Chapter Text
“Lance, I need you to take the southeast corridor and see if you can find the objective. Try not to get distracted this time.” Lance’s eye twitched as he headed Shiro’s instructions. He pushed down the prickling feeling in his chest from his leader’s snide comment and made his way down the long corridor. Voltron had the task of retrieving a technological gadget that Lance couldn’t quite remember the name of. According to Pidge, it was supposed to help find their family, so Lance focused as he headed down the dimly lit Galran hallway. It didn’t help, however, when the team insisted on making backhanded insults at Lance’s expense.
The combination of missions and fighting the Galra has pushed the team toward a stressful edge in the past couple of weeks. At least, that’s what Lance told himself whenever Keith or Shiro yelled at him. Those things by themselves didn’t seem important, but considering his team seemed to target him with their criticisms. Once, Lance stood in the training room, close to tears, as Shiro yelled at him for something that was clearly Keith’s fault. “ If that hothead didn’t run straight into danger without thinking, I wouldn’t have to make risky decisions to save him,” Lance thought as his leader reprimanded him. Of course, Lance wouldn’t dare voice his opinion at the risk of making Shiro angrier.
A noise tore Lance from his thoughts. He pointed his rifle in the sound’s direction but didn't see movement. A scuffing sound behind him alerted him to a sentry trying to sneak up behind him. A quick shot from the rifle stopped the attempted attack. As the sentry fell, Lance heard Keith over the intercoms. “Shiro, I found the objective. Are we good to head out?”
“Great job, Keith. Everyone, head to the exit. The sooner we get out of here, the better." Lance rolled his eyes as Shiro praised Keith because the red paladin who could do no wrong would get nothing but compliments, while the team berated Lance for simply existing. He grumbled as he headed toward the rest of the team; however, he was too caught up in his head to notice another sentry sneaking up behind him. A sudden electric shock tore through his body. The voltage short-circuited the coms in Lance’s helmet, preventing him from calling for help.
Lance fell to the ground as his vision became spotty. The sentry shocked him again, and the paladin couldn’t hold back the scream that crawled out of his throat. As he lay there, spasming, he saw a hooded figure approach him, their yellow eyes glowing from under their shrouded face.
“Pitiful. You may not be the black paladin, but I’m sure I can find some use for you.” The figure croaked as Lance felt his consciousness slip. Their horrific cackling gripped Lance’s heart in fear as he sent a prayer that his team would find him.
~~~*-*~~~
Two years later…
Lance etched another tally mark on the cell wall, signaling the two-year mark since the Galra imprisoned him. He wasn’t sure what Hell was like, but he had to guess this was close enough. Shortly after being taken, Haggar had set out to test the limits of the blue paladin by subjecting him to numerous painful experiments. The witch had remarked that the boy was ‘too weak’ to fight in the arena, so he was reduced to a guinea pig to see how much a human can go through at the hands of magic. Turns out, it was a lot.
For most days, Lance found himself strapped to a table while numerous druids poked and prodded him with their magical instruments. Sometimes, Haggar would supervise. Other times, she would be off doing whatever Prince Lotor asked of her. The worst days were when she experimented on Lance by herself. It was at these moments when the witch brought out her most sadistic side and tortured him to near death.
The worst moment was when Haggar amputated Lance’s right leg and replaced it with a prosthetic similar to Shiro’s arm. The witch didn’t believe in anesthesia, which made the procedure all the more painful. The prosthetic glowed a brilliant blue, which confused Haggar, considering it was supposed to glow purple as Shiro’s had. Naturally, this interested the witch, which led to a slew of experiments that left Lance feeling drained and his leg with the feeling of being torn off all over again. Thankfully, when he wasn’t being experimented on, he was wasting away in his cell.
When Lance was left alone, he hoped his team would rescue him. After a few weeks, his hope had dwindled into nothing. Once all hope was gone, the negative thoughts invaded. A voice in his head told him that his team was never coming, that they decided to leave him there to rot. They finally found the excuse they needed to rid themselves of the weakest link in the chain. If it wasn’t physical torture on the metal slab, it was mental torture on the concrete floor.
Lance was pulled from his thoughts when two guards approached his cell. “Prince Lotor has requested your presence.” Lance perked his head. Lotor never interacted with him aside from the first moment the sentries captured him. After all, he preferred to leave the paladin in the hands of the witch. He let the guards grab and escort him to the prince's chambers. With each cell they passed, he could see the different prisoners he had come to know. He didn’t know their names, only the sounds of their cries, prayers, and incoherent mumbling. When he first arrived, he had told them that he was a paladin of Voltron and that help was on the way. The newer ones regarded him with hope. Those who had been there the longest ignored his false promises.
Eventually, they reached Prince Lotor’s private quarters, where the guards knocked on the door. He shortly opened it to reveal himself in his usual battle armor. “Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll take it from here.” Lance kept his head down as the two guards left him alone with the prince. There was silence before Lotor spoke up. “Come now, paladin, we have much to discuss.” He pulled the paladin into his room, closing and locking the door behind him. Lance wanted to yank himself from the Galran’s grasp, but the firm grip on his arm told him it was safer not to.
“How are you feeling today, paladin?” Lotor inquired. Lance remained silent. “It’s nice to know you still remember your manners. You were quite the troublemaker when you first arrived, going on and on about how your team was coming and threatening me. A couple of teaching moments later, you became the perfect obedient pet." He poured himself a glass of water. "You may speak.”
Lance didn’t dare give the Galran the satisfaction of hearing him speak after mocking him. Lotor didn’t appreciate being ignored, for he took his hand and roughly grabbed Lance’s chin, jerking his face toward him. He savored the fear in Lance’s eyes, grinning wickedly. “Come, now, paladin, don’t be mean. After all, I bring you here for good reasons.” It was never a good reason. “I’m letting you go.”
Lance stopped breathing. He stopped thinking. He could only stare at Lotor as he continued to grip his chin. “W-What?” The prince released his face, softly patting his cheek before walking to the far wall and taking off his armor.
“You heard me just fine. I am letting you go. I’ve grown quite bored of you here, and you have proven useless to us after all this time. I hope you don’t take it personally.”
How could Lance not? For two years, a witch had tortured, maimed, and broken him. He had suffered limitless amounts of abuse, told he was worthless and destroyed. They took his fucking leg. All of this and all Lotor could say was goodbye. Lance knew he should have felt happy for finally being let go, but he only felt anger: anger at Lotor, hatred for Haggar, rage at his team for not coming when he needed them the most.
“Why?”
Lotor finished taking off his armor, his body exposed with nothing but a small towel to cover himself. The prince regarded Lance with a bored smile - one you would give a small child after they asked a particularly stupid question. “I thought I already explained myself. In the time you’ve been here, we are nowhere closer to taking down Voltron than we were two deca-phoebs ago. I told the witch she should have left you there for dead, but she insisted on taking you for research purposes.” Lotor approached Lance, standing behind him. He began to massage the paladin’s shoulders as he continued. “Despite my disappointment, you have proven useful in other ways.”
Lance hated Lotor more than he thought the human soul could comprehend. He hated the way the man whispered in his ear. He hated the way he dragged his hands down his body. He hated the way he removed his clothes. “Why don’t we have some fun before I let you go?” Cold air bit Lance’s exposed skin as hot tears stung his eyes. He didn’t dare cry as the prince laid him down and touched him. As Lotor grunted and moaned, and as Lance dissociated, he couldn’t help but think…
“Am I really going home?”
~~~*-*~~~
Coran was making his rounds through the castle. He had cleaned the pods. He had spent time with the princess. He had caught up with all of the other paladins. Everything was in tip-top shape. Still, Coran couldn’t shake the lingering ache in his chest. Losing a son all over again would do that to someone. Out of everyone on the team, Coran was the only one who thought Lance was still out there, waiting for his team to rescue him.
Allura was the first person to accept that Lance wasn’t coming back. “ A casualty of war ” was what she called it when talking to Coran. The royal advisor wanted to yell at her that he was more than just a lost body, but his role prohibited him from doing something so unruly. Keith was next. Coran knew the two of them bickered sometimes, but he didn’t think the red paladin would be so quick to move on. Shiro held out for a little longer until he, too, moved on. Pidge tried to find Lance, scanning for any sign that he might be out there, but looking for their family took priority after the six-phoeb mark.
It was a deca-phoeb before Hunk gave up. The man bawled his eyes out when Allura declared Lance dead. He had helped Pidge with their search until they stopped. Then, he took it upon himself to continue where Pidge left off. Unfortunately, a phoeb of no results quickly diminished his hopes. He spent more time in the kitchen, cooking his grief away. He never was the same. Coran was the only one who held out hope, for he knew in his old bones that his paladin was out there, waiting and praying.
Coran reached the bridge, ready to check to see if Voltron had any alerts. Sometimes, planets liked to send “thank you” messages to Voltron for helping liberate them. Others sent requests for them to visit if they weren’t too busy. Coran pulled up the message board to see a singular notification from an unknown sender. Upon opening it, Coran felt his heart drop in his chest. Attached was a single image of Lance lying unconscious in a transfer pod, with a message saying, “You’re welcome.”
Coran stared at the image, picking apart every detail. The boy seemed fine if one was to ignore his gaunt and pale complexion. Once Coran regained his senses enough to act, he pressed the emergency button on the control panel. As the alarms blared around him, a few tears spilled from his eyes as the realization of the situation sank in. Lance, his dear boy, was alive.
The rest of the team came storming in, bayards at hand. Allura was the first one to speak up. “Coran, are we under attack? What’s happening?” Coran turned to the paladins, who were shocked to see him crying. He remained silent as he pointed to the picture behind him. Everyone looked up to witness the last thing they ever expected.
Most of everyone had different reactions. Hunk immediately broke down into tears, loudly sobbing on the floor. Pidge opted to weep quietly beside him. Allura and Shiro shared shocked expressions, both in disbelief at seeing the person they both believed to be dead. Keith was a cluster of mixed emotions. He was shocked, like everyone else, but he also felt a mixture of relief, anger, and sadness. He had fully believed Lance was gone, but seeing proof that he was still alive was, to say the least, world-shattering.
The group was interrupted from their revelation when another message popped up on the board, stating that a pod was heading toward them. Coran wiped his tears and collected himself before asking, “Princess, what shall you have us do?”
Allura swallowed the lump in her throat before lifting her head. “We shall gather at the hangar to welcome Lance home. I don’t know what transpired while he was in captivity, but I do know that he is here and alive .” Allura’s voice cracked on the last word, but she continued. “However, we don’t know what could be in that pod with Lance. I advise we approach with caution, and once we make sure Lance is alone, we can proceed from there. Understood?”
The paladins nodded their heads and followed the princess to the hangar. They watched as the pod landed, and the window opened to reveal a still unconscious Lance in the pilot seat. Shiro approached him and checked his pulse. “He’s alive.” Hunk rushed forward and made quick work of undoing the harness around Lance, removing him from the pod. He then began the journey to the med bay, where Coran was waiting with a healing pod.
Coran nearly choked on a sob as he laid eyes on Lance’s limp form. “Is he-”
“He’s alive. His pulse is weak, but he’ll make it.” Hunk quickly discarded Lance’s clothes but paused when he noticed the prosthetic leg. Hunk and Coran stared in horror at the missing appendage. Hunk wanted to throw up but forced it down as he finished changing Lance. The rest of the team arrived just as Hunk and Coran placed Lance in the healing pod. Now, it was a matter of waiting.
“Coran, how is he?” Shiro asked as he slowly moved toward Lance’s sleeping form. The blue paladin looked weirdly peaceful despite being unhealthily thin and covered in bruises.
Coran typed away at the keypad - his brow furrowed as he focused on the changing numbers. “Well, initial scans are reporting that he is malnourished and suffering from multiple external injuries. Luckily, there are no life-threatening internal injuries. He shouldn’t have any lasting damage once he heals.” The team relaxed slightly upon hearing the relatively good news.
They couldn’t believe it. Their long-lost friend and teammate had unexpectedly returned. Physically, he was okay. However, each member knew the emotional trauma would take longer to heal than any physical wound. But they didn’t dwell on that because Lance was safe and sound with his team.
Lance was finally home.