It's chapter seven! How is everyone doing this fine evening? I myself, am a okay! As always, thanks for sticking around and reading, and with that said, I don't have much else to say this time around, so see you next update!

who you are in the dark

chapter seven

roar

Lotor was waiting for them in the hangar when they arrived.

"Acxa," he began, without preamble, "-it is good to see that you are safe. I trust that you were able to complete your mission?"

"Yes," her tone was curt, as if she were keenly aware of her own failure, "-we were able to collect two bags of scaultrite."

Without a word, he lowered both bags in front of Lotor, briefly locking eyes with him. Though he didn't like it, he forced himself to break eye contact first, folding his arms in front of him. He didn't doubt that Acxa would inform him about the encounter with the paladins, and he wasn't about to stop her.

Maybe he could gather some clues that way.

"Very good." Lotor observed. "Though I must say, these do not look like any containment devices we have on the ship."

"It's because they're not." Acxa told him. "In the Weblum, we encountered two individuals," and her gaze briefly flickered over in his direction, "-who might be of interest to you. These containment devices belong to them."

She was making him say it, he dimly realized.

Letting out a grunt, Keith felt himself stiffen. Lotor had to have realized by now, but he was keeping his silence. Another test, he thought.

Either that, or just a reminder of which side he was on now. Like he really needed the help.

"...the paladins."

His tail twitched as he spoke, keeping his words as brief as possible. If Lotor thought he was going to willingly hand over information, then he had another thing coming.

No matter who he swore allegiance to on the surface, his loyalty would always be to Voltron.

Merely arching his brows, Lotor looked contemplative. "Yes, these do remind me a bit of some Altean technology I have seen in the past. Do you know which paladins?"

"Judging by the armor, it was the blue and yellow paladins." Acxa informed him. "We left them alive, but commandeered these two bags of scaultrite from them. They seemed to be collecting a massive amount of it."

"Very good." Lotor said. "I would much rather avoid any unnecessary bloodshed."

"If you need more scaultrite, I will gladly return to the Weblum myself." Acxa told him. "I will not fail you again, Lotor."

"There will be no need for that." Lotor told her. "What you have brought me should be more than enough."

"Don't suppose you'll tell us what it's for." Keith cut in, watching the prince through narrowed eyes. He doubted it, but it was worth asking.

Lotor merely looked amused, sparing him a glance. "All in good time."

"You could just say no." Keith told him.

"In that case," Lotor said, the corner of his lips pulling in an amused smile, "-no."

Right. Fine. He'd walked right into that one, he'd admit.

"That is all, Acxa." Lotor said, turning his attention back to her. "I will expect a full report as to the circumstances leading up to your distress signal by tomorrow morning."

Placing her hand over her heart, Acxa gave Lotor a salute. "Yes, Prince Lotor."

Feeling his fur bristle, Keith narrowed his eyes. He hadn't asked her about the paladins, which could only mean he intended to ask him about them. Judging from the hooded glare Acxa sent his way before taking her leave, she realized that as well as he had.

"So," Lotor began, turning his gaze onto him, "-the blue and yellow paladins?"

He didn't think he could even get more stiff, but apparently, he was wrong. "Yes."

"I'm surprised," he observed, his voice cool, "-that you did not leave with them."

He didn't fight the low, inhuman growl that emitted from deep in his throat, nor did Lotor so much as flinch at it. "You know damn well why."

"So I suppose my previous assessment was correct." Lotor observed. "You fear the paladins will not accept you as you are now."

Eyes flashing, Keith felt his tail stand on end. "I'm not afraid."

It was a lie, and he knew it as soon as he tasted it. He was. Terrified, in fact. Rejection from any of the paladins would be rough, but especially Shiro... he didn't know if he could handle it if it came from Shiro.

Sure, he'd promised never to give up on him, but that was when he thought he was human. He wouldn't blame him in the least if he chose to reign back on his promise. He'd already stuck with him far longer than anyone else had, and that in itself was an achievement. Maybe if he still looked human, their bond would be able to survive, but now that he was so far from it...

...he wouldn't let himself hope, not even for a second. He knew from experience that there was nothing worse than getting your hopes up, because without fail, you would always be let down.

Better to accept.

He had to accept.

Lotor, to his credit, merely inclined his brows, looking otherwise indifferent to his outburst. "My mistake."

Watching him through narrowed eyes for a moment longer, Keith eventually drew back. "Am I free to go?"

Under Lotor's studious gaze, he couldn't help but feel his fur stand on end. He had expected him to grill him for information about the paladins- not this. Which meant he either already had a source, or he was simply indifferent to their actions.

He didn't know which was better.

"Yes," Lotor said simply, "-you are dismissed."

Gritting his teeth, he didn't wait a second longer. Storming past Lotor, he tried to let the heat of his anger cool off. He knew that he shouldn't let what he said get to him like this- that had to be what Lotor wanted, to further the sense of isolation he'd developed. But damned if he wasn't good at it.

Knowing it and being able to protect himself from it were two different things.

By the time he reached his quarters- and something in his gut churned at that turn of phrase- the bulk of his anger had cooled. Letting out a long sigh, he closed his eyes, trying not to think.

Not about Lotor, not about being Galra, not about anything.

It didn't work.

Grunting, he snapped his eyes open. Wordlessly making his way to the mirror, he glowered at his reflection, at the wild mane that he called his hair now. Without thinking about it, he reached for his knife, gathering no small amount of his hair, and with one deceive swipe, cut away at it.

What he was left with was a mess.

It was at least the same length that he was used to, but it was uneven, chaotic. Despite being much shorter now, it still looked more like a mane, he noted bitterly.

But at least it made him feel a bit more like himself.

Screw being unrecognizable. It wasn't worth it. If he didn't have a piece of his old self, he felt like he was going to go mad.

Tucking away his knife, he tried once more not to think.

It went better this time.

"Whoa, what did you do to your hair?"

Pausing to wipe sweat from his brow, Keith let out a long breath. He hadn't touched any of the facilities on the ship outside of those in his own quarters, and the kitchen, since coming here, but there had been nothing quite like an intense session on the training deck to clear his head, so he figured he'd give it a shot.

That, and he hadn't had much practice fighting in this form yet. Not with a weapon, at least.

His bayard felt heavier in his hand than usual, though he was probably just imagining that. It wouldn't make any sense otherwise- he knew he was a lot stronger now than he used to be, so if anything, it should be lighter.

It was never very heavy to begin with.

"I cut it."

"Well obviously," Ezor said, rolling her eyes, "-but what did you do, hack it off with your knife?"

Heaving a short sigh, he let his bayard sword transform back into its default state. It didn't look like Ezor would be leaving anytime soon, and he'd rather not train under the stares of one of Lotor's generals. Hooking it back on his belt, he folded his arms, staring her down.

"Yes."

"Oh," Ezor blinked, like she hadn't quite expected to be right, "-it looks bad."

"I don't care how it looks." Keith frowned. "Besides, you don't even have hair."

"No, but in case you haven't noticed, I have eyes." Ezor told him, pulling at her lids. "Even Narti could tell that you have an ugly haircut."

Great. So even among the Galra, he couldn't get away from judgmental comments made about his hair. Maybe in a different life, Lance and Ezor could become good friends.

The thought made him shudder.

"My hair is fine." Keith told her.

"Oh, so first you say you don't care how it looks, and now you say it's fine?" Ezor asked, arching her brows. "I'm sensing a bit of inconsistency here."

Letting out a low grumble, Keith glowered at her. "What do you even want? In case you didn't notice, I was trying to train."

"Emphasis on trying." Ezor noted.

His grumble turned into a growl, tail lashing behind him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you suck." Ezor told him, with a surprising degree of bluntness. "Funny, I expected more from the red paladin."

"Ex," Keith hissed, "-ex red paladin. And in case you haven't noticed, I've gone through a bit of an adjustment."

Not to mention the fact that he was out of practice. He hadn't touched a sword, much less his bayard, since he had been captured by the Galra, and that was eight months ago. Since then, the closest thing to a weapon he'd gotten hold of was the broken off horn of one of the creatures he'd been tossed into the arena with.

Sure, he'd be able to make do without it, but he'd rather stick to his sword.

"Hm," letting out a low hum, Ezor remained indifferent to his temper, "-fair point. But if you're looking for some advice-"

"I'm not."

"Wow, you are stubborn, aren't you?" Ezor observed, tilting her head. "But fine. If you want to get yourself killed because you fight like someone a lot smaller, suit yourself."

Opening his mouth to say something, Keith snapped it shut. As much as he hated to admit it, she had a point. Seeing Lance and Hunk again might have helped give him a frame of reference as to how much taller he'd gotten, but he still had a hard time thinking of himself as being the looming Galra he actually was now.

He was fighting like someone a lot smaller. What had worked well for him when he'd been human wasn't going to work now.

He'd need to rethink the way he fought. He didn't like it, but he also didn't have much of a choice.

Unfortunately, Ezor noticed.

"See?" Clapping her hands, she almost seemed to beam. "Hey, maybe I can help!"

"No thanks." Keith told her.

"Aw, c'mon," frowning, Ezor almost seemed to pout, "-no need to be so grumpy all the time. I mean, you're one of us now."

Fur bristling, Keith felt his temper flare. "I'm not-!"

"Then what are you?" Cutting him off, Ezor cocked a brow. "I mean, you're obviously not a paladin anymore, you just said so. Or what, do you wanna go join Zarkon's team after all?"

Shutting his mouth, Keith simply glared at her.

"Yeah, didn't think so." She said. "Face it, whether you like it or not, you're stuck with us."

Gritting his teeth, he knew she was right. Even if he changed his mind, where would he go? There was nowhere in the universe that would accept him as is, so it was better to stay where he could actually do something.

Maybe... maybe it was just time for him to accept that.

Shoulders slumping, Keith heaved a long sigh. "Fine."

Perking up, Ezor beamed- an expression which did nothing to undermine the malicious glint he caught in her eyes. "Oh goody! I'll go get Zethrid! We can tag team!"

What.

She hadn't been kidding.

Groaning, Keith couldn't recall the last time he'd been this sore. It felt like he'd used muscles he didn't even know he had- which, given his current state, was a frightening possibility. Either way, the training session had made two things clear to him- Ezor and Zethrid were a combination to be feared, and that he was sorely out of practice.

He'd reverted, in the end, but only after he'd lost both his bayard and his knife.

Maybe he did take some smug satisfaction out of hurling Ezor into Zethrid like that. He knew his tail was strong, but he hadn't expected that it would be strong enough to lift a full grown (half) Galra off their feet and send them hurling into another one.

Not that he minded. That was definitely useful.

Said tail was currently looped around his waist, as he chugged down the contents of a water packet. He'd stumbled his way into the kitchen area, and had collapsed there, feet stretched out in front of him. Tilting his head, he stared at the boots of his armor, wishing that they didn't make it so obvious that he was some kind of three toed freak now.

Except he guessed for a Galra, he was pretty normal.

He couldn't take any comfort in that.

Vaguely, he realized he'd fallen into the exact same routine as he had on the Castle of Lions- cooling off after a long training session in the kitchen. The only difference was the absence of Hunk, chattering away about his latest recipe, scolding him when he tried to sneak a bite early.

Blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes, his ears twitched, picking up on a faint sound. Moments later, something leapt up onto the counter, its steps soft, if not quite soft enough.

Kova.

Blinking, Keith frowned. It was the first time he'd seen the cat on the ship since he'd been brought here. Without thinking, he reached out a hand, lightly stroking underneath its chin with the side of his finger, much like he had the first time they'd met.

That had been a test, he realized- just not one of Haggar's.

"Good kitty," Keith mumbled, not blaming it in the least for what its owners had made it do, "-where's your owner?"

Kova's ears perked up at his words, lifting his head. Frowning, Keith turned his own, looking behind him- and sure enough, Narti was there.

He hadn't even heard her come in.

Or smelled her, for that matter.

It was eerie. The eyeless stare didn't help.

Briefly, he wondered if that was natural for whatever she was mixed with, or if it was some kind of mutation. Whichever it was, he wasn't going to ask- he'd had enough rude questions directed at him while growing up to know better.

He might hate the Galra, but he didn't hate them that much.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kova settle on its haunches, before springing off them, landing neatly on Narti's shoulder. The space cat purred, before settling into position, balancing on the pronounced shoulder pads of her armor.

It wasn't just Kova he hadn't seen since he'd been brought on the ship- it was also Narti. Unlike the other three, he had no real interaction with her, beyond that first meeting, which barely even counted. Frowning, he watched as she wordlessly made her way into the kitchen, barely so much as acknowledging his presence.

It didn't feel rude.

Tilting his head, Keith watched her out of one eye as she retrieved something from the cabinets for herself. Gaze dropping downwards, it fell on her tail, the tip of his own twitching as he paid it notice. Guess that was something they had in common.

Outside of himself, he'd never seen any Galra with tails before this. Either they hid theirs, or they were docked- or maybe they were just that uncommon.

Narti's was about as thick as his own, though his was longer- usually he kept it curled up, in a manner reminiscent of a lizard, to avoid it brushing against the ground all the time. It wasn't so much a conscious choice on his part, as it was just what he had fallen into, like it had its own set of instincts.

Eyes darting back up, he blinked, realizing that Narti was looking at him. To be more precise, she'd turned her head in his direction- she didn't have any eyes, so she couldn't really look at him, not exactly.

How did that even work?

Without a word, Narti set something down in front of him- a small jar, to be exact. Blinking, he glanced down at it, almost instinctively finding himself sniffing it. Instantly, his nose crinkled, and he pushed it away, repulsed by the odor.

Narti responded by pushing it back towards him.

Brows furrowing, he was already marking this down as his most bizarre encounter yet. Not just since he had been brought here, or even since he had found himself in space- but just in general.

Frowning, Narti tapped the lid, then seemed to mimic drinking.

He realized two things- the first was that not only was Narti blind, but she was also mute. The second was that even in space, pantomime was still alive and strong.

He wondered if the Galra had sign language.

Probably not.

When all he did was stare at her, Narti tapped the lid of the jar again, a bit more impatient this time.

Right. Fine. Okay. Whatever this stuff was, it didn't smell like poison, so it was probably fine. He didn't know how he knew that, nor why he was so certain, but like so many other things, he just wasn't going to question that.

(Besides, who would just keep poison lying around in the kitchen anyways?)

Popping open the jar, he felt himself physically recoil at the smell. Narti didn't so much as stir, so it must have been just him again. The last thing he wanted to do was put this in his mouth, but he got the feeling that he wasn't going to leave here without doing so.

It was some kind of liquid, almost neon blue in color. Casting one last skeptical glance towards Narti, he gulped it down without another word, bracing for the worst.

Instead, it just felt like the ache in his muscles had vanished.

Blinking, he stared down at the jar, before looking back up towards Narti. She simply nodded her head, before leaving, without so much as another word.

Or another pantomime, he guessed.

That was... strange.

Rising to his feet, his tail unwound itself from his waist. Staring in the direction Narti had gone in, he felt his brow furrow. He felt like he had a pretty good lock on the other three generals- Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid were all pretty easy to understand in their own right, but Narti?

...he got the feeling she was going to be a bit of a mystery.

Stripping out of his armor felt like a relief.

He didn't even bother taking off the under layer. He had clothes he could change into, but he didn't feel like going through the trouble. Instead, he collapsed on his bed, face first into his pillow, feeling like he could fall asleep on the spot.

He didn't, though.

Instead he forced himself back up, onto his feet. His tail curled behind him, a hand absently straying to the back of his neck. His head felt so much lighter now that his hair was back to roughly its normal length, but he'd gotten so used to having it back there that it felt a bit strange.

Two days in, and he was no closer to getting any concrete answers.

Not that he expected to. He knew he'd been in this for the long haul when he'd decided on it. Still, seeing Lance and Hunk again...

Blowing out from his nose, he huffed. Plucking his gauntlet from where he had discarded it, he collapsed back on his bed, tail twitching out of the way just in time to avoid being sat on. It curled around his waist as he leaned back against the wall, tucking his feet up on the bed. With one hand, he brought up the holoscreen on his gauntlet, just staring at it for a long moment.

His new position gave him access to information. What he had managed to gather was that even though Lotor was exiled, he still had a certain amount of authority in the empire.

Staring at the display, his tail idly twitched. He wasn't even sure where to begin, or even what he was looking for.

He thought about looking up his own information, but he wasn't sure he was ready for that yet. Sometimes he felt like the less he knew about his own transformation, the better.

So instead, he looked for something- rather someone- else. He wasn't the only human lost in space. As much as he qualified as that, at any rate.

Pidge's family.

If there was one thing he could do, it was find them.

He nearly started to search for them by name, before stopping short. That... wouldn't really work, would it? He doubted the Galra Empire tracked them by name- it was probably by their prisoner numbers.

Since they had been captured alongside Shiro, he was willing to bet that they had prisoner numbers close to his. Thinking about Shiro hurt, but he pushed it aside, instead trying to recall if he knew what it was.

Nope.

Clicking his tongue, Keith frowned. For all he knew, Pidge had already found them while he was gone. Eight months was a lot of time, and she was nothing if not determined.

Briefly, the bitter feeling came back, but he fought it down.

Pidge had known him for a couple of months at best. Of course she was going to look for her actual family far more desperately than she would look for him. She'd been willing to leave Voltron for them.

Heaving a sigh, Keith switched off the computer, tossing the gauntlet aside. He couldn't exactly look for them if he didn't know where to start looking- even with all the information he could possibly want at his fingertips.

Instead, he reached for his knife.

He still needed to buy a new sheath for it. He didn't know where to start looking for that either. He hated having lost his father's, but it wasn't like he could just go back to the Castle of Lions and ask for it.

Yeah, wouldn't end well.

Turning over the blade in his hands, he frowned, lightly tracing its edge with one of his claws. He wondered if his mother was still out there somewhere, and what she would think of him now.

He prayed she wasn't a part of the empire.

Letting out a huff, he tucked the blade underneath his pillow. He felt more secure with it there- or as secure as he could get on what still felt like an enemy ship. Knowing that he wasn't in any danger here just somehow made it worse.

Collapsing back on his pillow, his tail had to fight a little to untwine itself from around his waist, wiggling out from under him, but it managed in the end, slumping over his legs. Closing his eyes, he felt the shroud of sleep trying to claim him, and this time, he didn't fight it.

He didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

Maybe Lotor would have another mission for him. Something less innocuous than a rescue mission. He doubted he'd send him out to slaughter innocent civilians, not when he was trying to gain his trust and prove himself as one of the good guys- yeah right- but that didn't mean he wouldn't have to do anything distasteful.

He was prepared for that.

Probably.

As he drifted off to sleep, all he could think about was that one foster brother, whose name he couldn't even remember now. The one who had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he'd amount to nothing more than a common crook.

Jokes on him.

He was way worse than that.

In his dream, he saw Allura.

It didn't feel like it was through his own eyes. He felt... bigger, like he wasn't himself. Which was how he felt a lot, lately, but this was different- this was almost peaceful.

It was only when he felt that half-forgotten sensation brush at his mind, that he knew what this was. Even in his dreams, he felt himself jolt, half expecting to wake up- but he remained firmly asleep, now keenly aware that he was both dreaming and not.

Why now?

After all this time, why now?

He wanted to push away, to reject the red lion with every fiber of his being. He couldn't go back now, like this- he wasn't a paladin anymore, should have never been one in the first place. With him gone, the team could finally become what it had never been able to be with him around.

A real team.

But Allura's voice drew him out of it.

She wasn't speaking to him, he knew. She was talking to the red lion.

He felt like an eavesdropper, and even if some part of him knew that the red lion was showing him this on purpose, he still couldn't shake it.

"I know that I am not your first choice."

So she had become the red paladin in his place.

Good. She deserved it. Much more than he did. Had.

"-and I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to find your true paladin, and bring him home."

That almost made him want to laugh. Right. Of course. The princess didn't know. If she knew, she would never want him anywhere near the Castle of Lions, much less the red lion.

"But I will need you in this next fight. We will all need you."

Even in this strange not-dream, he felt himself frown. Next fight? What did she mean by that? Was something about to happen?

"So please- if only just for tomorrow, think of me as yours."

He could feel the red lion in his thoughts, questioning. It offered him nothing as to why it had been gone for so long, why it chose to show up again now- but even if it did, it wouldn't change anything.

Ex-paladin.

He had cast aside that title himself.

So he did it again.

As he felt the red lion's connection slipping away from him, he was dimly aware of the sound of its roar filling his ears. He couldn't decide if it was angry or sad- or maybe both.

Whichever it was, it didn't matter anymore.

He wasn't its paladin any longer.