the Garrison days, where being slightly above the average was just as good as being a genius. Where he could take his time and polish himself carefully. Where his efforts were recognized, even if the Garrison followed the very strict rule of "Prize and Punishment". Where he was just Lance, the boy from Cuba. Where he was enough.

He wanted it all to stop.

Easy come easy go will you let me go

Bismillah! No we will not let you go - let him go

Bismillah! We will not let you go - let him go

Bismillah! We will not let you go let me go

Will not let you go let me go (never)

Never let you go let me go

Never let me go ooo

No, no, no, no, no, no, no

Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go

But he guessed he had no choice. War doesn't wait, war doesn't care. If you can fight you fight, if you can't you learn how to. There was no other escape from a war other than victory. No matter how much one may pray and hope. There needed to be a winner.

Lance knew Voltron needed to win if he wanted to keep his promise.

He also knew he didn't need to win to keep his promise.

With a bitter smile, Lance mumbled the lyrics of Bohemian Rhapsody, Shiro looking at him with concerned understanding.

Oh, Universe… What a devil.

Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me

For me

For me

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye

So you think you can love me and leave me to die

Lance would not fail. He would not. It was then or never, they either won or they won. No other options were allowed. Alongside his family, both the blood one and the bound one, Lance fought it the determination of a thousand warriors. If he wasn't too occupied focusing on his enemy—and trying to not get distracted by his personal soundtrack—, he would've noticed his teammates watching him.

To them, Lance was shining like a Sun. His back looked larger and his eyes were sharp. He had truly turned into a barrier. A barrier willing itself to stand tall despite the cracks. They let the vision of their Red Paladin burn his eyes and minds, filling them with the strength to keep standing, to keep fighting.

They would win the war.

Oh baby, can't do this to me baby

Just gotta get out just gotta get right outta here

Ooh yeah, ooh yeah

Nothing really matters

Anyone can see

Nothing really matters, nothing really matters to me

Lance could hear the cries and the yells. They had won. The war was over. He kept his promise. His lips curled into a soft smile, catching the eyes of Keith, their Black Paladin. Keith wobbled towards him, a tired smile in his face. He hugged Lance as soon as the boy was near enough.

The others joined the hug soon enough, nobody knew which tears were from who, they didn't care. They cared even less when Lance collapsed in their arms. So much blood painting the white armor a deep red. Keith desperately screamed for a doctor while he gently laid Lance on the ground, putting the Cuban's head on his lap.

Lance could hear his team's pleads, his family's worries, but not his song. His head sounded so empty without it. With a sigh, feeling the air of their victory wash over his sensitive skin, he finished the lyrics.

"Anyway the wind blows…"