Author's Notes: Ahhh I guess we're doing this!
Please read this, guys! I'm posting this story as a result of a fic exchange with fellow author and friend, IcyPanther. The rules were as follows:
1. Story must revolve around Lance losing his ability to speak. The HOW is fair game.
2. Story must be between 20k to 100k words (a real test for Icy)
3. Story is a gen fic (I have nothing against klance but this fic will be pure bromance)
3. Story will be posted on Nov. 1 and finished by Jan. 31, 2018 (a real test for heyheroics)
5. The following lines must be used somewhere within the story:
Icy to heyheroics: "We're here to help you"
heyheroics to Icy: "Just let me do this"
PLEASE keep in mind that I am unable to commit to a proper posting schedule and will be updating this fic as I complete chapters. I'm going to get them out as soon as I can, guys. Thank you for your understanding on this!
In the meantime, do go visit IcyPanther and her fantastic work (her fic for this challenge is The Purity of Sin and you must go check it out!) and leave her a review to show her how much you appreciate all of her hard work!
xxx
Lance tries to remember how he got here but his brain is fogged up like the bathroom mirror after a long, pampered shower.
Something is relentlessly pounding. Repetitive like a terrified heartbeat. No. No, no, the pounding is a heartbeat, his, demanding attention by sending painful pulses through his skull.
This is now, though. Happening right now. Think further back.
Let's see. Pain. Lots of it. He doesn't sense Blue, but someone or something is there. He can feel it. He knows they are angry—angry at him? Did he make someone mad? Lance winces. Wants to apologize. But.
Something clasps around the scruff of his neck and lifts him like he weighs nothing. Shakes him violently and Lance feels his body respond about as well as a ragdoll.
Ah. That's right. Someone is beating the shit out of him. And from the looks of things, he hasn't yet given them what they want.
…what is it they want, again?
"Answer me."
But what was the question, Lance instinctively wants to ask because he honestly can't remember, and perhaps he should be concerned about that.
When he was younger and his older brother took him for a ride on the back of his motorcycle, the world passed by so fast it was just a blur of beautiful colors, like smeared paint on the canvasses his sister used to create. This is what his memory feels like right now, only the colors are… less stunning. There's a lot of black. A lot of purple.
…Oh.
Galra.
The thought makes him attempt a groan, but he only manage a thick, throaty exhale instead because, oh yeah, interesting little tidbit: he can't talk. Not even in a stubborn, defiant "I'll never tell" kind of way, either. Lance literally, physically, cannot speak.
Which is an absolute shame because there is a hot whisper brushing dangerously against his face now, and Lance blanches because there is a reason to feel afraid.
"If I cannot make you talk, I will at least make you scream."
And Lance blanches because no, he cannot even give that much.
48 hours earlier
Lance is like a fish in that he will die without water. Space has turned out to be, much to his childhood expectations, amazing, but its inescapable vastness can sometimes leave him feeling dry. He misses rain. The beach. He misses surfing. Finding weird shells on the ocean floor and handing them off to his Mamá to adorn her shelves with. Here in space, the castleship doesn't need water to float or drift along and Lance struggles to find those old comforts.
So when Allura sees their ragged, tired faces and suggests they take a day to relax at the nearest Space Mall, Lance practically buzzes with excitement. There are a number of malls in space, as it turns out, and they are all the same in the sense that they are all uniquely different, but the idea is the same as a mall found back on Earth, and those similarities are, for now, enough for Lance.
Plus, Coran, in all of his mustached glory, has graced him and the other Paladins with a little spending money. Pidge had laughed and called it their allowance. You know, for kicking Galra butt and cleaning up the universe and other such space chores.
Lance pairs himself up with Hunk when everyone splits up. Hunk is an old comfort from home-home, and Lance is grateful to have someone like Hunk with him in this crazy, perilous, wacko space adventure hero thing that they're on. Being with Hunk reminds him of pre-Garrison days, when the weight on their shoulders was feather-light and Lance's endgame was to be a fighter class pilot, better than a certain mullet, with Hunk as his trusted engineer. When hanging out wasn't burdened with the backburner thought that it might be the last time because, space, as it turns outs, is actually a pretty dangerous place.
Simpler times. Those days feel so long ago now. Time is a little wonky out here in space, days and weeks stretch a little differently to where Lance actually has no idea how long it's been since it all started, but Lance feels older.
"I love space malls," Hunk gushes shamelessly. "They're just so, like, out there, you know? No pun intended, heh. All this weird alien technology you'd never find back on Earth. I mean look at this; they have advanced rebreathers here, on clearance! Lance, can you imagine being able to breathe freely underwater without your helmet? I mean, I guess if you asked nicely Pidge could come up with something, and I guess thanks to the mermaids we did, but I'm talking about any body of water, on any planet. Just sitting here on the shelf, ready to buy. You could— Lance?"
Lance is only vaguely aware that Hunk has stopped talking because he's so focused on the little shop ahead with a crudely made cardboard sign that reads 'eArtHLy fiNdS'. The irony is not lost on him; in fact, it is so strong Lance has no quiznacking choice but to check it out.
"Hunk. Buddy. Over there." And he points to the shop but is already pulling Hunk along because he knows Hunk will follow him just about anywhere.
"Holy crow," Hunk chirps and speeds up to the point he is dragging Lance instead. The store owner, observant of their oh-so-subtle eagerness, steps out to greet them.
"Welcome, welcome! You'll never find a better collection of abandoned and unwanted junk from the planet Earth for a cheaper price! I'm practically giving this stuff away!"
"Lance, look at this stuff! Are— are those walkie-talkies? They even come with batteries, I can't even remember the last time we needed batteries for anything up here, holy— whoa, is that a tiki!?" Hunk gravitates towards a small figurine and turns it over in his hands. It reminds him of one he used to have back in his room at the Garrison that his mother let him take from the house. This tiki looks more cheaply made with its chipped paint and missing tooth, but it reminds him of a place he loves.
He turns to show Lance, only to find that his partner-in-crime has vanished. The shop owner stands there instead, hovering like an opportunistic shadow. "I believe your friend has made his way over to the noise-makers," he supplies, frowning when Hunk gently sets the tiki back down where he found it. "In the meantime, I see you've found yourself a statue of a most feared Earth God. I can give you a great deal for it!" To which Hunk provides a kind wave—he wants to think it over after he finds Lance.
'Noise-makers', as it turns out, are musical instruments. Lance has found his way there, sitting cross-legged on the floor with an acoustic guitar held almost lovingly in his hands. Hunk can see the softness of Lance's face, the tenderness of his one-sided smile. The one he makes when memories are swallowing him, hook, line and sinker.
Back home, Lance had a huge family and support group of people who loved him. They were always loud, always moving, always full of stories, affection, good food and music. Lance would strum the guitar, nothing crazy advanced, but it was often enough to encourage his family to come together and sing songs in beautiful Spanish tongue.
Now, Hunk watches Lance sit alone and pick at the strings one at a time, tuning it as though it is already his.
xxx
It isn't even a full quintaint later that Allura is calling Lance and the others to the observation deck. Lance sets the guitar down next to his bed; he barely had enough time to strum all of the dust off of her strings before duty calls. All part of being a handsome, daring space hero. The universe needs him.
Need. Importance. Usefulness. Adored. Lance likes these words. Likes feeling them.
Allura needs all of them, though. They all need each other. Lance likes that feeling, too.
Everyone gathers together in practiced, record time. No one looks ready to be back on the clock as Allura does a bunch of hand gestures to pull up the star map.
The star map is one of Lance's favorite things on the ship. There have been many sleepless nights he's come here to activate it himself (as shown how by Hunk) to navigate the universe at his own leisure (as taught by Pidge), and sometimes even Coran will join him because the man has so many stories and a limited amount of people to tell them to.
Little by little Lance basks in the glow of synthetic planets and stars and explores the universe. And sometimes, after Coran initially helped him find her location, Lance pulls up Earth, the old girl. And stares.
Allura has a nearby part of the universe pulled up now as she zooms in on a small planet that looks like a maze of holes and tunnels as though it has been infested with termites.
"I understand that our time for leisure has been brief, but we cannot pass up the opportunity to procure an alliance with the planet Decibon." She zooms in even further. The haphazard termite-looking trails that Lance sees seem more mapped out and deliberate now. Organized chaos like an ant farm. "I am aware this is short notice, but we cannot pass up this opportunity."
Shiro's eyes slit the way they do when he's trying to pinpoint intent. "You seem pretty keen on doing this right away."
"It's called being opportunistic!" Coran tugs at his mustache fondly. "The Decibonians are a very cautious sort! They move their planet across the galaxy regularly to make themselves difficult to locate."
"Cool!" Pidge lights up, eyes sparkling brighter than anything on the star map. "They have a way to mobilize an entire planet?"
Like an electric current, the excitement transfers over to Hunk, who taps his chin at the possibilities. "Sounds like they have access to some pretty advanced technology. And it has to be a pretty adaptable atmosphere if it can freely roam the galaxy without worrying about temperature or gravity, days and nights, stuff like that."
"Okay, so we'll just pop in with a list of reasons to join team Good Guys and boom, another one in the bag," Lance smirks, even as Keith rolls his eyes next to him.
"I am afraid it won't be that easy," Allura explains apologetically. "The Decibonians have a strict loyalty to peacefulness, to the point they have all taken a vow of silence. I must ask that you all be on your best behavior and this is a very serious commitment for them. Do not engage in any unnecessary conversation that would encourage a Decibonian to respond and break their code of silence. It would be considered devastatingly rude."
Out of everyone, Keith chuckles. Keith. Arms crossed, right side of his mouth upturned in a slight smirk, he says, "So, what you're saying is that we are headed to a planet where it would be well advised that Lance keep his mouth shut? Sounds like my kind of place."
And obviously, comments like that cannot go unopposed.
"If you like it so much, we can leave you there, Keith."
"Are you trying to sweeten the deal?"
"We'd be better off with you keeping your mouth shut because social norms go right over your head," Lance retorts, half serious. "Watch; I'll be the one to show them all the wonders of using your voice and they'll change their entire culture and be all 'why didn't we do this sooner?' and it'll be because of me." Lance understands that he is talking too long and too much and too fast but something about Keith makes him unable to stop until his frustration is quelled. "I'm a smoother-talker by nature, mullet. So smooth they say I'm velvet."
Then, with sincere confusion, Keith tilts his head. "Who the heck are they?"
And that… well… Whatever. Lance marks it down as a win and lets the interaction die.
Admittedly, he doesn't like the idea of walking into a new environment without being able to converse. Diplomacy and rapport-building comes from finding common ground, but Allura has already deactivated the charm bomb and Lance doesn't know how he is supposed to dazzle anyone without that sweet meal-ticket of a voice.
"So, we can speak. We just can't prompt anyone to speak back," Pidge reiterates in an attempt to understand.
"Correct," Allura nods. "But unlike the past, there are translators to bridge the communication gap without risk to their sanctity of silence."
Lance wants to ask about the consequences of accidentally making one of the Decibonian's breach said sanctity, but he holds his tongue—call it practice for the real thing. He scoffs inwardly. Sanctity, huh? Lance knows sanctity and it does not come from silencing your thoughts. It is blue, silken robes and comfortable fuzzy slippers in an empty room that is far, far away from home. It is being able to still feel awed while stargazing even after seeing stars becomes commonplace. It is a giant, metallic beast that deeply understands him in a way another human being cannot.
xxx
After the castleship touches down, Lance traps his tongue between his teeth with every intention of letting Allura do most of the talking. Or non-talking. Or whatever it is. She strides forward with such grace she may as well be floating. Her impressive display of leadership is so fierce that Lance sometimes forgets that the role terrifies her daily. So many times this woman has leveled her gaze into that of mortal danger, or has put her life on the line for the sake of the greater good, even come to terms with her own wrongness and open her heart to change. For this, Lance believes that Allura is the most incredible lady in, quite literally, the entire universe.
And if Allura wants to bring the Decibonian's to their side and if Lance has to stifle himself for a few hours to help make that happen, so be it. He will just keep his head down and try not to be so friendly as to say something as stupid as hello.
Because while Lance is technically still allowed to speak, he doesn't trust himself not to cross that line between talking at someone and talking with someone. Conversation is the basis of human (alien?) interaction, after all. How people find common ground and connect with one another. And for Lance, it is much more than a way of finding his way to other people. It's a defense and a comfort. His sense of self in an unpredictable world and his link to levity in the middle of a war.
Lance is capable of keeping his mouth shut. This isn't the first time he's been instructed to do so, either. But sometimes it's really, really hard.
There's a girl that breaks through the crowd in blue and white robes. She looks regal and important and young and way too pretty to be single. Lance wants to know her name. He wants her to know his. But somehow Lance doesn't think a flashy smile and a well-aimed pair of finger guns in her direction screams diplomatic gentleman.
A rather stout looking figure follows along beside her, walking almost in sync.
The girl bows kindly with Allura, then holds eye contact with her while swirling her hands in the air in a rather hypnotizing fashion. The figure next to her, whom Lance assumes to be her translator, steps forward to, uh, translate.
"Hello, friends. This is our humble planet Decibon. Princess Unma welcomes you. I am her trusted advisor, Draxis, and will be serving as your translator for the duration of your visit."
"Thank you," Allura bows once more to be polite. "Apologies for the unannounced intrusion. I am Princess Allura. I come to you with the Paladins of Voltron to discuss a union."
Unma's eyes widen ever so slightly. She reaches to her advisor Draxis' arm again and holds it. A beat passes before Draxis speaks again. "Princess Unma has heard of Voltron's legacy and would be honored to move forward with this discussion. But first, as guests, let us welcome you with a brief tour of our empire."
Up close, the layout of the city is even more fascinating than the small scale version on Allura's star map, with impossible-looking rock formations and gaping tunnels big enough to fit even the Black Lion. The ground is dusty but stains things easily, like his fingers when he curiously reaches out to touch the mouth of a particularly large tunnel. Lance mentally compares its massive size and color of the capital city to the Grand Canyon, but with way cooler walkways. There is a garden on the outskirts, lush and green and blindingly contrasting to the rest of the otherwise plant-less environment. That too, is constructed in maze-like patterns.
It's all simply amazing, and it figures the one thing he isn't allowed to do here is engage civilians in conversation that prompts them to speak because he just has so many questions.
Like how long it took to carve out all of the tunnels and if anyone has ever gotten lost in them. He wonders how they do simple things like getting the attention of someone across the room, tell secrets or say I love you in a way that shows they really mean it. The people themselves appear to be very welcoming, humanoid creatures with Hunk-like smiles and tiny, Pidge-esque noses. They remind him of Shiro and Keith the way they can look at each other and share an entire, unsaid conversation. A relationship that can survive on trust and touch alone in a way that makes Lance stew in an unwelcomed, uncomfortable air of jealousy.
Without realizing it, Lance rubs at his throat. His Mamá always encouraged him to speak up, to speak his mind and never be afraid to be noticed. She herself was a very openly opinionated woman; this place would drive her muy loco.
The tour carries on for a while, through a palace that rivals even the Castle of Lions in size but with far less blatant tech, to the local market with foods and crafts created from the land and hard labor. Homes are nestled into the nooks and burrowed-out rock of the land. Lance sees that the garden, now that he gets the chance to walk through it in person, is more like a massive dome that keeps the place nice and cool.
Then, much to Pidge and Hunk's glee, Princess Unma wishes to bestow her trust upon Voltron by showing them the science behind their mobile planet.
"Princess, I encourage you to rethink your decision to show these strangers something so vital to our culture. The legend of Voltron is a wondrous one, but legends do not always live up to their tale. Do not show too much haste in exposing our secrets."
But Unma smiles that soft smile that Lance tags as swoonable, and places a tiny, tender hand to Draxis' cheek as if to console his concerns. Draxis eventually sighs, his shoulders slumping momentarily before regaining his upright posture. "Very well, princess."
While the science mumbo jumbo never quite finds a corner of his brain to nest in, the marvels of it and its capabilities are not lost on Lance. He honestly wants to see the magic behind Decibon's mobilization.
Lance doesn't read too many books other than the ones he studied over and over again at the Garrison. Nothing fictional other than the occasional comic book, or the movies and shows he used to watch. But the pathway to what is supposedly the place where all the magic happens on the planet Decibon feels like something straight out of a fairytale. Unma and Draxis navigate themselves seamlessly through the tunnels that fascinate Lance so much, until they reach a long descending stairway hand crafted from rocks and clay that feeds them into the belly of the planet itself, to its center. The wings of butterflies in his stomach begin to stir with the growing sense of adventure, but Lance keeps it stifled.
It's a long way down, but the planet's innards have been carved and hollowed out to make room for life and magic. Unma takes the lead when the stairway opens up to face a massive, decorative barrier. It stands out among the red-orange walls with its elegant designs, proudly boasting that it holds something amazing.
"I take it it's in there," Lance says idly, mostly to himself. He receives a harsh nudge from Keith's elbow anyway, to which Lance nudges him back, hard enough to knock him off balance. "It wasn't a question, I'm just saying it's not subtle."
"Lance," Shiro chastises gently.
Unma delivers a soft smile, once more moving her hands around in front of her in some muted declaration. Draxis turns to them after a moment, eyes settling eventually on Lance. "Indeed you are correct; a source of invaluable power is beyond this door. As you are about to see, it does require the touch of two people to gain entrance."
A waist-high pillar stands on either side of the entrance, to which Draxis and Unma place themselves accordingly. Both place a hand to the surface of their respective pillars and hold. A good number of ticks pass before Lance hears the soft hum. There is a vibration in the air, a warm static.
The pillars begin to glow orange like a Cuban sunrise, illuminating their hands before setting the whole pillar alight. Bright lines shoot downwards towards the ground and out the base, across the floor and to the wall, where the lines hastily outline the brilliant designs and shapes and carving out a central line that cuts the wall in half, turning it instead into a set of large double doors.
"This is amazing!" Pidge is blushing with adoration, hugging her arms into herself and trying not to combust.
"Magic protecting magic," Hunk contributes, eyes lighting up.
The doors stay illuminous, waiting to be approached. Unma centers herself in front of the door now, and reaches for it. The instant her fingertips brush the surface, the doors begin to split apart.
It's surprisingly dark on the other side and looks like the inner workings of a cave. There is a long stretch of stone serving as a walkway leading to another pedestal. This one is larger and harboring what looks like a pile of green rocks. Unma stops just before it, Draxis at her side, as she gestures towards the strange stones.
"Plexia Crystals are the life blood of our planet. These crystals possess an energy so potent that it can move unimaginable masses. Our people have discovered a way to harness that energy as a power source to essentially turn our entire planet into a mechanical being."
Draxis thrusts his hands into the air so fast that the movement is startling, and the next thing Lance knows, he and everyone else is shrouded in complete and utter darkness. He feels Pidge take a step closer to him and instinct makes him put an arm around her shoulder protectively.
Then the room bursts with dots of light, too many to count, twinkling and glowing much like…
"Is this…" Allura is breathless as she admires the spectacle before her.
Lance feels himself grinning. "It's a star map."
And in the darkness of the cave, those stars and planets glow with gusto so demanding that Lance feels like he is seeing the universe for the very first time.
Draxis slowly brushes his hand through the air, moving the galaxy around them. "Thanks to the crystals, we can relocate our planet wherever we see fit. It is how we keep our people safe."
Unma approaches the green coated crystals, taking one in her hand. At the contact, the small object begins to throb with a faint light. Breathing. Alive.
Allura gasps when Unma takes her hand and guides it to the crystal. Lance doesn't blame her; the way it throbs green makes him think of radiation.
"Touching them will not harm you," Draxis tells her when Allura finally comes into contact with it, with a slight worry to his voice. "But you must exercise caution when handling them. You see, under too much stress, the crystals can combust."
Allura retracts her hand immediately while Shiro and Keith both make to step closer to her. They're brave like that, Shiro and Keith, hearing something might explode and then going towards it.
Lance leans closer to get a better look at these dangerous little balls of light and power. They're small in size; even Pidge could hold about three or four in one of her tiny hands if she tried. These things are dormant little bombs?
"Are you sure it's safe to have something so… explode-y juicing up your planet?"
Keith smacks him on the shoulder blade this time, so hard it sends Lance forward a couple steps. "What? I was asking Draxis! That's allowed." Actually it was just a generic question. Thinking out loud. But no one needs to know that.
Draxis spares a glance to Unma, then to Lance, his face stern. "Yes, all questions should be addressed to me or another one of our translators. We no longer adhere to the Old Law stating that one should be severely punished if responsible such a breach, but I still believe there is merit to Decibonian ancestors' methods."
It is not necessarily an open accusation, but Lance swallows thickly, eyes seeking out Allura to see how deep the disappointment runs. She's gotten better at veiling such feelings in front of others, but Lance can feel it. They can't afford thoughtless mistakes like that, even innocent ones. Allura needs the aid of every living creature and slab of inhabited planet she can find in this war, and Lance will be damned if he ends up being the reason they miss one.
But holy quiznack. Only a couple of varga on this planet and Lance is already off to a riveting start.