the battlefield raged around them as he looked into her eyes, burning with a fire, fueled by a deadly fury that tells people to get out of her way or face the consequences.
but all he saw was love.
a love that melted the icy worry in the bottom of his soul, slow and gentle yet determined. she looked beautiful, even in the midst of the chaos around her, galra soldiers falling at her feet like worshippers, blood spilled a bright red, her color. he felt the adrenaline rushing in his veins and pulled his bow, arrows flying all over the battle, striking down their foes.
the terror of voltron, side by side; the red lion goddess and her most devoted believer, her husband, her partner in crime.
lance unsheathed his sword and impaled a soldier, anyone stupid enough to approach his goddess. screams scattered around him, but his eyes were only on her.
she jumped on the red lion and they raced, her mighty whip slicing enemies in half, and set what remained on fire. he immediately called his darling blue and went after her, adamant to keep her safe despite knowing that she doesn't need anyone taking care of her.
his eyes wandered and he wasn't disappointed. they were voltron after all, a force to be reckoned with when they were complete, and the galra didn't stand a chance. pidge and hunk worked together, their magic usually gentle but this time unforgiving. they all knew what was at stakes, and they couldn't risk losing the lions to the galra empire. shiro and the black lion tore through the enemy lines, determined to get to emperor zarkon himself. lightning danced around their leader with a deadly threat, but the galrans stood their ground and fought anyway. victory or death, that is the galra way, and a deafening battle cry shook the field scattered with dead bodies as the galran god himself emerged from behind his followers, chariot blazing purple flames, his son following suit behind him.
lance remembered the fiery look in his beloved's eyes as she finally set her sight on the half altean traitor. she, too, cried at the top of her lungs as she charged at the god of illusion, and he remembered calling out to her, seeing a flash of violet behind her back and screaming, screaming to warn her that it was a trap, a trap, a trap—
blood stained the ground crimson as the red lion wailed in agony, and he could hear someone screaming, screaming, screaming—
"Lance? Lance!"
He shot up in his bed, trembling like a leaf. His face was wet with tears, breaths short and ragged, and he could only vaguely register a presence next to him, someone or something tiny but persistent. The god stared at his hands as if they were also stained with the blood of his wife, scarlet burning through his skin.
But she brought him out of it.
"It's okay, it's just a nightmare," she soothed him, and he turned his bleary eyes over to find Pidge, by his side as always, and shivered when she wrapped her arms around him. "It wasn't real, come on, breathe with me. I'm here."
And so he did, taking in the sweet smell of calming lavender that came from her robes as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. Her hands wandered through his back, drawing soothing patterns of plants and the waves of the ocean, things that he had memorized every single time he would wake up screaming and she would come running to him.
The nightmares have plagued him ever since Al—Red, died. He gently pulled away from Pidge's embrace and rubbed his face, exhausted. Did he drink too much last night?
"Yeah," the smile she gave him was somewhat forced. He didn't mean to say that out loud. "You really should stop drinking yourself to oblivion, you know."
"Did I do something stupid?" He had only meant to ask that as a joke, but seeing the look on her face, his own started to pale. "Pidge?"
She grimaced. "You kinda…messed up, Lance. I saw Coran coming to see Shiro this morning, and honestly, I haven't seen Shiro look that mad in aeons. Did you…did you do something to Keith?"
"Keith?" His memory was drawing a blank. Who's Keith?
Pidge looked unamused and sighed. "The mortal who is supposed to be under your care?"
…
Memories of last night came rushing back like a tidal wave, and he groaned, mortified. The goddess chuckled and Blue came up to curl around him on the bed, nuzzling him comfortingly but Lance swear the lion was laughing at him, too.
He was so fucked.
Keith opened his eyes to a stranger's room.
Immediately he was on guard, but one panicked look later and he forced himself to relax. He was in Coran's quarters. He was safe.
The shivers that ran down his spine at the thought of what happened last night made him scowl. He was stronger than that.
But the feeling of being frozen to one place, unable to escape, was not something he was eager to experience again.
He ran a hand through his messy hair and stopped when a soft blue light twinkled at his wrist. Right, the bracelets. It's hard to get used to the invisible shackles; he didn't even remember they were there until it was right on his face. Keith made a frustrated noise and flipped the sheets off him.
The minor god's bed was the second best thing he had ever had the privilege of laying his back on. Coran had taken him under his wing, soothing his frayed nerves and calmed the frightened child in him that he resents so much. Gentle paternal affection was in every single motion that Coran did, in the way he held Keith in his arms despite it being incredibly embarrassing, and how the god had given Keith his bed and dozed off on the little couch in the corner, remaining by his side until he let exhaustion take him.
He couldn't help but smile to himself. At least he knows one person in this goddamn place would be his ally.
His instinct told him it was probably not the best idea to leave the room and snoop around the castle, but his impulse and stomach disagreed. In the end, what kind of warrior would he be if he wouldn't even take a risk? So he slowly took the robe he left on the floor last night and snuck out, wary of bumping into literal gods, yet too stubborn to stay put.
Stumbling around, Keith opened one door to another. These things are really dangerous; one of them led to what seemed like an eternal darkness while another one led to a blinding column of light. He also found a massive garden that looked otherworldly, just like everything does in this palace. His eyes sparked at the library, and he threw it a longing look before continuing, and finally, what looked like the kitchen.
It was nowhere near empty, though.
The room was stuffed with what looked like flying balls of fluff, each doing a different task while some just floated about. In the middle of the chaos was the yellow god, hunching over the stove.
"Hey, Yellow, does it need more pepper?" He said, seemingly to himself, until Keith noticed a lion, cuddled up next to its master. The giant creature was gentle, and it stifled a yawn as it licked the spoon the god dropped down. "Yeah, you're right, that's enough."
They didn't seem to notice Keith though, so he just stood there and watched them, dumbstruck. The god hummed a familiar tune, something ancient, and it sounded a lot like the hymns that the Acolytes used to sing every Holy Day. He didn't even realize he was unconsciously following the music, too, until he found the god's eyes were directly staring at him.
"My—My Lord," he stumbled, "I didn't mean to intrude."
"Call me Yellow," the god, Yellow, gave him a reassuring smile. "Come in," he said, going back to his sizzling pan, "Everyone's welcome in the kitchen."
Something smelled incredible in the air, and his stomach made its presence known with a loud rumble that stood out in the sudden silence in the room.
Keith was mortified, but Yellow merely chuckled and gestured for him to sit down and take a plate. He picked a spot next to the shiny metal counter, well lit with those mysterious blue lights, and waited. The Yellow Lion came up to him, unfamiliar but friendly, and purred like a cat when he scratched the back of its ear. It unexpectedly sneezed when it sniffed his bright red robes, and he bursted out laughing. He's never seen a Lion sneeze before.
The god apparently shared the same amusement. "Sorry, Yellow's allergic to those plants Coran kept in his room. She can't go around those things without sneezing like a kitten."
At his remarks, the lion somehow scrunched up its, no, her, nose, to an expression that Keith vaguely read as irritation. But there was no real heat behind that look, because just a few seconds later, she pushed her head into Yellow's hand again.
He chuckled, and pulled up a stool after serving Keith a dish of something resembling eggs. His brown eyes twinkled with specks of color, but the look oh his face was…weird, to say the least.
"Eat up," he said, blinking out of it, but his smile didn't reach those eyes. Keith picked up the fork and took a bite, and the fluffy texture surprised him.
"What's this?" he asked, already taking another bite. Yellow laughed, for real this time, seemingly pleased that he enjoyed it. "It's an omelet. Seasoned eggs, to make it simple."
"How'd you make it?" Keith mumbled through a mouthful. It tasted heavenly, which he guessed, is fitting for something made by a god.
Yellow's eyes lit up, "If you wanna learn, I'll teach you some other day."
The Lion blinked at him, and he gave her a bite of the eggs, too. She happily munched it, graceful in her motions, and Keith smiled.
This is…okay.
"—irresponsible behavior, I expect you to have some sort of self control, Lance. I've never brought up the alcohol before, but if it's becoming a problem, then we need to address it. You know full well what the mortal is here for, and Coran said he even felt the Red Lion stir in her slumber yesterday, when Keith arrived. You know how we're the last—"
"The last line of defense from the Galra," he droned on in that insufferable monotone of his. "Shiro, please, I know. It won't happen again."
Their leader cooled down at the look on the water god's face. "Look, Lance," he set a hand on the latter's shoulder, trying to put down the authority front and talked to the other god as a friend. "I know you're still mourning Red's death, and trust me, we all felt it, but it's been decades. Her magic could only keep the Galra at bay for so long."
His words backfired spectacularly. Lance clenched his fists, anger rolling off him in waves. "So now what, you want to replace her? After everything she had done for us? For you? Need I remind you, she saved your life numerous times—"
"And I will forever be in her debt for that. But you have to see the situation as it is, Lance. We need an avatar for the Red Lion. She needs to bond to someone, or else she would be stuck in this slumber forever."
"If we're really that desperate, couldn't Red reach out like the others did for us? Find an avatar herself? At least that would've been more acceptable than us actively trying to find someone to replace her."
Shiro's face hardened and his voice was stern. "The Red Lion is injured. We all already know this. We must bring someone with the spirit of fire to her, if we ever want another ally in this fight. Without the Red Lion, Voltron would never be complete, and we don't stand a chance against the Galra. We've been over this numerous times, Lance."
"With all due respect, Shiro, this doesn't seem right! It's not natural, and you think Red would accept him out of anyone? All the other tributes failed, what makes him different?"
"That's what we will have to find out. He's only been here for a night, but we need to convince him to cooperate. You know force wouldn't work here. If he is to be the spirit of fire, it must be of his own choice. And your little…display last night didn't exactly help."
A silence settled like a blanket over them both and finally Shiro sighed, resigned. "Please?" The storm clouds in his eyes have dissipated, leaving only a layer of remorse, borderlining on desperation, and how could Lance say no?
…Allura would want him to try.
He scoffed. "Fine. I'll play his little game."
