Warning notes: Graphic violence this chapter, please proceed with caution if you are triggered by blood, torture and descriptive imagery.
As Color Fades Away
Chapter Eight
Lance awoke to the quiet beeping sound of machinery and the faintest scent of metal. The constant, gnawing ache for water and the incessant jackhammering in his head had been reduced to a dull ache and he lied there peacefully for a few moments, reveling in the fact that nothing exclusively hurt, no more than the knowledge of just a vague hurt.
And why was he hurting again?
It all came back in a harrowing rush that left him dizzy and suddenly nauseated and his skin prickling, a low moan exiting his throat.
He'd been captured by the Galra, abandoned in a cell. At the reminder, fuzzy as it was, he could feel a tickle in his throat that morphed to a dry cough. It hurt, his chest aching with every pained exhale. His stomach was throbbing too, a reminder that it had not been fed in... in at least a couple days, he'd guess.
But all of that paled in comparison to the phantom pain he could feel at the memory of lightning in his veins and Haggar's cruel chuckle and words to repeat for a transmission to the Paladins.
He had...
They had...
They had seen him like that.
Tied up and screaming and giving into Haggar's demands. He felt color flood his cheeks and he made to bring his hands up to cover them, to hide his shame at being so weak.
But his hands did not move.
At that his eyes flew open and he let out another moan at the overly bright purple lights above him and he closed them just as quickly as they seared the ache in his head to something stronger. He waited a few seconds and then more carefully lifted his lashes, blinking at the spots from last time.
He wasn't in his cell.
Instead he was in some sort of laboratory room; evidenced by the steel tables and strange humming machines and far, far too many tools laid out on a tray next to him. The fact he was apparently strapped down to a narrow table completed his image of what a mad scientist's lab might look like.
Lance swallowed thickly. He'd take his cell back, please.
Swallowing made him aware of something on his throat and he attempted to sit up to take a look, but his wrists and ankles were firmly strapped down and he choked himself as his neck pressed against whatever it was. He more carefully tried to look then, tilting his chin, and was rewarded by the barest glimpse of some sort of metal bar that stretched across the table to keep his head mostly pinned down.
Rewarded was the wrong word, definitely, to use in this situation.
A better word was panic, maybe.
Because this?
This was making him think of Shiro's arm.
No one quite knew about Shiro's prosthetic and how he'd gotten it other than Haggar had been involved. Well, Haggar was here now. And he was strapped to a table. In a room full of very sharp, dangerous looking instruments. And she had said she was going to hurt him in her quest for information.
Losing a limb was a very, very real possibility.
He could already imagine the pain. They wouldn't use any medicine, he was sure. Would they hack it off in one go? Take it in pieces? How much blood would there be? A lot. Definitely a lot.
Lance gagged at the thought of seeing his arm separate away, fingers waving loosely. His stomach cramped although there was literally nothing in it to expel and he groaned instead.
He couldn't think about that. Anything else. Think about anything else.
Shiro.
And not his arm, Lance forced that image away.
What would Shiro do?
He'd analyze the situation and figure out what options he had. He could do that. Just like he had that time in the cell (even if it hadn't made any difference). Okay, good. Analyze away. Body first.
His mouth and voice still worked. Lance almost wished they hadn't; if he was going to be interrogated it would be better to have no way to actually speak in case he... No. He shook his head against the table. No. He wouldn't say a word. Not even if they removed every limb from his body.
Oh Dios he hoped they didn't do that. He hoped he could somehow hold onto that conviction.
He'd already failed miserably with the recording. He was afraid what was coming was going to be a series of distraous repeats.
And moving on.
Head. It no longer hurt as badly and he was definitely thinking clearer. Given how his throat ached less too and his body didn't feel as heavy in general he bet Haggar had given him that water. He hated that he was grateful at all.
And pain. His entire body still hurt, his chest in particular, but it no longer felt damp and he thought they might have put new bandages on, maybe even healed the wound a little bit. Maybe. It wasn't anywhere as bad as it had been and the laser burns he knew were there itched more than they hurt. His neck hurt too with a dull sort of ache. They'd kept injecting him with something, he recalled.
He hoped it didn't have any long-lasting effects.
He flexed his hands against the restraints, trying to twist them to see if he might be able to pop one free. He'd read about people dislocating their thumb to get free of a cuff and while he didn't know if could actually do that he–
There was something in his left hand. He could feel it twitching about as he moved and his breath caught.
He more carefully raised his head this time, trying not to choke himself, but to get a better look at the setup.
And yup, that was most definitely some sort of IV in his hand, feeding away to a canister set further back by his feet.
The question was, what were they drugging him with now? A poison? Something else to force him awake?
"Don't panic," he whispered aloud, the sound of his own voice bringing him a little bit of comfort. "You're fine. You're okay. Estás bien. Esto no es nada. Nothing... nothing the amazing Lancey-Lance can't h-handle." He stuttered on the last word, throat closing up.
He didn't know if he could handle this.
But after a few minutes of no change Lance gave way to the tentative hope that maybe he wasn't being poisoned. Maybe this was a typical IV drip full of fluids to hydrate patients. It would make sense and probably a lot easier to administer than forcing him while unconscious to drink water.
He let out a shuddering sigh, going with that option. At least he could close out one horror.
There were still so so many more to come.
And... and if he wanted to escape them...
He was going to have to do it himself.
There would be no cavalry (or pride, really, since they piloted lions) coming to save him. He knew they would want to. He hoped they wanted to. But they couldn't. They weren't so stupid to realize this wasn't a huge trap for them. He doubted Zarkon would even willingly let him go if the exchange did take place. He'd probably try to capture all of them because that's what evil emperors did. He had no reason to play fair.
But Allura did. And Allura knew the stakes in this war. She knew that the Black Lion was irreplaceable but the Blue Paladin?
Yes.
Losing the Blue Paladin would be a setback but losing the Black Lion would be the end. The former Paladins that had come before his team had known that too; it was why they had perished (Lance had pulled the story from Coran one quiet evening, wanting to know how Blue had wound up on earth and while Coran had not been able to answer that as he had already been in cryo-stasis, he said the former Paladins had sent the Lions away to protect them before joining Alfor in the final battle against Zarkon) and the Lions had survived.
Lance...
Lance could do it too.
He didn't want to, Dios he didn't want to die, but he would take that outcome before he ever hurt his friends. It would be a hero's sacrifice.
If they even gave him that option.
He didn't know what they would do when he refused to talk. Would it be like the video recording where they just kept going until forever? Did they have that sort of patience? Did he the stamina?
How long could he really hold out for?
He knew it wouldn't be for long enough. He just had to make sure they'd broken him by that point, ruined his mind so he had nothing to say. No weaknesses to give up, no skills or tactics or anything small that somehow the Galrans could exploit.
He wanted to cry at the thought of how much pain he was going to be in.
He wanted to cry more at the fact this as how it was going to end.
He wondered if this was how Shiro had felt when he'd been their prisoner.
The sound of a door retracting had him choking back the sob that his body was trying to given in to and schooling his features to as impassive as he could make them.
No weakness.
No fear.
He could do this. He could. He just needed to pull himself together like he'd managed in Zarkon's presence. And if that meant making sarcastic comments and jokes to hide his fears and maybe even hopefully distract them from other things, then he would give it his all.
He would do anything to keep them safe.
Haggar appeared right next to his head and Lance couldn't quite muffle the small gasp of surprise.
She was so quiet. He tried to bring his features back to neutral, trying to find something to make Haggar not so scary.
A jingle bell. Yes. He imagined a little bell dangling off her hood like a weird little elf and jangling with every step she took. A tiny smirk pulled up his lips and it grew when Haggar tilted her head in perhaps confusion.
He could do this.
For now.
"You are awake," Haggar observed.
"Uh yeah, no kidding," Lance said, trying to keep up the smirk as he stared into her pupil-less yellow eyes. Be calm, be snarky and don't show fear. "But I'm fine with getting some more shut-eye. You want to reschedule this... thing?"
Haggar gave a hum but made no other comment.
She continued to stare. Lance resisted the urge to fidget or break eye contact first.
"Where I come from it's rude to stare at someone," he finally said as she made no move to turn her gaze away. "Well, that and plenty of other things. Like showing your middle finger or pointing at them. That's why character mascots don't have five fingers, you know. So there's no middle one to make an obscene gesture."
Not even a blink.
Lance kept up his ramble, saying whatever came to mind.
"Do druids sleep with their eyes open? Is that what you're doing now? Elves can do that. Have you ever seen Lord of the Rings? Probably not, but you should. You'd hate it though since the good guys win."
At that she did cock her head. "You believe the Galra Empire is not good?"
Lance blinked. Was she serious?
"You are joking, right?" he clarified.
Haggar continued to stare.
"Dios mío, estás hablando en serio," Lance muttered. Haggar raised an eyebrow, a thin line barely visible below her hood. He wondered if she understood Spanish; the Alteans certainly didn't but the Galra hadn't been the ones stuck in cryo-statis for ten thousand years. He cleared his throat, switching back to English, which somehow all aliens seemed to understand somehow. He'd given up thinking too hard on it.
"Uh yeah, you are the bad guys. The whole taking over the universe bit through enslavement and killing and torture sort of answers that, don't you think? Although," he jiggled his wrists, "I'm all for you wanting to turn over a new leaf and be the good guys. Want to give it a try?"
Haggar had the gall to chuckle. "You are mistaken, Paladin. The Galra Empire is merely trying to unite the universe and bring it to a new era of strength and prosperity."
"By killing people?" Lance asked, incredulously.
"Sacrifices must be made," Haggar shrugged. "The weak will die and the strong will live, that is the natural order of the universe. We are helping it to achieve such."
"That's insane. You're insane. Zarkon is insane."
At that Haggar's eyes narrowed.
He'd struck a nerve, Lance realized.
He realized it very painfully as Haggar's hands lit up with a black colored lightning and she pressed them to his shoulder.
He screamed, the pain worse than any of the previous shocks had even come close to. Haggar pressed down and his body arced off the table as much as it could before he choked himself on the bar and his scream devolved into a painful gasping whimper.
"Do not insult Emperor Zarkon," she warned over Lance's breathing.
"Ju-just... stating the... the f-facts."
Sometimes he wished his mind would move a little quicker than his mouth as Haggar shocked him again.
"It is good that you are feeling rather talkative," Haggar said, stepping away out of his line of sight. Lance could hear her though, moving something around on one of the tables.
"Ac-actually," he swallowed, "I hit... hit my quota for the day."
Haggar actually looked amused as she stepped back next to his head a minute later, a small black vial in her hands.
"I think I shall greatly enjoy our time together," she told him.
"I'm pretty sure I won't," Lance responded, breathing back under control and trying not to focus on what the vial was. "And a one-sided relationship never works out for anyone in the end. You'd be much better off with another Druid, don't you think? So how about you let me up, point me in the direction of the hangar and I'll get out of your hair and end this star-crossed tragedy before it even begins."
Haggar laughed. And Lance decided then and there that it was the scariest thing he had ever heard.
"I will enjoy crushing that spirit," she murmured. One of her hands came down to rest in his hair and unlike the Galran who seemed to find delight in twisting and pulling it, Haggar did the opposite, lifting and carding strands through her fingers. Lance stiffened and tried to jerk away, that feeling of wrong that had surfaced when she had caressed his face came back full force. What was she doing? "Those that fall the farthest are always the most fun."
"Big talk, lady," he managed, quieting as if hearing his thoughts she brought one hand down to brush against his face, trailing the back of her hand first over his cheek and then cupping it in her hand, thumb making slow circles just below his eye. It took all Lance had this time not to close them.
No fear.
It was harder than it sounded.
"I will give you a choice," she said, continuing her distorted caress. "You can willingly answer my questions and you will be rewarded. Or you can refuse to answer and be punished."
"What kind of questions?" Lanced asked as he tried to brace himself for whatever she had incoming. "Like, my favorite ice cream flavor? It's pistachio almond, for the record. Or whether I prefer airplane or car trips? It's car, surprisingly. I doubt you know what those are though. Okay, um, what about—"
A shock of her magic overwhelmed him and Lance screamed again, body jerking against the restraints.
"I see you have made your decision," Haggar rasped. "Excellent."
She pulled away from the table as Lance trembled from the aftershocks, gritting his teeth and trying to get his seizing muscles back under control.
This was it now.
He could only watch as she lifted the black vial and added it to what he had determined was the fluid bag. The murky black substance settled at the very bottom before dispersing and turning the previous clear fluid black as well. It began a sluggish track down the line.
Lance yanked futilely at his left hand, knowing he did not want whatever that stuff was near him let alone in him.
It did no good.
He wanted to demand what it was, as though knowing would help him prepare, but he was afraid his demand would come out more of a plea as his tongue felt thick and his hands were trembling in a way that had nothing to do with Haggar's magic.
Haggar answered the question for him, seeming to delight in his confusion and fear. "That is saliidda," she paused and Lance wondered if that was the extent of the very helpful explanation. "It has the ability to enhance feeling."
Feeling? Lance felt something heavy settle in his stomach.
"Human bodies are weak," she continued. "They break much too easily and cannot sustain heavy damage." A smirk formed on her lips. "Why do you think my dear Champion received such a gift?" She drew a finger across Lance's right bicep, a thin scratch left in its wake. Lance shuddered. "His human arm was so mangled and destroyed that it was beyond repair. So I replaced it with something better."
"It is not better," Lance retorted, narrowing his eyes at her. Sure, it had saved them quite a number of times and was a huge boon to hacking Galra tech, but it was a replacement that had been forced upon him. If given the choice Lance was positive Shiro would not want it, that constant reminder of his suffering.
Was... was he going to get one too?
Haggar seemed to pick up his line of thought again and a cruel smile widened her face. "Perhaps we shall replace a piece of you as well. Maybe a leg?" She trailed her hand down his torso, fingers leaving a line of sick fire in their wake, to settle on his right kneecap. "It would be fitting, would it not, for the right leg of Voltron to longer be able to stand on his own?"
Lance felt his toes curl up at the threat but he scowled back at her. No fear. Somehow. "I don't care," he said, although he did care, he cared very much. "I'd just have Hunk make me a new one."
Haggar smiled at him then. "This Hunk is the Yellow Paladin, yes? He is your engineer?"
Lance's eyes widened in horror at the slip-up. It was probably nothing they didn't already know, but it was dangerous to confirm anything or add to it. He pressed his lips together firmly and turned his head away from her.
He had a new plan now.
He wasn't going to speak another word.
Ever.
"You did not let me finish my explanation," she said after a pause, amusement coloring her tone. "But you should be able to tell for yourself now what the effects of the saliidda are."
Lance did not reply – no more talking, no more talking – and instead turned his attention from her pointed face to himself. He didn't feel any different... maybe it had been a dud? Or wasn't compatible with huma–
He couldn't stop the gasp as it kicked in.
Feeling.
Got it.
The metal table beneath him was suddenly much harder and his back gave an ache at the stiff position. His arms and legs, pulled to the sides in the restraints, felt tighter and his throat throbbed with renewed pain of both from screaming and the bruises he had no doubt given himself by ramming his neck against the bar.
And his chest.
Dios. The dull ache had morphed to something sharper; still not as painful as when he had gotten it or the shocks, but no longer something he could so easily ignore, and the laser burns and small puncture wounds dotting his shoulder were throbbing as well.
"Human bodies are weak," Haggar reiterated. "Meaning they cannot stand up to the usual methods we would use on most prisoners. Why, nearly two days without sustenance and some crystal shocks and your body nearly collapsed." Lance faintly noted the two day timeline as Haggar continued to speak. "Saliidda allows us to conduct the appropriate methods of information gathering without breaking the body beyond its capacity to survive."
Lance did not like at all where this was going.
"It increases the response of the body's nerve endings," Haggar said. "So the body is much more aware of all sensations. For example…" She reached forward wrapped her fingers about Lance's right thumb lying flush on the table.
Lance didn't even have a chance to do anything before she bent his thumb backwards.
What would have normally been a twinge at most instead felt like he'd slammed it in the cabinet door (again), pressure and pain. It was not enough for him to cry out but he did inhale sharply at the unexpected hurt.
And that was from almost nothing.
If she chose to break his fingers...
"Of course," Haggar smiled, "it can be used for pleasure as well."
She brought her hand back to the top of his head, sinking her fingers into his hair. She did not twist it or pull but instead carded her fingers through it again, very lightly rubbing at his scalp.
It felt good.
Lance had always been incredibly persistent in his affections with his teammates and relished every piece of contact with them. He loved hugs and would clamber about Hunk for piggyback rides whenever the opportunity presented itself. He'd wriggled himself between people on the couch and toss limbs over whoever was lucky enough to be in the same space.
Pidge had both fondly and exasperatedly told him he was like a cat clamoring for attention and he'd grinned at the assessment, but corrected her that he was more of a cuddly lion. She'd snorted and ruffled his hair like he did to hers all the time, but was surprised when instead of returning the favor in humor he'd pressed right up against her and demanded more.
He'd confided to her that his mamá always pet his hair when he was sick or in need of some comfort and it made him feel better, half expecting her to tease him and add it to what she called her 'rainy day blackmail folder.' But she had not. Instead Pidge had done the opposite and during quiet moments – movie nights, mostly, but sometimes too when she came to sit with him on the bridge and watch the stars go by – she would card her hands through his hair, not saying anything but the soft smile on her face said enough. Lance treasured those times.
So while what Haggar was doing felt so good it felt so wrong too. And more wrong than right.
She was not Pidge. Or his mamá. Or anyone he would actually want touching his hair.
Wrong wrong wrong.
And so he jerked his head as much as he could, rolling it to the side although there was no actually getting away from her hand."Don't touch me," he growled low instead, eyes narrowing, hating that he'd broken his vow of silence and resolving to keep it again.
It was just...
Her hand had still not left and she was lightly still scratching at his scalp.
His toes curled at her smile as much as the ministrations. "But you enjoyed it. There is no use lying to me, Paladin."
Lance summoned up his best glare possible at her and left it at that. He'd already made the mistake of letting her see how much such an action affected him, he refused to do give her any more ammunition. Although, he feared, it was already too late.
"As you can see, you have a choice," Haggar said, finally removing her hand and holding them together in front of her. "Pain and punishment or pleasure and reward. Which shall you choose while the saliidda courses through you?"
She did not seem to expect an answer and Lance did not give her one, his hands tightening into fists in preparation but halting immediately as his nails pressing into his palms felt like little knives rather than fingernails.
"Very well, let us begin. You are welcome to change your mind at any time."
Fat chance of that, Lance thought silently, even as he trembled and was unable to stop the movement.
This was it. He was about to be tortured.
He wasn't prepared at all.
Oh Dios there was no preparing for this.
"You may answer my inquiry with any information you so choose," Haggar explained, gently lifting Lance's right hand from where it was curled against the table. He jerked at it without success of moving her, only getting an aching twinge in his wrist for his attempt. "Answer with a proper response and you will be rewarded. Silence or insubordination will result in punishment."
Breathe, Lance told himself. Breathe. Inhale through the mouth, exhale through the house. In and out, in and out. She wasn't going to actually hurt him, right? It was all just going to be in his head.
Breathe.
Breathing was already presenting more of a challenge than he'd thought.
"Provide me information on the Paladins."
Just keep breathing, in and out. He wouldn't say anything. She could not make him say anything.
He didn't see it with his eyes squeezed closed, but he felt her hand shift on his and he braced for the oncoming pain.
And well, at least he wasn't disappointed. His pinky finger was bent backwards again, further than she had demonstrated before with his thumb, and it hurt but it wasn't unbearable. He grit his teeth against the moan building in his throat as she kept up the pressure.
She released it but immediately grabbed hold of his ring finger. "Provide me information on the Paladins."
Lance kept his lips a thin line.
Haggar bent his finger completely backwards right to the point before it would snap.
Lance couldn't keep the cry contained this time as what felt like lightning erupted in his hand at the pressure and bit down on his tongue, regretting it immediately as it felt like he'd just impaled it with a knife and he choked, expecting blood to be filling his mouth but there was nothing there.
Things took a terribly familiar turn then, as each moment of silence earned him agonizing pain for a few seconds and she would repeat her query with the same cadence as before, switching between his fingers each time.
Lance was afraid what would happen when she tired of merely bending his fingers backwards.
He knew that he was fine. His body was fine. All of the pain was fleeting, momentary, with no actual repercussion.
She was playing with him. This was her warm-up.
That thought was what made him shake as she twisted his thumb this time.
It was going to get worse.
It was going to get much, much worse.
The door to the room slid open with a hiss and Lance tensed as heavy footsteps made their way in.
Was this where the real pain began?
"Ah, Commander Theodek," Haggar near purred, "I have been expecting you."
The commander stepped closer to the table and Lance got his first glimpse, eyes widening. It was the Galran from before; the one with the burn scar who had taken him out of his cell both times and had been the one controlling the shocks during the recording.
He looked angry. Not the typical Galran expression of displeasure either, his eyes were narrowed with something darker than that and Lance instinctively swallowed as that gaze caught his.
This Galran did not like him.
He thought it might be pretty safe to say this Galran hated him.
"I have been watching," the Galran rumbled. "Your methods are not yielding results." He paused then, as though pained to say the next bit and ground out, "Lady Haggar."
If Lance hadn't been trying to convince his heart to stop thumping so loudly he may have been amused. No one here liked Haggar it seemed.
"You wish for a turn, Commander? Very well, please, allow me to see what you can do."
Haggar released his hand, dropping it to the table with a jolt that sent shudders up Lance's arm.
And Lance couldn't believe he was about to think this but...
He did not want Haggar to leave.
"Do not disfigure him, Commander," Haggar warned. "We have only just gotten started."
The Galran smiled, fangs prominently displayed. "I understand."
Lance's stomach bottomed out as Haggar left the room, door hissing closed behind her.
He got it now. Good cop bad cop. And the fact that Haggar was considered the good one?
The commander –Theodore? No, that wasn't right – picked up the same hand that Haggar had been toying with. Although where her hand was just about Lance's size, the Galran's dwarfed it. However…
Lance let out a small, uncontrolled laugh that had the Galran's face going from anger to confusion.
The fur. The fur tickled. It was enhanced by the saliidda, each brush of texture on his open palm sending his nerves tingling. He tried to smother his laugh because this was not funny but his body had other ideas. And tickle torture was a very real thing, he knew it. He was extremely ticklish on two parts of him and it only took his siblings ganging up and going for those spots for Lance to concede to almost anything to get it to stop because tickling could hurt.
He had no doubt the Galrans, if they knew, would make his siblings antics look exactly like the child's play they really were.
And this commander did not seem to like games.
Just as he had in the cell the first time it took only a few ticks for the Galran to compose himself and his face moved back to a dark countenance. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, grip tightening on Lance's hand in a painful manner and at the very least eliminating the tickling feeling.
Lance didn't answer.
He would say nothing unless this Galran was here to tell him he was one of the Blades of Marmora... his heart fluttered for all of a second with hope before he quashed it. No. This Galran was too angry, too violent, that even with orders to keep up an appearance he would not likely go to such lengths. Unless he really was that great of an actor?
"I am Theodek, oldest son of Theoden," he continued. "And now... Now I am the only son of Theoden." Lance was getting a foreboding feeling as the Galran's grip tightened more on his hand and he only barely swallowed the groan as it felt like his bones were being compressed together. "My brother, you see, was killed in the mission to retrieve the Blue Paladin."
Oh.
That...
That had been his brother?
The one he'd...?
He hadn't had a choice, he reminded himself. He'd had to... to do that. He hadn't wanted to. He hadn't. But...
But he had.
An apology danced on his tongue, surprising him, but also not. Because Lance could not begin to understand how much that loss had to hurt. If he lost any of his siblings or Hunk, who was just as much a brother as any of his blood ones, he could only fathom how much that would hurt, how much grief and anger he'd feel.
He felt bad for this Galran commander. He felt a twinge of guilt for taking away his family.
But...
But his brother had attacked first.
Although...
Although had Lance really had to kill him?
Had he?
Guilt flared again at his decision. Had there been another way? Could he have prevented someone, even someone as seemingly heartless as the Galra, from having to experience that pain?
"You think you have suffered, Paladin?" Theodek growled. "I will show you the true meaning of pain."
He didn't ask a question.
He just took Lance's index finger between his claws and bent it backwards as Haggar had been doing for the better part of the last half hour.
But unlike Haggar he did not stop as the knuckle contracted back.
No.
Lance stiffened with horror. No. Please n–
His bone was snapped in two.
And this time when Lance screamed he was not sure he would ever stop as pain pain pain encompassed his hand, swam up his arm and settled in deep over his heart.
He could barely even hear his thoughts telling himself it was just a broken finger.
They paled in the face of such pain.
Lance wasn't sure how long it lasted but when he eventually stopped shuddering it was to find that Theodek had not released his hand at all. His own eyes, tear-lined and he faintly noted he was capable of crying again, lifted up and he blanched at the sight of absolute hate that filled the Galran's face.
Without breaking eye contact Lance felt the commander's hand shift towards his thumb.
Oh no.
Oh Dios no.
He had only a low snarl to indicate what was about to happen again before blinding, choking agony washed over him and he couldn't believe he'd thought the previous break had been painful at all.
His body spasmed, trying to lift off the table but being held in check by the restraints and all he did was further choke himself, the bar now seeming like a steel vice wrapped about his throat.
He was going to die.
He was actually going to die as his lungs seized and he could not find the strength to draw a breath.
Black spots were dancing across his vision at the lack of air and his free hand clawed pathetically against the table, desperately trying to reach up to his throat as though that could help him breathe.
It did not.
But eventually the spots began to vanish and Lance's chest stopped throbbing and he took in one shaky inhale and then another, trying not to gag as air pushed donw his abused throat.
Through it all he could feel the Galran's stare, disgust and hatred clear.
"I cannot believe this is what is considered a Paladin of Voltron."
The words washed over Lance and he hated that he could not stop the flinch at the judgement, the sheer vehemence painful on its own.
"You are weak," the commander snarled. "How could someone like you...?" His hand tightened on Lance's broken one and he whimpered quietly. "Someone like you best my brother?" the words were hissed, disbelief clear. "Clearly," his hand squeezed again, "you are a coward through and through, Paladin. Using trickery and deceit to–"
"No." Lance's mouth moved on his own, going against his self-imposed silence. "No," he repeated. Because Lance could take being called many things, being called the weak one, the dumb one, but he was not a coward. It was the Galrans who had used deception and tricks and traps; not him.
"No?" Theodek repeated, and somehow that single syllable dripping with danger. "No?"
"I'm not the coward," Lance said, heart thumping wildly and telling him that this was a bad idea and he really should shut up now because all he was going to do was make the commander angrier, but he couldn't. He refused to be labeled as that.
Theodek heard the implication in the words and if he had been angry before he was raging now. With a roar he yanked Lance's wrist towards him, jamming his arm against the restraint at the pull, and both hands moved to grasp at Lance's forearm.
Lance knew without a doubt what was about to happen.
He didn't even have a chance to scream.
With one sharp twist Theodek shattered his wrist.
Agony whited out his vision.
Welcome blackness soon followed.
But not fast enough, not quick enough to stop the terror that was filling him, the way his body struggled to breathe and fought to live and how he didn't want to die. He had made the promise earlier that he would welcome death before he betrayed his friends, that he would do anything to protect them.
But.
He wanted to live. His body and mind screamed at him to survive, to hold on.
And that terrified him.
Author's Notes:
Fun fact: "Saliidda" means "oil" in Somali.
Welp, things took a turn for the worse with our boy. And Theodek is making his debut appearance as introducing himself as my other antagonist. I hope y'all like him! I try to avoid a lot of original characters, but in a story that's becoming rather epic-length we need someone other than Haggar floating about and Zarkon is a little busy to be tagged for such things. He prefers zapping Druids, honestly xD
I must sound like a broken record but you guys are amazing. I cannot believe how wonder you all are. I have never felt so loved with any fanfiction, and that is really saying something. The biggest of thanks go out to my reviewers, who are the lovely: Alex, Ranger McCorkren, Jadegem02, KarleighH, Guest, Guest, cookiebook322, silly styx (puts your heart back together, you poor thing), LishaChan, wingedflower, NightScripted, DoctorMerlinReid, kingkoa, Ace.s (I forgot to say, thank you for your help with translation last chapter! I'm decent with writing formal Spanish, but slang is new for me!), Remi Rukh, QuintessentiallyEccentric, Abbeyisactualtrash, death the cripple, Cats and violin (I was so excited to see you again! –squeezes first Voltron reviewer ever-), PurpleJediCat, StrawberryFever3, secrethearts, PaintedWings45, FanaticFangirl2602, Ramune (Because you want to dream about Voltron all night?), Bryler, Guest, TheL3monTart (You are so right!), Guest, and Swirly Rainbow.
Due to the error bugs from last week, y'all are in for a treat! We're getting a chapter today (obviously xD) and if all goes according to plan one on Friday! (assuming I remember to upload before I head out to ACen!) If you'll be at ACen feel free to drop by my table in the Artist Alley, IcyPanther's Art Shop, C27, so we can all spazz out together about Voltron. It'll be amazing :D
Muchas Gracias to all of you who read, review and follow the fic. I am so touched. Please do hit that review button on your way out the door. Would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter (and Lance's thoughts, who by the way is completely accurate in that pistachio almond and Cyborg are awesome :D). Every comment inspires me to keep going and updating for y'all!