A/N: Wow. Totally planned on updating last Friday. Obviously that didn't happen. Whoops~ I'm at the American Meteorological Society (AMS) conference in Austin, TX, through tomorrow. So my free time has been few and far between. It took me until today to sneak writing sections of this one chapter. But at least I've networked, built (hopeful) connections, and (maybe) snuck my foot in the door for potential jobs. I love getting paid.

Anywho, here's the update. I'll do my best to be quicker with the next update, but it probably won't be until Friday at the earliest. Again.

Chapter summary: In which Lance is proud, scared, brave, and subdued while Keith is his usual defiant self. Mostly.


53: Intrusion

Lance flinched, clutching Ran and Alve close. His siblings, his precious, precious siblings could use quintessence. More than that. They could use black quintessence. That tell-tale violet glow of the quintessence humming inside the mechanical amphithere reacted with his own blue quintessence, tingling in his veins.

Ran. Alve. He was so incredibly proud of them, and so incredibly scared for them. Black quintessence was a rare color. Lance couldn't think of any active Druid on Vuana who used black quintessence. They were all in space serving the Galra Empire. Specifically as the Druids of the Four Directions and their subsect of Breeders. Whether they began doing so willingly or not was up for debate.

Any Vuana who began to show signs of using black quintessence tended to vanish almost as soon as they presented. Perhaps there were a few black quintessence users still on Vuana, but they were obviously wise enough to keep their abilities hidden. Ran and Alve were the right age for a Vuana to begin presenting a color if they were ever destined to wield quintessence. But black?

And not only had they both presented as black quintessence users -both of them?- but they had also managed to hide their abilities from Darja's watchful eyes. They had also begun to teach themselves how to use their newfound gift. Without any outside help, they had designed and built a machine that the amphithere recognized as an acceptable host for its own quintessence. They the children had somehow completed a successful transference of the amphithere's quintessence from the creature's original, organic body to the new mechanical one.

That was a difficult feat for most Druids to accomplish even with aid. Designing and building a robeast's body was a tedious process. If the original creature or person's quintessence didn't recognize and accept it as a usable host, then the Druid creators would be forced to start from scratch again. If the robeast's body was deemed acceptable, then the transference of quintessence could begin.

That process required absolute perfection and a strong, sheer force of will. The Druid or Druids performing the transference had to overpower the original creature's desire to remain in its own body through their own willpower and quintessence. Then maintain a stable hold on the creature's quintessence during the transference. One slip of concentration and the creature's quintessence would either be ripped back to the original, organic body or simple cease to be and die. Then, once the creature's quintessence was safely and securely rooted in its new mechanic body, there was nothing left to do but wait and hope the creature's quintessence wouldn't reject the body anyway and die.

In short, Ran and Alve had performed a miracle. On their own. Without being caught. And without causing harm to themselves or anyone or anything else.

Lance was so, so proud of them, and oh so terrified. At least now he had both Keith and Pidge to help him protect his little family. That gave him hope. Unfortunately, the Breeder standing in front of the door to their little room threatened that tenuous hope.

"Lance," Keith whispered. "I thought no one would disturb us while we were in here."

"They shouldn't," he replied just as quietly. "Doing so is considered a serious taboo." He swallowed thickly. "Unless a law has been broken or it's a matter of safety."

"Fabulous," Keith grumbled.

The woman reached out and waved her hand over the panel on the outside of the globe by the door and a soft ding rang through the globe. Pidge looked around the for the source of the sound while the masked stranger continued to study Lance. It was… disconcerting.

"What do I do?" Keith said, keeping his tone steady. "Do I have to open it?"

Lance shook his head. "No, you don't." He turned his gaze to the woman -who really did resemble Allura now that he thought about it- and frowned. "Unless she starts pounding on the door, or gets a Druid to force it open for her, we don't have to answer." He shot a quick glance at Pidge and blushed. "We're busy, remember?"

And yes, that was a bit of reddening in Keith's cheeks. That brought a small smile to Lance's lips, despite the tense situation.

"So what do we do?" Pidge asked hesitantly. "Just sit here and wait for her to leave?"

"Looks that way," Keith said, sitting back on knees with a grimace.

Lance watched Keith heft his knife, feeling its no doubt familiar, comforting weight. Lance knew from personal experience that, should he need to, Keith was both prepared and fully capable of throwing the small blade swiftly and accurately. Lance would prefer it if the red paladin did not to throw it though, if he could avoid it. Lance still had his bayard stashed somewhere among the pillows but Keith had left his back at Lance's pod home, which Keith was probably beating himself up over.

"What is the threat?" the hooded stranger asked, startling Lance from his thoughts.

"A Breeder," Keith growled. "I met her earlier. How did she track us down?"

Lance winced and did his best not to look at the two scared children in his arms who were valiantly trying to keep quiet. He could hear Alve sobbing softly and could feel the hitch in Ran's breath indicating he was very close to joining his sister. He rubbed his thumb over his siblings' eye scales, sending them a soothing flow of :Calm. Proud. Not your fault.: to ease their frayed nerves.

:Fear. Friend? Lance?:

Offering the little blue mouse on Alve's head a strained smile, Lance shook his head slowly. :Enemy. Dangerous. Avoid.: He hoped the message got through the way he wanted. Chulatt may have gotten the general warning, but Lance had no way of knowing if the 'why' and 'how' were clear enough.

:Not-Allura enemy? Fear?:

Lance dipped his chin just enough. :Steal children. Lost. Death. Corrupt.: He grimaced and added hesitantly, :Inbred.:

Chulatt blinked, unsure, but did not press.

"I do not understand," the stranger said as another soft ding filled the globe.

"Long story short?" Keith said. "They're inbred bastards who get a kick out of kidnapping and torturing people. A few of the Vuana, like Lance, can sense them coming, but most can't."

"Woah, woah, woah. Vuana?" Pidge said, waving her hand and shaking her head. "What's a Vuana?" She pointed to Lance and the kids. "I thought you were Altean."

Lance flinched. And so did the hooded stranger. Interesting. Nevertheless, "We are, technically," Lance admitted. "Our ancestors were. And we are still close to the Alteans genetically. But…" He sighed and shook his head. "Pidge, you're smart. Think about it. Do you really think a single race of people will stay the same for 10,000 deca-phoebs? Without any change whatsoever?"

The green paladin blinked, startled, then sat back thoughtfully. "No, I guess not," she admitted. "So, you're called Vuana now?"

"Yes. Only the Purebloods can truly be called genetically Altean." He shuddered. "They aren't too bad. It's the Breeders you need to be wary of."

"You are a Druid."

Frell that creepy hooded person.

Lance glared at the stranger. "I am," he said. "And you would do well to remember that. I do not know you. I do not care to know you. Aid us, and I'll leave you be. But if you threaten my home or my people, know that I will destroy you."

"That's a bit overdramatic," Pidge grumbled.

"On the contrary," Lance said easily. "It would be a mercy." He stared directly at where he assumed the stranger's eyes were hidden beneath that eerie black and violet mask and added, "Unless you would prefer I turn you over to her and let High Master Haggar and her loyal followers have their way with you."

"Hey!"

"Pidge?" Keith interrupted curtly. "Trust me. Leave it."

"But we have a truce," she hissed.

"Between me and the green paladin of Voltron, yes," Lance agreed, trying to ignore the quiet gasps from his siblings. "We do. However, there is no such agreement between me and you," he added, facing the silent stranger.

"True enough," the stranger said, nodding. "One of our own reported a Druid called Lance of the Oceanborne of Vuana had betrayed Zarkon and piloted the Blue Lion of Voltron. I assume that would be you."

:Shock. Fear. Betray?! Big brother?:

Frak him. Frak this… this… idiot! Lance never wanted his siblings to know. He wanted them safe and unaware. What they didn't know couldn't be tortured out of them. Didn't this person know that?

Unless he didn't. Think, Lance. Think! Who would know about his betrayal other than the other paladins of Voltron? Who would…

"Blade of Marmora," he murmured.

The stranger nodded and Lance felt his heart plummet and his mouth dry up. The Blade of Marmora knew about Vuana. He knew about Lance's people, their home. The Blade had snuck into their home with the shield active without ever being detected. Well, presumably without being detected, he reconsidered glancing at the Breeder who waved her hand by the panel sending another ding through the globe.

What if they had been detected? What if they had been followed? They had lead the Breeder right to them!

Control. He needed to control his temper. Now was not the time to blast anything. Leave that job for Keith. Fire burned much more quickly and viciously than the slow, steady grind of ice. Frosty wind fluttered through his mind, coating the threads of his consciousness in rime that rang with the Blue Lion's hearty agreement. She was with him. She would be there for him when he chose to vent some well-deserved anger.

That reassurance actually calmed him, strangely enough. Taking a slow, deep breath, he closed his eyes and forced himself the calm down.

"Keith," he said, waiting for his lover to turn and look at him. "Come here and take the children."

Obediently, Keith tucked his knife in his pants and crawled over to where Lance sat. It took some work for Lance to loosen Ran and Alve's grip on him. Despite what they now knew about him :Traitor? No? Why?: they still loved him.

Hopefully.

Either way, Lance couldn't handle the flood of despair and broken trust he felt from brushing their scales. He needed to step back, let them breathe, let himself breathe. If they ultimately decided to hate him, or worse reject him…

Don't go there. It hasn't happened. Yet.

"Pidge," he said, biting back his fear, "hid yourself in the covers. You're small enough to get away with it." He eyed her. "Just be sure none of the glowing bits of your armor show.

"Right."

Without waiting to watch the green paladin burrow into the pillows, Lance turned to the silent Blade. "You, get by the door," he jerked his head to the decorative cushions and extra blankets by the right side of the door. "Curl up, hide your knife and mask. If you're caught, I won't protect you."

He did keep a suspicious eye on the Blade who crouched by the entry, the violet 'eyes' gleaming under the dark hood.

"Turn off the glow of your mask," Lance commanded. "If it gives you away…"

He didn't bother finishing his sentence. He knew the threat was received. The Blade drew his hood lower so their face was fully concealed, then something fuzzed briefly near the Blade's throat and the violet glow vanished. Whatever the Blade had done, it was satisfactory.

"Keith," Lance said.

"Yeah?"

Taking a deep breath, Lance leaned back and deliberately brushed his scale against his lover's cheek feeling :Trust. Love. Fear. Worry.: and sending :Hope. Quiet. Trust. Protect.:

Another ding and Lance opened the globe door. "What?" he snapped.

The Breeder woman studied him for a moment, a thin white eyebrow sketching a perfect arch over one of her shining green eyes. "Busy?" she asked.

Lance narrowed his eyes in tired annoyance. "We were. You are incredibly rude," he drawled. "What was so important it couldn't wait until morning?"

The woman seemed unfazed, crossing her arms and meeting his gaze with the barest hint of amusement. "I saw the most astonishing thing," she said.

"Oh really?" Lance said, shifting when his lower back rejected his current position rather vehemently. The Breeder noticed the movement and smirked. "Enlighten me, since you're going to anyway."

"A couple young Druids," she said. "They had a quintessence golem with them, a small amphithere. They turned down his path. Surely a Master Druid like yourself would have noticed."

Lance copied the woman's perfect eyebrow arch. "In case you didn't notice where you are, couples aren't unusual here. I saw a group of four earlier." He shrugged. "I've been a bit busy since."

"Just a bit?"

Do not twitch. "More than a bit," he said, grinning. "I was actually sleeping until you so rudely interrupted."

"Did I?" she purred. "Or did your two siblings arrive first."

It wasn't a question. She knew. Quiznak.

"My siblings are hardly Druids," Lance said, sitting up straight so the Breeder's view of the inside of the globe was almost entirely blocked.

"Is that so. Keith?" she called and Lance flinched. "I see you've kept yourself busy."

"Like I said before," Keith snarled from behind Lance, "fuck you, bitch."

"I doubt your genetics are worth the trouble," she shot back.

"Good."

The Breeder chuckled. "You have lovely siblings, Druid Lance," she said, her cool gaze settling on his own sending shivers crawling up his spine. "Keep them close. It would be a pity if something happened to that talent."

Lance stiffened, narrowing his eyes. "Is that a threat?" he said softly.

"Is it?" She smiled and knelt. "Or was it a warning?" She leaned close and brushed her scale against Lance's, tilting his entire world. "Such a strong blue," she whispered through the rush of everything through their connection. "I preferred it black."

He was going to be sick.

She knew. She knew everything. And she wanted him to know she knew everything. How? Frell it, how?!

Fingers brushed one of the scars on his wrist. :Careful who you trust, Apprentice Lance. There's a reason why charges are assigned, not chosen.: Laughter. :Or Chosen.:

He tasted bile. Flashes of him taking what would have been a deathly strike from a red and white bayard, slicing his wrists open, the attacker retreating in the Green Lion's mouth, and leaving them in a rapidly decompressing room filled his mind. It blinded him, overwhelming him with sight, sound, sensation, and emotion.

None of them were his.

Blue eyes grew round in terrible understanding. "Master."

Tendrils of thought -not his!- brushed something thin and almost not-there weaving between the threads of his sense of self. The foreign thoughts flicked the strands of wispy web like a musician would phorminx strings sending harmonic tremors through his entire consciousness. It echoed with a deep, reverberating tone like a whale's call underwater. Almost-words and barely-there desires tingling through him too fast, too close, too far for him to catch and understand.

Tail. No eyes. Nails on his scales. Pain. No breath. Hot water. Why?! Loyal to- Invasion! Stop!

Then it was gone. All gone. Master Ylva was studying him with cold, sharp green eyes, her fingers pinching his chin delicately. She'd seen something she did not expect, Lance could see it in the downturn of her lips and wary gleam in her eyes.

He wanted to flinch, to retreat into the safety and security of the dark interior of the globe. Back into Keith's embrace, back under the blankets and nestled in the pillows, back to the way things were before Pidge and the Blade of Marmora had burst in so rudely. He didn't want to return to Voltron. He didn't want to fight. He wanted to stay here, safe, with his family and Keith and Blue. This… This was home. And he was watching it slip through his fingers knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Master Ylva grinned. "Fascinating," she murmured just loud enough for Lance to hear. "Be careful who you trust, Apprentice Lance. You may not be the one who pays the price."


Whatever the bitch said to Lance made Keith want to strangle her. He didn't have to hear the specific words she spoke. The blatant fear in every line of his boyfriend's back screamed louder than words ever could. She'd threatened Lance, and she'd made it stick.

The bitch stood and brushed herself off with a dismissive bat at her skirt. "I'll take the knowledge of the Pureblood's location in exchange for your… guests' security," she said.

What? Shit! Did she know about- Damn, he saw poisonous green eyes flick to the side where the Blade of Marmalade was hiding. She did. Why wasn't she trying to kill them then?

"What Pureblood?" Keith snapped, pushing the shaking children in his lap behind them where they would be safer.

Green shifted from Lance to Keith and he bit back a smirk. Two against one was much better odds. He moved forward, nudging Lance aside so they both sat in front of the doorway, effectively blocking the interior from dangerously curious eyes. A plucked, white eyebrow lifted as did the corner of the Breeder's mouth.

"A certain young woman who was last seen on the very same platform I left you two on," she said, crossing her arms. "I had business that demanded my attention and gave my charge to my subordinate. He should be regretting his failure, but since I already suspect where she went, I thought I'd be lenient this time."

Lance shrank back. Keith pressed his palm between his boyfriend's shoulder blades, preventing him from retreating any further and offering his unspoken support.

"Unless you know of another Pureblood," the bitch continued. Damn, Keith hated that smug grin. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Go to hell."

"I've been to Heil," she replied with and easy shrug that made it increasingly difficult for Keith to hold his temper in check. "It was a bit bland for my tastes."

She waited, staring at him expectantly. Fuck her, Keith wouldn't budge. She huffed in amusement and turned her gaze to Lance. Keith pressed his hand firmly against his boyfriend's back, hoping Lance would draw strength from it.

"Lance?" she encouraged patiently.

For a moment, Lance's back was rigid beneath Keith's palm. Then his head bowed and Keith felt his boyfriend wilt beneath the Breeder's gaze.

"I don't know," Lance said softly. "She took a Vuana and left with them for the lanterns. I didn't see where they went after that."

What? Why would Lance say that? It didn't cause any harm to their little group yet, that Keith knew of, but what about the Vuana the Pureblood took… with… her…

"And the other Pureblood you know of?" she prompted.

He doesn't know another Pureblood. What is with this bitch? Why won't she just get the fuck off and leave them alone already? She may look like Allura, but she definitely…

Allura. Coran. The Breeders maintain the genetic purity of the Altean race. By that definition, the princess and Coran would be Purebloods. Oh, damn.

Don't tell her, Lance. Don't tell her.

"I… I don't know," Lance admitted hesitantly. "I haven't seen her in… a while."

"How long?" the woman pressed.

Damn it! Why would Lance answer her!? Unless whatever the bitch said to him that Keith hadn't heard had more weight than Keith originally thought.

People can… vanish. Children… vanish.

Oh god, no. Unacceptable!

The Red Lion roared angrily, fueling her paladin's fury with her own. The Blue Lion was her pridemate and Lance was her pridemate's paladin. That made him family. Red did not appreciate having her family threatened. Neither did Keith. They held onto what they deemed there with jealous obsession.

Besides, now that Keith thought about it, Lance did know another Pureblood. It had just been a bit longer since they met.

"Why does that matter who he slept with before?" Keith snarled, forcing himself between Lance and the Breeder. He stepped out of the globe and drew his knife, feeling the cool, familiar metal against his skin. "I thought you pitied Lance's genetics. Why be jealous of him now?"

She sniffed. "Please," she scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "He has enough Myr interfering with his genetics to earn him two tattoos. That's already more than preferred. Although," she shot a calculating glance down at Lance's wilted form, "if you really did sleep with a Pureblood, then I would guess you had to be of an acceptable age. Two deca-phoebs ago was it? Three?"

Lance flinched.

"Three then," the woman said. "For someone with as much Myr in their genetics as you have, It's a pity she found you attractive enough to woo you." She turned to leave before pausing and turning back to them as if something had just occurred to her. "You killed them, you know," she said. "Both of them."

She was already gone by the time Lance found the strength to whisper a single, thread word.

"Both?"