So, here's the deal.

Two weeks had passed since Lance had been drugged and forcefully taken to Lotor's ship and he was starting to get antsy. Well, he'd been stir-crazy for the last few days, as he hadn't been allowed out of his room and had next to nothing to occupy himself with. Syna insisted that he was meant to rest as much as possible as his 'fragile human body' required sleep to recover, but how could they expect Lance to stay in bed 24/7?

He secretly wondered if Lotor had planned it all so that Lance would be eager for their conversations and listen to what he said. The fact that he still had trouble sitting up and walking around was irrelevant. Hell, that was probably part of the plan, too.

But even knowing that his attention was premeditated didn't stop Lance from looking forward to his daily meals with Lotor. They were his only respite from the sole company of his mind and he just couldn't concentrate on anything when the room was so quiet. How was he supposed to plan his escape if he couldn't even focus long enough to decide what he wanted for dinner?

"…are you feeling well, Lance?"

It'd been a few days since Lance had told Lotor his name, but it still sent a confusing thrill up his spine when he heard him say it. Lance tried not to think too much about it. Actually, he really couldn't. At this rate, he was going to go crazy by the end of the week.

"What, aside from my broken body and slowly losing my mind? Nah, I'm good, buddy. How's your day been?"

Lotor set down his glass, startled. They shared the small bedside table on the left side of Lance's bed to set and eat their meals on and Lance often wondered why Lotor would do so when he could eat on a big, normal table with his team. But hey, he wasn't the ruler of an empire, so what did he know?

"That can't be. Syna told me that you were recovering! They would've informed me if you were suffering from mental trauma."

Lance rolled his eyes and took a sip from his water. "It's an expression- I'm not actually traumatized or anything, though I have every reason to be. At least I don't think I am. Who knows? Anyway, what I mean is that I'm going crazy just sitting here all day."

The crease in Lotor's brow smoothed and he took a bite from his plate- some kind of weird Galra appetizer. If there was one good thing about his stay on Lotor's ship was the seemingly endless supply of food from Earth. His 'host', as Lotor liked to call himself, said that it all came from space malls and traders who specialized in Earth products. Lance had no choice but to believe him. The alternative was…well. He didn't want to think about it.

"You know I cannot let you out of your room, Lance," Lotor shrugged. "You can barely leave your bed to relieve yourself."

Lance coughed on his piece of bread and felt his face burn with shame. "W-why do you know that? Are you spying on me?"

Lotor's lips curved in a small, smug smile that Lance desperately wanted to wipe off his face. "I have no need to spy on you. Syna reports your progress to me, remember? It was simply something they noted in their latest reports."

"…ugh."

Lance stretched out his legs and settled back down on the pillows, his appetite gone. "That's not the point. I'm bored and if I crack I won't be able to be your strategist or whatever you wanted from me."

"Does that mean that you're considering my offer?"

"What? No! I'm just saying, y'know, in theory. We're both interested in me staying sane, right?"

Lotor leaned back in his chair and regarded him carefully. "I'm not letting you out until you're—"

"I know, I know, healthy. But we both know that's not the reason, Lotor. You think I'll run away if you do."

Lotor raised a brow. "And we both know that you would."

They met each other's gazes for a tense moment before Lance sighed and reached out for the rest of his bread.

"Look, all I'm asking for is something to keep me occupied. I don't have to leave the room to be entertained. Books, movies, games- anything! If I have to count the number of bolts in the walls one more time I swear I'm gonna lose it!"

Lotor snorted, much to Lance's indignation.

"Don't laugh at me! I'm desperate!"

"I didn't think your boredom was so severe. Very well, then. I'll try to find things that might help you pass the time. Let it not be said that I'm not a gracious host."

Lotor had plenty to say about Lotor's 'hosting' skills, but refrained from uttering any of it just in case Lotor might be offended and take back his promise. Lance sometimes lacked tact, but he wasn't stupid. He knew how to work for what he wanted.

And if he wanted any chance of escaping, or at the very least giving his friends his coordinates, he needed to leave this room. And to do that, he needed to earn Lotor's trust.

…he was going to have to play along, wasn't he?

.x.

If Lotor wanted a strategist, well, Lance was going to become one. He had little else to do while sitting alone in his room than think of different ways to return to the Castle of Lions. In the end, all of them boiled down to two key factors- Lotor's trust and Lance's physical health.

Lance wasn't sure how long it took for fractured ribs to sort themselves out but he was slowly regaining his ability to walk around the room without grabbing his side in pain at the exertion. He paid close attention to Syna's daily checkups, asking them questions but making sure not to sound too interested lest they report to Lotor any suspicious behavior. According to the druid, however, his recovery was going well.

Which was great and all, but it meant that Lance had a limited amount of time to convince Lotor that he wasn't at flight risk. He needed Lotor to let him out of his room because he was feeling better, not because he made a conscious decision to trust him. That needed to come before.

It couldn't be an immediate change, either. Lotor was sharp and would easily see through Lance's act if he felt like he'd changed his mind overnight. Lance had to draw it out, to make it look as if Lotor's actions were slowly convincing him to join his ranks. Lotor wouldn't fall for it if the change came from Lance alone.

Which was why Lance made a point to look very pleased when Lotor walked into his room the next day and offered him an old, battered copy of Jane Eyre.

"I commanded my officers to get me the longest Earth book they could find in the market, and this is what they came back with," Lotor said as he handed Lance the book, looking proud. "I can't read a word of it but it looks like it will take a few days to finish. I hope you'll find it an interesting read."

Lance didn't have the heart to tell Lotor that he'd already read it for a book report in 9th grade.

"Wow, it does look hefty!" Lance said eagerly as he took the book and leafed through it. The title page had a stamp from a library Lance had never heard of in Maine, dating 1992. Where Lotor's generals had gotten an old library book was a mystery. Maybe there were more aliens out there that collected Earth memorabilia?

"Thank you so much!" Lance set the book down at his side and beamed. Lotor looked at him for a long moment before clearing his throat and tucking a strand of silver hair behind his ear.

"I…I'm glad you like it. I'll bring you something else tomorrow," Lotor promised before quickly excusing himself. Lance watched with a satisfied smile as Lotor left the room.

Heh. He'd been flustered, hadn't he? Lance often felt so himself, so he knew how to recognize it in others. In fact, it was kind of cute how Lotor had felt the need to primp—

Nope, Lance caught himself. Not even going there.

Hoping to distract himself, Lance carefully opened the book and steeled himself for his reacquaintance with Jane and Mr. Rochester.

.x.

"Are you enjoying the toy I gave you at breakfast?"

Lance continued to chew his PB&J sandwich, giving himself a few more seconds to think of a proper reply. He couldn't tell Lotor that he'd ditched it after a few minutes in favor of doing a set of pushups before retiring to his bed for a nap. He was trying to work his muscles as much as possible, but Lance was worried about straining himself. If Syna noticed any kind of regression his whole plan would be at risk.

So no, he'd smile and regale Lotor with details about the hours of marvelous fun he spent with his new yoyo.

Honestly, Lance didn't know what to do with half the items Lotor procured for him. Each day he got a different piece of useless, outdated junk that Lotor's minions had found for him only God knew where.

A broken Gameboy, a used jumping rope, an old Lisa Frank journal… Lotor kept surprising him. He'd even tried to give him a Playboy magazine the other day.

"I liked it," Lance finally said, wiping the crumbs from his lips with the back of his sleeve. He'd been given tunics not too unlike sleeping gowns and while Lance would've felt more comfortable in a pair of pants (he hated the chafing), he was secretly grateful to have not been forced to wear a prisoner's uniform.

Lotor pursed his lips. "No, you didn't. You're lying to me, though I cannot fathom why. Are you trying not to…hurt my feelings?"

"No! I mean, uhm…" Lance bit his lip at the expression on Lotor's face. He'd been caught. It was time to switch gears.

"Okay. Fine. You got me," Lance dangled his legs over the edge of the bed and held the yoyo in his hands. "I really appreciate your efforts in getting me stuff, I really do, and I guess I just didn't want to seem ungrateful."

Lotor raised his brows. "You seemed pleased with them at first. Did something change?"

Lance sighed. "I…I guess I figured out that I wasn't as excited with the toys themselves as I was with the moment I got them."

"…I'm afraid I don't understand."

"What I'm saying is that I'm lonely, Lotor, and you're the only person I've had real conversations with for the past two weeks. I'd much rather have you here than some old book, y'know?"

Lotor blinked and leaned back in his chair. "Do you mean that you'd prefer my company? I thought you hated me."

Lance recognized the hesitation in Lotor's eyes and quickly determined that he'd been coming on too hard. He needed to downplay this, fast.

"Well not you, specifically. You're just the only person who talks to me. You could put anyone in here with me for an hour and I'd be happy."

"Oh? Would you like me to ask Zethrid to keep you company?"

Lance's hands stopped their fidgeting with the yoyo and he looked up at Lotor, sincerely hoping that he was joking. He flinched when he saw Lotor reach out and felt him cupping his cheek in his palm.

"I apologize, Lance. That wasn't kind of me."

Lance expected Lotor to pull his hand right away, but it lingered, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Lance's skin. What surprised Lance even more was that he actually…didn't mind it. He realized with a jolt that he couldn't remember the last time someone touched him with affection.

Lotor's hand was warm.

Their eyes met and before Lance knew what was happening, Lotor's hand was gone and he'd pushed back from the chair.

"I'll try to come visit you more often," he said gruffly, not quite meeting Lance's gaze. "Should my schedule allow it."

It was a victory, no matter how Lance looked at it. One step closer to getting Lotor to lower his guard around him.

Then why did Lance feel a little empty as he watched Lotor leave the room?

.x.

True to his word, Lotor's visits to Lance's room grew more frequent. By his third week Lance practically felt like Lotor shared his room. Which was nice, but that meant that Lotor was there to see his daily checkups with Syna and personally see his progress. He had very little time to work out, too, though he refused to stay in bed the whole day.

"How do you expect to regain your strength if you're sprawled out on the floor like that?!"

"It's called stretching, Lotor. It's good for you."

Lotor stood next to him with his arms folded, a scowl on his face. He looked close to scooping Lance up and depositing him on the bed himself. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"I'm well aware of stretching. I'm also aware of your limits, which you seem to ignore. Don't you realize that—"

"Humans aren't as weak as you think!" Lance snapped, looking up at Lotor from his plank. It was a little difficult to talk as he was trying to suck in his stomach and keep himself up, but he had a point to prove. "If you think I'm so pathetic, why the hell do you want me on your team?"

Lotor bared his teeth, something Lance hadn't seen him do unless he was really pissed. "I don't think you're weak or pathetic, Lance. Do you think I would've bothered visiting you every day if I did?"

"Well," Lance's voice was strained and his ribs were killing him, but he'd rather die than take a break now. "I think you, ngh, are a sad person to seek the company of an idiot who, ugh, apparently can't even take care o-of himself."

"You're correct," Lotor said coolly. "I'd be a fool to continue to stay where I'm obviously not wanted."

"Then w-why won't you just, ah, take the hint and go?!"

"I will!"

Lance's arms were shaking and his breaths came in short, shallow pants. He willed himself not to break, to keep it up just until Lotor left the room, but something in his chest made him feel like he'd just been stabbed and he crumpled to the floor, crying out in pain. Lotor was immediately at his side, lifting him up and calling for help.

Lance almost smiled as he drifted into oblivion. He briefly wondered how many more times the world would fade away while he rested in Lotor's arms.

.x.

Okay, so maybe challenging workouts that required deep and steady breathing weren't the best idea when one had a fractured rib. Or two. Lance had never bothered to ask how many Zethrid had damaged in her torture session. He'd woken up to Syna fussing over him and a tight bandage wrapped around his chest. He freaked out a bit when he realized that the bandages were oozing something that smelled horrible and moving on their own but Syna had simply slapped his hands away while muttering something about a fever.

Lance had blacked out soon after.

When he came to he was, much to his surprise, alone. Lance's room didn't have a window or a clock so he could never tell the time, but he'd learned to estimate it depending on Lotor's comings and goings. Of course, for all he knew Lotor could be eating breakfast food with him in the middle of the afternoon but what was time if not essentially subjective?

Lance's head throbbed at the thought and he groaned. This was not the time to debate Daylight Saving. His breath was sour and his face felt like he hadn't cleaned it for a week. Which could very well be the case for all he knew.

That did it. He needed a shower, ASAP.

It was a bit of a struggle to reach the bathroom. Lance had stood up too quickly and had to sit down for a minute before the room stopped spinning (again). His side ached as he made his way to the sink and, after drinking and splashing water on his face, he brushed his teeth. There wasn't any mirror to flash a smile at in the end of his routine but Lance didn't quite so mind anymore.

He didn't really want to know if he looked like a train wreck. It was enough that he felt like one.

The bath didn't take long to draw and by the time Lance stripped and submerged himself in the warm water, he was starting to feel a little bit like his normal self. Lotor had made sure to supply him with plenty of scented soaps and lotions and while Lance's nose wrinkled at most of them, there were a few that he enjoyed. He hummed softly as he applied some kind of cinnamon-smelling cream on his arms.

Cinnamon…

"It's oatmeal. At least, that's what it's supposed to taste like."

Keith licked his lips. Lance immediately noticed that the crumb from Hunk's cake was gone.

"The consistency is different, but I can taste the similarity. I always made mine from an instant mix," Keith's smile was a bit sheepish. "I did try to add a dash of cinnamon to feel like I did more than add boiling water, though. I think I can taste it in yours?"

Lance's throat felt sore and he swallowed thickly, trying to hold back the tears. This was not the time and place to break down. Shiro hadn't spent his time in captivity crying like a baby because he missed his friends, right?

…

Lance wondered how they were all doing, without him. When exactly they realized that he was gone. Were they angry at him? Did they think he was weak to have been captured? Did they even know that he was kidnapped? They…they wouldn't think he ran away, right?

No, of course not. He hadn't taken any of the lions or one of the other small ships they sometimes used in emergencies. Nothing should've been missing from the castle aside from him. And there were probably cameras that documented his kidnapping.

That is, unless his kidnappers had done something to the cameras while breaking in. But then the tampering itself would be enough of a sign to prove that there was foul play involved.

At least, that's what Lance hoped. He didn't know what he'd do if his teammates actually thought that he'd left them out of his own free will.

No. He trusted his team, and they trusted him. They were probably worried sick about him just like they'd worried about Shiro. Hell, they couldn't even form Voltron without him!

…though that wasn't necessarily true, was it? The lions had eventually adapted to Shiro's absence by accepting Allura as one of the paladins. Why wouldn't they do the same now that he was gone? There had been an awkward extra when Shiro returned. Now that Lance was gone, the balance would've been restored. Shiro could pilot red—

Stop it!

Lance realized that he'd dug his nails into his arms and pulled away, hissing at the burning sensation the scratch left. He rubbed some more of the cinnamon lotion on the crescent-shaped marks and sniffed.

There. He'd had his moment of wallowing in self-pity. Now he had to get himself together and soldier forward. He could do this. He was a paladin of Voltron, dammit, and he'd make his team proud!

The rest of his bath was short and by the time Lance wrapped a towel around his waist and around his head, he felt like a new person. He opened the door of the bathroom and walked into his room, toweling his hair when he raised his eyes and stopped short.

Lotor was right there, perched on the foot of his bed, looking at his bare skin with wide eyes.

Lance let out an undignified squawk and dropped the towel in his hands, leaving him only with the one tied around his waist. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. Lance was pretty sure that the heat he felt on his face wasn't just from his bath.

"W-what are you doing here?!"

Lotor's face looked a little flushed, but he didn't look away.

"I came to make sure that you weren't trying to kill yourself again."

"Kill myself…?"

Lotor frowned. "You were critically ill these last few days. That little 'stretching' exercise almost cost you your life, paladin."

Lance flinched. Lotor hadn't called him that since he'd told him his name. He must be pissed.

"I-I just wanted you to stop babying me," Lance said quietly, looking down at the floor. "And I needed to stretch my muscles."

"You obviously need to be watched over for your own good," Lotor pursed his lips. His eyes lingered on the scratch marks on Lance's arm.

Lance bristled.

"You can't keep me locked in here forever!" He hissed. "If you really care about how I feel, you'd let me out!"

"I can and I will," Lotor spat. He stood up suddenly and Lance wasn't prepared for the looming figure that rushed at him and grabbed his wrists, pinning them over his head and pushing him back against the wall.

For the first time since meeting him, Lance looked up at Lotor with fear in his eyes.

"You forget why you're here," Lotor sneered. "I'm the commander of this ship and everyone on it, including you, must obey me. You will not tell me what I can and cannot do, do you understand?"

Lance audibly swallowed. This wasn't working out the way he'd planned.

"I said, do you understand?"

The grip on his wrists tightened and Lance winced. His eyes began to fill with tears, much to his mortification.

"How do you expect me to trust you when all you do is imprison and threaten me?"

Lance's words were spoken quietly, but Lotor was close enough to hear every last one. His eyes widened a fraction and he pulled away abruptly, shooting Lance a glare.

"I've showered you with gifts, spent most of my days with you despite my officers' ridicule and have only cared for your health. What more do you want?"

Lance lowered his arms and massaged his wrists carefully. He could hear the frustration in Lotor's voice. It echoed his own.

"I want my freedom, Lotor. I want to be able to leave this godforsaken room. I don't know what I might do to myself if I have to stay here another day."

"…"

Lotor looked at him for a long moment before sitting back down on the bed, holding his head in his hands. He looked up at Lance with a tired smile.

"You do realize that your friends have moved on, don't you? I refrained from telling you this before as I didn't want to distress you, but I fought Voltron this week."

Lance felt as if an ice-cold grip was squeezing his insides.

"No, you're lying. You're just saying that to make me doubt them."

Lotor raised a brow and reached out to spread his fingers in the air in front of him. Similar to Allura, a digital screen appeared and he pressed something before pushing it in Lance's direction. Lance watched it warily as it drew close.

It was a video clip.

A wave of nausea welled up in Lance's stomach as he saw Voltron fending off Galra drones in an area Lance didn't recognize. It couldn't be an old video, then. Somehow, his friends had managed to form Voltron.

Without him.

Is this how Shiro felt…?

The playback paused and when Lance raised his gaze to look at Lotor, he realized that his vision was blurry. Fuck. He hadn't wanted Lotor to know how much the video had gotten to him.

But there wasn't any smug victorious smile on Lotor's face. Rather, he looked a little…resigned?

"It's true that your friends don't need you anymore, Lance. But I do. Can't you see that? Their loss is our gain. With you on my side, I have no doubt that we can defeat Voltron and restore peace and stability to the universe."

Lance grit his teeth and wiped away his tears. His half-dressed situation mattered very little at this point. "Don't sell me that crap! The Galra Empire has done nothing but bring misery to the planets it enslaved and destroyed!"

Much to his shock, Lotor nodded. His face was drawn and he met Lance's eyes with a serious frown.

"I do not deny the tragedies my people have brought unto others. But I'm not my father, Lance. His goals are not mine. He wanted to capture and destroy planets for their quintessence. I want to rule them for their own benefit."

Lance shook his head.

"Believe me, Lotor, I've read enough history books to know where this is headed. You probably think you're somethin' special because you're Galra, right? That you're superior to other races? Well, fuck that and fuck you. You have no right to take control over other planets and make them live their lives the way you want them to."

Lotor frowned. "You misunderstand me. I believe you need to rest."

"Um, I don't think so," Lance narrowed his eyes. He closely followed Lotor's movements as he stood up and approached him, but unlike his assault before, all he did was place his hands on Lance's shoulders.

Lance shivered. The way they rested on his bare skin felt rather…intimate.

"Let's make a deal," Lotor said softly, catching Lance's eyes and for the life of him, Lance couldn't imagine looking anywhere else. "You humor me and take a nap and I'll take you on a walk around the halls after dinner. Do you find that satisfactory?"

Lance wanted to bristle at the idea of being 'taken on a walk' like some dog, but the promise of a chance to leave his room was too hard to resist. And, well, Lotor's low voice had something a bit sultry about it and he was really just way too close to think coherently.

"Y-yeah. Okay. Deal!"

Lotor offered him a warm smile before stepping back and excusing himself. Lance continued to stand where he was even after Lotor had left, trembling with excitement at the prospect of freedom.

The places where Lotor had settled his hands were still warm.