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As Color Fades Away

Chapter Four

Consciousness came back slowly and rather painfully.

Lance whimpered at the dull throbbing that seemed to make up his entire body and wondered what kind of level Shiro had put the gladiator on and how to make sure it never happened again. He kept his eyes closed, anticipating the worry and concern and, he winced, no doubt a critque from either Keith or Allura about his failure this time, any second.

Nothing.

Lance frowned at that. Shouldn't someone be at least checking on him?

He cracked open an eye, already preparing to wince at the over-bright lighting of the training room. But instead it was nearly dark and the only light was a faint purple glow coming not from the ceiling but the wall.

Confused, he went to sit up and was immediately assaulted by stabbing pain that seemed to travel through his entire torso and he gasped, stopping his ascent immediately.

What the...?

What had happened?

He hadn't been in training. He'd been... in Blue on a mission and then...

Lance's stomach heaved.

Galra.

Galran soldiers had attacked him, forcing their way onboard Blue. And he'd...

He'd...

Lance pivoted his body to the side just in time to vomit, splattering the ground with what little contents he had in him. Each contraction sent his chest alight with a new agony and it only made him heave again.

He'd killed the Galran.

Blaster shot right through the head that the helmet hadn't even had a chance of stopping.

He'd killed the Galran.

Lance vomited again, all stomach bile this time.

He'd killed the Galran.

He knew he hadn't had much of a choice. He knew that.

But still...

And...

And it had all been for nothing because in the end...

He had still been captured.

Wiping his hand weakly across his mouth, Lance rolled away from his mess and half-pushed himself, grunting and trying not to start crying at the pain, so he was leaning against a smooth metal wall that he found to also be freezing cold. A glance down revealed that might be because he was only half-dressed.; his armor had been stripped off, which meant his bayard was gone too, and so had the upper part of his underarmor.

But he had gained bandages. They wrapped tightly around his chest and back and Lance recalled that yes, he had been stabbed. They hadn't done anything for the laser burns that covered him, including a rather serious one to the right of his ribcage that seemed to pulse with heat, but he didn't think he was in danger from dying from those. His head was pounding too – the Galran had hit him upside the head, he thought he remembered – and Lance tried to determine if he had a concussion, but couldn't quite remember the symptoms for one. Headache for sure though, check.

Lance shivered, the motion sending every nerve back alight, and he whimpered low in his throat, bringing his arms up to wrap about his stomach in as much a hug of comfort as trying to warm himself.

It didn't help much.

He swallowed thickly, trying to pull himself back together. So he'd been captured. Okay. Fine. He just... he just had to get out of here now.

In a few minutes, he decided, tilting his head back against the cold wall. Maybe when the room stopped its gentle spin that he was ninety-nine percent sure was just in his head. He just needed a few minutes. He'd be fine then.

His chest throbbed as though to say it begged to differ.

So not moving for a little bit. What else could he do instead?

An image of his Lion swam to mind and Lance tensed. Had she been captured too?

"Bl-Blue?" he rasped, voice feeling like he'd rubbed it raw with sandpaper and he swallowed thickly, trying to ease the ache. "Are you th-there?"

No comforting purr touched his mind. He stretched his senses as far as he could, seeking some sign of his Lion. Even in the castle he could always feel her, a tiny press against him, even if she was too far away to speak with in her hangar.

So that meant either this was a really big ship or Blue wasn't here. Lance warred between relief and despair. He was so so glad Blue wasn't caught too but... but he really needed her.

"Blue," he whispered again, just to break up he silence.

It didn't help.

What would help would be figuring a way out of this.

Think. He needed to think. It'd be easier to do if everything didn't hurt so much and his thoughts kept drifting. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt not just hurt but so... fuzzy. He thought it might have been when Keith was directing him through the maze and he'd run headlong into one of the walls at full tilt because Pidge and Hunk were about to beat them and he had to have been close and Keith was making him mess up on purpose.

And he was getting off track. What had he been trying to think about? Right. Escape. Getting out of here. Think. Think. What would Shiro do in this situation?

Okay, Shiro would analyze the situation. Lance opened his eyes – when had he closed them? You weren't supposed to sleep with head injuries, right? Stay awake! - to take inventory. Clothing: underarmor shirt was gone, pants were still intact. Shoes were… gone? He scowled, wiggling his visible toes. Wasn't that something bad guys did? Take your shoes so you couldn't run away as easily?

Lance paused then. Right. The Galra were bad guys. Made sense. He decided he may indeed have that concussion. Wasn't disjointed thinking a symptom? Or was he making that up?

Okay, what else? Chest wound was bad, very bad, but nothing else seemed to be too terrible. His legs were still working, he determined, even though moving them sent tremors up the rest of his body and so he stopped. That was good. Location? Some type of cell, as he'd figured. Maybe eight feet by eight feet? Tall enough to stand in, it looked like, but he wasn't willing to stand up to try. Completely empty.

There was a door on whatever direction was across from him. He'd never been good with directions and how was he honestly supposed to know right now anyway? He bet Shiro and Keith had some type of internal compass built into them though as they always seemed to know exactly where they were. He was just going to call it north. Door on the north with ugly purple light (and he had once thought purple was a pretty color, ugh) mounted to the right of it.

The door did not have any handles on his side and no little window for him to peer out of. He could only tell it was actually a door because it was set further into the wall than the rest of the room. Walls were, as he'd already deduced, made of metal. He rapped a weak fist against the one he was leaning on, but it was just as solid as he'd anticipated.

He was well and truly captured. Lance tried not to panic at the thought and what it all entailed.

Because why had he been captured? He recalled them saying something about Haggar.

He...

He did not want to find out why Haggar wanted him.

He knew he wasn't the brains of the Voltron team but even he knew something weird was going on. This entire time it had been Black Lion, Black Lion, Black Lion and yet here they were luring the Blue Lion (and it could have been none other, not with their underwater trap) to them. Why?

He hoped he didn't have to find out.

He needed to escape.

But, as he glanced again about the cell, he knew such a thing was not happening right now.

When someone did come to open the door he wasn't going to be able to go all kick-butt Shiro on them or even martial artist Keith and take them out; he wasn't a very strong hand-to-hand fighter on a good day and today - his chest ached again - today was not a good day. Even if he was able to miraculously overpower the guard he had no idea where he was and he doubted the Galra were going to let him just wander about the ship looking for a hangar. If he had a way to hide himself - scramble into an air duct like Pidge had done when Sendak had infiltrated the castle - that would be ideal, but he also didn't think he would fit into one.

He hadn't been bound, he noted. He doubted it was out of concern for his injury either, which left...

That he wasn't a threat.

Lance hated the pressure building behind his eyes at that. Even without knowing him or his abilities, despite the fact that he had ki– hurt one of the Galrans sent to capture him, they were not taking him seriously.

He should use it to his advantage, he knew. It could be his one chance.

But even still...

He knew it was useless. He was no match for a Galran like this and even had he been at full health there wasn't much he could do against their sheer size and armor without a weapon.

So what did he do when ultimately someone came for him?

He couldn't fight, but he didn't want to go meekly. He wasn't that weak, he wasn't. And he couldn't let them see how afraid he was. He was a Paladin of Voltron. Stuff like this happened all the time to heroes in the stories; they got captured, they were interrogated - oh Dios, were they going to torture him? – and ultimately they either escaped or were rescued. An escape was pretty much non-existent but a rescue? He could wait for a rescue. He was sure the team was gathering now, just as they all had for Allura when she had been caught.

Although...

She was Allura. The princess. He was just... Lance.

No. He shook the thought from his head. He may be the weakest member of the team but he was still a part of it. Hunk, he knew, would never just leave him behind. They would come for him. He just had to remain strong until then.

He could do that, right?

He still wasn't sure what his approach was going to be. If his head would just stop aching so he could think then maybe–

He cut his own thoughts off as the door began to open.

Quiznak.

They were here.

He winced at the brighter light - purple still, of course - spilling into the room from the hall and illuminating two Galran soldiers.

Two huge Galran soldiers, armed with blasters and... and was that an axe?

What did he do?

"Paladin–" the smaller (but not small at all, absolutely not at all) one began, but Lance interrupted, letting his mouth literally do the talking.

"Your hospitality skills suck," he informed them, talking past the scratchiness of this throat. Just keep talking. "What kind of place is this? The accommodations are awful. Like, look, I get that you guys probably have barracks or something butyour guests should be treated a little better, don't you think? Like, room with a view maybe? A bed would be a good start too."

The soldiers seemed dumbstruck and Lance kept going. If he was rambling there was no room left to be scared. And he wasn't scared. Not at all. Not one bit.

"The metal décor in here just isn't doing it for me and I know you guys really like purple, but it's just not my color. Blue is much better. But not a pastel blue, no no, but like, a nice deep blue is fine or even better an ocean blue—"

"Get up," ordered the the other soldier, a small burn scar above his right eye, both of which were narrowed in such hate that Lance felt a shiver run down his spine.

"I'm... I'm actually doing fine right here," Lance said, trying not to shrink as the Galran moved towards him. "You know, the metal isn't that bad when you get past the coldness and hardness of it—"

He cut off with a small yelp as the Galran reached down and sank claws into his hair, digging into his scalp, and then lifted him by it. Reflexive tears sprang to Lance's eyes at the pressure and he hated the noise pulled out of him as sleeping wounds were awoken and his chest screamed at the pressure and angle. There was little relief to be had either as he was made to stand on his tiptoes, most of his weight still hanging from the Galran's hand in his hair.

"Enough," the Galran growled, shaking Lance and he bit his tongue to keep the cry inside. When Lance did not respond the Galran shook him again, and while he wasn't smiling there was something gleeful crossing his face as Lance moaned again.

He was waiting for a response.

Lance couldn't nod, not the way his head was behind held, and as much as he told himself to not give into the fear that was seeping past his earlier bravado he couldn't help it either.

"'kay," he managed, hoping it didn't sound as pathetic as it came out, but his throat was tight and he wasn't sure he was capable of saying more at the moment. He was lowered back to the floor, feet falling flush, and his hair released. He stumbled slightly at being upright and his vision blurred for a moment before it came back with sudden clarity as a set of claws descended painfully on his shoulder.

"Walk."

Well, so long as stumbling counted as walking Lance followed the order, sharp claws digging in and forcing him to keep up a steady pace even as every footfall sent a pounding pain through him.

He debated for all of a tick of resisting, of digging his feet into the ground and refusing to budge, but he knew ultimately this was not the place to make his stand. It would do nothing and he'd likely only end up even more hurt from it. And... and if he was going to be interrogated (read: tortured) then he was going to need whatever little strength he had left to endure.

Just until the team arrived.

He tried to trace a path, but every hall looked the same and after six turns he couldn't remember if it had been three lefts and a right and then two lefts or if the right turn had been one more hallway up. It didn't matter anyway, as he didn't want to return to his cell. He needed to find a hangar but despite the many offshoots and halls there were no signs indicating a direction and it wasn't like he could read Galran anyway.

Lance did have to admit though that this ship was much bigger than any ships he'd previously been on. In fact, the only thing he could think of that might have stood a chance at comparison was Zarkon's flag ship they had attacked in retrieving Allura. But, it wasn't like he was meeting Zarkon, right? That was ridiculous.

And yet as they entered another hallway that opened into a receiving hall with a throne perched at the very back Lance came to the horrible conclusion that actually yes, he was about to meet Zarkon.

Oh Dios.

"I... I don't think I'm dressed appropriately for a visit with your dictator," Lance squeaked, trying to stall for all the good it would do. "Maybe we could reschedule? For like never in my lifetime?"

"Silence." The grip on his shoulder increased to the point where Lance felt warm trickles of blood flowing down his arm from the punctures and he barely swallowed up the gasp.

He was forced to kneel at the steps leading to the throne, where none other than the Galran emperor himself sat. This was Lance's first time seeing him up close and he had to admit the guy had a pretty commanding presence. His eyes were purple instead of the typical Galran yellow and his features weren't as furred as many of the other Galrans Lance had had the not-pleasure of encountering. The armor was huge, but then so too was the man behind it.

Standing next to the throne was a cloaked figure and Lance's stomach dropped.

That must be Haggar.

And somehow, despite her small stature next to Zarkon, he was infinitely more afraid of her. She was the one who had hurt Shiro. Had given — forced — that arm upon him. And as cool and useful as the robotic arm was, Lance would bet everything Shiro would rather have his flesh one back.

She was the one who had wanted him alive.

It was not a comforting fact.

"The Paladin, as requested, my Lord," the Galran not gripping Lance's shoulder spoke.

"Dismissed, Liuteneant," intoned Zarkon. "Commander, stay." The grip on Lance's shoulder tightened and he rolled over that bit of information. A commander, huh? Same rank as Sendak. On guard duty.

That...

That did not seem normal. Or good. Definitely not good.

Zarkon turned his head slightly to the cloaked figured. "Your plan seems to be succeeding so far, Haggar."

And it was Haggar.

Quiznak.

Lance let his mouth move on its own accord again in an effort to fight back his growing dread.

"Uh, what plan exactly?" Lance asked, figuring too there was no harm (although there probably actually was) in asking. "I'm not sure if you realized this, but I'm the Blue Paladin. You know, with the Blue Lion. Not that we'd let you have the Black Lion, I'm just saying I think you got your colors mixed up."

To his surprise, Zarkon let out a deep laugh. "I had heard rumor that the Blue Paladin liked to prattle, but I did not realize how much so."

"Haha, yeah, I'm a pretty funny guy," Lance said, shifting slightly and halting immediately as the claws dug in deeper and he felt a new trickle of blood descend over his chest. "So, how about I entertain you for a bit, tell some jokes, and then you send me off on my way home? It's got to be pretty late at this point and Sh—" he cut himself off from saying Shiro's name; there was no need to provide or confirm any intel the Galrans had, "my leader is really strict about curfew."

"Haggar?" Zarkon sighed. The Druid took a step forward and pointed a hand at Lance.

Lance's stomach bottomed out.

"Okay, crazy witch lady don't go pointing at—"

And Lance found himself silenced as his jaw snapped shut.

What. The. Quiznak?

He futilely tried to open his mouth, to speak as words were his only weapon here, and all he got for his efforts was a pressure on his jaw and a new ache to add to his many. He could feel himself growing lightheaded and forced himself to take a deep inhale through his nose and then out.

Don't panic don't panic don't panic.

He was panicking.

Magic. Haggar was using magic on him and she hadn't even touched him and oh Dios what had he gotten himself into?

"You did not let me finish," Zarkon said, interrupting his spiraling thoughts, leaning back in his throne. "I dislike pointless words. Even so, I will answer your question." He paused then, for dramatic effect Lance was certain, and he hated that it was working.

"I desire the Black Lion," Zarkon said simply, although a dark smile pulled up his face. "You are here to ensure that it becomes mine. The... bait, if you will."

Oh.

Oh.

This all made so much more sense now.

It was why they had created such a scheme in the first place, separating one Lion from the pack. It wasn't that they were specifically after Lance or Blue, no, they just needed a way to get one of them alone and vulnerable.

Well, Lance had to hand it to them. Their plan had worked.

But...

He shook his head at Zarkon's words. He would not be the bait. He would never allow the Empire to have the Black Lion. If Zarkon obtained her then the universe had absolutely no hope of fighting back.

As if hearing his thoughts Zarkon chuckled again, although it held no humor. "You have no choice in the matter. Your life in exchange for the Black Lion. If your fellow Paladins value it, they will come. And if they do not then I suppose you meant little to them."

Lance was unsuccessful at completely hiding the wince at that statement.

But it didn't matter anyways. Even if they wanted to, they could not just hand the Black Lion over. Zarkon was unlikely to let Lance live when all was said and done (otherwise he was an oddly benevolent sort and that just didn't fit with the picture he painted) and if the exchange did go as planned then Lance and the other Paladins would be dead soon thereafter without the ability to form Voltron.

The only way this would possibly work for him was a rescue mission. They had rescued Allura once, there was no reason they couldn't do it again.

Except... they'd been able to form Voltron then. Without him they couldn't do that. And as skilled and determined as his friends were, there was no way they were a match for Zarkon's forces. Four lions and one castle against the entire Galra fleet? It was insanity. Lance would never want them to endanger themselves like that.

Not for him.

So if a rescue was out of the cards, what were the other options?

Lance had a sinking feeling he knew what it was.

He would die here. He would die after being tortured and interrogated and he only prayed that he didn't give up any information in that time that could hurt his team. He didn't know much about Voltron as a whole, but he did know (or liked to think he did) about its Paladins. About the people behind the robot and even now his mind was running through and simultaneously trying to block out any observations he'd made of his team that would detail strengths or weaknesses.

He couldn't give them anything. He would have to hold on until the very end.

He prayed he could do it.

And then after... His death would leave a hole in Voltron. But Paladins were replaceable; he was sure they could find someone, maybe even Allura, to pilot Blue.

What wasn't replaceable was the Black Lion. The team would realize that too. They would see how it was a suicide mission to attempt a rescue, know that they couldn't give into Zarkon's demands.

And so...

So he was probably going to die here. But he wouldn't go down without a fight. He could at least do that.

"I see your resolve, young Paladin," Haggar rasped from Zarkon's side, who had watched with interest as the blue eyes had gone from pained to resignation to determination. "But you are mistaken if you believe that the Paladins will not come for you. Not when they see what you have been reduced to under my hand." Haggar smiled and it was not a kind look. "I look very much forward to our time together."

Lance swallowed thickly but it did nothing to combat the terror settling over him at her words.

So there was going to be torture.

And... and the others were going to see it?

Oh Dios no.

"And should the Paladins of Voltron refuse to accept the terms," Zarkon rumbled as Lance tried to will himself to calm down, "we will still gain a victory. You will be disposed of and cease the summoning of Voltron. Not only that," Zarkon's grin widened, "I may know the weaknesses of each Lion, but these Paladins are new to me. I too am looking forward to what secrets Haggar learns from you."

And he'd been right. Oh Dios he was right.

Lance's jaw clenched even around Haggar's magic. He wouldn't tell them anything. He would never betray his friends like that. He was a Paladin of Voltron. He would protect them and the universe until his very last breath.

But could he? His mind treacherously reminded him of what happened to Shiro. And if someone as strong as that could still suffer from his time at the hands of the Galrans what resistance could he possibly provide?

He'd do what he could. He would give every bit of himself if it meant protecting his friends and hopefully it would be enough.

It had to be enough.

"Remove him from my sight," Zarkon commanded. "Haggar, I expect results soon."

She bowed and Lance was pulled forcibly to his feet by the commander and had it not been for his grip Lance might have found himself on the floor again, legs shaking against his will.

Haggar vanished in a burst of black lightening and Lance would have screamed had his mouth not been magically sealed shut as she appeared directly in front of him, mere inches from his face. This close her eyes were practically glowing even under the darkness of her hood and her smile was sharp.

Sharp and dangerous.

Lance tried to pull away but she was reaching out a purple hand from her robe and roughly cupped his face, turning it side to side. Lance jerked to no avail, heart hammering as she brushed her thumb against his cheek.

Wrong his mind screamed at him, the gentle touch at odds with what violence he knew she was capable of.

"You have beautiful eyes," she crooned, her own pupil less yellow peering into his. "I have never seen such a shade of blue." A pointed finger traced lightly about his right eye before digging cruelly into the skin just below it.

Lance squeezed them shut so he didn't have to look at her anymore and she laughed, a cruel sound.

"Take him back to his cell, Commander," she instructed. "It is time to begin phase one."

Author's Notes:

Oh my gosh, you guys! -insert Clawhauser's squeal from Zooptopia here- I am so blown away with all of the support you have shown this fic! I am so glad you all are enjoying it! And I'm so, so grateful for those of you who continue to inspire me with your amazing reviews and words of encouragement. You make me just want to keep writing and writing (when I ought to be doing things that pay the bills xD).

I'd like to give a shout out to all of those lovely individuals who left a comment. These fabulous people are: LishaChan, wingedflower, Guest, PaintedWings45, Purplehood, Swirly Rainbow, Guest, MoonlitFudge, rodeo cat, cats and violin, FanaticFangirl2602, bluejwtr, Sally W, Alexa The-Angst-Chronicles, StrawberryFever3, Stargirl720, Guest, Remi Rukh, athenaowl1 and KarleighH. You guys are awesome. Thank you so much!

There were quite a few of you clamoring for Haggar, and she will most definitely be a large part of this fic. Because who doesn't love the creepy Druid lady? We're moving into the part I know we're all waiting for which, sorry to our favorite Blue Paladin, means things aren't looking good for him. I'll make it up to him. Somehow. By the end xD

As always, please do drop a comment below if you enjoyed it! Doesn't matter how long or short; every one makes me smile and encourages me to keep writing. Thank you so much and see you within 1-2 weeks (although if y'all keep being awesome I'm going to keep getting chapters out in a week!).