PIDGE'S POV

I woke to the sound of metal sliding across the ground. It pierced my ears unpleasantly, and my eyes shot open.

How many days had it been? Two? Three? Time seemed to fly by in a haze of strange food and foreign liquid slipping down my parched throat; every second was consumed by thoughts of my family, of Voltron, of...

...of Lance. And I hated it, hated not being so occupied with my work and my tech that I actually had time to fantasize. A shudder ran through my body- from cold or from mental disgust, I didn't know.

"Hello, Pidge." Fear shot through me like fire in my veins at the voice behind me. I didn't want to look this creature in his yellow eyes that seemed to know just the right words to irritate and charm someone at the same time.

I growled, hopefully menacingly, at Prince Lotor, trying my best to glare at him. I guess it didn't look deadly enough, because he only laughed at me.

"What a pity you are so dressed up, and you're here in my prison," he spat. "I would've found it quite entertaining to watch the short, boyish Earthling join in union with the most materialistic of her team."

Yeah, I'm sure Lance found it entertaining, too, I wanted to hiss. Bet he found it funny that he'd be pretending to marry someone that in his standards, wasn't even pretty.

"I'm sure you'd like to get some... air after being cooped up in here for so long," Lotor said, his arms behind his back. He stood tall, towering above me, and if his actions didn't scare me enough, how he held himself did. "We'll be talking a walk around my ship, and I'll be asking you some questions."

"Will I be cuffed the whole time?" I snapped.

"Actually, no," Lotor said. "I am sorry for how you've been treated. I'm sure you'd like something better to wear than that lump of rags you're wearing now. And possibly a shower, too. I can have my most qualified maids attend to you on the ship. Of course, you won't be allowed to leave."

I was stunned- what was Lotor doing? It was like he was treating me like royalty (aside from all previous imprisonment), and not someone he'd hired two aliens to smuggle into a ship.

"I'm... confused," I stated bluntly. "Why on earth are you treating me like this?"

Lotor smiled, a smile some girl somewhere would probably be drooling over, but at the moment, I was thinking about Lance's smile, radiant and charming in every way. He'd totally be taking advantage of the royal spa treatment.

"Oh, of course!" Lotor said. "I'm afraid my intentions weren't clear enough. I have no need to capture Voltron. That's my father's style. I simply want to join forces with Voltron, and you by far seem to be the most reasonable paladin to talk to."

In about two hours, I felt brand new, more pampered than I'd been in a long time. Who knows how long I'd been out in space, wearing the same two outfits every day. My hair was fluffy and soft, thanks to the thirty minutes spent brushing it and two Galran women putting tons of some strange scented stuff in my hair. Possibly whatever shampoo Lotor used. They wanted me to wear a dress, but I refused, feeling odd enough, and settled for the Galran equivalent to khakis and a t-shirt.

I was ready to leave, and was guided by two sentries to a small dining room, where chefs carried multitudes of trays that steamed deliciously. Hunk would've loved to see this. I was sure he would plow through every sentry in the ship just for a taste of whatever they cooked.

"Pidge, you look lovely," Lotor said, dressed in a flowing silver robe. I squinted my eyes suspiciously. What was this guy up to?

"Uh, thanks," I muttered. I sat as far away from him as I could while still remaining in range of hearing him. "Let's get this over with. What do you want from me?"

"I only want you to listen, dear paladin," Lotor said. "No one else will."

I flinched at him calling me "dear paladin" as if calling me "lovely" wasn't already too much. "Get on with it."

"Ah, yes, straight to business!" Lotor said. "I want to join forces with Voltron. I'm sick of how my father rules his empire and I, like you, want it to end. We'd be unstoppable- Voltron and Lotor- and soon Zarkon's reign would be over."

"So that you could take the throne instead?" I snapped.

"I'd be able to turn around our mistakes and restore this empire to the way it was ten thousand years ago. Just think about it this way... My actions are heavily influenced by what you- and Voltron- want and by my desire to end my father. Think of me as your ticket into shaping the Empire however you want to."

When he said it like that, it sounded like a good idea. But I knew Lotor... he was no better than his father. "You're going to use us to help you, and when you're done, turn around and destroy us."

"And what would I gain from destroying such a lovely woman?" Lotor said, sipping something from a goblet while staring at me.

That did it. "Would you stop that?" I hissed, standing. Once again, I was too short to really be threatening, especially to this tall man.

"Stop what, dear?" Lotor asked, genuinely confused. "Complimenting you? Why, isn't that what a gentleman ought to be?"

"It's making me uncomfortable," I deadpanned. Then I thought of Lance. He hadn't really ever told me I looked good, or called me lovely.

"My apologies, paladin," Lotor said, leaning forward over his plate and propping his head on his hand and his elbow on the table. "I just thought someone like you would be used to such flattery."

"Pfft," I scoffed. "No, you're mistaken. You must be thinking of Allura. I'm... I'm not..."

"You're not what? Tall and skinny like her? No, you're small and lithe. Don't compare yourself to someone you're not." Lotor picked at his food. "You seem upset, paladin. I hope I didn't cause it?"

Upset? I then noticed how my eyes were stinging. This again? Why couldn't I just give it up already? Why did it matter so much to me what Lance thought? Deep down, I knew it was pathetic. It was ridiculous of me to base what I thought of myself on what Lance liked in a girl. Tall and skinny. I was exactly the opposite.

"Oh, n-no. I'm fine." I tried to eat the food in front of me, strange meat that was orange with blue speckles.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm n- why am I even having this conversation with you? This is my own personal problem." I stared at him hard for a full three seconds. Once again, my attempt at intimidation failed me, because Lotor's face sprung into a smile.

"The first step to our joining forces is to gain each other's trust. I need you to trust me, Pidge. I may not be the face of comfort you're used to, but right now, I'm your only option."

"And who's fault is that?!"

"Pidge," Lotor said, his face softening. "Something's clearly bothering you."

"I said I'm fine," I said, trying to ignore him and eat.

"I can tell my flattery was bothering you, but it has nothing to do with me. Does it have something to do with a certain person not telling you something?"

I turned red, a fatal combination of embarrassment and frustration.

"Does it have to do with someone who flirts with everyone else... but you?" Lotor pried.

"I- I don't... it... does," I forced myself to say. "It has everything to do with that."

"Tell me, please," Lotor said.

"It's Lance. He... he flirts with every girl that breaths, except me! I don't know why it bothers me... no, I just... didn't want to admit it to myself. It bothers me so much to see him chasing after everyone else, after anybody else, when he doesn't have to run very far to find what he's looking for. I'm right here, I'm so close, and I... I love him, I love him, but it's like I'm falling for someone who doesn't think I'm anything more than an imaginary friend... not real. Not an option. Not good enough."

It hit me then, what I'd just said. To somebody I considered my enemy.

Lance.

I love him.