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When he awoke, he smelt stardust burning.
Lotor frowned, his memory failing him for a moment, flittering in-between long, drawn out corridors bathed in white, and blood-soaked interiors of giant lions, unsure of where he was.
He took in another breath, smelt the nitrogen and carbon burning into a thousand million pieces, smelt the last embers of dying stars burn into oblivion, felt the way it seemed to tingle the inside of his nose, remembering his mother’s warning that it was fatal if inhaled for too long, before the reality of his situation all but kicked him in the head.
He had run away - from the empire, from Zarkon, from Haggar, from the three girls left heartbroken and betrayed by him, from all of that and more -
With Lance.
With Lance to the end of the universe.
Lance, who had shot Zarkon as he stood above him, ready to cut down his own son; had shot him again, this time in the stomach when he had whipped round to face Lance, who stood, poised in the doorway, his gun up. Lotor had heard the screams of Voltron, shouting, begging, crying for Lance as the boy had grabbed him from under the armpits and dragged him away, through the halls, down past the armoury, the labs, the prisoners, down to the belly of the ship - where his lion awaited them, all but throwing Lotor into it as he slid into the seat, flying them away from that nightmare, from the horror of it all.
He must have passed out during the journey - that was the only reasonable explanation as to why his memory felt riddled with holes and as weak as a sponge - not to mention the strip of gauze wrapped around his middle, covering the burning, blazing pain of the slice that Zarkon had delivered to his abdomen.
Lotor sat up.
They were at Ender’s Point - where Lotor had taken Lance to so many many months ago, the watch point from where one could see the dying shifts of black holes as they collapsed into one another, the dying lights of dying stars flaring, and fading, and where, if one looked hard enough, had the strength to strain their eyes and look past the blaring glare of the sun, could see Earth, a floating pearl, dancing silently amongst the rest of the cosmos.
Sitting a while away from him, staring down into the abyss, was Lance, still in his paladin armour, holding his bayard in his lap and staring at it with a blank, hollow stare, as broken as the stars that burnt and roared beneath him.
He got to his feet, grunting softly as the bandages round his middle ruffled against the cut, held together by what felt clumsy stitches made in desperate haste. A blister was forming on his pinkie toe, and the back of his heel rubbed painfully against the material at the back of his boots, but he limped on, placing his feet carefully down one after the other.
By the time he reached him, Lance still hadn’t turned around, still gazing at the stars that burnt in front of him, sitting on the edge of the watchpoint, long legs dangling down into oblivion.
The cut had been too badly ruffled, itching and stinging with movement, and Lotor knew it would be too much for him to sit down now. He could feel the pain throbbing in time with is heartbeat, pulsing hideously underneath his skin.
For a few moments, they stood there in silence, watching the stars die. Lotor fidgeted a little, picking at the little scab at the back of his hands, unsure of what to say, to do. He wanted to stretch out his hand and rest it on Lance’s shoulders to reassure him that he was here, that he was going to stay right beside him for however long he would need, however long it would take.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t. His confidence had slipped away and vanished along with the stars.
Of course, it was Lance who spoke first.
‘How are you feeling?’
Lotor shrugged and said, his voice scratchy with sleep and discomfort, ‘I’ve felt worse.’
‘I stitched your wound whilst we were going through the Endor system,’ Lance was speaking down to the bayard in his lap, his voice almost toneless. ‘You were out of it for most of the journey. I didn’t want to wake you once we got here. You looked peaceful. You looked like you were having a decent sleep.’
Lotor snorted. ‘What if I had died back in the ship? Stitching me up wouldn’t have done me any good then.’
It was the wrong thing to say. He saw Lance’s bottom lip begin to tremble, noticed the muscles of his delicate throat tighten. He bowed his head down and sniffed, loudly, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t look back at Lotor.
He looked back down past the watch point. Below them, a galaxy was slipping into view, the blazing lights of the planets engulfed in it softly glowing in their final moments.
From beside him, Lance spoke, his voice sounding thick with choked back emotion.
‘So,’ he said, ‘What now?’
Lotor said, tore his gaze away from the stars to look at him, ‘Beats me.’
Lance looked down at the bayard in his lap, still white and clean, but somehow looking infinitely heavier, weighing him down. ‘Something tells me I can’t go back to the Castle.’
Lotor gave a soft chuckle. ‘What tipped you off?’
Finally, a smile broke across Lance’s teary features, even as the first tear trickled down his cheeks. Lotor felt the tiniest flicker of joy at being able to bring it out.
He said, ‘Probably when I betrayed my team members and ran away with you.’
‘Oh yeah.’
A comfortable silence befell them.
Lance lifted the bayard out of his lap, gazing down at the sneak body of the gun. He said, ‘You know, I used to struggle with this thing. It - it always used to symbolise how I was always a little lesser than the others. Not good enough for anything - not a scientist, or an engineer, or a prince, or even a good enough pilot. Not good enough for anyone there - not good enough for Voltron. I always thought that some day, I’d be able to figure it out; I’d realise who I really was, and what I could do. And I could prove it to them all; to Keith and Allura. I’d finally show to Shiro that I was good enough. That I deserved to be on Voltron. That I wasn’t just some stupid kid,’ his voice broke, breaking into tears. ‘That I wasn’t just some boy from Cuba. That I was good enough. That I was good enough.’
Lotor stared at him, mouth open.
He’d never seen him like this - never seen the usually sweet, happy, happy-go-lucky boy who’s bright eyes and glittering smile shatter and break like this before. He wanted to reach out, to comfort him.
But before he could, Lance stood up, got to his feet, brought his arm back, and threw it as hard as he could into the void below them. The bayard made a gentle arch before plunging down into the darkness below them.
Far away from them, a galaxy collapsed, the hissing sounds of the dying stars rushing past them, Lotor’s hair whipping in the breeze caused by the dying fumes.
Lance turned to him, his tear-stained face glittering from the light of the stars, his red-rimmed eyes staring at him, pleading and desperate, his mouth trembling, and Lotor felt his heart skip a beat deep within his chest.
‘I - I want to ask you something,’ Lance whispered.
‘Anything.’ Lotor said. ‘Anything at all.’
‘I - I can’t go back. I can’t go back to that life again.’ Lance said. ‘I can’t do it. It almost killed me. But you - you -‘
He struggled with the words, to spit them out properly, but his hand reached out, fingers trembling with uncertainty, the rounded tips brushing against the gloved claws of Lotor’s own.
Lotor turned his hand around, allowing Lance’s hand to slip in, fingers gliding against his flat palm, intertwining his fingers in-between his own.
Lance looked down at their entwined hands, at the way Lotor’s dark fingers meshed with Lance’s own white ones.
‘Yes,’ Lotor said softly, looking at the way the tears clung to Lance’s eyelashes like dew on leaves. ‘I think I know what you mean.’
Lance swallowed hard, sniffing, and wiping away a tear with the back of his free hand.
He said, his voice cracking up and down, ‘You were the first who put that aside for me. You helped me - you listened to me - you laughed with me. You - you helped me. You showed me kindness when I couldn’t find anyone,’ his voice softened to barely above a whisper, ‘And I love you for it.’
Lotor swallowed down the butterflies that rose in his chest at Lance’s sweet tone, the softness of his murmur.
He didn’t want to see Lance like that - with tears pooling down his cheeks, dripping down his chin, sobs racking him, like when he’d found him in the corridor, crying his heart out after yet another sneering remark from Keith, another put down from Allura, a smug comment from Pidge, a misplaced statement from Hunk - Shiro once more glazing over him, his eyes seeming to go straight over from Pidge to Keith, his eyes softening with fondness for him. Lance was more observant than people liked to take him for; and he wasn’t stupid enough to know when someone was more preferred than another.
Lotor had found him then, crying into his jacket sleeve, and knew then that he wasn’t going to let him go again - knew straight from the heartbreak on Lance’s face as he looked up at him as Lotor looked at him with his head tilted with confusion.
Now, as they stood at the end of the universe, hand entwined as the stars burnt below him, staring down into Lance’s deep blue eyes, he knew that neither of them could go back to the life they had before. No more Galra empire, no more team Voltron. Just them. Only them.
Lotor murmured, leaning in so that his long hair fluttered around Lance’s upturned face, ‘Lance, if I cannot promise you anything else, I can promise you this and this alone - I will stay with you for as long as life will bestow me. I will never, ever leave you.’
His hand squeezed his, holding on tighter, a lifeline between the stars. Lance hiccuped, tears pouring down his face faster, a blush spreading across his cheeks.
Lotor reached up with his spare hand, cupping Lance’s cheek, yellow eyes gazing into his own, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He felt his heart soar a little at the happiness beginning to make itself clearer on his face.
‘Lance,’ he whispered, only him and Lance, just the two of them at the end of the universe, ‘Lance, I will love you until the stars die.’
Lance hiccuped, his shoulders shaking with sobs, but he was smiling, his eyes betraying the joy within him.
Lotor bent down, bringing his face down to his, and kissed him, his mouth flush against his.
Lance’s tears mingled, salty with the sweetness of the kiss, his lips moving slickly against Lotor’s own, the warmth of his body curling around Lotor, his long white hair a white waterfall against Lance, just the two of them, holding onto each other, as the stars flared and died around them.