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There was a fine line between clever and cunning. Individuals who truly earned those descriptors knew how to toe along that line, leaning into both without ever truly setting foot in either. And those individuals—those dancers, as Kolivan’s father used to call them so long ago—were not to be trusted.
It had taken Prince Lotor only until the third room before he realized the win condition for the Trials. He had reached the third room, had seen even more combatants rise to meet him, and a smirk had unfurled on his lips. Much as Keith had before him, he ducked and wove his way around the Marmorites testing him before he slid through their entry points, dropping down to the level below. Unlike Keith, Prince Lotor was not already half dead by the time he decided to find an alternative path. He was not staggering along, his hand grasping his abdomen right over the place where he was no doubt bleeding internally. Instead, he was able to make his way through the doors ahead without any interruption, and when he met the Marmorites—Keith included—on the other side, he did so with a smile.
“I trust these doors were ones I was meant to go through?” he had asked.
“Yeah, I think,” Keith had said. “I wasn’t really conscious for this part of my Trial.”
“How unfortunate,” Prince Lotor had said. His tone had suggested he didn’t find this too terribly unfortunate at all. His eyes had flicked to Vidor, then, standing on Keith’s right, as he asked, “Are you able to determine if I’ve passed or not?”
“You completed the Trials satisfactorily,” Vidor had said. His voice, as it always was, was neutral to an untrained ear, but Kolivan had been able to hear the same reservations he felt reflected in Vidor’s tone.
The way Prince Lotor’s smirk had grown made Kolivan think that, despite his untrained ear, he heard the reservations as well.
“Excellent,” he had said, betraying none of what he heard, if he had in fact heard it. “Then I look forward to hearing your decision. Is there a room in which you’d like me to wait while the final determination is made? If so, please lead the way.”
Prince Lotor had been a potential new recruit making a request. Somehow, his request had still sounded like an order.
But he had passed the Trials satisfactorily, and in honesty, to call his performance satisfactory was to undersell what he had actually done. Prince Lotor was too clever by half, and the worst part was that Kolivan could tell he knew it. That alone made him potentially dangerous; all of the other factors surrounding him (such as his apparent banishment from the Empire, his willingness to turn on the Empire before his banishment, his sudden interest in joining the resistance and in Keith in particular) only added to it. Admitting him entrance into the Blade of Marmora was more than a risk—it was a mistake. And yet, now that he had passed the Trials and knew of them, turning him away could prove just as lethal. He didn’t know all of their secrets, but even though Kolivan had ordered him arrested in a sensory deprivation suit to prevent him from learning the exact location of their base when they were en route, something about the way Prince Lotor’s eyes roved over every inch of their base the moment his blindfold was removed was cause for unease. Every dart of his eyes, and every raise of his brow, spoke of calculation. As poised as he was, there was vigilance in the set of his shoulders and the shrewdness of his gaze. He wasn’t privy to half their secrets yet, and had no way of knowing where they were located, but he knew enough to make him dangerous. With a man like Prince Lotor, any amount of information was enough to make him dangerous.
Letting him take the Trials at all had been a mistake. Kolivan knew that now. But he had seen the logic in Keith’s argument that Prince Lotor could have information the resistance could use, and that if Team Voltron was not willing to take that information in, the Blade of Marmora had to be.
“Knowledge or death, Kolivan,” Keith had said. “That was what you told me when I first came here. He has knowledge that could save everyone from death. We need to take it.”
That wasn’t quite what that mantra meant, and Kolivan had considered pointing it out. But in ten thousand years Kolivan had never seen an opportunity as golden as Zarkon’s own son coming forth with information on how to combat the Empire. Even if the opportunity felt a little too much like a golden Lion, there was truth to the adage about keeping enemies close. At least if Prince Lotor was here, Kolivan could keep an eye on him.
So it was with that in mind that Kolivan announced that Prince Lotor had passed the Trials of Marmora. It was with that in mind that Kolivan had Prince Lotor outfitted with a Marmorite uniform, and added to the training schedule. It was with that in mind that Kolivan approached Prince Lotor as he and Keith were standing on the observation deck, Prince Lotor saying something with a smirk about his lips and a flick of his wrist, while Keith—his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression grave—nodded. Both turned to Kolivan as he approached, and while Prince Lotor’s smile faded, it didn’t vanish completely. Keith stood up a little straighter.
“I trust I am not interrupting anything?” Kolivan said.
“Of course not,” Prince Lotor said. He turned to face Kolivan completely, and clasped his hands behind his back so that his body language—in shallow contrast to Keith, who had his arms comfortably folded—was open. It was as performative as everything else he had done so far. “This is your base, after all. Is there something we can help you with?”
Kolivan restrained his expression as best he could. “Perhaps. I’d like to have a word with you. Keith, if you would give us a moment?”
Kolivan wasn’t asking so much as he was observing certain practices of common etiquette. All the same, surprise flashed across Keith’s face in the form of slightly widened eyes and raised eyebrows, and he looked quickly between Kolivan and Prince Lotor before he frowned.
“What is it?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Kolivan said. Not necessarily. Not yet. “There is just something I would like to speak to Prince Lotor about. Privately.”
Keith’s frown deepened, his brow furrowed, and not for the first time Kolivan wanted to curse both the curiosity and tenacity Keith had inherited from his mother. He was so like her, and in many ways that was endearing, but in others—
In others, the obstinacy was both frustrating and concerning in equal measure.
“I will come find you once we are done,” Kolivan said, in an attempt to head off any protest Keith had been about to throw his way. “In the meantime, please go speak with Vidor about the intel we retrieved on the last mission. He wishes to cross-examine it against information currently held by Team Voltron.”
Keith narrowed his eyes, his expression set in a way that told Kolivan that Keith knew that this new assignment was nothing more than an excuse to shoo him from the room. But whether the work was busy or vital didn’t matter; once an assignment was given, there was no more room for Keith to argue. He closed his eyes briefly, and took a deep breath, before he locked eyes with Kolivan again.
“Got it,” Keith said. “I’ll let you know what we find out.”
“Thank you,” Kolivan said.
Keith nodded, and then started past Kolivan to head toward the door. He didn’t spare Prince Lotor a single look back—a good sign, Kolivan felt. But Keith had made it no more than five steps before Prince Lotor took notice of the same thing, and he took a small step to the side to see around Kolivan as he called, “Keith.”
Keith stopped in his tracks. It was only a tick before he turned halfway to look back, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”
Keith’s attention now held, Prince Lotor smiled. “We’ll continue our conversation later. Perhaps over dinner?”
Keith considered Prince Lotor’s offer for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. Can’t wait.”
Prince Lotor’s smile grew. “The feeling is mutual.”
Keith hadn’t smiled. Whether it was a by-product of his Marmora training, or a true reflection of his feelings toward Prince Lotor, he hadn’t given anything away in his expression or body language. But even as he turned and continued his exit from the room, his can’t wait remained heavily in the air. There was nothing to be gained from his tone, and Prince Lotor—despite his expressive gestures—had been speaking quietly enough so that the only bit Kolivan overheard of their conversation as he approached was a don’t you agree? from Lotor’s lips to Keith’s ears. There was no telling what Keith had been agreeing to with his nod, nor was there any way for Kolivan to know what conversation Keith couldn’t wait to resume over dinner with Prince Lotor. Given the other party, however, Kolivan had an idea that it was likely not anything good.
As the door shut behind Keith, Prince Lotor turned his full attention to Kolivan at last. His hands were still clasped behind his back, his shoulders straight, his chin raised just so. His smile, ever so pleasant, didn’t touch his eyes.
“Now, what can I assist you with, Kolivan?” Prince Lotor asked. Much like with his request for a waiting room following the completion of his Trials, this sounded less like a cordial offer for provided assistance, and more like an imperious command for time not to be wasted.
Unfortunately (for Prince Lotor, at least), Kolivan was not one to be affected by such tones.
“You’ve been with us for nearly five quintents now,” Kolivan said. He strode forward to stand beside Prince Lotor, and turned his gaze to the one-way window that allowed them to see out into the rest of the galaxy. The atmosphere outside was calm—peaceful. For all the universe, it appeared as if nothing at all was amiss. “You’re familiar not only with the interior of this base, but also how we, the Blade of Marmora, operate. You’ve learned enough to understand exactly what we are about.”
“Yes,” Prince Lotor said. “I believe I have.”
“Then you know that we are an organization built on secrecy and trust,” Kolivan looked askance at Prince Lotor, who met his gaze readily.
“Your devotion to secrecy is quite apparent, yes,” Prince Lotor said. “Though so far I’ve found the ‘trust’ part to be a bit lacking. Might I suggest leading your men by example?”
It was a polite enough suggestion on the surface, but the blade beneath the cloth was still sharp enough to slice. Kolivan turned a little more so that he could stare Prince Lotor down properly.
“Might I suggest providing me with a reason to?” he said.
Prince Lotor’s smile faded, yet though it didn’t vanish completely, there was no mistaking the cold set of his eyes as they narrowed. “I fail to see how I haven’t.”
“Everything you do is affected with a front—”
“Which I believe makes me a perfect candidate for maintaining the secrecy of this organization.”
“—which makes it near impossible for us to get an accurate read on what your angle is.”
“Right now my angle is to stay alive,” Prince Lotor said. “I thought I made that apparent when I informed you of the bounty my father placed on my head, as well as the betrayal I faced at the hands of my generals.”
“Your generals, which our intel informs us you chose yourself.”
“It does not make the separation any easier to swallow, I promise you.”
“Separation?” Kolivan asked, raising his eyebrows at the suddenly different word choice. “Not betrayal?”
Prince Lotor’s lips quirked in a mirthless smirk as he turned to look through the observation window. “I’m making an effort not to hold it against them,” he said. “It was nothing personal. They were only trying to save their own lives. The circumstances being what they are, I can’t exactly blame them.” He paused, then said, “I’m trying not to blame them. I admit it’s not always as effortless as I make it seem.”
For all the elegance and dignity in his posture and speech, Prince Lotor did a good job of making himself look pitiable. Forsaken by his hand-chosen generals, yet still left with enough emotional fortitude to forgive them for their treachery . . . it was enough to make almost anyone, even the son of Zarkon himself, seem sympathetic.
Kolivan was not so easily fooled.
“I understand why you would seek asylum,” he said, “even if that asylum comes from those you previously called your enemy. But that does not explain your other actions.”
“What other actions?” Prince Lotor asked. “I’ve done nothing but what has been requested of me from the start. I explained clearly my reason for approaching the coalition. I divulged the Empire’s current aims, as well as the fact that my father’s witch is currently leading the primary militia while my father spearheads the hunt for me. I underwent—and successfully passed—your Trials. If there is more you would ask of me, then by all means, ask it. Until then, I fail to see how I haven’t met your standards.”
“What interest do you have in Keith?”
“Keith?”
For the first time since they began speaking, Prince Lotor appeared thrown off-balance. He blinked, his eyebrows raised. His smile—whether mocking, calculating, or a play at rueful—was completely gone now, his guard completely dropped. The blank surprise that he looked at Kolivan with was refreshing, if only because it was a change of pace, but it was gone as swiftly as it came. Prince Lotor’s guard was back in place in the next beat, and he turned away to look through the observation window again.
“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Prince Lotor said loftily. “Mind clarifying?”
“You’ve paid him special attention ever since you first approached the coalition,” Kolivan said. Unlike Prince Lotor, he was in no mood to dance around the issue. “You addressed him by name before he had a chance to introduce himself.”
“I knew his name thanks to Acxa. She overheard his companion use it in the Weblum.”
“You made your bid for an alliance to him rather than to Princess Allura or Shiro, despite both of them being the present leaders of Voltron.”
“They made it clear they had no interest in listening to or forming an alliance with me. Keith made it clear that he felt differently. It only makes sense that I would speak to him instead.”
“You focused on him before that became apparent.”
“Did I?” Prince Lotor didn’t look back. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Kolivan glared at him. “You’ve shadowed him ever since arriving. You continuously seek him out for private conversations. I want to know why.”
“Why does it matter?” Prince Lotor asked, and only now did he turn, his eyebrows raised. “Is it so wrong for me to spend time with a friend?”
“You’re friends?”
“Perhaps.” Prince Lotor shrugged again. “We’ve only spent five quintents together so far. I won’t claim to be a relationship expert, but I believe this is called the ‘getting to know you’ stage.” He flashed a smile. “We’re bonding.”
Kolivan took a deep breath through his nose.
“In any case, I don’t see why it matters,” Prince Lotor continued. He turned away to walk past Kolivan, as if heading toward the exit, though he only walked a few paces before he stopped. “You know why I’m here. You know what my ‘angle’, so to speak, is. I’ve been forthright with you about everything. I don’t see why my spending time with Keith should change any of that. Trust is only built through communication. Unless I’m mistaken, that’s precisely what we’ve been doing. If anything, my spending time with Keith should alleviate your concerns, not aggravate them. Team bonding seems highly valued here.”
“Keith is a special case,” Kolivan said.
He had spoken before he could help himself, but the damage was done the second the words left his mouth. Prince Lotor turned back to face him, light dancing in his eyes, another smirk playing on his lips.
“Oh?” he asked. “Pray tell, how so?”
There were too many answers to that question, many of which Prince Lotor had no right or reason to know. But that alone didn’t mean that he could avoid the question completely, and particularly not when he had brought it upon himself in the first place. Slowly, so as not to draw attention, he curled his fingers into fists by his sides to ground himself. Then, after taking a tick to ensure his voice would be steady, he said, “I should think that would be obvious.”
Prince Lotor shrugged, as if to agree, yet then said, “But I’m curious to hear your thoughts.”
“You know full well who he is,” Kolivan said. Prince Lotor’s expression didn’t change, save for a minute raise of his eyebrow. “He is not only one of the Blade. He is a former Paladin of Voltron. That alone puts him in the unique position of having been at the epicenter of the resistance. You cannot tell me that isn’t something you’re knowingly taking advantage of.”
“I would never dream of it,” Prince Lotor answered swiftly. “What I find interesting about Keith runs far deeper than that.”
“Oh?” Kolivan said, his eyes narrowed as he repeated Prince Lotor’s words from before. “Pray tell. How so?”
Prince Lotor closed his eyes, his lips curled in a coy smirk.
“That,” he said, “is a personal matter. One better kept between just the two of us, thank you.”
Without waiting for a dismissal, or even offering a proper end to the conversation, Prince Lotor turned and started toward the door again. Kolivan clenched his fists tighter, glaring at Prince Lotor’s retreating back, and waited only a tick before he called, “Prince Lotor.”
Prince Lotor stopped, though he did not turn back, even though he must have heard the sound of Kolivan’s footsteps as Kolivan followed after.
“The Blade of Marmora is an organization built on secrecy and trust,” Kolivan said.
Prince Lotor sighed. “So I’ve heard.”
“Trust in particular is paramount here. It provides the foundation for everything we are, and therefore all that we do. If we cannot have trust in ourselves and in each other, we cannot go on.
“This means,” Kolivan continued, and he circled around to stand in front of Prince Lotor as he opened his mouth to offer what was undoubtedly another exasperated, snarky comment, “that if a situation arises in which someone is found to be untrustworthy, we act accordingly. The secrecy with which we carry out our missions is also paramount. Secrecy cannot be maintained without trust. If something should threaten that secrecy—if someone should break the trust given to them—we will act swiftly, covertly, and mercilessly to neutralize that individual. We do not give second chances.” Kolivan narrowed his eyes. “Do you understand?”
Prince Lotor met his gaze steadily. His expression was cool, but one side of his mouth quirked up in a wry smirk.
“Quite,” he said. “But you’ll have to forgive me for not being more intimidated. After so many years of receiving death threats, I’m rather desensitized.”
Finally, it was Kolivan’s turn to smile. “I’m not seeking your intimidation. Only your understanding. Besides,” he said, lowering his voice so that Prince Lotor was forced to listen harder, “should you betray our trust—and should you use and then discard him—I will personally see to it that you do not even have time to feel afraid.”
Prince Lotor said nothing. He and Kolivan held each other’s gazes for a long moment before Kolivan finally stepped aside, and swept one arm out to indicate the door.
“You may go,” he said.
Prince Lotor continued to stare at him for another tick. Then, wordlessly (and with his head held high, his shoulders back, his stride no less poised despite what had just occurred), he looked away and swept from the room.
Kolivan watched him leave. Only when the door shut behind Prince Lotor did Kolivan turn away, choosing to walk back up to the observation window instead. The nebulae beyond the reinforced glass were as peaceful as they had been earlier. Stars strewn among cosmic dust reflected light back at him, soft and warm.
Kolivan doubted that whatever machinations were whirling inside Prince Lotor’s mind would cease as a result of their conversation. He doubted, too, that Prince Lotor would stray away from Keith because of what Kolivan had said. If anything, Prince Lotor seemed the type to spend more time with Keith where Kolivan could see, as a source of distracting aggravation if nothing else. That was a distraction that Kolivan could not afford, and he knew it. However much he wanted to keep Keith alive in a war that seemed determined to kill him, he had the war itself to think about as well. He could not afford to let Prince Lotor get under his skin, especially now.
But he had given his warning nonetheless, and he had every intention of following through. Prince Lotor could not be trusted. Whether that would change, only time would tell. Kolivan was open to the possibility, however slim. Prince Lotor had the opportunity to prove that he was trustworthy. He had the opportunity to prove that the chance Keith had given him to do so was not a mistake.
But if he failed—if he betrayed them, and if Kolivan had to watch Keith die in much the same way his mother had . . . well, Kolivan would see to it that Prince Lotor’s last moments would be spent wishing he had turned himself over to Zarkon instead.