Chapter Text
It had been weeks since that mission; Haggar was still out there, and Lance still had something dark inside him. It wasn't as powerful. He'd definitely weakened it when Haggar had tried too hard to push him to break back there on that colony. But it was manageable. He had his team. His friends. He had Shiro, who Lance now saw why Keith had loved the guy so much.
He was like a big brother, or a father. Or one of those teachers who always went above and beyond to care for their students. Yes, Lance felt his heart warm instantly in his presence.
Everything seemed to be okay again. They had the Voltron Show, which was the most fun Lance had as a paladin to date. The team was whole, and it was solid. Save for some minor hiccups involving a certain exploding planet.
But then Lotor happened.
Ever since the Prince had become a part of the crew, Shiro changed. He was distant. He was harsh. And he certainly did not care for Lance anymore.
Lance tried to talk to Hunk and Pidge about it, but mistook his distress for jealousy over Allura's relationship with him. Sure, Lance was jealous. He'd admit it. But he also didn't trust Lotor as far as he could throw him. He was scared for her. He was scared for all of them. And he really, really wanted to know why Shiro was giving him the cold shoulder. Weren't they team mates? Weren't they friends?
The darkness grinned within him. Lance could feel it. He felt it, and he would not give in. He remembered that it had been fuelled by animosity, so he tried to do what was opposite of giving in to it. He sought help, despite getting a lot of shrugged shoulders every time he did.
"Coran?" Lance walked into the cryopod room, the man himself going through its systems for maintenance. Coran looked over his shoulder, smiling widely as Lance entered. "Lance! What brings you here? Want to help look for bugs?"
Lance winced. "I'm gunna just pray you mean computer bugs and not.... Anyway." He shook his head. "No, um. You said to talk to you if that weird thing Haggar did acted up again."
Coran immediately left his console and gave Lance his full attention. "Yes. I did. Lance, are you alright?" His voice was steady and serious, concern written clearly in his bright eyes.
"Uhhhh... No?" He gave a sheepish grin, rubbing his hand nervously on his side. He sighed and slumped his shoulders. "I've been worrying about this whole Lotor thing.. and Shiro is acting weird. Everyone keeps saying I'm just jealous.. a-and maybe they're right but.."
Coran settled a hand on Lance's head, ruffling his neatly combed hair. "Now, now Lance. Stress agitates your illness. Let's get you settled down now, hm?"
Lance sighed. He wanted his concerns to be addressed seriously and properly before he did Space-Yoga with Coran, but the man was right. He was only hurting himself the more he focused on this negative thinking. "Okay.."
So he sat on the cold floor with Coran. They did stretches first, with Coran making odd noises and mantras in ways he believed promoted relaxation. Lance was beginning to think the man was more off his rocker than he previously assumed. Surely Altea hadn't been nearly as ludicrous as Coran makes it out to be. He tuned him out, concentrating on things that actually relaxed him.
Calm waves that lap against the sandy shore. Bright skies twinkling in the reflection of a clear ocean. Calm nights awash with stars. He removed people from the equation; family made him sad and homesick, and his team was becoming infuriatingly flippant with his feelings. He'd thought they would change after the whole amygdala-corruption nonsense. But no, it was back to square one. It hadn't been this bad all the time had it? It had been better when Keith was...
Lance huffed, finding his heart rate climbing again. "Relax, Lance!" Coran yelled from several feet away, his body twisted into a pretzel. "Breathe deeply!"
Lance smirked slightly at the sight of him. Okay, he thought. Breathe slow, focus on the yoga.
He hadn't missed antagonizing Keith when Shiro had been nicer. But now, with new Lotor-loving Shiro, Lance felt cast aside with no place. He breathed in slow again, stretching his arms out toward his toes, pressing his forehead against the cool metal of the floor. If only that surly mullet head hadn't left to become a space-ninja. Or maybe not. The guy would just side with Shiro, attitude or not, and leave Lance in all their shadows.
One friend. That's all he asked. Just one. He just wanted one friend who he could confide in, who he could laugh with, talk with. Someone who understood. Someone who was...
He sighed again, rolling to his back and pushing himself into a backward bridge. Trying to solve his internal issues within his own mind only fuelled that weird darkness inside. He knew this, but had no means of venting without having his worries invalidated by teasing team mates or impatient leaders.
A strange thought passed him by, like a shadow at the corner or your eye that you aren't sure was real or not..
He thought Haggar would make a better family than his current team.
The thought scalded his skin. Haggar was the enemy, but the memories of cool hands on his skin and sweet words comforting into his ears kept luring his thoughts back to it. Rationally, he knew well enough that Haggar was not to be trusted. She destroyed planets, killed millions, and tortured prisoners.
Lance let out a loud groan and flopped back onto his back.
Coran untangled himself from his odd form of yoga and looked over at Lance with a frown. "Still unable to relax, Lance? Are you alright?"
Lance frowned at the ceiling, his stomach sick with shame and guilt.
"I'll live."
- - -
Haggar mulled over the data of her previous experiments, the bright purple of the floating screen bathing her lab in an eerie miasma. One resulting conclusion had her tapping her long nails over a certain point of writing; spikes in emotion compromised decision making, prompted violent tantrums, often leading to dire consequences. Something so simple, so widely known, yet not ever properly utilized as a means of control. If she could weaponize this...
She could take apart Team Voltron from within; allow them to defeat themselves. But with her son on that ship, she had to play her cards very, very carefully.
She moved from her screen, looking over objects set neatly on row after row of shelving. Lotor.. how could she have forgotten being a mother? All that time wasted aiding her corrupted husband with taking over the universe, while her son was left to the mercy of a hateful army. What would it take to get him back? Were they both too far gone?
And Voltron.. well, they were allied with him. So if she attacked them openly, it would ruin her chances with him. But still, she had two potent experiments living on that ship. One was easy to influence. She'd made it herself, after all. But the other..
It was proving very difficult to fully corrupt the Blue Paladin. He was much more mentally fortified than she'd thought. She had mistaken him for weak and vulnerable. However, there was a stubbornness that clung like glue. Some semblance of hope and loyalty that kept him attached to his humanity and his team.
If it didn't break him on it's own, then she'd have to take a much more hands on approach.
- - -
Lance didn't know why he hadn't tried this sooner!
After finally learning how to use that absurd Altean pool, it was like being on Earth again. He dove into the clear blue water, and felt instant relief as cool wetness slid across his dark skin. He moved seamlessly through the mass, his muscles picking up the movements he'd long since let rust. He breached the surface, turning and relaxing on his back as he softly pulled himself across the large expanse of the pool.
His body was afloat, adrift here in the physical world and inside his own torrent of a mind scape. He felt the water lap against his cheek; droplets fall across his skin. He felt both apart from himself and more in tune. Balanced. He could just imagine the delicate melody of home in the back of his mind. The silence of the room, save for the sounds of his own swimming and the disturbance of the water, was no longer menacing or oppressive. It was calm. It was peaceful.
He stared up at the floor below, which was trippy and almost made him lose his grasp on tranquility if he thought too hard on it. Space was a cacophony of no ups or downs, and had no place inside of a castle.
He closed his eyes and imagined fish, bright and tropical, tickling his toes.
He imagined gulls crying overhead.
Imagined the breeze rustling over the green trees on the shore.
This spot. This moment, and these memories. This would be his happy place. A place to come home to if reality became too much. Friends and family may bring pain and loss, but this mind scape of fish, trees and blue skies could only bring him a smile.
That utopia shattered when Lotor's lilting cadence seeped into the room.
Him and Allura entered, and almost instantly caught sight of Lance up above them. "Ah, Lance. I didn't know you'd be here." Allura called from the ground floor, her proximity to Lotor too close not to be on accident.
Lance felt his mood sour. "Yep! Just.. workin' on the bod, yanno? Gotta keep fit for all that--"
"What a curious design." Lotor interrupted, paying as little mind to Lance as he could. "Do tell me about it's purpose, Princess."
Lance grumbled to himself, racing to the edge of the pool as their voices carried over from far below him. Time to make a hasty retreat, since he had no place here, nor a desire to have one.
- - -
A new, disturbing thing was happening to Lance; He felt an overwhelming urge to be actively vindictive.
What had once been fleeting thoughts of petty disagreement or playful mischief, was now a strong impulse to lash out. He was with Pidge and Hunk, as they looked into ways to fuse Galran and Altean tech. Pidge had merely asked Lance to fetch her a part. But it was the way she said it. Like he was being given a task so he'd get out of her hair. And when he walked towards where he thought he might find it, he heard Hunk chuckle, "No, Lance, those parts are Altean. We need the Galran stabilizer. It's over there."
Lance could only see dark amusement in Hunk's gaze, even though he knew rationally that Hunk would never be that way. But it settled in anyway, quickly staining his view.
Lance huffed and stalked over to the other side of the room, grabbing the only part that looked like it might match the description he'd been given. When he was back at Pidge's side, she held out a hand, not even looking at him.
So Lance held it higher, and said nothing.
Pidge huffed and looked up finally, glaring at Lance through her lenses. "Lance, not the time. Just give it to me."
Lance narrowed his eyes, and took a step back. "A please or thank you would be nice." He grumbled, loosely swinging the part back and forth. Pidge gave it a once over and rolled her eyes, getting up and shoving past him. "That's not even the right part. Why are you even here, Lance?"
Why are you even here?
"Well excuse me! I'm not an engineer, Pidge!"
Lance didn't look to see what Hunk's reaction to him would be; shame and embarrassment washing over his dark petty attempts at attention. He left the room, after letting the spare part fall onto Pidge's desk.
The heavy doors shut behind him, and he found himself in a cold, empty hallway. Or at least.. it should have been cold. But his face felt like fire, eyes swimming with burning misery, his body overheating as his emotions overwhelmed him. It was hard to breathe. He could barely see.
Oh no.
The telltale wave of dizziness weighed down his head. He might black out. But he didn't want to do it here, right outside the Lab. Lance used the wall as support, letting the cool metal bring him some semblance of relief. He moved forward down the hallway, unsure where he could go that would be close enough to rest in, but far enough not to be seen.
Sometimes the waves of heat and sickness would ebb, making him think maybe it was going away. But then more thoughts of the recent altercation stabbed back into his eyes and made him double over. The illness was sinking it's claws into the lapse in control Lance had shown it. It was sucking him dry of his own energy, replacing it with something horrible and muddy.
Why? Why? Out of everything he had to compete with, this had to happen too? Insecurity as he was surrounded by talent and skill that far outclassed him, the feeling of smallness as his team seemed to leave him alone more and more, worry that his place on the team was simply not as needed as everyone else. Maybe not even wanted at all. All of that, plus a magic illness that fed off of his negative thoughts.
He was always chasing, but his target never got closer. Only further and further away.
What am I doing out here?
Lance thought he'd been the king of positive thinking. He was so wrong. Every small uncertainty manifested into engorged leeches, taking away precious energy and replacing it with thick, awful despair. And he wanted to give in. It was always hard to fight it, like swimming upstream but with nothing to gain.
But he had to. If not for himself, if not for the team, then simply because he wouldn't let Haggar win. Maybe the universe didn't need him.. but it didn't need Haggar either.
Did she even know what she was doing to him? Where was she? What was she up to?
Lance finally collapsed onto his knees, his limbs heavy and shaking. He felt awful. When he'd first pushed Haggar back down in that lab, he thought he'd won. He'd felt so alive and powerful. Now...
"Lance?"
Lance looked up. Shiro walked quickly closer, kneeling down in front of him. A tightness formed in his chest. "Lance. Tell me what's happening."
An order. An order from a commander to a misbehaving soldier.
His gut churned uncomfortably, and some odd ringing started to pierce his ears. "It's that thing again.." He slurred out. Somehow Shiro's presence was making this worse, muddying up all of the attempts he'd made to make this dizzy spell fall into a manageable plateaux. He felt like he might become sick.
There was a long pause, and Lance could just imagine the exasperation or disappointment his leader might be feeling toward him. Lance was useless enough as is during downtime, and now he might compromise missions in this state.
"Let's get you to the infirmary." Shiro helped Lance stand, shouldering most of his weight as they made their way to the med bay.
- - -
When Lance finally got to lay down on the bed in the infirmary, he felt like he'd pass out right then and there. Coran and Shiro's voices were warbled and hard to understand now. After slipping in and out of consciousness for a while, he managed to catch the tail end of a conversation.
"But keeping him away from the team could make this worse!" He heard Coran argue. Shiro's voice followed, and it was even more cold and demanding than ever.
"He's already the worse we've seen him. Clearly your therapy isn't working. We might be better off to leave him here for a while. I'm calling it now."
Footsteps, hard and focused, leaving the room. Lance cracked his eyes open just in time to see Coran hurriedly flee as well.
But then...
What?
He tried to lift his head, but it felt nailed down. His soul was whirling around inside the shell of his body like boiling water in a closed pot. They were going to leave him here? All alone? What had he done to Shiro to make him turn his back on him so fully?
Wait.. maybe that was it. All the comfort and care he'd given Lance, and nothing to show for it, right? Lance had done nothing for Shiro.. only took and took and took. Maybe that was the case with his team, too. They didn't want him around because all he did was annoy them and try and bring them down to his level.
NO! No. These thoughts are the Spell, not the truth. He'd learned that last time. But still.. they were so loud..
If they knew he was suffering... why hadn't they tried to help him? Why had they shrugged him off anyway? Why had they teased and laughed?
A sudden and jagged pain ripped through his brain, heating up every organ in his body. He screamed out a sharp and painful call of pain, holding his head and burying his face in his pillow. Only a few moments later, the castle's alarms began to blare.
Something was coming.
Some One was coming.
- - -
"Allura! What's happening?"
The team met on the bridge, which was flashing red and blue with warnings and information. Lance was not present. Hunk noticed right away. "Wait, where's Lance?"
"In the med bay. He's not well. Allura?" Shiro's tone was clipped, and not to be questioned. Hunk felt uncomfortable with worry, but let it be for now. After all, it looked like a fleet was approaching them.
"There is a sizeable fleet of Galra getting ready to attack. Everyone out in the lions now. Coran, man the castle and provide support." She moved off the platform, levelling Shiro with a worried glance. "I hope we can manage this without Voltron.."
"We'll have to." Shiro insisted. Allura turned to Lotor, "Is it possible they are after you?"
Lotor nodded. "Yes.. I imagine it's one of the warlords unhappy with the state of the Galra reign. Not many are happy I have taken the throne, and quite a few have branched off into warring sectors. Shall I assist you in combat?"
Allura was hesitant, but gave a nod. They needed all the help they could get.
Everyone filed out, separating to their own lions, sans Red.
- - -
Lance was sweating through his clothes. He wasn't sure he'd ever been this bad off. There must be something nearby agitating this weird thing he had happening in his brain. Those sharp pains kept coming back, making him nearly vomit from the sensation. The castle shook. Someone must be attacking. He should be out there. He should help them. His place, his purpose, was too tentative now to lose this chance.
But he was stuck by his own ailing body.
The lights shut off in the Infirmary. A dull glow from select emergency lights remained. He cracked his eyes open again, vision blurry and askew. Something appeared in the room, a wobble of shadow. It wormed its way toward him, straight out of a nightmare. Glowing eyes, and clawed fingers reaching out to him.
The pain shot up high, and crashed down so hard he blacked out entirely.
- - -
"What just happened?" Allura called out, breath short after having fought hard for a solid ten doboshes. The whole fleet had simply fled. Gone. They had clearly had the advantage, yet...
"Maybe once they saw Lotor's ship, they decided to run?" Pidge offered, voice uncertain.
"Yeah, I'll take that." Hunk concurred.
Uncertain, but with nothing else to accomplish out there, the team filed back into the castle. Hunk branched off from the group to check on Lance. Everyone else was already on the Bridge.
They discussed the events over and over, trying to figure out it's purpose. Theories only, and nothing solid to go by. Did Lotor's presence deter them, or was it the reason they attacked in the first place?
Then Hunk barged into the bridge, panting and alarmed.
"G-guys? I can't find Lance!"
- - -
Coran scanned the entire ship. Lance was gone. Truly missing.
Pidge tried to work with Allura to track the Galran fleet, but they were long gone. Lotor left the ship, promising to use every resource he could spare in locating their lost Paladin. Shiro stood by, stoic and mission driven.
Hunk wasn't sure, but his stomach told him something was wrong. Something was off. Unable to get any of his teammates to stick together, he worked with Coran to get a message out to the Blades.
- - -