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As Color Fades Away

Chapter Thirteen

"I believe we are finished," Allura smiled, eyes tracing over the final plans they had drafted. "Paladins?"

"Looks good to me, Princess," Shiro said, Keith giving an exhausted nod at his side. "I don't think there's anything more we can cover."

They had been working nearly non-stop on the plans for Lance's rescue and trying to iron out every possible obstacle they may encounter and an appropriate solution.

There were so many though.

Shiro, who normally thrived under these type of tactical plans, felt even his own brain starting to liquefy. He supposed though eight hours of pouring over maps and scenarios and battle formations with only a forced few hours breaking it up for sleep they all needed could do that.

And, as much as he wanted to push through, he knew he had to lead by example. Pidge had not wanted to leave her project, bags so deep under her eyes she appeared to have black eyes, and if he refused to stop his own preparations he couldn't ask the same of her.

And she needed sleep. When he'd come down to check in with her, eyes and back both crying out for a reprieve, and found her attempting to weld a tea cup to the mount for something involving a Balmeran crystal he knew it was time. Hunk had already been passed out next to her and he had carefully had to go about prying the very sharp, very dangerous looking screwdriver item out of the boy's hand that had been angling for his throat as he dozed.

They were all exhausted. They had been tired before the transmission, sick with worry at the unknown, and unable to sleep.

But now with what they did know, what they'd seen?

Sleep was even harder to come by.

It was hard to justify sleeping and eating and taking the time for a quick shower when they knew what pain Lance was undergoing, how scared he must be, and those things were indulgences that if Lance wasn't having they didn't need either.

Well, not on Shiro's watch.

He understood the frustration but they were going to do Lance no favors if they went into this rescue sleep deprived and mentally exhausted. They were going to need their heads and wits about them and could not afford to falter because of a refusal to rest.

But still...

He understood.

It had been over a day since they had received the transmission and while they were making excellent timing it still wasn't enough, not to them, because that meant it had been over three days since Lance was missing and would be over four by the time they reached him. It might not seem like a lot but Shiro knew anything could happen in a day, let alone an hour. He tried not to think of all the things that could be happening as his head ached every time and he could not afford to get lost in memories.

Pidge, Hunk and Coran had managed to successfully divert the power to the thrusters late last evening, far exceeding Pidge's plan of four varga and the girl had been near tears at the delay and why wouldn't it fucking work? and Shiro hadn't even had the heart to correct her language, merely pulling her into a tight hug and offering up his strength to move some of the conductors she had been struggling with.

The boost had helped, turning their at that point still forty-four varga journey into thirty-two and Allura had stayed awake most of the night to pilot the castle so they did not lose any time. She had been forced to rest that morning though when Shiro and Coran had come to the bridge and found her, eyes staring unblinkingly and a glassy sheen to them.

Alteans did not need as much sleep as humans, Coran told Shiro, a typical rest cycle being about three varga, but they did still need to rest. He had gently steered Allura away to her room and Coran had taken over for the next several hours, although his loss down in the engineering segment had delayed that progress.

They just couldn't win. Shiro did what he could in that interim, lifting things for Pidge and fetching items for Hunk, but he could feel their mounting frustration. He knew Keith felt the same and had been almost desperate to do whatever Hunk or Pidge needed for something to do. Shiro had tried to encourage him to sleep instead but the look he'd gotten at the suggestion had made him put his hands up in surrender.

Shiro wished he could sleep too.

He'd tried. He'd maybe gotten a couple hours between the tossing and turning before he'd given up and gone to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

One blown up kettle later he'd had to admit defeat and that had been when he'd found Allura on the bridge from her overnight vigil.

And while the sight of Allura looking so exhausted and pained should not be a comfort, Shiro found it as such. He knew the princess cared about them all, but her focus had always primarily been on fighting the Galra and how the Paladins of Voltron could improve in that ability to bring peace to the universe. He understood; as the Altean princess she had the duty to see Zarkon dethroned and as such could not afford personal preferences or desires. He admired her commitment and inner strength she had found in this cause, but he would admit he admired this version of her even more.

This version of Allura was real. She was not someone asking after Lance and Keith's bickering with the overall motive that it affected the team's ability to form Voltron. No. This Allura would ask because she cared, because she wanted her team to be happy. She had fought previously for justice, for peace, and the deepest she had allowed herself to go was the flickering feelings of revenge for what the Galra had done to Altea.

But now?

She had found something more personal to bring to the fight.

Love.

Maybe not quite that deep, Shiro amended. But the feeling was there. The concern, the care.

The realization that they were not faceless soldiers.

They were still soldiers though and they were more than willing to fight.

Shiro hoped it didn't come to that. He hoped the infiltration rescue mission went off as easily as they imagined and Lance was back with them in... twenty-four hours now.

It was still over a day away.

It was too long.

And yet there was nothing more they could do.

Their plans were ready, looked at from every angle.

Shiro and Pidge would take the Green Lion, which once Pidge finished finagling with the schematics and crystals should have a full varga of cloaking, and be more than enough to get them in and out before the Galra were even aware. Keith had loudly protested the first part.

He was their second best fighter, he'd argued. He should be going on the main rescue mission too.

But Shiro had been adamant and Allura had backed him up. The more Paladins that went the greater their chances of being discovered. Shiro had the strength to carry Lance – they had quietly, grimly agreed that it was unlikely he was going to be able to walk and even so not quick enough – and his Galran prosthetic was required to get them access into the base.

Pidge was both Green's pilot and their hacker and she was intrinsic to their plan of accessing the cameras and floor plans. The goal was not to engage in any fighting but to get in, get out with none the wiser. Therefore, another Paladin was not needed in the rescue operation.

They did need his skills though for the contingency plan.

Shiro knew it was hardly what Keith wanted but the selfish part of him was glad Keith wasn't going to actively be a part of the rescue mission. It's not that he wasn't sick with worry for Pidge's safety in all of this and would rather keep her out of this entirely if he could, but Keith...

He couldn't bear to see Keith hurt.

Couldn't bear to hurt him again.

They hadn't talked, not really, about that missing year. Shiro didn't remember much of his but Keith had been purposefully mum about what had happened on Earth. The only thing Shiro had really gleaned was Keith had been kicked out of the Garrison and even thinking about it now made his blood boil. After everything Keith had gone through, after the administration knew what his situation had been, how the Garrison had been his home since he was barely fifteen they kicked him out after he'd already lost not just Shiro but Dr. Holt and Matt too?

Shiro would never forgive them.

Keith had been hurt. Maybe not physically, not in the way Shiro knew his foster families had done, but he had been hurt. He'd retreated back into that harsher countenance, the one that pushed people away before they could do it to him.

Shiro had done that. And he had no idea how he was ever going to fix it. Keith wouldn't talk to him, not the way he used to. It had been why when Keith had accepted his hug in the cockpit, had returned it, hot tears dampening his shirt Shiro had been so relieved. Keith was still there, beneath the more rigid exterior, the front he put up to protect himself.

He may not have been able to protect Keith; be it from the Garrison or the other students or even fro himself, during that year he was a slave to the Galra but he could certainly do so now.

And with this plan Keith was as safe as one could be while trying to mount a rescue mission against the most deadly, evil force that existed in the universe.

Shiro admitted his perspective may be a bit skewed at this point.

The goal was for the others to not engage at all. Keith and Hunk would proactively be in their Lions and maintain a perimeter around the castle and were only there as backup should the Green Lion return with Galra fighters on her tail. The Black Lion was under no circumstance allowed out of her hangar and Blue would remain in hers as well.

All communications from the castle would be cloaked within a twenty-five pylon radius, which was to ensure that the Galra could not pick up any chatter. It did pose an increased risk to Shiro and Pidge as they were gong to be cut off from any contact at that point, but it was the better alternative than the Galra listening in and potentially tracking the cloaked Lion.

The range was going to be close in regards to the Green Lion's cloaking, but Shiro was confident they could make it to the Galra base coordinates within twenty dobashes (in a space that would take the slower moving castle, even with the thrusters, almost a varga), retrieve Lance, and be out before the cloaking expired. If they weren't going to make it though that would be when the Red and Yellow Lions would most likely be utilized if there was indeed a large Galra perimeter that spotted the Green Lion as she became visible.

They would go radio silent in regards to the exchange and Allura had picked out a location next to a planet a whole two quadrants over that would be feasible to anchor themselves in the shadow of to further block their signal while they recouped. The closest call would be if Galran fighters did follow them as they would be forced to move slowly still through the Hodgkin quadrant's massive asteroid field until they got to the second nebula point where Allura could wormhole them again.

The castle's shields were currently compromised as much of the power was being diverted to the thrusters but Coran had assured it could still take a few hits and especially ones from Galra fighter ships. Their biggest worry would be one of the ion cannons but those would be moving just as slowly if not slower than the Castle of Lions and Allura said she felt confident in her piloting abilities of the castle to gt them out of range.

All that was left to do now on their end was wait.

Another twenty-four hours.

Pidge and Hunk were still busy, working on cloaking technology for Pidge and Shiro to wear to aid them in their infiltration. Just because they would have access to the camera system didn't mean they still should not be cautious and stealth was a better alternative than fighting in Shiro's book. There was some complication though with the crystal reacting to the Altean armor and a whole bunch of technical jargon Shiro had no hope of following as Pidge went off on a tangent and he'd left her and Hunk to them.

Coran had been assisting on that front but had come up to the bridge bearing bowls of food goo and some sort of produce that vaguely tasted like carrots with an insistence they all eat and take a small break and then joined them afterwards for a bit of planning and input.

"So what, we just wait now?" Keith asked as Allura shrunk down the diagrams on the screen until they were needed again and moved back to the console to check their course; which for the last hour had been flying on auto pilot for the most part until an alert signaled Allura she needed to veer off course to avoid debris. Shiro could hear the impatience in Keith's tone, but more than that he could hear the undertone of worry.

Keith, Shiro knew, too understood how even a single minute had the ability to alter someone's life forever, and they were all just slipping by.

"I know it's frustrating," Shiro placed a gentle hand on the smaller shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "We're doing all we can though."

Keith gave a short nod. He knew that. He did.

He just felt so useless.

And, he would admit, sick with guilt.

He hadn't been very nice to Lance since they been thrown into space. Lance was just so... so loud. And obnoxious. And when he goofed off instead of paying attention, instead of taking things seriously, it made him mad for reasons Keith still couldn't fully identify.

It was just...

The Galra had taken Shiro away and they had hurt him and they needed to be stopped at all costs so they could never hurt Shiro again and Keith was determined to see it happen, sharing Allura's hate for them. He took his mission as a Paladin of Voltron to heart and he would never, never, let Shiro come to harm again. He trained so he would be stronger, faster, better to make sure he could protect Shiro, and in doing that protect the universe because Shiro wanted to do that and therefore Keith wanted to as well.

And then there was Lance; playing hopscotch in meteor fields and holding races with the mice and flirting (badly) with Allura and always always always just talking. He never shut up and especially after having lived on his own in the desert for almost a year the constant yammering was even more trying on Keith. He knew he wasn't a very social creature; he'd never really gotten along with those his age and now he was thrust into a castle with three of them and while Pidge was a more solitary person by nature and Hunk understood personal space, Lance was... Lance was just everywhere all the time.

But Keith didn't dislike him. He did trust Lance (in most cases) to buckle down and be serious when it was needed. He didn't really call Lance a friend – although he called no one that except Shiro and Shiro was beyond that – but he did call him a teammate.

And Keith had been a real jerk of one lately. He'd just been tense, feeling that something was brewing in this strange wave of quiet activity from the Galra, and he'd been even more snappish and less willing to deal with Lance's over the top behavior.

He never imagined that it would all culminate in this. That Lance would be the one at the center of this storm.

And if things went... went...

Keith didn't even want to think it.

But if it did. If this was how it ended...

Would Lance die thinking Keith hated him? He certainly hadn't shown that he liked him very much. And all of his comments over the past couple days made him flush with shame. He had not been acting like the leader Shiro wanted him to be, let alone a teammate. He had been acting as a bully.

The fact sent his stomach curdling. After... after everything how was it that that was what he had turned in to? He had never meant to. He just... He didn't even know how it had gotten to that.

The guilt made him sick and he knew from Lance's end it was no doubt even worse. He had done that. He had hurt Lance.

He had to fix this.

But he couldn't do anything until they rescued Lance and the recue wasn't for another day and he could not take the waiting any more.

"Princess," Coran's voice was sharp and Keith jerked his head up from where he'd gotten caught up in his brooding, angling in on the adivsor standing at the communications console. "We are being hailed."

"A distress signal?"

"Negative." Coran's throat bobbed. "It is a live transmission. The... the receiving log is coded Galra."

"Galra?" Shiro repeated in the sudden oppressive silence.

Nothing good could be coming from that transmission.

"Keith," Shiro's voice was sharper. "Wait outside."

Keith stiffened. "What? No, Shiro–"

"Outside, Keith." Shiro's voice softened as he met Keith's eyes. "Please. I don't... I don't want you to see this."

Keith's protest died on his lips at the quiet plea.

Instead he gave a jerking nod of his head. "Okay. But Shiro..."

"I'll be okay," Shiro reassured, although he was becoming pale and there was a tremble to his hands. "Please. I'll find you after."

Keith gave one more nod and then left the bridge, closing the door behind him. He kept his hands fisted in the handles and rested his forehead against the cool metal.

He could already hear Lance's scream. Shiro's sharp, terrified breaths as something too close to his own horror he refused to speak of was played out in front of him.

Keith thought he might be sick.

He pressed one hand to his mouth, praying he wasn't about to actually puke up the food goo he could taste in the back of his throat.

"Uh, Keith? Everything all right, man?"

Keith practically leaped away from the door, not even having heard them approach although Hunk was generally anything but quiet.

He wondered how long he had been standing there.

"'m fine," he muttered.

"Because people who are fine are found clutching door handles like their life depends on it," Pidge deadpanned. Her eyes narrowed. "What gives?"

"Why are you here?" Keith asked instead, delaying the inevitable for just another moment. Another moment before they found themselves with that sick, unknowing worry that had taken up residence in his stomach.

"We came up to run a mapping plan by Coran since he wasn't back yet," Hunk answered and Pidge sent him a hot glare that had the larger boy finishing with, voice growing higher, "but apparently I wasn't supposed to answer that question..."

"What's going on, Keith?" Pidge demanded, hands white-knuckled on her laptop.

"Um..."

"Get out of my way," she all but snarled, marching forward towards the doors.

Keith plastered himself across them.

"Get the fuck out of my way, Keith."

"There's a transmission," he blurted out.

Pidge drew up short while Hunk parroted the word back, voice still high.

"The Galra," Keith clarified quietly, unable to meet their eyes. "Shiro... Shiro ordered me out. He didn't want me to see it."

Pidge pressed her lips together...

And then made an abrupt about-face, laptop clutched possessively to her chest.

Keith had a very bad feeling.

"Pidge, hey, where are you going?" Hunk called after her. He recognized that look in her eyes, that determination that had landed them all up in space to begin with.

She paused, shoulders curled in.

"I need to know," she said quietly. Her voice hardened. "Don't try to stop me."

Because she was not a scared child, she was the Green Paladin. And she was done with being afraid of the truth.

"Pidge," Hunk whispered. "Don't... don't do this."

She looked at him then, eyes sad. "I have to Hunk. I can't... I can't not know. I hear his screams and I just..." she shook her head.

"I'll come with you," Keith said, voice steadier than he felt, and Pidge looked at him, surprised. Beneath it though he could see her relief. "You... you shouldn't watch that alone."

"Guys," Hunk pleaded. "Please." He didn't want to see Lance like that. He'd seen enough of his best friend, his brother, being tortured to last him the rest of his life. And he knew, without a doubt, that this transmission could only be worse.

"I'm sorry, Hunk," Pidge said quietly. "But I have to."

Even as she said it though she looked so small, her eyes too bright.

She was scared.

And she was still going to do it. She was going to be there for Lance in whatever capacity she could.

Hunk... he could do the same.

Hunk swallowed thickly. "I'll come too."

Keith sent him a surprised glance. "You sure?"

"Y-yeah."

They turned then, heading for the lounge.

They all hoped they didn't live to regret this.

xxx

Back on the bridge, Allura met the eyes of both Shiro and Coran, lingering on the Black Paladin's pale countenance.

He did not need to see this either.

She had not even opened her mouth before he cut her off. "I'm staying, Princess."

"I as well," Coran said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. Allura nodded, took a deep breath and then moved a slender hand towards the console to accept the transmission.

Haggar filled the screen a moment later.

Next to her she could feel Shiro stiffen, the barest inhale of a sharp breath.

Haggar's yellow eyes crossed all three of them before she settled her gaze back on Shiro, a cruel smile tugging up her lips. "I would offer greetings to the Paladins of Voltron, but I see there is only one present. Where is the rest of your team, my Shiro?"

"Where is the Blue Paladin?" Allura interjected, her hand going out to latch about Shiro's flesh one beneath the console screen and she barely hid the wince as the human grasped it with more strength than she had been expecting. "Speak, witch."

Haggar chuckled, her attention shifting. "Greetings to you, Princess."

"Where is he?"

"For a supposed diplomatic race you do not possess much patience, Princess," Haggar sneered.

"We are making haste to the coordinates provided," Allura said, fighting to keep her voice as even as possible. "What is the purpose of this transmission?"

Haggar smiled. "I see you received my message then. Entertaining, was it not? Did you enjoy his screams as much as I?"

Allura raised her chin, the same as Lance had done, and did not respond to the taunt.

Shiro's admiration of Allura grew at the gesture. He felt like he was going to be violently sick if he opened his mouth, as even across the screen Haggar was too close. His insides coiled tightly as her greeting replayed in his head.

My Shiro my Shiro my Shiro.

His head ached.

Haggar let out a put upon sigh. "I see we do not have the same tastes. Pity. It is truly delightful."

Allura said nothing.

"I am here out of a simple kindness to keep you updated as to the health of your Blue Paladin," Haggar continued. "I thought you might wish to know he attempted to escape today."

Breaths caught around the room.

Lance had tried to escape?

On his own?

Pride burned fierce in Allura but it was quashed immediately by the other detail.

Attempt.

It meant he had not been successful.

"It was a rather good attempt," Haggar said, "but there is no easy escape from the Galra Empire. And he will now learn firsthand that there are consequences to such actions."

"What is it you are saying, witch?" Allura bit out, fingers gouging into the console that already had a series of dents from the previous transmission.

"The Galrans have decided to invoke Kri Za Kri," Haggar continued and Allura raised an eyebrow at the strange term. "I'm sure your advisor can explain it to you, Princess, since you seem unfamiliar with it." Allura risked a quick glance at Coran, who had gone as pale as Shiro.

Allura had a very, very bad feeling.

"Why?" Coran asked quietly, meeting the cruel yellow gaze head on. "Why tell us this?"

"I am not merely telling you, Altean," Haggar smiled. "I shall allow you to watch."

Coran sucked in a harsh breath.

"It is not every day an outsider has access to a sacred Galran judgment," Haggar continued. "Watch closely and perhaps you will learn something too."

"You are a monster," Coran snarled and Shiro started at the sheer hate in Coran's voice.

Haggar chuckled. "Perhaps. But it is the Galra who are the real monsters here."

"Why?" Coran asked again. "Why show us this?"

Haggar shrugged although the gesture was not casual. "An incentive, I suppose. A reminder to you all that should you fail to turn over the Black Lion this is only a taste of the suffering your Paladin will endure before he dies. But," she smiled cruelly, "I have ways of making sure he never dies. He will live out the rest of his existence in terrible agony as I tear apart his mind and revel in his suffering and then do it again and again. I told you, his screams are delightful. I must admit, my Shiro, I think I even prefer them to your own."

Shiro could not help his recoil then and Allura slammed her free hand down on the console with a bellow of, "Enough! Cease your prattle, witch."

"Careful, Princess," Haggar warned. "And here I was about to offer you a chance to speak with the Blue Paladin."

"...what?" Shiro whispered, mouth moving before he could take back the pathetic sounding noise.

"Ah, you do still speak, I was growing concerned," Haggar smiled. "I had thought it was your arm I had taken, not your tongue."

"Explain, witch," Allura bit out.

"Ask nicely."

Allura gritted her teeth, jaw clenching.

Beg?

Never.

"Please," Coran spat out the word like it was poison and Haggar tutted.

"That is not nicely, Altean. I will give you one more chance." She turned her gaze to Shiro's. "I wish to hear you say it, my Shiro. Ask me nicely now."

Shiro's tongue felt thick, his throat dry.

"Shiro..." Allura whispered, and it was his name from her lips, dripping with concern and unmasked horror, that gave him the push he needed.

For Lance.

"Please," he swallowed around the word, "what do you mean? Can we speak to Lance?"

"Was that so hard?" Haggar practically preened. "And to your question, yes. Should you watch the transmission through and if your Paladin remains conscious I shall arrange for him to speak with you." She held up a single finger. "One dobash. No interference from me. I am sure he would love to hear from you."

"Deal," Shiro snapped, not giving himself a chance to regret it.

If they could talk to Lance... let him know they were coming, that they would be their soon...

It could be the push Lance needed to continue to hold on.

Haggar smiled before her attention was turned to the side. She looked back at the camera. "The Kri Za Kri is about to begin. I do hope you enjoy the show." Her hand reached out, tracing the edge of frame. "I shall see you soon then, my Shiro."

The view changed then to a different camera, overlooking hordes of Galrans, all chanting the phrase "Kri Za Kri" at the top of their lungs and staring at a door. Coran reached over and muted the audio, silence plunging over the bridge.

His hand was shaking.

"Coran?" Allura placed her hand now on the older Altean's shoulder. "What is a Kri Za Kri?"

Coran looked up to them. He looked like he'd aged several decades in the span of a few minutes.

"Kri Za Kri," he said quietly, "is the Galran tradition of judgment. It translates to 'blood for blood' and is used as a way of meteting justice to the determined guilty party."

"An eye for an eye," Shiro murmured. Coran gave him a horrified look. "Not literally," he hurried to say. "If someone wrongs you then you get to receive compensation of equal value."

"Shiro, lad," Coran shook his head and Shiro started again at the sound of his name rather than his height moniker. "It is literal for the Galrans. Whatever injuries the Galrans sustained during Lance's attempted escape, of which I imagine must have been a number if Kri Za Kri has been called... they will subject him to the same."

"No," Allura breathed, hand going to her mouth. "No. That is... That is... barbaric."

Behind them on the video the door swung open into the audience hall, still playing silently.

"We can watch it silently," Coran said quietly as a Galran, large even by their standards, appeared in the doorway. The camera zoomed in, capturing the full sharp glint of fangs and hate-filled yellow eyes beneath a burn scar.

"No," Allura shook her head. "No. We will... We will bear this the same as Lance."

It was all she could offer up; her own suffering at the sight of his pain.

"Shiro?" Coran asked and Shiro gave a tight nod. He agreed.

Overwhelming chanting filled the bridge once more and Shiro clutched Allura's hand, finding reassurance as she squeezed back just as tight.

The Galran was entering the room now, a swagger to his step, and a length of chain clutched in his large hands, parading himself down the aisle lined with the screaming soldiers.

Shiro's stomach clenched. He knew what that chain must connect to.

His fears were proven as a violent yank on it dragged Lance into view, stumbling through the doorway.

Blindfolded.

Shiro's breath caught.

Like a lamb being led to the slaughter.

The screaming grew somehow louder and Lance visibly flinched, trying to pull back, but was dragged forward with a cry that was swallowed up by the shouting.

He looked so scared.

So young.

He was clearly still injured, moreso than the last time they had seen him. There were no bandages across his bare chest but there were plenty of wounds; cuts and bruises and drips of dried blood on his shoulders. His feet were freely bleeding, leaving sick, red smears in Lance's wake as he was pulled along the path, manacles wrapped tight about his wrists and... Shiro's stomach dropped. Lance's right wrist was mangled, a mass of black and blue flesh that was only being abused further with every forced step and every bit of resistance only seemed to excite the Galrans further. None looked to be touching him but Lance was recoiling regardless, shying away from one side to the other, no doubt confused by the sound and the lack of sight.

Shiro saw red.

How dare they.

Lance was at the end of the path now and approaching a short staircase that led to a platform above the crowd. The Galran that had been yanking on Lance's chains got behind the boy and shoved him up the small flight, Lance nearly falling over but somehow keeping his balance.

It was all for naught as once he was off the last step the Galran reached out a leg and kicked Lance at the back of his knee.

He went down, a strangled scream echoing above even the chanting as his weight was caught on his hands.

His very, very broken right hand.

The Galran reached down, claws digging into Lance's head, and bodily dragged him back to his knees, holding him there and looking across the platform where a robed Galran was stepping forward and the yelling was starting to grow quieter.

The Kri Za Kri had begun.

xxx

Lance couldn't breathe.

His chest was seizing painfully and his throat was constricting, made worse by the metal ring that even upon being loosened was so tight and he could feel it digging into his neck with every panicked inhale.

There was no denying it at this point.

He was terrified.

He'd been dragged through what he was guessing was a giant crowd of Galrans, all chanting and yelling and so loud and he couldn't even raise his hands to try and cover his ears, to try and hide away from the bloodthirsty horde that could see him but he could not see them.

It was letting his imagination run absolutely rampant and he hated how he had flinched as the shouting rose in pitch, how he felt a ghost of movement and tried to get away but went nowhere thanks to the lead dragging him forward and his wrist crying out all the while as broken bones were ground against one another and his feet aching and stinging and he swore they were bleeding.

Stopping had been a relief, up until he'd been shoved forward and landed his full weight on his broken wrist. He had been unable to do anything as Theodore's claws had descended into his hair and yanked him up, what little air he'd managed to hold onto stolen by that last scream and even with the darkness of the blindfold everything seemed to be going hazy.

Another set of claws dug into the back of his head and then there was light and Lance moaned at the sudden brightness, searing purple as always, but the relief outweighed the pain and he forced his eyes to remain open, blinking away the dark spots wavering on the edges of his vision.

He was in some type of audience hall, not the throne room though, and atop some sort of platform. There was a Galran just as large as Theodore standing a few feet in front of him, holding a rather wicked looking sword and dressed in some type of robed tunic. Theodore had said this was a judgment, right? That must be the judge.

Lance already had a sick feeling he'd been found guilty of whatever crime they were bestowing on him. There wasn't going to be a trial.

It was just a sentencing.

"Quiet!" bellowed the robed figure and immediately all sound ceased.

Lance's ears were left ringing in the silence and only the very dull rattle of his chains as his arms trembled in front of him and clanked sounded in the room.

"Our esteemed Emperor Zarkon sends his regrets that he is unable to attend today's Kri Za Kri, but has sent his hope that today justice bleeds red," the robed Galran continued.

Loud cheering greeted the announcement, thundering so loud Lance felt the very air shaking.

It had nothing on the new shudder making its way down his spine.

"Emperor Zarkon has made myself, Modar, Commander of the First Battalion, judge in his place," the Galran finished. "I now officially invoke the Kri Za Kri. Are there any who oppose the sentencing of the Blue Paladin of Voltron who harmed many of our soldiers in his failed escape attempt?"

Silence.

"Anyone?" Modar asked, fangs glinting, clearly not expecting anyone to speak.

Well.

Lance did like to prove people wrong.

He tentatively brought up his left hand, chains noticeably clinking now. "Um," his voice came out a low rasp and he coughed, trying to clear it. "I'd like to oppose." He tried to muster up his best smile, tilting his head ever so in a way that normally got him out of trouble with his parents, the action yanking his hair more as he dragged it against Theodore's claws. He continued to smile. "If that's all right."

Lance didn't really expect it to work.

But he really didn't expect the sudden, blinding pain as his neck lit up with white fire.

He screamed, hands flinging themselves instinctively up to his throat and singing and shocking them on the metal collar.

It didn't stop.

He was only vaguely aware of the hand releasing from his hair as he crashed to the floor, shaking and shuddering and crying and he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe.

Just when he was sure he was about to pass out, vision going in and out, it stopped.

He lay there, panting and gasping and hearing the Galrans laugh.

He hunk his head and tried to focus on breathing again even as every harsh inhale sent pain shuddering down his throat.

It was a shock collar.

Theodore had put a quiznacking shock collar on him. Like... like some pet.

Hot tears burned his eyes as the Galrans continued to laugh and jeer.

"The charged is not permitted to speak," Modar's voice sounded above the others and they quieted down. "Commander Theodek?"

Theodore, or apparently Theodek, Lance should have known it had something with with a "k", reached down and hauled Lance up once more by his hair. Lance had no strength to support his own body and hung there, limbs still tingling.

"With no opposition I move onto the charges," Modar spoke. "The Blue Paladin is hereby charged with the following crimes: One count of battery, six counts of deadly assault with a weapon, five counts of assault with a weapon, and one count of theft of a weapon."

Lance blinked. That... that seemed like a lot of charges.

Had he really done all that?

"The Blue Paladin has been found guilty of all charges," Modar concluded. His grin sharpened. "Let the Kri Za Kri officially commence."

As if waiting for that cue, all of the Galrans began to once more chant "Kri Za Kri! Kri Za Kri!" and Lance found himself being pulled back to his feet. He swayed, only Theodek's solid grip on his hair keeping him upright.

His vision was darkening around the edges again and Lance closed his eyes, welcoming it.

A sharp jab into the side of his neck, just above where the ring felt like it had burned into him, had him letting out a sharp gasp, which turned into a plummeting stomach as he felt a burst of familiar ice cold fire seeping into his veins.

It was the drug they'd used before. The one that returned him to some modicum of consciousness.

Lance swallowed back his sob.

He still had no idea what the punishment for his guilty charges was but he knew it would involve blood.

A lot of blood.

And pain.

And there would be no escaping it. Not until they were finished.

And Haggar...

She would be watching, he could feel it.

He...

He had to stay strong.

Somehow.

He could not break here.

And so as Theodek pulled on the chain between his hands again, he resisted, digging bloodied feet into the ground, toes curling, for all the good it would do.

It did no good.

Theodek uprooted him and he was dragged to the very center of the dais where two more Galrans were standing. They latched onto his shoulders, spinning him around to face the audience hall.

Lance's eyes widened.

There were hundreds of Galrans staring back at him, glee and hate and excitement filling every purple face.

Oh Dios.

"The charge of theft of a weapon will be carried out by Commander Theodek of the eighty-first battalion," Modar instructed. "And the other charges to follow in the given order. Commander?"

Theodek nodded his head to the side and a third Galran soldier stepped forward, holding a tray that contained what looked like black dinner plates.

"The penalty for theft is the loss of limb that did the thieving," Theodek rumbled.

Lance paled.

What?

"In the Blue Paladin's case... that would be both of his hands."

Lance felt his heart stop beating as the crowd roared out its pleasure.

"However," and Lance had never heard such regret in the word even as his heart gave a tentative thump as it restarted, "due to the nature of the Blue Paladins... visit with us," and despite the rumbling of displeasure Theodek's words brought some laughter, "he is to keep his limbs... for now."

Lance felt his heart pick up a steady tempo once more even as he knew there was more to come.

"In exchange," Theodek grinned, "I shall double the penalty to four limbs that will be maimed but not removed. What say you?"

There were no words that Lance could pick out from the resulting screams but he could guess the sentiment.

He gave a jerk of his shoulders, going nowhere, as Theodek turned to face him.

"I will enjoy this, Paladin," he smiled, breath hot on Lance's face. He made a gesture and one of the black discs was put into his hand. He reached down and grabbed Lance's right wrist just above the manacle and dragged it upwards.

Lance barely swallowed back the scream.

The manacle was removed but Lance couldn't evne attempt to fight back as pain pain pain took over and the back of his hand was pressed against the disc without issue, an energy cord snaking out and wrapping snugly about his wrist and pinning it there.

Theodek let go...

And his wrist hung suspended in the air against the disc, that apparently had some type of hover technology.

The action was repeated with his left wrist despite Lance's best attempt to keep it out of Theodek's grip.

Theodek said something then, a command, and Lance's eyes widened as the discs lifted into the air, dragging him up with them.

He'd have screamed if he could as his full weight dangled from his arms as his toes barely skimmed against the floor.

His right hand felt like it was on literal fire.

He looked through tear-blurred eyes as Theodek moved to towards another Galran bearing a tray.

This one contained daggers.

Oh no.

No.

Dios no.

Theodek took one of the blades into his large hand and held it above his head.

The crowd went wild.

Theodek turned and placed the very tip of it against the center of Lance's open right palm. He desperately tried to curl his fingers down, to kick his legs up, but his body hung heavy and he couldn't.

He couldn't do anything.

Ocean eyes widened and met cruel yellow as the blade pressed down, a trickle of blood dripping down mocha skin.

There was not a glimmer of mercy to be found.

"I told you I would enjoy this, Paladin," Theodek whispered.

And Lance screamed.

xxx

Author's Notes:

Kri Za Kri! Kri Za Kri! Kri Za... you guys aren't cheering? Well, this is awkward nn;

It has begun. Poor Lance. As you can see it is not gladiatorial combat (a few guesses for that) but I am thinking Lance would have preferred that. This might get a little violent... Least we all signed up for this, right?

I am debating moving to bi-weekly (as in two updates a week, not an update every two weeks; did you know bi-weekly means both (is that not the most confusing thing ever?)) as this story is getting rather long and at this rate me might be here for about a year. So much for me writing a story in under fifteen chapters as was the original plan! :p

Anyways, if I do move to bi-weekly updates, which two days would you like best? Either: (Tuesdays and Fridays) or (Wednesdays and Saturdays). It may not happen every week depending on my own schedule and how much time I get to write, but you guys are awesome that I think we can make it happen often enough. I'm always inspired to work on Color.

And the reason I am always inspired is due to amazing reviewers like these individuals: LishaChan, emshepherd75, Alexa, DoctorMerlinReid, KarleighH, wingedflower, FanaticFangirl2602, Dragon Queene Layla St Gabriel, WhiteWolf100101, deaththecripple, Guest, Swirly Rainbow, Bryler, Jadegem02, Eeveecat1248, jaymzNshed, Lasagna, Stargirl720, SonoSvegliato, shinigirl, dragoscilvio, sally3015, Suna, Guest, Arrowcomix, cookiebook322, Hbri04, Kykysuperfly23, Blakeyfur, StrawberryFever3, Guest, BlueCookiesforRick, Guest, nyachat, EventualArtist, Abbeyisactualtrash, SamTheShortyMan, PaintedWings45, fandomspotatoes, and Agate.

I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter! Drop a comment below with your favorite part, line, question, character moment, etc. And be sure to leave a vote as to which update schedule you'd prefer :) Thanks everyone for being so awesome! Can't wait to hear from you and see you next week!