XXX
Lance's beginnings are humble. A boy from Cuba who grew up under the glow of the sun and groomed by the water, with an alarming number of aspirations, an unquenchable thirst for adventure and a potent captivation with a deep, dark unknown entity called space. Cuba's skies at night were always a wondrous sight and no two were ever the same, and as a child Lance's imagination ran wild. Anything could be out there.
To get closer to it, Lance transitioned into the Garrison as an eager student, where, oddly enough, the stars only seemed more and more out of reach. Then he discovered a magical blue lion and found himself so deep in the troughs of the universe and all of its wonders that it makes him dizzy to this day. The adventure he's always pined for crashes into him tenfold and sometimes Lance has to remind himself, he wanted this.
And if there is anything Lance has learned during this transition from little-boy-dreamer to defender of the universe, it is that a good day can easily turn into a shit storm in less than a tick. Less than that, even. Like less than a second.
Lance stays close to Unma as they run towards the disarray in the distance. Only when they come close enough to put the castleship into view does he reach out to grab her wrist, slowing them both to a stop.
"Wait, wait," Lance calls. "We don't know what's going on and I don't know where the others are. I'd like to get my armor and I think you should come with me."
Unma is agreeable and they make quick of the pit-stop. Lance makes fast work of grabbing his helmet and armor, donning it over his formal attire to save time. Lance is already calling out to the others before the helmet is even fully secure. "Guys? Guys, are you there?"
"Lance! What's your location?" Pidge asks quickly as Hunk releases a heavy 'phew' in the background.
"I found the princess. We're on our way back to the city now but it looks like a madhouse. What's going on?"
"You found her?" Keith sounds genuinely surprised, which fills Lance with a short-lived feeling of accomplishment.
"Lance," Shiro's voice comes in with that strong tone of command that helps Lance focus. "Stay with the princess. Keep her and her people safe until we can come up with a plan."
Leave it to Shiro to make it sound so simple. But even as Lance thinks this, Unma's hand is entwined in his own, calling forth a sense of duty that doesn't even require Shiro's orders or Keith's prattling to summon. His bayard materializes in his free hand. "You can count on me," he says, with as much sincerity as he honestly feels.
He sees the ship, massive in size, big enough to hold its own mini civilization, stationed just in front of Unma's elegant castle, the mouth of its main doors propped open. In front of it…
"Oh crap," Lance breathes. Unma's people are herded into rows, standing at attention and looking terrified as a handful of large figures pace the lines. Lance doesn't miss the purple color to their skin—err, fur. He tastes the word, finding it just as bitter as he expects. "Galra."
Unma fixates him with a look of horror and confusion, to which Lance summarizes for her. "Bad news."
He can feel her pull back a little, and Lance imagines that a princess who is afraid to lead her people to her full ability might find a situation like this more than intimidating. He debates tucking her away into hiding while he continues on, to keep her safe, maybe inside one of the lions, but Shiro told him to keep her close and safe, and Lance wonders if Unma's people would think less of her for not being there for them, anyway.
The crowd is so huge that the two of them are able to slip in and become part of it, unnoticed. Lance weaves through it to place himself on the front lines, knowing he will stand out with his white and blue armor. He has no plan, but he certainly can't make much of a difference hiding amongst innocents. It seems like the right move, until he reaches the front and sees Draxis a little ways down the line, who meets his gaze with one of rage when he realizes the princess is at his side. And Draxis is not the only one to notice the Princess has arrived.
"Look who decided to show up," the biggest Galran (of course) says, powerful form striding over and reaching out to lift Unma's chin, fingers are so large that they nearly envelope her entire face. "Perfect. We can finally begin the negotiations. Your city has been quite uncooperative. Even your precious translators have proven rather… unresponsive. Perhaps you can do the right thing and take the fall for your people."
She tears her head free of the grasp, staring defiantly. Appearing braver than she feels, reminding Lance of Allura.
Her silence is not the response the Galran is looking for, so his voice darkens. "We're not going anywhere until we come to an agreement, so you're gonna have to open that pretty mouth of yours."
But Unma continues to defy. Lance is proud but can feel his body aching to make a move. He doesn't like to assume that princesses necessarily need to be saved, but it never stops him from wanting to.
A tinny voice sounds at his ear. "I need a little more time." Pidge. Lance doesn't know exactly what the others are doing or why Pidge needs more time, but she wouldn't ask for it if she didn't need it, and Lance is nothing if not a giver.
Then Shiro, "Lance, the Galra are going to try and get the Decibonians to talk. We can't let that happen."
"Tough crowd," the Galran muses, a dark chuckle escaping his thin lips. His large size reminds Lance of the skyscrapers he's seen in the bustling cities in movies, so Lance decides to call him Tower.
A few of Tower's friends come around to form a threesome that corner the princess. No one in the crowd makes a move to stop it and something under Lance's skin crawls. "No matter. One of you are going to tell me where you are hiding your Plexia Crystals and how to use them, or your vows of silence will be broken by the sound of your own screams."
Lance notices next to him that Princess Unma is biting her lip the way folks do when they are debating being an idiot for a good cause. It's a face he knows well. And just as she seems to lose the battle in her mind, Tower starts side-glancing the crowd for any stupid, brave souls.
Ironically enough, Lance is stupid and brave and has a soul.
And thanks to the voice of Pidge sounding off in his ear, Lance is reminded that, sometimes, the glove just fits.
"Still need more time. Lance, I need you to distract them now."
More time. Distraction. Consider it done.
But options are limited. Close quarters combat? Forget it. Even if he could, there are too many people around who would be at risk. But he also can't very well let Unma be messed with by these assholes. Plus Pidge asked for a distraction and what kind of space-brother would he be if he didn't deliver to his little space-sister?
Not surprisingly, while Lance has been futzing around in his head, Tower has approached the princess, leaning down to be eyelevel with her. "As the leader of your people, one would expect you step up. Are you really willing to bite your tongue and sentence your people to torture?"
Still quiet, Unma begins to tremble. Lance decides that if there were ever a time to dive head-first into potential self-harm, it should be to save a scared, beautiful princess who is out of her depth and misses her parents, afraid to rule an entire city of people but trying.
He steps forward.
"Uh, pardon me, señor furball?"
The onslaught of nerves he feels run through his body is absolutely chilling. The mammoth size of all three Galrans turn to him with wild eyes, like mountains in motion. And really, Lance should know better. Handsome and valiant princes don't go poking sleeping dragons with a stick, but then again, maybe he'd be better off with a dragon.
Tower approaches, his massive size easily dwarfing Lance, even as he puffs out his chest and rises to his toes. He can hear his own breathing hitch in the privacy of his enclosed helmet, but even with a stellar poker face, Lance doesn't think the Galran is fooled. Lance knows he doesn't have to engage, not really. He just needs to be the center of attention. Be a distraction.
Easy peasy.
"What are you trying to do, human?"
"I actually… honestly, I don't know," Lance answers hesitantly, feeling heat rise in his cheeks at the record-breaking time it has taken for his gusto to crack. He sucks in a breath though and tries again. Unma and her people, Shiro and his team, they're all counting on him.
No pressure, you know?
"Then don't waste my time," the bulking Galran snarls, returning his attention to Unma and reaching for her.
"Well hold on, now," Lance intercepts. "Out of everyone here, I'm the only one willingly talking with you, in case you haven't noticed. You want the Plexia Crystals? I know where those are. I've seen them."
And that. Well. That garners attention.
It is also, some would say, how you sign your own name on your death certificate.
Three pairs of narrowed, yellow eyes size him up. The shorter of the three (and admittedly, it is still taller than Lance by at least a foot) hums thoughtfully. "…I know who you are. You are a Paladin of Voltron. What kind of trick are you trying to pull?"
"No trick. Simply put, I know what you want to know, and let's be honest here; I'm kind've your best shot."
An oversized hand lashes out and clutches his helmet and Lance barely has time to even gasp before the world explodes white, having been flung to the ground so quickly and so violently that he blacks out for a moment. When he comes to, hes on the ground with the splittiest of splitting headaches and waves of nausea lapping at the base of his belly. That's a concussion, maybe.
His helmet is busted. Completely cracked into two whole pieces and out of reach. So communications are gone, too. Cool.
Three dark voices linger overhead, chuckling at his pain. And Lance craves a moment long enough to collect himself and maybe even retaliate, but something latches onto the breastplate of his armor and lifts him. He dangles, fingers weakly trying to claw the hand away but the strength just isn't there.
Some hero. Down and out in less than two ticks.
But the distraction bit? That's still happening, technically.
"Do not disappoint me, then. If you do, I'll find someone else."
"Whoa, whoa… I said I was your best chance," Lance says, slurring way more than he means to. "I never said I was actually going to give anything away. A little mystery is good, don't'cha think?"
And then Lance is on the ground again, world spinning. His vision is a little wonky, but he sees red. Smells it too. Tastes it in his mouth, even.
Oh. Blood is fun, too, sure.
He wants to stay down and recover, just a tick to catch his breath, but he's hoisted up again, this time by his hair. Lance whines as his head is yanked back so far it's hard to breathe. Tower's voice is hot in his ear. "If you do not speak as you have volunteered, I will kill you, and the last words to escape your mouth will be you pleading for your life." Then he turns to their silent audience, eyes landing on Unma in particular. "That is of course, unless someone else wants to volunteer?"
Unsurprisingly, no one answers, and Lance doesn't expect them to. Lance is the one who is supposed to be protecting them. At the same time, he feels the beginning stages of panic because he doesn't want to die and why is no one trying to save him?
The hot muzzle of a gun presses into the underside of his jaw. No messing around, huh? Give them what they want or death. The question comes, "Where are the Plexia Crystals?" And Lance says nothing because betrayal simply does not exist in his bones.
"Paladins of Voltron are meant to protect the innocent, I thought," Tower mocks. "You are doing nothing but prolonging the inevitable. Why are you even here?"
It's rhetorical, Lance knows, yet still he tries to defend the honor of his team. What they represent. What he will represent to his dying breath, which might be pretty soon.
We're here to help, he tries to say, but only succeeds in a series of wet gurgles. Ah, okay. More hurt than he originally thought. Unable to protect anyone.
Some hero.
The gun whirs to life and Lance realizes with an alarming amount of acceptance that these really could be his final moments. Hopefully he's distracted the enemy long enough for the others to succeed in whatever it is they plan on doing.
"Stop!"
Lance chokes at the familiar sound of Unma's voice as it cracks with distress. The crowd, her people, seem to sink into an even deeper quiet than before. He squints in her direction as best as he can through the dark fog threatening to take over his vision. Sees her step forward like some martyr, her posture regal and he hands trembling. No one stops her.
"You will not lay another hand on this human."
In the heavy silence, the sound of Unma being backhanded is sharp. The force almost sends her to the ground, but she erects herself, her cheek red and eyes watering, and despite her shorter stature she manages to wedge herself between Lance and the enemy and glare defiantly into her attacker's eyes. This is the moment Lance understands that Unma has the potential to be a strong and impactful leader like Allura; she just doesn't know it yet.
…But this isn't supposed to happen. Lance tries to say it but garbles uselessly instead. He can feel it, the head injury, knows it has something to do with the sticky wetness on his face and yet somehow cannot fully connect the two. He tries to reach out—to what, he doesn't know. His helmet, to Unma—but his fingers only twitch. He wants to protect. Needs to protect. If he can't do that, what good is he?
Unma's voice is so fierce it sends chills rippling through his entire, broken body. "I can assure you, if you so much as touch a hair on his head again, you will never attain what you seek."
Surely hearing their leader speak after years and years of muteness has her people frozen in shock and awe. Lance wishes he could see it but his heart breaks because this is not the way it was meant to happen. This is not the way Unma is meant to break the mold. Not for him.
"N….no," he manages to groan miserably. Small miracles. He tries to push through the pain to get to his hands and knees, but Unma crouches next to him and presses him back to the ground.
"Please, friend. Remain as you are."
She has a voice he wants to listen to without question, but its funny, isn't it? A girl who has spent her entire life holding her tongue is telling him to hold his. He tries to laugh. Coughs instead.
And then Unma is being yanked away from him by her arm by the Galran who has remained silent up to this point, and its then that Draxis crawls out of the woodwork with an expression of absolute loathing. "That is enough," he demands, and Lance wants to tell him no no no, don't anger the guy who has his hands on the princess, that's stupid risky. But Draxis reveals no fear. "Release the princess now, and I will contribute to negotiations willingly."
"Interesting. The girl is all it took," Tower muses, stealing Unma from the other Galran's grasp and throwing her unceremoniously to the ground next to Lance. He then crouches down and playfully fingers Lance's hair. "Thank you for delivering such a valuable bargaining chip, Paladin."
Lance wants to vomit.
Unma screams as something collides with the side of his head, sending him into a blackness that leaves him reeling. From there he fades in and out and only catches scraps of events.
Somewhere in his mind he knows that Tower has escorted Draxis away somewhere. The remaining Galran are talking and laughing and terrorizing the citizens of Decibon. He hears Pidge's voice, calling out instructions, hears Hunk's gun firing. When he pries his eyes open a little he sees Keith do things that action heroes do in the movies, the kind of movies that Keith has probably never even heard of. At some point there is an explosion and Lance thinks he is going to die, but he sees flashes of colors. Red, black, yellow and green. There's fighting. People being ushered to safety. Unma never leaves his side until a familiar black blur looms over him and passes her off to a red one.
There are hands on him, gentle and soothing and strong. Shiro's voice is unmistakable, even through the pain.
"I've got you, buddy. Good job."
Lance disagrees. He did bad. Very, very bad. He wants to help and tries to say as much. Fails at that, too.
He manages a whimper and closes his eyes, welcoming that persistent blackness and succumbing to it completely.
XXX
He wakes up in Hunk's arms, aching and confused. Hunk's face is wrinkled in concern but there is clear relief in his eyes when Lance looks up to him. "Oh thank God. Lance!"
"Hunk… Is the princess…"
"Everyone is alright, buddy."
"No thanks to you." Draxis' silhouette glides into view. His voice is unforgiving and it makes Lance cringe. Hunk's arms slightly tighten around him. "By speaking out you put our people and our princess in danger. You coerced Unma to breach her vow of silence, putting her life, and her values, at risk. If not for my intervention, there is no telling what would have transpired."
"I…" Lance wheezes, not actually knowing what it is he wants to say. But Draxis is wrong. "The princess—"
"Has suffered a huge burden due to your stupidity. The Galrans, thankfully, have retreated for now, thanks to your teammates timely arrival and my own negotiations. But you, Blue Paladin of Voltron, you have doomed us all."
XXX
A/N: I would give excuses as to why this update took so long but let's be honest; you're here for the story.I'm posting this story as a result of a fic exchange with fellow author and friend, IcyPanther. The rules were as follows:
1. Story must revolve around Lance losing his ability to speak. The HOW is fair game.
2. Story must be between 20k to 100k words (a real test for Icy)
3. Story is a gen fic (I have nothing against klance but this fic will be pure bromance)
3. Story will be posted on Nov. 1 and finished by Jan. 31, 2018 (yeah lol this will not be happening for me)
5. The following lines must be used somewhere within the story:
Icy to heyheroics: "We're here to help you"
heyheroics to Icy: "Just let me do this"
BESIDES, the rules are more like guidelines XD
PLEASE keep in mind that I am unable to commit to a proper posting schedule and will be updating this fic as I complete chapters. I'm going to get them out as soon as I can, guys. Thank you for your understanding on this!
In the meantime, do go visit IcyPanther and her fantastic work (her fic for this challenge is The Purity of Sin and you must go check it out!) and leave her a review to show her how much you appreciate all of her hard work! She is so much better at this than me!
I also want to mention that if you have a moment, please do drop a comment/review. I personally do not obsess over reviews, BUT authors spend days, weeks, sometimes YEARS working hard on fics for others to enjoy, it takes less than a minute to leave a comment saying you appreciate their hard work. Please don't let proper reviews become a dying gesture. It's only polite to let authors know that you are enjoying the content they are creating for you to enjoy.
Thank you :)