Chapter Text
To the surprise of no one, Lotor’s room had the classic Galran colour schemes. Lance was despite himself somewhat impressed with the species commitment to dark grey and purple.
The room looked reminiscent of fancy hotel suites, he’d only ever seen in films. He didn’t get long to look though, as Lotor let him through the room, behind what seemed to be a tall-backed, huge sofa and passed the kitchen bar to a door that opened up to a hallway. A hallway that doubled as a walk-in closet. Again, despite himself, Lance was impressed. Except the dull colours, this was perfect!
While Lance was gaping, and struggling for words (a walk-in closet!) the prince who owned it was pulling out a training uniform.
“You- you, a walk-in closet !?” His arms where flailing beyond his control.
Lotor, looked at him in observatory silence for nearly an entire second, “you should put this on,” he placed the one piece suit over Lance’s outstretched arm. “You have an interest in storage and organisation?” He asked while Lance was looking sceptically at the suit.
He looked up distractedly, “what now, just clothes, fashion, which this, by the way is not.” He gestured to the grey onsie.
“You can make it work,” Lotor told him, “unless you’d rather sparr me with just leggings between us.”
Lance flushed, more so at his tone than his words and looked for somewhere to put his legs inside the thing. “Well, it’s not like you’d be naked, your pretentious princely robes would still be there.”
Lotor huffed in amusement, “Well, if you’re so put off about my outfit, it doesn’t have to be in the way.” He leaned in closer to Lance, who had one and half legs in the open back of the training outfit and was struggling with his balance.
“It’s not the outfit that’s off putting.” Lance said and promptly stumbled backward into the closet as his fight against gravity was lost. Lotor laughed. At least his butt ache wasn’t bad enough to distract him, even when he landed on it.
“You’re not supposed to wear those underneath,” he said and looked on as Lance crawled out from between his various suits and sat on the floor dragging the loose fabric over his legs.
“Yeah, well, I’m not stripping in front of you.” Lotor looked unconvinced, while Lance finally got to his feet, now wearing two soles with heels on top of one another, and got his arms into the suit as well. Lotor was right, he shouldn’t have worn the weird leggings underneath. He was at a disadvantage now, with his balance shrewd. Well, he figured as long as he was fighting Lotor in hand to hand, he was at a large enough disadvantage that this would hardly make a difference.
“It’s a bit, uh, loose.” Lance looked himself up and down he looked like a kitten wrapped up an a ball of yarn twice his own size. It was at least six sizes too large for him, and that was being optimistic. “And not very armour-y…”
Lotor put a hand on his chest, twisted his wrist and pushed. Lance nearly lost his balance and had to take a step backward to stay standing, “Hey! What was tha-“ He trailed off as the suit shrunk on him, like one of those bags his aunt used on their bread, sucking all the oxygen out to conserve it. It was skin-tight in a second and then the armour popped out. It hissed mechanically, and then his arms and legs where heavy from the hard, protective layer that surrounded them. “Wow…”
A satisfied smile danced across Lotor’s lips. “Yes indeed.” He looked at Lance, not the armour.
The gym was as large as the one in the castle, and Lance was impressed that it belonged to Lotor alone. While he was busy studying the high ceiling (no giant crystals) Lotor was fiddling with a computer display on the wall.
“Paladin!” He called to gain Lance’s attention. Lance snapped around, he felt a tinge of excitement creep through his apprehension. He knew he was going to get his ass handed to him, but he was almost certain that he would live, and it was a bit cool that after this day he could brag that he’d gone up against the Prince of the Galran Empire and gotten away with it. But then there was the apprehension.
Hand to hand required a lot of close contact.
“There are rules to this.” Lotor said. “You lose by tap out or incapacitation. Each match is a point won by one of us, and that’s what we’re playing for. You win at one point, I win at five. There’s a small interval between matches and if you try to cheat the suit will lock up and freeze you in position for ten seconds.”
“Hang on,” Lance protested, “why do I only need one point and you need five?”
Lotor looked a little surprised, “for fairness. Wasn’t that something you stressed earlier?”
“Well, that’s not equal terms, and that’s not fair.”
Lotor looked thoughtful for a moment. “Interesting. So if we both fight for five, would that be fair?”
No “…Yes,” Lance wavered a bit.
“Hm, pride is something we have not considered enough at the council. What a delicate matter.”
Lance was getting quite annoyed. “Are we gonna fight or not?”
With a brisk nod, that put that conversation to rest, Lotor reached out and touched the computer briefly, starting a countdown from five.
The second, the electronic voice reached one, Lotor was on Lance.
He tackled him to the ground and got an arm behind his neck and one in front of his throat, hooking his fingers into the joint of his elbow and squeezed. Lance’s vision was starting to darken around the edges before he had time to form a single coherent thought. His legs where kicking at nothing and his fingers where pulling and pushing to no prevail against Lotor’s armoured bicep. He spluttered and felt a drop of his own spit land on his cheek. Lotor’s face was hidden behind his long curtain of white hair, but Lance wished he could see it, just for a moment, to look for any spark of sympathy, or if it was all just pleasure drawn from his discomfort.
He tapped Lotor’s bicep quickly with increasing desperation and immediately Lotor let go and leaned back on his heels, straddling Lance’s chest as he was coughing and gasping for air. He leaned to the side and nearly retched, with the force of his coughs, as his body tried to clear a non-existent obstruction from his throat, finally his windpipe opened up enough for him to leave the coughing and focus on the gasping. His lungs felt like they were on fire and he could still feel the ghost of pressure on the side of his throat as he wiped his mouth and cheek clean of his own spit.
“Holy shit,” Lance’s voice was affected too, hoarse and uncomfortable to use. His head thumbed against the floor below him as he leaned back again, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands rested near his throat.
“I understand your hesitance in regard to hand to hand combat better now.” Lotor said.
Lance didn’t have the strength to call him an asshole, and even if he did, he probably would not have dared.
“How are you even supposed to get out of that death grip,” Lance protested, his voice slowly returning to something like normal.
Lotor raised an eyebrow, “Have you not received any training ever?” Lance huffed indignantly and tried to sit up and shove Lotor off him, which only resulted in him landing back on the floor. Shoving Lotor was liking shoving a concrete wall.
The first point went to Lotor and so did the next four and he didn’t show Lance how to get out of his stupid death grip. The whole thing was over in less than half an hour and Lance was feeling a bit humiliated. They might not have been at it for very long but he was exhausted. He was lying flat and outstretched on the floor, heaving for breath, like a starfish out of water. Lotor tossed him a water pouch, he didn’t catch it, but once he got hold of it he drank it down in one go.
“This was embarrassing,” Lance said and lied back down.
“Actually, it was worse than that,” Lotor said from above him. “If you at any point need to demonstrate your combat skills, which is not unlikely, your capture will seem less impressive.”
“When- why would I need to fight someone else than you?” Lance asked a little alarmed.
Lotor shrugged, “insults, challenges, assassination attempts, a coup, an attack from another planet, take your pick. The important thing is not what specific thing might happen, but that you will be prepared for all of them.”
“Uhm, those assassination attempts,” Lance raised a tentative hand.
“I will have to train you.” Lotor said and it sounded like he spoke more to himself than Lance. He shook his head, “it will be a challenge.” He turned back to Lance, hands crossed behind his back. “It’s settled paladin, I will train you here and you will join my peace council.”
Lance almost wished he hadn’t finished all his water in one go, just so he could have taken a swig and demonstratively spat it back out. “That seems a bit daft…”
“Daft? How is it daft, you need to learn to protect yourself and I need you for diplomacy.”
“Yeah, true, but,” Lance was sitting back up a leg drawn up to his chest, his arm dangling loosely from his knee. “I don’t think I’ll learn a whole bunch from you kicking my butt, and I don’t think I have anything to teach you, I mean I clearly didn’t have anything to contribute with today.”
“It has been decided.” Lotor looked angry. Lance didn’t understand why.
“But-“ Before he could protest any further Lotor grabbed his wrist and yanked him up on his feet. He winced. He was unprepared for it and it hurt his shoulder more than he would like to admit.
“Get in the shower.” Lotor shoved him forward, toward the exit.
Lance debated whether to say anything for about half a second. “Why are you so mad?” He turned around to look at Lotor. “We’ve only trained for half an hour and I’ve learned nothing. I disagree with you on your plan about me teaching you diplomacy and you immediately get violent. Do you understand my scepticism?”
Lotor looked like he wanted to bite his head off. And then his furious glare drifted down to Lance’s mouth so quickly Lance thought he might have imagined it. He shoved Lance hard, “Defend yourself.”
“Quiznak, alright,” He barely had time to lift his arm before Lotor’s shin connected with it. He had aimed for his head. Next thing he knew it was Lotor’s fist he parried. He barely had time to think. Then Lotor caught him in the shoulder with the heel of his left palm and he stumbled backwards without falling, until Lotor swept his feet off the floor with a wide low kick. Lance landed on his ass and immediately rolled to the side to avoid Lotor’s boot. He was on his front when Lotor grabbed his collar and pulled backward. He got behind him and put a knee with most of his weight on his lower back and pulled him backward again.
Lance groaned in discomfort and tapped the floor. Like all the other times Lotor let go immediately and Lance was left gasping for air. This time however he didn’t give him long to recuperate. His knee slid down from Lance’s back so he again was straddling him and then put a hand on the side his face pushing down. There were a lot of distractions, but nonetheless Lance felt something against his ass where Lotor’s crotch was. For a moment it seemed like he was going to say something and then he was up and off of Lance, leaving him on the floor.
“We’re done with the training for today, leave your gear here and go back to your own quarters.”
It was probably about one pm and if Lotor sent him away now, chances where he’d be cooped up in his little boring room for a while.
“What did you teach me?” He trying to keep the conversation going while he got off the floor and half-jogged after Lotor.
“Not to pick fights you can’t win.” The hiss of the metal doors sounded as they slid open. There was a small dressing room between the gym and Lotor’s living room, but Lotor walked straight through it.
“Hey, mind if I shower here?”
Lotor, stopped in the next door opening and looked back at him for a moment. “Why?”
“I’m sweaty now,” he shrugged. He didn’t want Lotor to ground him. “Hey can you show me how to take this thing off?” He gestured to the suit. Lotor walked right into his personal bubble and put his palm on his chest and did the twisty thing. The suit hissed and expanded until he was back to looking like a kitten caught in a bunch of yarn. He shrugged his shoulders out into the free, letting the training suit fall down his body. “Can I have lunch after this?”
“Another meal?” Lotor nodded. “Yes, I did promise you that didn’t I?” His temper seemed to have cooled considerably.
“Good, I’ll see you for lunch then.” Lance smiled and nodded to the exit. Lotor took the hint, bowed with his hands behind his back and left.
After that first day they settled into an almost routine. In the morning they would meet and Lotor would kick Lances ass, adding to his plethora of bruises, then they would have lunch together, just the two of them, and then they would go join the council. Both seemed equally useless to Lance.
Except that he was obviously a giant evil asshole, Lotor wasn’t actually the worst company. He didn’t make Lance feel safe, but he made him feel safer. And special. He was clearly the only one who was allowed to talk back to the prince. The outfits however continued and where still sexual and demeaning. He brought it up with Lotor one and he only tried to talk him into nudity then, while still maintaining that it was good for crew morale.
Lance started talking a bit to the generals. Ezor apologised for kicking him in the face and throwing him off a cliff and though she didn’t mean it, Lance appreciated her cheerful disposition given his gloomy situation. Zethrid and Narti barely interacted with him, though Kova came to check on him sometimes and he would scratch her behind the ear. She seemed to like him. And Axca tried to hold a professional distance, but she joined him and Lotor sometimes for training or lunch and she despite herself, Lance thought she had taken a shine to him. What could he say, he was just that likable. Lotor had definitely taken a liking to him. Almost every other evening he was entertaining someone, and he would always bring out Lance and walk him around the room to Oh’s and Ah’s. There had yet to be a company as large as the first evening, but there other species that met up to negotiate terms, who joined the Galra when they saw a Paladin in his possession.
Once, for a delicate such event, where the guests might not join the empire so easily, Lance was cuffed and muffled and only brought in to show off his bruises from their training and as a scare tactic. That was bad enough, but the guard that had kept him outside until Lotor’s signal had been handsy. It only added to Lotor’s act when he saw moisture in the corner of Lance’s eyes. His temper flared, cold this time, which was by far the more intimidating of his two kinds of anger. And after that evening Lance never saw that Guard again.
Then there was the time they served that blue pineapple drink. There’d only been Galra guests then and Lotor had broken someone’s finger when they had grabbed a drunken Lance to sway against to the alien music. The following morning Lance woke up next to Lotor, and the worst thing was that he remembered having asked him to stay. That was also the first time he saw the prince so dresses down.
He’d woken up with his nose between lilac shoulder blades and when he leaned back in horror at the thought of what had let to this, new horror took over those unfounded fears. Long, mostly diagonal scars ran down his back, deep and old. He lied back down and put an arm around Lotor’s torso and fell asleep. The next time he woke up he was alone.
What bothered him most about his situation, was not his captivity itself, nor his captors.
It was the fact that he had heard nothing from his team. It had been nearly three weeks. Nothing. No attack, no message, no rescue mission. Nothing. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He couldn’t even really talk about it, he’d just risk giving away information to the enemy. He still couldn’t help being sad.
It was the day after he’d slept next to Lotor, when in the evening Lotor asked him to come back to his for dinner. Lance knew he couldn’t decline, but he was still a bit vary. Lotor never stopped looking at him like he wanted him, despite not crossing too many lines anymore.
They’d eaten together countless times, but the way Lotor asked this time was charged. He wanted something. It made sense, that it was a special occasion as well. The outfit from this morning was prettier than usual. He wasn’t sure whether to call it a dress or a skirt, but it wrapped around his torso just below his nipples, leaving them out in the open. It started in what felt like leather buttoned around his ribs till his upper thigh when the buttons disappeared and the dress opened up into a skirt, exposing his legs. The silky fabric that flowed around his legs was long enough to drag along the floor and drizzled in little red crystals. The dress itself faded from a red leathery corset to blue silky skirt. It was too pretty for a random day.
This evening was meaningful.