Timeline notes: Set during season five episode one/two although several differences in regards to character locations so slight AU of those episodes.

Warning notes: Some non-consensual touching but nothing really sexual in nature. Bit of a stalker vibe as well. Er, Lotor is a creep who likes to make others uncomfortable?

Trust in Me

One

Trust in me, just in me
Shut your eyes and trust in me
You can sleep safe and sound
Knowing I am around

Slip into silent slumber
Sailing on a silver mist
Slowly and surely your senses
Will cease to resist

Trust in me, just in me
Shut your eyes and trust in me
– The Jungle Book

xxx

"You do not trust me."

Lance startled, nearly dropping the shirt he had been folding, at hearing someone this far down in the bowels of the castle.

A tick later though his eyes were narrowing as he took in the figure lounging across the doorframe that led to the small laundry room as though he owned it.

Lotor.

Allura and Shiro had released him from his prison just that morning after he'd told them he had information on where Pidge and Matt's dad may be located. Shiro had insisted that Lotor was an ally now, compounded by all of the accurate and vital information he had provided, and that they did not treat allies like prisoners.

Lance had been completely against it, as had Pidge and Hunk, but Allura had sided with Shiro that Lotor had no reason to deceive them at this point and allowing him to roam about the castle and have his own actual chambers would get them further cooperation than keeping him contained as a prisoner of war.

Lance didn't care if the guy gave up information on the location of the Holy Grail. He didn't trust him.

If Lotor had been so interested in working with them then why had he not done so before? Why not when he still had connections and power in the Galra Empire where he could change it from the inside?

Lotor had only come to them when he'd alienated all of his generals and was on the run from the Galra Empire. He had saved their lives by blowing up the ship before Naxzela blew them up but one good deed did not erase all of the others. Lotor had done that as an in, a way to get close to Voltron.

Just… no one would listen. Not enough to matter, at least.

Lance supposed he had no one to blame but himself. He'd spent too many months playing the role of goofball, of picking stupid fights with Keith and hitting (obnoxiously) on Allura. He had been trying to be better; once Shiro had disappeared he'd had to grow up, step up. And he had. He'd been a good second in command, he thought so at least; a foil to Keith's recklessness.

But then Shiro came back, the same and yet different, and Keith had left and Shiro hadn't needed – wanted – Lance's support like Keith had. Instead he turned to Allura and Lance couldn't fault him because Allura was amazing and definitely had better advice than anything he could offer.

Now though, even though he'd proven himself to be more than all of that, it still wasn't enough.

Allura and Shiro had listened to his concerns when Lotor was first brought aboard, claiming he wished to help them end this war, acknowledging that they would be wary to his claims. But with every successful mission, every stronghold gained and base destroyed, Lotor's words had gained power.

And Lotor had a way with words. He spun a pretty tale of poison dipped in honey that even Allura had begun to succumb to, that had turned Shiro to a staunch supporter. And with those two, the literal head of Voltron and then the head of the Coalition, opting to give him a chance everyone else had no choice but to do so too.

Not Lance though. No. He would obey any direct orders from Allura or Shiro, but he would not go along with any plan Lotor concocted. They could use his information but the directives would be from either Allura or Shiro or he would not go. He didn't care if it was insubordination. What were they going to do, exactly? Offer to let Lotor fly the Red Lion?

He'd promptly had to find the one piece of wood in the castle (a cutting board Hunk had picked up from a marketplace a few months back) just to make sure he hadn't jinxed himself.

Lance had made the decision to avoid Lotor as much as possible now that the Galran prince had been given free reign of the castle, minus any of the Lion hangars and the bridge without an escort. And yet somehow, with a castle the size of the space mall five times over, Lotor had found the laundry room and subsequently found Lance.

Just great.

Lance decided the best course was just to ignore him and went back to folding his clothes. Maybe he'd get the hint and go away.

A minute later though he glanced up from under his bangs and the prince was still there, examining his nails with bored interest and still taking up the entirety of the doorway. Lance grimaced. He might not be the smartest person aboard the ship but he was people smart. And every part of him screamed danger when Lotor was around, even when he was doing nothing.

He did not want him here.

Not the laundry room. Not the castle. Not even this sector of the universe.

He couldn't do anything about the latter two but he could at least attempt to remove him from the first. Besides, Lance eventually was going to finish his laundry and he had no desire to have to squeeze out past the lounging form.

"Figured that out all on your own, did you?" he sighed, going to Lotor's original question as though no time whatsoever had passed. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on his task though, not willing to give the prince any more attention than necessary.

"Why do you not trust me?" came the reply, the words almost sounding hurt but Lance knew better. Lotor was not offended or hurt. He was an actor and all of this was an act. And Lance refused to play the part of the fool.

"Why should I?" Lance countered, looking up from his shirt and trying not to startle as he came nearly face to face with Lotor, who had silently stepped into the room and was standing there, only the laundry hamper between them, with his sharp yellow gaze fixed on Lance's face. He met it, refusing to be intimidated even though there was something very dangerous in those eyes. A silent shudder went down his spine.

"The others do."

"Your generals trusted you and look where that got them." Lotor had relayed that bit of information willingly and Lance, despite the fact the Galra were the enemy, had been appalled that Lotor could point-blank kill one of subordinates just like that. Even hearing that she was apparently a spy reporting back to Haggar meant nothing to Lance.

There was never an excuse for killing a friend, killing someone who trusted you.

He hadn't thought his opinion of Lotor could sink any lower but surprise, it had. And nothing was going to improve it.

Lotor laughed, fangs glinting in the dim lighting of the room, and sending Lance's hair prickling. He'd just brought up the fact that Lotor had murdered someone and he was laughing.

Oh yeah. He did not trust him one bit.

"My generals were pawns," Lotor came away from his mirth. "When they did not align with my goals I had no choice but to… take measures." His grin sharpened. "I should not expect one such as yourself to understand the finer points of a war."

One such as…?

"You are only a fill-in Red Paladin after all," Lotor continued. "No one expects much of you."

Lance's hands tightened on his folded shirt, knuckles white. He'd like nothing more than to slug the sharp grin right off Lotor's pointed face, but he had a feeling it would be him somehow coming out on the losing end of that punch, especially as to reach said pointed face he'd need to jump for it. Curse Lotor's height.

He concentrated on that hot anger rather than the icy coil that settled in his stomach at Lotor's words. He knew they weren't true. Well, not really. He knew no matter how far he had come since first arriving in space he was still the weak link of the team. He had nothing on Hunk and Pidge's genius, Shiro's leadership and skills and Allura's graceful power. That didn't even include Keith, who was just a more hot-headed Shiro, and Coran, who was invaluable to keeping them all afloat. He was just a guy with really good aim and useful for lightening up a tense situation (or making it worse depending on who you asked).

"Touched a nerve, did I?"

Lance realized he'd let the silence stretch for too long and he forced himself to meet Lotor's yellow and purple eyes, angling his lips into a frown. He had to say something back or this was going to the impression he left Lotor with. And while he didn't give a damn what Lotor thought of him… he supposed he sort of did. Only to the extent though that he was not going to be a doormat for Lotor to stomp all over. He was a Paladin of Voltron and nothing Lotor said could negate that fact.

"I am the Red Pal–"

"By necessity," Lotor interrupted smoothly and Lance faltered in his defense at the sheer confidence to which Lotor made the claim.

"Shiro told me everything. It's quite the tale, truly. But what it boils down to is this: you are the spare Paladin and once your Galra teammate returns you will not be needed." His teeth flashed. "It is only a matter of time."

Lance hated that he had nothing to say to that because honestly? That was his worst fear too.

He'd already tried once to address the situation with Keith, but Keith in all his mullet-head-ness had left him with the reassurance of "leave the math to Pidge" which really, what did that even mean? Lance was willing to step down; the universe was at stake and he wouldn't allow his own feelings to get in the way of what was best for it. But then Keith had stepped aside for Shiro and hadn't asked for Red back, instead choosing to go with the Blades of Marmora and Lance still felt guilty that maybe Keith had done it to spare his feelings and allow him to remain a Paladin but he had never found the courage to ask.

And Lance would still of course step aside if Keith came back and wanted to pilot Red again because Keith was better; the better pilot, the better right-hand, the better Paladin. It was just…

He had come so far and at the end of the day it didn't matter. He was still the weak link on the team.

And the fact that Lotor knew it…

He swallowed thickly, earlier conviction vanished in the face of Lotor's smug knowing. It was hard to play the part when the audience knew what lay behind the curtain.

"But do not fear," Lotor smiled, an unkind thing. "I'm certain there is still a place for you here when that time comes. Shiro will–"

"Stop calling him that," Lance broke in, stomach twisting at the familiarity to which Lotor spoke Shiro's name. It sounded… wrong.

"You wish for me to stop calling him by his name?" Lotor raised an eyebrow. "What an interesting notion. I had thought it a courtesy to call ones friends by their given names."

"We are not friends," Lance growled, hands tightening into fists.

"Is that so, Lance?" and Lance suppressed the shudder as Lotor enunciated his name, accent elongating the 'a' as Allura tended to do, but unlike her he felt that it was being made as a mockery.

"Don't call me that." Lance was relieved when his demand came out sounding more like a command than a petulant child.

"Hm," Lotor tapped a long finger against his chin. "Then what shall I call you?" He grinned, fang peeking over his lip. "There are so many options to choose from."

"Paladin," Lance said firmly. Paladin was safe. And it had the added bonus of throwing his position consistently back in Lotor's face. He was the Red Paladin.

He was.

For now.

"Titles, is it? Then I suppose you shall have to call me 'Prince.'" Lotor cut into his spiraling thoughts. "I actually quite like this. Go ahead, Paladin, say my name. I long to hear it from your lips."

Lance's stomach gave another curdle at the way Lotor almost seemed to leer at him then, waiting. Prince was Lotor's title, yes, (although technically was he an ex-prince now? Banished prince?) but saying only his title felt… off.

It wasn't like with Allura, where calling her "Princess" was both a sign of respect of her station and also because he knew how much it meant to her. Altea was gone and she technically had no people other than Coran; she was practically a princess of nothing. But Lance thought she was everything the universe could have ever hoped for and more. She deserved all of the respect and love that could be offered.

Lotor though was not Lance's prince. He would never bow to him, even if he someday became Emperor. Prince was too much, Prince Lotor was too respectful and Lotor was too familiar, too friendly. Lance wondered if he could get away with not actually addressing Lotor at all. Yes. That seemed to be the safest option.

Lance raised his chin and leveled as much of a glare as he could muster at Lotor, lips pressed firmly together. There. That was his answer.

"No? Pity," Lotor shook his head although he didn't look all that upset. "Then I suppose I shall call you what I wish, Lance."

Lance said nothing. He chose to say nothing because he had nothing to say to this conceited, traitorous person.

At least, that's what he was telling himself.

"I've enjoyed our little chat," Lotor smiled at him. "I look forward to many more. I have a feeling you and I are going to be seeing quite a bit of each other."

Lotor stepped away then, long stride carrying him to the doorway in a matter of ticks. He paused there, looking back over his shoulder. "Until then, Lance."

And with a flip of silver hair he was gone.

He did not take Lance's growing unease with him.

xxx

Lance scowled to himself, knee deep in his closet and checking his room completely over just in case for the fourth time before he started searching the rest of the castle. He swore he'd last seen them by the door and normally when the mice mice-napped them they only took one. Then again, last time they'd used it as a sled to go down the stairs so maybe they'd opted for races this time. Huh. That would actually be pretty adorable to watch.

Lance shook shook his head. No. Focus. Find slippers.

The search was becoming almost desperate, his normally semi-neat room now with bedding every which way, knick-knacks knocked over and his clothes no longer neatly folded from that morning. It's not that he was this upset over a pair of slippers.

It was just…

They were the last link he had to Blue.

He hadn't offered them to Allura when she had taken over as the Blue Paladin as one; his feet had been in them and a princess had standards and two; he didn't want to part with them. Blue had chosen him. Him. He couldn't quite describe how it had felt to be wanted, needed, and the absolute acceptance he'd felt when Blue had deemed him worthy to pilot her out of all of the other amazing people he had discovered her in the cave with.

He had gone to her once following the swap but she had not brushed his mind with her own. She had remained as cold as the ice she conjured and he had left, understanding that she needed to move on and focus on growing her bond with Allura, but heartbroken to have lost that part of him.

And Red… she hadn't had any other option than to pick him in that moment to keep Voltron going.

A fill-in Paladin.

He winced, Lotor's words ringing still hours later in his head.

He had been more than bothered by that exchange. It's not that Lotor had done anything other than insult him, and Lance really should have been used to that with Pidge's barbs at his intelligence, not to mention all of the Garrison staff who had routinely reminded him of why he was even in the fighter pilot program. But Pidge cared, he knew that. That was just her way of trying to show affection. And he'd been able to brush off the hurtful comments from teachers over time, understanding how devastated they must have been to have had someone like Keith and then he was the next best.

A fill-in. Again. He hated that word.

Lotor though… Lotor had not been friendly, despite his claims of seeking such. He had been looking for a reaction and Lance…

Lance wasn't sure what he had given him.

And that left him feeling unsettled more than the words had hurt.

He still didn't trust Lotor not to be using Voltron, using them, to further his own agenda but he had been forced to acknowledge that since Lotor needed them– and they did not need him, no matter what Allura thought about forming an alliance with the Galra if Zarkon could be usurped – that meant their safety would be a priority of his (until he got whatever it is he was after).

But now?

He wasn't sure.

Lotor hadn't even threatened him, not physically. He hadn't even touched him, maintaining his distance across the laundry hamper.

So why did Lance feel so uneasy about the encounter?

Well, he would just make certain the next time he ran into the smug prince he would have the last word.

Although personally he'd rather just avoid him completely minus mandatory strategy meetings. He wondered what dinner was going to be like; would Lotor actually eat with them? Ugh. Maybe they could set him up at his own table in the corner.

He frowned though. Allura wouldn't agree to that, or Shiro. They'd stressed that Lotor was an ally now, that his information had indeed led to a number of victories for the Coalition. And that meant that they would expect everyone to at least make some sort of effort to at least not alienate (ha, alien) him.

Well, no use worrying about it now. He'd find out what the situation was when he went to dinner soon. Maybe Lotor was just as eager to avoid them as Lance knew most of them were.

Although…

"I have a feeling you and I are going to be seeing quite a bit of each other."

Lance had a sinking feeling it might not be simple to avoid Lotor. Although why the prince would want to seek out his company he had no idea.

Ugh.

He needed to stop thinking about Lotor. It was just making him more upset.

Slippers. Right.

Check the closet floor one more time. And then it might be time to go check some of the stairwells.

He was restacking the boxes of spare parts Hunk had squirreled away in his closet (his had run out of room, Hunk had explained, and he didn't dare put them in Yellow's hangar because Pidge would snipe them for her own projects) when he heard the door to his room slide open with a whoosh.

Only Hunk or Pidge ever invited themselves in but Pidge normally did so with excited babble and given the immediate silence that left Hunk.

Lance brightened. Hunk could help him look for the slippers. He could even bribe the little furry thieves with delicious food to give them up (and then maybe it would be worth asking if Hunk and Pidge could install a tracker on them just for future instances).

"Hunk, hermano," Lance backed out of the closet, "I need your h–"

He cut off with a snap of his mouth as he took in not the large and cuddly form of his best friend but of a tall, armored and not welcome purple prince, who was looking at Lance's desk covered in skincare products with something resembling interest.

Lotor was in his room.

What. The. Quiznack?

"Get out," Lance growled as Lotor picked up one of the jars.

Lotor was apparently pretending not to hear him as he unscrewed the cap and took a delicate sniff, nose wrinkling a tick later.

"Get out," Lance repeated, although he remained standing next to the closet and keeping the few feet of space between the two of them.

Lotor ignored him still.

"Lotor," he ground out, fists trembling at his sides, "get out."

Finally the Galran prince looked up, a sharp smile playing on his features. "Ah, Lance, how good to see you again."

"Get out of my room."

Lotor instead cast his eyes about the interior, his lip curling. "Ah, this… quaint place is your abode, hm? It could certainly do with some cleaning. Positively filthy."

"Get. Out."

Lotor picked up a bottle and set about popping the lid.

Lance gritted his teeth, letting the annoyance take the place of the anxious sick feeling that was trying to gain hold as he wondered again, what did Lotor want? Why was he here?

Did Lance shove him? He didn't think it would do much; Lotor was much larger and his feet were planted firmly. But he couldn't just stand by and do nothing. This was his room. His space. Lotor had no business being here.

"These have the most unique scents."

Lotor had moved onto another product now – a tube of hand lotion – and had brought it up to eye level, reading the label with a delicate frown to his features.

Lance had had enough.

He crossed the few feet of space and yanked the lotion out of Lotor's hand, almost half hoping the extra squeeze would pop the lid off and a stream of lotion would hit Lotor in the face, but no such thing happened. But at least he was able to pluck it away and Lance set it firmly on the desk, stepping in front of it so Lotor would have to go around him to reach anything.

He realized a moment later that put him nearly toe to toe with the Galran and he had to crane his neck back to actually make out Lotor's face.

Too late to back up though without making it seem like a retreat.

And he was not retreating.

So Lance crossed his arms over his chest and mustered up his best glare.

"Leave."

Lotor looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Interesting," he remarked. He said nothing else

And more importantly...

He didn't leave.

"Does that word not translate?" Lance finally snapped. "Go. Leave. ¡Ve! Get out of my room!"

He pointed a finger that was definitely shaking with anger at the door. The door that was closed.

The room was suddenly too small.

Lotor let out a sigh. "And after I ventured all the way here to see you."

...what?

"Should have called ahead then," Lance managed after his brain stuttered back on. "Casa de Lance is permanently closed to any psychopathic Galra princes."

Lotor did not appear offended. If anything his smile widened into a smirk.

"You are an amusing human," Lotor commented.

"You're an annoying Galran. Get out."

"Humans are such strange creatures," Lotor continued, still making not a single movement to leave. "So many variations to them. Size… hair… skin…" he reached out then and the tips of his fingers brushed against Lance's cheek.

Lance recoiled, lower back slamming against his desk and sending bottles and jars rolling as sure as his stomach.

"Don't touch me," Lance all but snarled.

Lotor's comprehension skills seemed to be suffering as he reached out his hand again towards Lance's face.

Absolutely not.

Lance lifted his own to smack it away, a small cry tearing out of his throat as instead Lotor closed his hand about his wrist and yanked him forward. Lance crashed right into the armored chest.

Lance pushed off the armor with his right hand, tugging at his left that Lotor was still gripping tightly. "Let me go," he demanded, the words coming out higher pitched than he would have liked but his heart was racing and blood was pounding in his ears so loud it seemed to be echoing.

"Your skin is so soft," Lotor murmured, rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of Lance's wrist.

"Let. Me. Go."

"Shiro's was not," Lotor continued to observe. "Much drier. Is this innate to you or are those scented items the cause? You are–" he lifted Lance's hand and sniffed at it, the motion dragging Lance forward again although this time he managed to splay his free hand out before he fell against Lotor – "giving off a scent of… polari berries, perhaps? With a dash of cinnamon." He let out a low hum. "I wonder if the flavor translates from olfactory to gustatory."

Lance had no idea what the heck that meant except that he was done with whatever game Lotor was playing this time around. He squeezed his right hand into a fist. Allura was just going to have to forgive him for punchi–

Lotor licked his hand.

Lance let out a sound between a gasp and a yelp at both the feeling of Lotor's tongue trailing over his palm and his fist veering off and crashing into the armor chestplate with a dull clang.

"What the hell!" Lance swiped at Lotor's face with his captured fingers but the Galran pulled back, Lance's short nails not even coming close to scratching the pointed chin.

Lotor made a face. "It does not translate."

"Of course not!" Lance screeched. "Let me g–!"

Lotor released his hand and Lance windmilled backwards, crashing against his desk and this time not able to catch himself.

He went down to the ground with a rain of the remaining bottles that hadn't suffered that fate earlier.

"Here," Lotor held out his hand, bent at the waist. "Allow me to assist."

Lance kept his hands pressed against his chest, not trusting Lotor's offer. His left hand was still somewhat damp from Lotor's tongue and his wrist ached but he didn't dare move it to take a look and attempt to dry it on his shirt. He wouldn't give Lotor the satisfaction even though he wanted nothing more than to flee from his own room if it would get him away from the Galran prince.

Who had come here for a reason, or so he claimed.

Time to get some answers of his own.

Time to stop playing the role of pathetic human and remember he was a Paladin and this was his room in Allura's castle and Lotor was the one who did not belong.

"What do you want?" Lance was grateful the question came out as even sounding as it did because his pulse was still racing, he could feel it beating out in rapid pace along with his heart.

"Want?" Lotor looked surprised. "Such a vague question, Lance. I want many things. My throne. Power. Quintessence. Whatever it is that the Yellow Paladin is cooking for dinner. Take your pick."

They both knew that wasn't what Lance was asking and by the glimmer in Lotor's eyes he was enjoying it.

Lance would not rise to the bait.

The 'with me' hung heavy in the air.

"Why did you come here?" he asked instead.

"To seek out your companionship?" Lotor said it as though it could be both a question or statement. "We are to be allies, are we not? I had thought to learn more about my human teammates."

"We are not teammates," Lance muttered.

Lotor clucked his tongue. "Not friends, not teammates. What do you want us to be, Lance?" He smiled then, fang glinting. "Perhaps something more… personal?"

Lance's heart jumped into his throat and it took all he had to meet that sharp yellow gaze.

"I want you to leave."

Lotor let out a sigh. "Very well. But I will not give up on us, Lance." His smirk widened. "I greatly desire to earn your trust. And I will have it."

"Fat chance," Lance muttered, more bravado in the words than he felt.

Lotor chuckled. "But a chance nevertheless." He shifted, feet angling towards the door. "Then I shall take my leave for now and see you at dinner. I look forward to it."

Only once did the door open and then hiss shut did Lance let out the breath he'd been holding, shoulders slumping as the tension released.

He rubbed his hand on his pants leg and then lifted it up.

Not a mark.

Not a fingerprint, a bruise, not even a splotch of redness.

Nothing to show what had just happened.

What had just happened?

Lance shivered, drawing his knees up and pressing his face into them, hiding in the self-created darkness.

What did Lotor want with him?

A brisk knock outside his door had Lance jerking up, slamming the back of his head against the desk leg.

"Number Three!" Coran called out cheerfully. "Dinner is ready, my boy."

He must have seen the light, Lance realized. There was always a dim beam that permeated out into the hallway from the rooms when the overhead lights were on; a fact Shiro had used to his advantage early on to catch Pidge up and about at late hours until she had figured it out and had taken to either hiding her tech under the covers or sneaking out to Green's hangar.

He also realized he was absolutely not going to dinner. His hands were shaking no matter how tight he gripped his knees and his stomach was still doing flips.

He couldn't see Lotor right now.

Not until he had calmed down, figured out his approach to this twisted game Lotor had apparently decided to play with him and his role in it.

Because Lotor was not a friend. Teammate. Ally.

He was dangerous.

And not just in relation to the universe.

Coran knocked again. "Number Three?"

"N-not hungry, Coran," Lance stuttered out, the excuse sounding lame even to him. There was no way Coran was going to buy it either. And then he'd open the door and find Lance huddled like a child and he'd want to know why and Lance would say what, exactly?

Lotor had been interested in his lotions? Lotor had licked him? Lance shuddered. No. He couldn't say that. What kind of Paladin was he if he couldn't even eject Lotor from his room for trespassing and had allowed him to do… do that?

No. Shiro would hear about it and Lance would die of mortification that his hero realized how absolutely pathetic his technically current right hand was. No. No no no. Not happening. Lance knew his position as a Paladin was good only so long as Keith remained with the Blade and if he said anything he'd only hasten that along.

Besides, nothing had happened. Not really. He picked his head up and looked again at his left wrist, but there was still not a mark to be seen.

No proof. Nothing happened.

"Number Three, I am coming in."

Lance managed right before the door whooshed open to flip himself onto his hands and knees, one hand closed about a loose jar of face cream.

"Galloping Gabaltrops! What happened in here?" Coran exclaimed.

"Um, the mice," Lance offered up, recalling the reason for the majority of the mess. He ran with it. "They took my slippers, I think. I was looking for them and, well, um…"

"Those pesky little furballs," Coran muttered. "I'm sorry, Number Three. Do you need assistance in tidying up?"

"No, no, I've got it." Lance lumbered to his feet, a few bottles and jars in hand and dumped them on the desk. "You've already worked all day." And he knew that was true. It was the reason Lance had been in the laundry room, trying to lighten the load where he could. Coran did so much for all of them and Lance wasn't sure he'd last seen the man take a breather. "I'll, um, eat when I'm done in here. Tell Hunk to save me some?"

"Of course, lad. And I'll ask the princess about your slippers. I'm sure she can wrangle it out of the rascals."

"Thanks, Coran. I… I really appreciate it."

"Think nothing of it. I will see you bright and early then for training! Number One has some new ideas I heard."

"Sounds great," Lance said weakly, trying not to envision what ideas Shiro had come up with. He could get a little gung-ho about the training and without Keith there to keep up with him he tended to push them all a little harder than normal. Lance could already feel his calves crying from the running that was no doubt going to be happening.

"Toodles!"

The door swished shut again and after waiting a tick Lance let out another breath and tottered over to his bed, collapsing on it. He suddenly felt so drained.

He just needed a good night's sleep. He was certain that would give him some clarity, some distance and perspective for Lotor's actions.

He forced himself to get up one last time, shoving the worst of the mess into the corners of the room and picking up the rest of the bottles so he didn't trip on them come morning. He flipped the lights off and using the meager glow from the emergency light situated in the far right corner, stripped out of his clothes and pulled on pajamas.

He was too tired for even a facemask.

Instead he grabbed the darkening eye mask and slipped it on, followed by Pidge's pilfered headphones and started up the music player she and Hunk had made for him and loaded with all of the songs from Pidge's laptop and a bunch of Altean symphony orchestras.

He drifted off listening to the soft strains of an Altean piano playing "Symphony Number Twelve; The Morning Brightness."

He prayed that was a good sign.

Author's Notes:

Commission fic (15k; three-parts) requesting (without giving away too much plot since this is ongoing), Razzle Dazzle's sort of creep, hands-on version of Lotor is bored and decides that Lance will be his entertainment. Poor blue boy. Fic will update weekly Monday until complete.

Enjoying it? Please drop a comment below and give the author some love. I'd love to hear your overall impression, a part that jumped out, a piece of dialogue... the small details make my day!

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