A/N: Originally posted on ao3 under the pen name youngjusticewriter.


It's a joke; a phrase. And Keith, despite his lack of understanding when it social interactions (he stills doesn't get why Voltron is wrong when that's what Lance had asked for), knows that yet his lips twist into a grimace.

No one notices that, it might help that Keith is a "lone wolf", that he broods, that he never smiles. Never mind there's not much to smile about, he thinks and he can't help but glance at Shiro. (Sometimes when you lose something - someone - you can never get it back. Never have them remember what was; what you and him were.)

Because in the end, Keith hadn't even been a wolf. A half-blood or a magician despite how Lupa had said (practically growled in anger with eyes glinting dangerously at him and what he was - whatever he was) he reminded her of Bastet.

Bas, a Egyptian goddess, original of lions but later became the goddess of cats. Forever, cruelly, in battle with Apep every single night so Apep would never eat the sun. It was a stalemate of sorts. Apep would never eat the sun but he was never be truly killed. (No victory or death, a part of his mind whispers and if Keith's fists clench into his gloves no one notices that too.) Like most things in the "myths" that Keith knows better.

He never fit in; he never was a lone wolf despite the fact he could see and could fight like one (ruthless determination with everything he has). All he'd ever wanted was to fit, to click, to belong somewhere to something more than momentarily (his chapped lips against Shiro's - gods forbid if Garrison's golden boy, who was on the freaking brochures, had a hair out of place or in this case chapped lips - not chapped ones, instead of bringing his family like the Holts had Shiro brings him) and now Keith doesn't know for sure but he knows and dreads non the less.

Keith would take being a lone wolf over being a Galra but the universe and the gods had never cared for what Keith wanted.