It's been two months since the Lions went nuts and Keith tucked his tail and ran from everything, everyone, I thought he gave a damn about. And life has been hell ever since.
Wade had planned to put Keith on display at the Academy, show him off as his tame Voltron Force pilot. But then Keith did his disappearing act, made the bastard look the overbearing fool he is, so Wade went for the next best thing. He promoted me to Commander, made a big deal of "rewarding" my denunciation of Keith with the Head Flight Instructor position. Not too shabby, given that I'm not even 25 years old yet. But holy fuck, what it costs me, costs the team.
Start with Pidge and Hunk. Both of them stuck in Maintenance, fixing ships damaged by the ham-fisted kids that pass for cadets now. Both of them every bit the "hero" Wade paints me as, but they're shuffled out of sight and forgotten. Guess they don't fit Wade's mental image of the Force. Mind you, they aren't complaining; lucky bastards snicker at me every time I get pulled off to yet ANOTHER reception or dinner to be Wade's lap dog. And being under the radar is good for them; they're putting together some kind of network to help Keith find Black, and to gather dirt on Wade. "Out of sight, out of mind," Hunk says. If they're happy with it, I'm damned sure not going to bitch, but . . . it hurts to see them wasted like this.
In another time, I'd be bitching about what I'm having to do. By day, I'm teaching a bunch of mouth-breathing idiots who barely know how to get into a cockpit, let alone fly. And having to do it all very slow and precise and to the letter of regulations. Dying a slow death over here. And at night . . . holy hells, at night. I don't mind in the least telling people I think Keith's a traitorous bastard; in my mind he is. Not to Wade and the Alliance, but to the team and especially to Allura. No, what really sticks in my craw is listening to Wade and his flunkies rewrite history. To hear them tell it, the five of us couldn't fight our way out of a wet paper bag, and it was only the intervention of the Alliance that won the Doom war. Shit, how did I miss them? They must have had some DAMNED good stealth troops on the ground; don't remember seeing anyone but us, Sven, Romelle, and their crazy slave army. Oh well. History is written by the victors, one of our instructors said, and Wade's sure as hell won here.
I got a weird note from Coran after classes the other day. A very careful, precise, note from Ambassador Coran Delys to Commander Lance McClain, reminding me of my duties on Arus as Princess Allura's head of security. Apparently, there's a ball this weekend to present her with suitors, and I am expected to be there. Coran's even arranged a three day leave for me and enclosed the approved paperwork.
Of course, what he doesn't—can't—say in an open com note is that there actually IS no ball. No, just a careful fiction to hide the fact that the Crown Princess of Arus is in a very deep depression and goes completely non-functional at times. We didn't realize how much she depended on us—and Keith especially, damn him to all seven hells—until we were reassigned. So, as often as Hunk, Pidge, and I—usually just me, actually—can get away, we go home to Arus. Coran saying there's a ball means she's really bad, shut down completely. I know the cloak and dagger stuff seems a bit much, but we can't afford to give Wade any sign that Arus is vulnerable, or more vulnerable than it seems. So we whisper, and we hint, and I pack a dress uniform that I KNOW won't come out of my bag. Thirty minutes after Coran's note is delivered, I'm flying to Arus. Once I clear Earth Control, I firewall the throttles, hoping I can fix her this time.
After what feels like an eternity, I enter Arus' airspace, feeling the ache in my chest sharpen as I fly over Red's silent volcano. Pushing the loss aside, I call Castle Control and am soon touching down in front of the Castle. I don't even have to ask anymore; as soon as I toss my bag in my room, I head not for Allura's room, but Keith's. Sure enough, she's curled up on his bed, hair tangled, eyes vacant, hugging his flight suit to herself. It takes every bit of discipline I can muster not to swear out loud. "Honey, I'm home!" I announce loudly, forcing cheer into my voice. Damn you, Keith Kogane.
She doesn't look at me, but I can hear her whisper. "Three years ago today, do you remember? You boys walked into the grand hall, carrying those spears, and he was leading you, looking so determined. You all introduced yourselves and then he knelt, kissing my hand and swearing his life to my service."
"I remember." I come and sit on the bed next to her, my fingers smoothing her tangled hair. "You looked like an angel coming down those stairs. Prettiest thing I'd seen in ages."
She finally looks at me, blue eyes red with tears. "He. . . never really loved me, did he? Just part of the job, humor the spoiled princess. . ." her voice breaks on a sob, and the tears fall again.
"Sshh. . .take it easy, sweetheart." I pull her into my lap, rubbing her back as she cries into my shirt. "Of course Keith loves you, just like we all do. Look how often he's risked his life for you." It's not what she means, and I know it, but. . . Keith's already broken her heart. I'll be eternally damned if I make it any worse. "Come on, calm down now." I manage a grin, knowing it'll be in my voice. "Besides, you've got the handsomest and most charming member of the Voltron Force all to yourself for three whole days!" That gets the giggle I was hoping for, even though it sounds a little forced. "Tell you what. Why don't we go back to your room, let you get one of your famous bubble baths and get comfortable. Then I'll brush your hair out and you can help me eat all the food Hunk HAD to send with me." She looks up at me uncertainly, and I wipe the tears from her face. "Please? Do it for me? You'll feel a lot better; I'll even carry you." She finally gives the barest of nods, and I stand with her in my arms, wincing at how thin she feels. Damn Charles Herbert Wade for taking us from her, and especially damn Keith Akira Kogane for destroying her this way.
I carry her all the way into her bathroom, setting her on her feet and letting her maid take charge of her. That done, I retreat to her bedroom, turning her desk chair backwards and flopping into it. A picture on her desk catches my attention and I pick it up; a picture I remember Coran taking, not long after we got here. Allura's holding Keith's arm, as always, but for the first time I notice how stiff he is, like her touch is burning him. Sven's watching from her other side, amused in his quiet way at them and at Hunk and Pidge's clowning. Then there's me . . . gods, how have I not seen this before? I'm standing off to the side, just close enough to be in the picture, but . . . all my attention's clearly on Allura. And I think the last time I looked that hungry was the first day of live flight training. Have I really been in love with her that long?
A noise pulls me from my thoughts; Allura wanders in, dressed in one of those ridiculous little girl nightgowns of hers. I get up and guide her to her vanity, then pick up her hairbrush and start working through her blonde mane. Yeah, yeah, I know. . . not very macho of the dashing and daring Lance McClain, huh? And the guys don't know about it. As the brush and my fingers work through the tangles, I remember the first time we did this, the night Sven was hurt. Both of us wandering the Castle like Alfor's ghost. . .I put my own pain aside and walked her back to her room, talking to her quietly. She asked me to stay with her, and even though—or maybe BECAUSE—I knew Keith would have my ass in a sling, I walked into her bedroom with her. She mentioned her mother brushing her hair to help her sleep as a little girl, and next thing I knew, I was doing the same thing, brush in a hand still wearing my best friend's lifeblood.
The brush has worked its usual magic; Allura's falling back against me, eyes fluttering closed. I pick her up and tuck her into bed, sitting and holding her hand until she sighs and goes into a deep sleep. Could do with some of that myself, but. . .not yet. I need to talk to someone first. Five minutes later, I'm in Castle Control, calling up a frequency that Pidge has double-and triple-encrypted. My name to the person who answers is the best possible password; in thirty seconds, I'm staring at a pale and weary Sven Holgersson.
"Min gud, not again," he sighs. "Romelle and I vill be dere as soon as ve can. How many times is dis since you vere reassigned?"
"I don't even know, min bror," I answer with my own sigh, running my hand through my hair. "Damn Keith for doing this to her."
Sven gives me one of his LOOKS. "Damn Keit? For VHAT? Ja, he should haf perhaps discouraged Allura; und from vhat I remember vhen I vas dere, he DID. It is not his fault dat Allura read all dose fairy tales of a knight in shining armor, und decided dat Keit vas HER knightly true love."
He has a point, but. . "What about how he left? You can't tell me that was right, Sven. Especially when he KNEW how she felt about him!"
"Gud i himmeln, do not shout at me, McClain." Sven rubs his temples wearily, and I feel the familiar guilt. He's barely out of a hospital bed, and I'm dumping all this on him. "You and I bot know Keit did not handle dis vell. Vit ANY of us." He pins me with an intense gaze. "You and I ALSO know Keit better dan anyvon else. He does not do vell vit people, other dan in a command setting. To be angry vit him for how he handled dis is. . . like being angry vit me for my accent." The gaze softens. "Let it go, Lance. Your brother he is still, and I know very vell dat you love him no less. Even if you are furious vit him for vhat you tink is mistreatment of de voman you love." A voice calls him offscreen; Romelle, reminding him of a meeting. "I must go; tink on vhat I haf said, und ve vill come soon. Pollux out." The screen goes dark, and I'm left to mull over my brother's pointed and accurate words.