Chapter 3:

dinner plans

The inn Allura leads them to is not very comfortable by far. The octagonal rooms are only barely large enough to accommodate off-world visitors and, without more local currency, they're unable to score either a second or larger room. Instead, they huddle uncomfortably inside a room that never really had humans or Alteans in mind and try to ignore the howling winds rattling the casements.

"Be grateful," Allura tells them, "The other room available is typically rented to Hbklikkda."

"Ten-ban long and a stench like a naur bog," Coran explains. He holds his hands wide to demonstrate the size and then proceeds to try and explain the shape as something wormlike but larger and significantly less harmless. "Nasty fellows, really."

Lance just narrows his eyes shrewdly and goes, "So… basically Jabba the Hutt with fangs. Okay."

"You are aware this is the real world, right?" Pidge asks him, "And not Star Wars?"

"Says the girl flying a giant magical robot lion that is part of an even bigger magical robot to save the universe from the evil Empire," Lance says, smugly.

When it's put like that, what they're doing really does sound ridiculous.

"He's got you there, Pidge," Hunk remarks.

Pidge just groans, slumping forward until her head is resting flat on the octagonal table. Shiro is trying not to smile and failing horribly. Allura is less shy about it, but she, like Keith, probably doesn't have a clue what Lance is talking about. It must have shown on his face, though, because Shiro is clearing his throat and trying to sit up marginally straighter.

"All Star Wars jokes aside, we do have a very real situation to deal with, Lance," Shiro states, "So, maybe calm down on the jokes for a bit please?"

Lance looks scandalized. "Hey, man, I'm like 95% jokes. That's like cutting off my…" He pauses, his eyes darting to Shiro's right arm, and then he slumps into his seat with a mumbled 'sorry.'

An awkward silence follows, shattered only by the rattle of wind and crash of thunder.

"Well, this is awkward," Hunk announces, trying to break the silence. "Some storm, huh? Maybe we should think about what we're doing for dinner, since it looks like we're not going anywhere for a while and I don't even want to think about what resembles room service here."

Coran and Allura exchange a look, one that is both extremely telling and highly unnerving.

"That's probably for the best," Allura says at last. "Coran?"

"Fortunately, I brought emergency Paladin rations," Coran announces, trying to stand. His head scrapes the low ceiling as he rifles through his bag for the so-called rations and tries to hand them out. "High in nutrition and packed with everything young Paladins and their guardians need! Now, Paladins should always carry extra rations. One never knows when one might need them!"

Keith opens his immediately and looks up. "This is just the green stuff."

It's in a bar, sure, and a slightly different shade of green but he knows that smell anywhere.

Everyone groans and flops backwards dramatically.

"That's it, we're going to that market or we're gonna die trying," Hunk says, sitting up. He hasn't looked this determined since Balmora.

Not that Keith can blame him: there's only so much green goo one can take and, frankly, he's sick of it, too.

"Seconded," Pidge calls from the floor.

"Thirded," Lance immediately chimes in.

"When did we become a democracy?" Shiro asks wryly, although he doesn't look too keen on the green rations either. "Keith, up to you, buddy. Take out – yay or nay?"

Keith inwardly winces a little, his hand going to his knife again, and then he nods. "Yay."

"What is take out?" Allura asks politely.

The Paladins exchange glances.

"It's when you go get food…"

"Yeah and sometimes it's delivered…"

"No, that's delivery."

"Same thing – anyway…"

"It is not the same thing!"

"It's an Earth thing."

Both Alteans look totally overwhelmed at the barrage of explanation from the Paladins talking over each other and nitpicking the finer points of what constitutes proper Earthling take out. Shiro raises his hands, sheepishly smiling as he makes a gesture for them to stop and calm down.

"I miss noodles," Keith says, "And Korean barbecue."

"I miss Ahi poke," Hunk pipes up. He frowns a little, sighing at the green bar.

"Chocolate," Pidge adds. "Pizza and chocolate."

"Mom," Lance mumbles. "Mom 'n everyone's probably so worried."

And just like that any thought of food is soured completely.

Silence descends again and this time it's a much heavier, more somber silence.

"Has anyone thought about what happens when it's all over?" Hunk asks quietly, leaning against the table. He pokes the ration bar listlessly. "Like, say we succeed, right? Say we take down Zarkon – what happens to the rest of the Galra empire?"

"Tch, let it fall," Pidge says bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. She fidgets angrily, pushing herself back and forward off the edge of the table with her foot, and scowls.

Shiro gives her a look of deep sympathy and then quietly examines his right hand, flexing the artificial joints.

"I don't quite follow," Allura says. Her hands remain folded in her lap, but her fingers clench at the pastel fabric and she's gone stiff as a board.

"Well, what I'm saying is…" Hunk squirms under the attention.

"Who fills the vacuum?" Keith guesses.

"Yeah, that," Hunk sounds relieved.

Allura blinks and she too appears to relax, sitting straighter, but not stiffer. "Oh, oh," she says. "Hopefully, no one."

"Well, perhaps Prince Lotor," Coran states absently, stroking his mustache.

Silence descends on the room for a third time, but this time from shock.

"What?" Allura asks, her face wan.

"What?" Pidge stops fidgeting, slamming her hands down on the table.

"What?" Hunk's eyes dart between Coran, Allura and Pidge.

"What?" Shiro stares, eyebrows raised in horror or shock or both.

"Woah, woah, hold up, no one said anything about a prince!" Lance states, sitting up.

"I just did," Coran adds helpfully. His mustache twitches.

Keith glares at him.

"Okay, so who is this guy?" Shiro asks, sitting up a little more purposefully.

"And why are we just hearing about him?" Pidge adds, giving Coran a death glare.

Coran does one of those weird full-body flinches he's so fond of, sputtering something about his memory and hypersleep being a dodgy business, and then slides into what everyone likes to call his stuffy brass pose. He coughs into his fist, closing his eyes, and explains: "He disappeared before the war and, until now, I had no cause to consider that he might even still be alive."

"Zarkon's still alive," Pidge points out waspishly.

"He is not half-Altean, like the prince," Coran admonishes, aiming a pointed look at her. He pauses, deliberately looking away. "It was before the war, before Zarkon began his abominable campaign. It was a different time, a happier time. The Paladins of Old had come together to defeat such terrible darkness, one such as we had never before seen and I pray we never see the like of again. They were each from different worlds and, as you have learned, Zarkon was among their number, as the former Black Lion Paladin. In those happy times, our worlds had long been allies. His marriage to one of our own was intended as a symbol of that enduring friendship."

Keith finds it difficult to imagine a time when the Galra Empire had ever been friendly with anyone, let alone the Alteans, and by the looks on the faces of his fellow Paladins, it's obvious he's not alone.

Allura, however, just looks so terribly sad and it's painfully clear that this wasn't a war between rival powers like they'd initially believed, but a devastating betrayal by once very close allies.

"Alas, it was not to be," Coran continues. "Shortly before the war, the prince disappeared from the public eye completely. Officially, he'd been sent away for further education in Galran statecraft and military matters. There were rumors, of course, but after the war began and reports of Zarkon's atrocities became known to us, we had reason to suspect that there may have been a far more sinister reason for his disappearance. While there have always been those of Altean descent in the Galra Empire, none were ever so highly placed as the prince. If they suspected his loyalties were at all divided between Altea and Galra..."

Hunk visibly winces, leaning back in his seat.

Lance looks away, crossing his arms over his chest.

Pidge doesn't appear surprised in the least.

Shiro looks a bit ill, his whole frame tensing as he grips the table hard.

"You believe the worst, don't you, Coran?" Allura asks quietly.

Coran does not meet her eyes. "Yes, princess. I am sorry. I did not wish to cause you further distress."

Once more, Allura's hands twist the fabric of her skirts, but this time her expression is more lost than mournful. Had she once known this prince?

Keith frowns, pulling out his knife and fiddling with it. He knew this was a bad subject to bring up. Nothing good ever came from bringing up the past.

Shiro draws in a long breath as he leans back in his seat and looks up at the ceiling, nodding. "Okay, okay, so we can scratch him off the list."

"No, we can't," Pidge states sharply, "Not until we know for sure."

"She's right," Keith adds, looking at Coran. "You said it yourself, you heard rumors. What if he's sitting out there, with a whole fleet, just waiting for his old man to bite it?"

Lance raises his eyebrows and then sits straight up, grinning. "Wait, what if that's exactly what we need?"

"What?" Hunk asks, staring at him in surprise. "How's that going to – oh, ohh, yeah. I gotcha!"

Allura frowns. "I do not see the advantage there."

"Ten thousand years is an awfully long time for Junior to be waiting for a shot at the throne and the old man doesn't look like he's giving it up anytime soon," Lance announces with a smug grin. "If this prince is still out there somewhere, he might be willing to give us a hand."

"Then what?" Allura demands archly, her gaze one of imperious fury. "What if he turns out to be worse than his father? Hm? What then, Blue Paladin?"

Lance slumps in his seat: it seems he hadn't considered that.

"Then we take him out, too," Pidge states firmly. Her hands clench into fists on the table, a clear indication that she's roaring for a fight. And Pidge can fight, make no mistake, and fight dirty.

"If he's alive, and that's a big if," Shiro begins, cutting off any further response, "We need to know where he stands before we do anything, is that clear?"

Pidge slouches, glaring moodily at him. Her hands are still clenched.

Lance shrugs, but nods.

Hunk gives a thumbs-up.

Keith snorts. "We've got to find him first. Needle in a proverbial haystack, anyone?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "No, really, Keith? I thought we'd just sneak around and find him hiding in a shack somewhere."

"That doesn't even make sense," Keith fires back. "Why would a Galra prince be in a shack?"

"Your face doesn't make sense," Lance says, smirking. "And, besides, we found you in a shack."

"You didn't find me, you invited yourselves along on my rescue mission! And it was not a shack, it was a base of operations!"

"It was totally a shack."

Pidge hides her face against the table and Hunk groans, flopping backwards.

"What is a haystack?" Coran whispers to Shiro.

Notes:

A Hbklikkda shares far more in common with the average Arrakeen spice worm than a Hutt.