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‘Excuse me, is this seat taken? May I join you?’ A rather small but attractive Litten asked, nervously twirling their water pouch. Petite spindly limbs swamped in their ill fitting rebel suit. The dog-like Timmin, recognising a fellow front line fighter, weary and lost in the wake of the uneasy truce, quickly to wave them into the seat. The seat itself was nothing more than an upturned storage container, hastily thrown around a short range radio. He and everyone else in the hastily thrown together camp were waiting, anxious, for any news on the whereabouts of the Paladins of Voltron. Caught in battle with Galra central command and the witches monstrous creations. The fate of the universe hung in the balance.
‘Not at all. Please do.’
‘Thank you.’ The Litten sat, slowly nursing their drinking pouch. The Timmin fiddled with the radio some more, snout twitching at the white noise. With a sigh they sat back, giving up for the time being. Pensively they swept their gaze across the bustling mismatched crowed of aliens. Gathered under the shadow of Voltron for the last battle against the remains of the Galra Empire. Their quiet little corner an ocean of calm in the chaos.
‘How much longer do you reckon?’
The Litten started a bit, obviously not expecting to be addressed. The Timmin watched them consider the question, staring up at the glowing white crack laid across the dark sky. A break in the very fabric of time and space. A prison.
Or a tomb.
‘I couldn’t even begin to guess. I’m not expert on the workings of pocket dimensions.’
The Timmin grumbled, flicking a finger against a spare thread on their uniform. ‘Me neither.’ The silence between them stretched, the shouting from the rest of the camp as much white noise as the radio. ‘Damn all this!’ snarled the Timmen, banging the radio set and causing the Litten to jump. Antennae flying straight up in surprise, mandibles quivering. ‘Is there nothing we can do!? Nothing any of us can do?’
‘…nothing but prey. My Queen has tried all she can and declared we must have faith in Voltron.’
The Timmen snorted but calmed down, unclenching his hand and sighing tiredly. Shoulders dropping and anger draining into weary tiredness. ‘I just wish there was something we could do to help. Doesn’t feel right. Sitting back like this.’
The Litten considered this for a moment, still staring up to the glowing pulsing fissure in the sky. ‘No, it doesn’t’ they whispered, gazing away and fiddling with their now empty water pouch. Antenna dipped low to their chest. ’I hope their alright.’
Their companion side eyed them, shifting and grumbling, feeling guilty for the drop in spirits. Uncomfortable they cleared their throat, growling and snorting into their fist, fur bristling. ‘Did you ever meet them? The Paladins I mean?’
The Litten raised their head, mandibles parting in a way that might be reminiscent of a smile. ‘Once, when they first freed my planet from the Galra.’ They chittered, antenna high and twitching with nostalgic delight. ‘The Blue Paladin even danced with me.’.
The Timmins eyes widened, pushing the radio aside to lean across the small counter in interest. ‘Really?’
More chittering, eyes glazed as they thought back to that long ago time. ‘Truly. Such revered warriors, such great and mighty heroes. They fought so gallantly, so fiercely. I had never expected that they would even glance at one so humble and low as myself. But the Blue Paladin proved different.’
‘Lance where do you think you’re going!? Allura said to stay in the palace.’
‘Come on Hunk, do you really want to stay in that place? Crowded in all those stuffy tunnels with even stuffier aristocrats? I feel cheated Hunk! This planet looked really cool from the air, I just want to explore a little. Allura won’t miss us for a few vargas.’
Lance glanced around nervously before hurrying forward down another of the narrow corridors that made up the Littens palace. Taking the ones that led perceptively upwards. The whole royal district was built like a termite mound, labyrinths upon labyrinths of floors spiralling towards the surface. Lance was determined to get some air and actually find something fun to do. Much preferring to be sweet talking some beautiful babe than another self serving politician.
Hunk anxiously shifted his wait before quickly giving in, not needing much convincing, hurrying after his friend. Lance grinned at him, getting a toothy smile in return. Lance could read his best friend well enough to tell that while Hunk may fear Allura’s wrath he too was in no way inclined to stay within the lower bowls of the palace.
‘I saw some really cool crystal formations earlier with Yellow. Do you think we could check them out?’
‘Sure thing buddy. Just as soon as we make it outside. Left or right?’
The two friends moved rapidly through the maze, doubling back a few times. Eventually Hunk just decided to do the smart things and ask for directions from one of the Littens hurrying around. The caste system of these aliens was strictly enforced and the servers were quick to bow upon recognition of their flight suits, offering up anything they wanted. Guiding them to the surface, while a strange request, was one they eagerly complied with. Lance pouted, feeling that simply asking took the fun out of it all but perked up at the feel of fresh air on his skin. Letting out a whoop and sprinting off into the night. Hunk hollering after him.
Lance gazed around eagerly, the Littens night was awash with a nearby nebula, green and purple swathes decorating the sky like water colours. It reflected off the hard crystal crust of the planet’s surface, sparkling. The city stretched before them, mounds of earth denoting people’s homes. Strings of small lights covered the entire place like spider silk, lighting the way. It was magical, in that distinctly foreign way alien planets were. Lifted from a fairy tale. If the wondering Littens had wings and slightly less vicious looking mandibles Lance could almost see them as fairies from one of niblings colouring books. Hunk caught up, looking as breathless with giddy excitement as Lance felt.
It didn’t take them long to get completely and hopelessly lost. Everywhere they went the locals bowed and scrapped to them despite Lance and Hunk urging them not to. Food was handed to them by the plateful, trinkets and other souvenirs thrust into their hands. When Lance smiled and complimented an elderly skinny Litten on their dress they near burst into tears.
Soon they found the fire, blazing bright and large in a clearing on the outskirts of the city. Lance stared mesmerised at the flames, watching them dance silver into the night sky. Litten walked quietly around it, gathered in groups, antenna low and voices hushed. There was a buzzing in the air, a low chittering beat. Somewhere, someone was playing music. It was the closest sound to violins Lance had heard since setting of on his unplanned space odyssey. He opened his mouth to make a comment to Hunk about it, only to find that his larger friend had been spirited away while his back was turned. Lance tried looking over the crowd but unlike the squat aristocratic Litten the ones in these parts were wiry and thin, spindle like and tall. Lance couldn’t see to find him.
'Excuse me, yes sorry. Don’t suppose you’ve seen the Yellow Paladin around?. He should be dressed like me only with yellow instead of blue' he asked, tapping a distinctly smaller and younger looking Litten on the shoulder carapace. They stared at him, mandibles agape, antenna perked upright.
'P-P-Paladin Sir! An honour to meet you. My most humble greetings great sir' they fell into a bow, double jointed knees hitting the hard packed crystallised earth. Lance backed away a step, hastily waving his arms in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.
'Ah, nope. Nope, none of that. Come on, no need to bow, up you get' he gently brought them upright by the shoulder; they stared at his hands in utter disbelief. Around him other LIttens were taking notice, previously having been focused on the fire. Some exclaiming and more were falling to their knees, heads bowed. Lance started to panic. 'Please, there’s no need to bow. I'm not here for anything. Just looking for my friend, the Yellow Paladin. If anyone sees him can you point it out? Please stand up.' He sent the small Litten a bashful grin. 'Sorry about this.'
'It is alright' they responded, still dazed, swaying alarmingly. Lance wondered if they were alright. 'I am humbled to talk to one as great as you. From the depths of my soul and for as much as my blood is worth I thank you for saving our planet.'
'Ah, well sure. Happy to help. Paladin of Voltron and universal defender and all that. Glad to see everyone’s alright.’ Lance blushed with the praise. It wasn’t often that people offered their thanks to him directly. Addressing Allurr and Shiro, or the Paladins as a whole after the last of the Galra fled.
'...yes, everyone' the Litten whispered, head tilting to take in the silver flames, antenna falling, crumbling into themselves. Lance panicked, worried he had said something wrong. He opened his mouth to back track, apology on his tongue, when the music changed. The tune echoing with familiarity. Almost, but not quite, something he had heard before. So when Lance opened his mouth instead of apologies or reassurances what came out was-
'Do you want to dance?'
The Littin started, snapping their head back to look at him. Mandibles clicking with confusion. '...Sorry?'
'Do you want to dance?' Lance repeated, starting to grin as the melodies kicked in, growing more powerful. Sweeping around the gathering, the bubbling feeling of excitement growing in his chest. Lance let it sweep him along, caught in the feeling. 'Come on, I’ll show you. It’ll be fun!'
Lance grabbed the Littens hand, five fingers clumsy in their three, pulling them towards him. Laughing as he swept them forward, delighting in their startled squeak. The other Littens watched, antenna standing upright in surprise. The crowd parted hurriedly as Lance raced forward towards the glittering fire light. The music grew, Lances heart swelled.
The Litten chittered and trembled as Lance placed his an arm on their shoulder, the other still gripping their hand as he took the first step, forcing them along behind him. He kept it simple, swinging them around, doing a simple back a forth step, putting in a little twirl of his own, a small roll of his hips for the fun of it. Laughing and grinning all the time. A circle was quick to form around them, Lance falling into the music. So familiar and yet so distant. Tinged with nostalgia and ringing with the excitement of something new.
The Litten was a quick learner, letting themselves be swept along. Bare feet moving in the kaleidoscope dust, sending rainbows into the air. They stared at him with their metallic unfathomable eyes, antenna dancing all over the place. Twitching and swirling with surprise and confusion, laughter and grief. Lance started to sing, bellowing out the lyrics as they came to him. Sweeping his companion into a close hold, hand on their thin waist, before letting them loose. The Litten spun, reaching out, hand brushing against the cold flames, eyes as silver as the light. Souls returned to the sky to fall to the land once more.
‘I heard there was a secret cord. That David played and it pleased the lord'
So many passed. So much suffering. They twirled, picturing the faces, the world blue around, coloured with the words. The Blue Paladins voice ringing clear across the clearing. The words were meaningless, alien and unknown but the feeling, the ache, rang true. They could feel the hard edges of the hands in their own, the scars from battle embedded in their skin, still warm and alive with laughter.
'But you don’t really care for music do ya.
Well maybe there’s a God above'
So strange. The paladin was so strange. Unreal. An illusion and a dream. Laughter in bloodshed. Open and bright and unbroken by loss and horror. A loving solider of war. They didn’t understand what they were doing here, with their poor self, instead of at the palace. Where one of their station belonged, amongst the riches and the best of the best their planet had to offer. Resplendent compared to the poor, broken dust blown district of their home. They followed the Paladins, drowning in the moment, the feeling. Watching the fire play reflected in their strange blue eyes. Enchanting, ringed with wrinkles of mirth and mercy.
'But all I’ve really learned from love
Is how to shoot somebody who out drew ya'
They smiled but their voice echoed with longing, with pain. They were spun towards the fire once more, music coming to a crescendo, seeing as a mirage the face of her people, antenna moving in rhythm, bright in the fire of their lost. They thought of their sisters, their parents, their friends. Gone and returned to stardust.
It rose within them, breaking through the numbness. Exploding with a strange and exhilaration burst of relief. They threw their head back and let out their own brilliant cry, harmonising with the Paladins singing. A long, haunting howl. Echoing into the sparkling night, the memory of those gone dancing with them in the fire light. Greif and loss and longing. Relief and anger. Joy. For having known them, for having loved, for having lost. For still having the chance to love again. Life euphoric.
'Oh it’s not a cry you hear at night
it’s not someone who’s seen the light!'
The other Littens, taken by their call, thrumming with their own emotion, took up the cry. Melodies and lyrics of feelings painted onto the dark canvass. Memories and emotion woven as stars in a tapestry. A song of mourning, a song of hope. Beautiful.
'It’s a cold, and it’s a broken
Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!
Halleeeeeeluuuuuuuuujaaaaaahhhhhhhh!'
Lance stilled, stopping his feet to carry the note. Lungs aching and eyes stinging, tears gathered for some unseen reason. Understanding escaping him but heart heavy and moved with call of those around him. His skin felt hot, boiling, to small for his being. To confining for his emotions. He could sense it, the charge around him, the spark of the Littens, joined together in sorrow.
His dance partner drew close, eyes liquid silver as they took up his hands once again to resume the dance. Lance gasped, desperate for air and fell into the rhythm. The music played on, melody changing, growing, light and life and brilliant, incandescent joy vibrating through the night. The Litten scratched their mandibles together, purring. Laughing.
Lance smiled, giggling, though he couldn’t say why.
‘Lance!’ He spun, tilting his head back to met his friends eyes, grin aching it was stretched so wide. Hunk tumbled into the circle. Two small Littens clinging to each arm, squealing in delight at the Yellow Paladin spun to the beat.
‘Hunk!’ Lance broke from his dance partner, twirling into his best friends arms. Dizzy, the Litten stumbled from the centre of the circle. Hands reaching out to steady them. Still enthralled with the music, with the movement, they grasped the nearest pair, sweeping them out into the night. Next to them the two Paladins spun away from each other with laughter, a ring of children tripping their feet with skittering excitement. New couples took up the beat, twirling outwards. Enthralled by the melody.
The fire burned bright and true into the night and the Littens danced in the warmth of its flames. Laughing and crying as one. Grieving and healing.
By morning the Paladins were gone. The music remained.
‘I am still unsure if the Blue Paladin realised that we burn our dead, being a subterranean race by nature. It did not matter. I lost every member of my family in the Galra occupation. That fire was one of many burning on our planet that night and it burned for days, and yet…it didn’t break us. After that first night, I grieved, I mourned, and then I joined the voluntary corps.’
‘…you had nothing left to lose’ whispered the Timmin, voice gruff.
The Litten turned to look at them, mercury eyes blazing. ‘No. Precisely the opposite. I had everything left to lose. My life, my future, the happiness I held within me at those time we had together. Everything. The Blue Paladin showed me that. I didn’t join the forces to die, but because I had every reason to fight.’
The Timmin sat, fur standing on end, charged with the strength of his companions conviction. Struck silent.
‘Beautiful’ breathed a voice, startling them both. A Svirn glided into the static buzz of the radio, swaying in the slight breeze. The red pulse of their feeling fin illuminating a bone white face with a small mouth and no eyes nor ears to speak of. Moss green tendrils fell from their head to wrap and sway round their body, floating as if in a breeze. They had the customary two diamonds embedded in their forehead, almost mimicking eyes. One to translate the voices of others, one to act as their own. ‘Forgive me for startling you. I heard you mention the Blue Paladin and was intrigued. Your story is true to their nature and one of beauty and sorrow in equal parts. May I join you?’
‘Please’ grumbled the Timmin after only a moment’s hesitation. The Svirn were a peculiar race and not one he had encountered before. Rumours of magic and wizardry were abound. The Svirn glided closer, settling near the Litten, making no move to sit but instead floating quite serenely in place. Everything about them was serene. Slow and controlled and graceful. Separated from that around them, moving to a different pace.
‘Have you met them too? The Blue Paladin?’ asked the Litten.
‘Yes’ the red feeling fin of their chest shivered noticeably, glowing so brightly as to almost turn white. ‘Never a stronger soul have I met. Never a more faithful love. Such devotion’ the voice was monotone and robotic but the Litten and Timmin could feel the frisson of feeling running through it as if it were their own. The glow and the pulse of the light emblazing the feelings onto their minds. The Litten grasped, the glow faded slightly.
‘Forgive me. Just the remembrance of my time with the Blue Paladin is enough to have me…overcome.’
‘How did you meet?’ whispered the Litten, antenna twitching in interest. The Svirn paused, contemplating, gathering themselves.
‘I am afraid it is not such a happy story as yours, though it does have a happy ending I suppose. More it is a story of strength, of devotion and, yes, of pain. I should explain first that my race is one of empaths. We feed and gain energy from the emotions around us and are, as you can tell, capable of emitting this emotion on to others. If it is strong enough. The Galra druids were rather interested in our abilities and while most of us were quick to whither under their experiments I persisted longer than most.’ They paused, bobbing slightly, tendrils flicking just slightly. The two onlookers waited with baited breath for the tale to begin.
‘It was this stubbornness that led me to torturing the Blue Paladin.’
Time had left them far behind. They no longer had any hope of telling how long they had remained in as the Galras captive. They measured their incarceration not by vargas but by victims. Victims of themselves. Aliens of strange and unknown races brought before them, to be torn apart from within. Mind and soul exposed so the monsters that were their captors could wring out any last bit of worth. Any little scrap of information. Often there was none to be found, and so they screamed and withered and begged under their hands for nothing but entertainment. It left them sick and week and broken but their keepers didn’t care. It was this, or death.
They wished they were strong enough to die. To let go of their fear and pass on. Others of their race, friends and family, had done so soon after it began, when they realised what the Galra would have them do. Some withered, some fell into madness, and still others withheld their own hand and chose to escape the only way they knew how. Only they remained, to cowardly to die, to mindful and stubborn to succumb to insanity. Trapped.
They remembered finding it odd that they had not been brought forth to torture a prisoner lately. That the guards had been restless. Certainly more talkative than normal. Almost anticipatory. They were taken from their cell as usual, the electrified prongs the Galra used to guide them through the ship crackling and sparking. They had almost come to like being confined in their cell, where they were kept apart from the rest of the prisoners. Where they could do no harm. When surrounded by the brushed metal walls they couldn’t feel it. The suffering. The despair. The pain.
It had them shaking, moaning and crying out in empathy. It felt like mud, tasted of rot. Staining their being and filling their soul with decay. Cleaving away at their self. The Galra prodded them to get moving, electricity sparking through their nerves, cutting through the feelings like magma. Red hot and boiling.
‘Move’ gruffed their captors, forcing them along. Deeper and deeper they went, to a place they had never been before. The heart of the ship. They trembled and ached, the feelings changing as they left behind the rest of the prisoners. The feelings of the Galra became clearer, spilling into their head like ash. If they could wretch they would have. Jagged, spicy vicious self satisfaction, dark dangerous anticipation, blissful bloodlust. They let out a keen, trying to cover their feeling fin. Tight jacket holding their head fronds in place, shivering. No, no!
Not for the first time they wished they could restrain themselves, could turn off the feelings of others. Something they had once found comfort, joy and brilliance in tainted and worn. Eating them from the inside out, taking their mind and their body with it. So week they could barely hold their thoughts together. Nothing good could come from the Galra being so pleased.
They were pushed through the door. The pain was obvious. So centred, so piercing. Hung from a hook on the ceiling, arms in shackles above their head, feet barely scraping the floor, swayed an alien they had never seen before. They were dressed in a black suit, head hung, brown fur short and matted with blood. Everywhere was matted with blood. The Galra on this ship had a lot of experience. It was only those that would not break under physical pain that required their special abilities to break. They recognised the commander of the ship, their arrogance and roiling satisfaction like sandpaper. Bloody iron on grit.
‘Good. Now we can begin’ grumbled the general, walking forward and grabbing the alien by their short fur, pulling their head up. The aliens face was just as bad, bruised and bloody. Swollen and mottled with colour. Black on red on purple. Their eyes were hazy with suffering, struggling to focus. The general leaned closer, lips curling as their breath wafted over the face of their captive. ‘You should have simply told me what I wanted to know Paladin. Now you’ve forced my hand.’ They licked their lips, smiling in gruesome satisfaction. ‘Don’t break to quickly now. I do enjoy a show. Bring them forward.’
They trembled, forced towards the prisoner, head hanging once again as the general stepped back. Those yellow eyes focused on them, piercing into their core. ‘Max level’ was the rumbled order, then they were touching the prisoner and the world fell away, spinning into blue.
The pain was obvious, hot and ashy, hanging over everything. The Galra had not been kind in their initial interrogation. The sticky tang of fear lay smothered breath it. Distress and panic mixed together in the simplest of survival instincts. The Paladin tried to flinch back but had nowhere to go. The Glara general standing firmly behind them, feeling their flesh tremble. They moaned to themselves, knowing what was expected of them, to fearful to disobey. Too weak to fight.
They found the pain, dug it out, mixed it with their own and that of the prisoners within the ship. The long aching days of agony and hopelessness, until it grew and morphed. Bloated and foul it suffocated their thoughts. Then they gave it back, crying, guilt and relief washing through after.
The Paladin screamed. Long and sharp, louder than they had expected such a skinny battered body to produce. Pain given voice. The Galra rumbled, chuckling in the face of such torture. It went on and on as they forced more and more pain into the Paladin. Amplifying the aches of their body from bright embers to burning suns, eclipsing all else. They trashed like a hung fish on their chains, barely breathing through the cries of anguish; until their voice broke and cracked into silence. Leaving them nothing but huge heaving gasps, eyes streaming with tears.
‘Enough’ mumbled the general and they gratefully cut the connection. Releasing the Paladin from their hold, moaning and crying with sympathy. So sorry, so sorry they sung. Knowing none here could hear them. The Paladin panted, spittle dropping from their open gaping mouth. The general gripped their chin, nails biting into the soft flesh, forcing their head up. 'How about it Paladin, do you want to cooperate now?'
The Paladin panted, dribbling slightly. They could feel the echoes of pain steaming off them. Burning flesh and sticky agony. The general shook the Paladins head, no sympathy, no mercy. 'Answer me!'
The pain trickled out like treacle, leaving just hollow ringing weariness behind, the song of a body pushed too far. Their thoughts crawled back, the sparking light of defiance returning to clouded blue eyes. Like the eye of a storm they rallied themselves, breathing deep, voice choked but hard and hot with rebellion.
'Fuck off.'
The general snarled, throwing the Paladins head away. 'Have it your way then.' The general reached for them, gripping their head, piercing through and bloating them with their thirst for violence, vicious frustration targeted at the alien prisoner. 'Dig deep. Show me everything.'
Another order, falling like a guillotine. The threat of disobedience clear and overbearing. They whimpered, apologising and crying out for forgiveness even as they reached forward towards the Paladin. Touching their hanging head.
As before the connection was instant. The pain having already stripped layers of thought and feeling from the prisoner. It made it easy, so horribly easy, to push their way in. To not just lap at the current of their emotions but to dive, deep, deep, deep into their psyche. Past and present and future all mixed up. Laid bare to the crawling watchful eyes of not just them but the Galra general, a voyeur to it all.
It wasn’t hard to find the fear. So very real and imminently present. The fear of pain, of death. Flashes of the Galra and laser shots, the general and crackling electricity. The dark amusement of the general echoed back. Mocking, laughing, pleased at the terror they evoked.
'Poor, poor, little Paladin. So afraid. So fragile.'
The Paladin didn’t react, they dug deeper. Pushing the immediate fear of physical pain aside. Diving deeper, to those parts kept hidden. Far from the light. Vulnerable and delicate. Not for their eyes, viciously laid bare. They followed the trail, letting it lead them downwards. The overall fear of death was simple, sharp, normal. Soon that changed, morphed, into something much more personal.
The fear of failure, tangy and peppery. The fear of letting down their team. Compounded by their capture, their inability to escape. The fear of being left behind, of not having anything to offer. Never good enough. Always a distant second place, an afterthought.
The Galra general chuckled, 'how sweet. Like a little cub. So young, so useless. So defenceless. Just a little boy lost in space' a sharp flashing fear of loss, of longing. Wanting for home. The vastness of the void swallowing them whole, breathing emptiness into their lungs, their heart, their head. Till their body had faded away, lost to the nothingness. One with the black between.
'So easily forgotten. So easily replaced' continued the general, deep rumbling voice hypnotic, leading. They imagined they could hear the aliens breath hitching, the feeling of tears, of torture, denial. 'Yes. Forgotten. By everyone. The other Paladins, your people' loved ones, faces upon faces, closeness and joy and togetherness. 'Family' satisfaction curled the growl into something terrible. 'All of them. All of them have forgotten you. Left you here. All alone. The poor little paladin. Not good enough to save. Not good enough to love. '
No, no. That’s not true! It’s not true!
They could almost feel the Paladin call out their denial. Fears coming fast and hard, images and fantasies, self doubt and self hate brought to the surface. Like splinters, black sticky blood pouring fourth.
'But it is, isn’t it. You know it to be true Paladin. Where are your team, your family? Were are they now? Do you know how long it’s been? Vargas, quintents, movements? All alone, no one is coming to your rescue. Why is that I wonder?'
The paladin trembled, still shaking with their denials. They whimpered, pushing deeper. Fear of being left behind, fear that they weren’t worthy. That their friends didn’t care, that they had never cared. Thet they wouldn’t come for him. That they would leave them here. The Paladins faith shaken.
No, no the team will come. They have to come! They need me. I’m the Blue Paladin!
'Ah yes the Blue Paladin. Do you know what the Galra say about the Blue Paladin? Do you? A joke, pathetic. The worst worrier. Nothing to fear. No special skills, easy to target. Easy to kill. Easy to capture. Why do you think you are the one here? The one always getting into trouble? It’s because you’re useless. Helpless. Nothing compared to the rest of the Paladins. A mistake.'
No, no. That’s not true! Not true!
But the doubt was there, rotting from the inside out. A live thing. Deep set, creating fissures in the foundation of his soul. Breaking it apart. They dug at those fissures; bring all the rot to light. Letting the stench spread. Infecting everything.
'You know it’s true' purred the general, voice almost soothing, coaxing. Mimicking sympathy. 'You know what you are Paladin. You know how little you’re worth. You were a mistake Paladin. The wrong place at the wrong time. The wrong paladin. Never meant to fight. Never meant to be part of them. Sooner or later they would have left you behind. Thrown you away. To suffer, to die. Unloved and forgotten.'
A whimpering pathetic sound, the cries of denial silenced under the oppressive weight of fear. Faith shattering, breaking. Crushed by the depths. Flashes of the other paladins coming to mind, all with their backs turned. Fading to black, walking away. The Blue Lion following. Dismissive, uncaring. The hollow ache of a missed connection, one they had been pulling on, like a loose thread, since the Paladins confinement.
They wouldn’t, they whispered, broken. disbelieving. Their my friends, my family. They love me. They do.
'They don’t. They never have. You’ve been left behind. Forgotten. abandoned...so why don’t you just tell me what I want to know. Let it all go. Then all this can stop. All the pain can stop' grumbled the general, anticipation and impatience leaking through. 'It would serve them right wouldn’t it? For leaving you. Face it Paladin, they have never cared for you. There is no escape unless you tell me what I want to know.'
They love me, my family loves me, their coming... trailing into the silence. The last of the fissures opened up. Consuming.
'No one loves you. No one has a reason to love a failure. So tell me, Paladin. Tell me about the lions, about Voltron. Give it up. Give in. Why bother defending people who don’t care.'
I can’t I can’t I can’t. Hurts, hurts, hurts. Can’t can’t can’t. Won’t won’t won’t...spiralling echoes raining forth.
They peeled away the last year.
'WHY!!! WHY SUFFER!'
Blazing blue, shining and brilliant. Unblemished and untouchable. Brighter and brighter it shone from the depths, spilling into the space. Tearing away the pain, burning away the doubt, washing away the hurt, drowning the fear. They could feel it trembling through them. Igniting their being with the pure force of it.
'Because they're my family! Because I care! Because they matter! Because even if they don’t love me, even if they leave me behind, I still love them. Their mine! MINE!'
'But they have left you!'
'So what! What does that matter!? I still love them. What business is it of yours, or theirs, or anyone else’s, If I love them. I love them. And you can’t take that from me and you can’t change it.'
So much, so much. It was all so much. Conviction and emotion swirled into one, filling their being. Forcing them from the Paladins psyche like a tidal wave, washing them back, swamping them. They fell into it, drowning freely. The pain and the fear and the anger all reduce to insignificance, specks and raindrops in an ocean of love. Loyalty.
For the Paladin had doubts, had fears like all others. So confined to mere words and actions to display their hearts. Missed connections, unsaid words, hanging silence, building walls and carving chasms without meaning ir purpose.
For this there was no doubt. There was no fear or uncertainty. Just blinding and unquenchable faith. Harder than diamond, more true than pain. The Paladin could not be sure of the love of others, nor their own worth. But they were certain, unshakable, in their love of others. They knew, with no room for doubt, that they loved them. So much that their feelings blazed bright and true and pure.
They were trembling, the Galra general snarling in startled pain, forced from the connection. The feeling just kept coming, an ocean unleashed from a tear drop. A universe un-caged, kaleidoscope of blue.
From the deepest depths of the void a cry echoed back. Love returned.
The Svirn trailed off, whole being vibrating, glowing and pulsing. Their two companions shook as well, the echo of that time thrumming in their chests, cresting through their veins. A feeling never to be forgotten, the heart of the Blue Paladin a star to great to die, never to turn cold.
'And then what? What happened next? Did rescue come?' chittered the Litten.
The Svirn swayed, drawing themselves out of the memories. 'They did. My people gain energy from feelings. When those feelings are of the right kind and strong enough we can manifest this energy externally. Normally it takes hundreds, thousands of us all feeding into each other to mange this. At that time, from the Blue Paladins love alone I was capable of this. It allowed me to overcome the guards, to free the Paladin. Of course we were still injured and confined on a ship with many Galra but the other Paladins of Voltron soon arrived. Their timing fortuitous, or perhaps they were called by the Blue Paladins feelings. I do not know. '
'Whatever the case, I am thankful. For the rescue and for experiencing such a feeling. It saddens me that the Blue Paladin must suffer in this war. If I had not experienced it for myself I might fear that their spirit would be crushed. But nothing could touch that faith. No trickery or doubt, no horror or malice, would shake the foundation of a soul so wide. So willing to love.'
The Timmin chuckled, leaning back now. Almost basking in the faint feeling they had received. Warmth and a buzzing bliss still tingling through them. 'So the Blue Paladin is not a fighter but a lover. Who would have thought.'
'Oh my poor dear you have no idea. The bliss! The artistry! No finer more lovely hands have graced this galaxy and I vouch that none shall again. What I wouldn’t do, what I wouldn’t give, for just one more night! One last touch!'
Their collective heads turned, suddenly assaulted but the flowery perfume of the Tabaxi as they swept into the circle. Not even asking for a seat. Long oiled whiskers twirled about their claw, dark maroon fur slightly matted from the space suit but spirit clearly blazing with energy. The Timmin bristled, startled by the interruption.
'Who are you?'
'My dear, it saddens me that you do not recognise my face. But alas times have changed and we are all on different paths and far from home. I suppose you can be forgiven. I couldn't help hearing that you were discussing the lovely Blue Paladin and I simply couldn’t contain myself any longer. The dear Svirn here could not have said words more true. The Blue Paladin is the greatest of them all. Such a gentle touch, such a loving caress.’ the Tabaxi swooned into the dark silence.
The Litten clicked their mandibles, antennas quivering with curiosity. Swept along with the enthusiasm. 'You've met him too?'
'My lovely, naive Litten not only have I met the Blue Paladin I have indeed been woo'd by him. No greater lover is there. Countries would tumble but for a touch of his most magical, sensuous hands. Bliss is brought forth from his very finger tips. Just the memory of his touch ignites me.'
He watched his guest beautiful, playfully expressive mouth drop wide in wonder. Looking more in awe now than they had when gazing upon the most expensive and impressive masterpieces of art in their collection. They looked stricken with wonder. Hands rising to clasp under their chin, a moment away from falling to their knees in prayer.
‘It’s…beautiful. So beautiful’ they uttered, shuffling forward, wide sparkling blue eyes taking in the room. Much to their confusion. Turquoise scales glittering as precious gems under the bright lights. He twirled his whiskers, confused smile curling their lips, glancing around themselves. Taking in the brushed gold surfaces, the wide gilded tub, prismatic lighting and smooth cool lines of the wall to wall mirrors, rimmed with their own lights and artistic motifs. He turned back to the open, reverent face of their guest.
‘Well I’m glad you like the interior decorating my dear but I’m not sure you need to be quite so taken. It is merely a bathroom.’
They shook their head, soft spun brown fur catching the light. Waving a hand to them impatiently they moved further into the room, now truly taking it in. Moving from counter to counter, fiddling with the bath controls, the cabinets, the light settings. ‘No, no. You don’t understand. This - this is beauty. Grace. Brilliance!’
They purred, amused and pleased even if they still didn’t understand their guest enthusiasm. More than happy to watch them flit around, sending them dazzling smiles and gushing over every little thing. They spent some time rambling and complimenting the bath and the shower, especially once he explained the many different settings involved and the mood light controls as well as scented burners’ ensconced within the walls. They actually started squealing; vibrating faintly, once they opened the cabinets and gazed upon the array of different beauty products. Truth be told he wasn’t even sure what half of them did, having just had his assistants buy absolutely anything that could be possibly wanted within a luxury bathroom. He was glad it proved to be worth it, watching his guest set about sniffing everything and rubbing it delicately between their fingers. Though he couldn’t help feeling he had lost the mood somewhat.
‘I can’t believe you have a charcoal dry exfoliate, and five different types of stiff hair brushes! I wish I had this back at the castle. My pores are suffering. Suffering I tell you! But do any of the other care. Of course not. No culture, no culture at all.’ They sniffed deeply at one of the small vials of slightly pink liquid from a small inbuilt shelf behind a mirrored cabinet, eyelashes fluttering in bliss. ‘Ahhhh, patchouli and rose. Lavender! Is it bubble bath? No, oil. Damn, what I wouldn’t have to get a massage with this. Could you do that? Get a masseuse up here. Pretty please?’
They stared into the pleading blue eyes, watching those finely filed nails grip the little bottle of oil to their chest. Pressing it against their perfectly cut collarbone, chewing on their lip enough to make it plump and moist. They blinked quickly, shaking off their distraction.
‘I’m sorry my dear. I’m afraid I’ve never heard of a masseuse or a…massage, was it? Is it something from your home world? If you can describe it I might be able to get you something similar.’
His guest blinked at him, seemingly bewildered. ‘You don’t have…massage? What about, umm, spas? Do you have spas? You know, places you go to get pampered?’ They tilted their head, narrowing yellow eyes. Trying to parse out the unfamiliar words. Seeing his confusion the beauty continued, stumbling over themselves to explain. Hands and expressions animated and bright. Drawing their eye like a sparkling jewel. ‘Um, so a spa is like a place you go to get pampered. Massage, skin masks, hair done and all that. Though I suppose with all your fur maybe you wouldn’t do a face mask. Maybe you have somewhere you go to get…groomed? Brushed? Something like that only done by professionals and to relax you and make you look pretty.’
They reached forward, cupping their guests face, tracing along their jaw. Startling them into silence, eyes wide again, letting them gaze into the gorgeous blue. So captivating. ‘Hummm, I can’t say I have ever been to a place like that. For us grooming is something personal, intimate’ he whispered, drawing in close. Tufted ears picking up at the slight hitch in their companions breath, the flutter of their eyelashes. Their skin was smooth but surprisingly warm, even though they had no fur.
‘…intimate huh?’ They responded, trailing one finger along the stripes on his cheek, causing him to drop into a slight purr. ‘Then perhaps I could show you what I mean. Put all these lovely things to use.’
He blinked slowly, entranced, words trickling through slowly. ‘What do you mean my dear?’
‘Well I could use these oils to give you a massage. Show you what I mean. Maybe brush out your fur.’ Not just a single finger now but three finely decorated nails carding through the thicker fur on his chin and neck, getting down to the skin. Causing a shiver to chase after. ‘While massage is done professionally it can also be seen as something…intimate, on my planet. When done by someone…close. Relaxing, seductive, sensual’ their sweet breath brushed over the finest of his whiskers and he practically felt himself melt. So taken by the strange sparkling alien, with the bright warmth and contracting colours. Shinning shimmering blue and silvers on warm dark brown. Life and beauty practically glowing from them. If they kept talking in that voice they could have asked him to shave his tail off and he would have done it.
Smirking the beauty trailed their hand down. Taking their paw and leading them from the bright bathroom back into the more subdued bedroom. Slowly, brushing through his fur all the time, hypnotising him with their blue eyes, they proceed to divest him of his robes. Directing him with gentle, breathy words and praises, gently, fleeting touches to lie on the bed. Stomach down, tail flicking with contentment, claws itching with the urge to kneed. He let his head fall into one of the pillows, blinking slowly as the beauty smiled at him. Dipping back into the bathroom and gathering things quickly. They laid their horde on the dresser before running one large palm down their back, from ear tip to tail. Making their claws curl with pleasure.
‘Relax. Let me look after you. I’m going to start small, just touch you a bit. Your bodies different to mine, new. I need to learn it first.’
‘You don’t have to’ he purred slowly, ‘I would be happy with anything you give me dear.’
‘Hush, I like a challenge. Let me touch you. You’re so soft! Fluffy!’ His companion proceeded to do just that, running their hands all over them. Back, shoulders, down their arms, over their spine, up their tail. They spent rather a long time exploring his legs and feet, the tingle as they ghosts over the inside of his thighs sending a frisson of arousal coursing through him. The slow, methodical stroking setting it to a low simmer. Velvet comfort weighing his body, settling in his bones and relaxing his muscles. He recognised he was purring, his own rumbling chest adding a deep rich sound to the sensual atmosphere. It got a giggle out of his guest, scratching along his ears, marvelling about their ‘smooth velvety texture’. Complements he was more than happy to receive.
His companion moved, settling behind him onto the bed, picking up a few of the oils. He rumbled a question; they hushed him with a palm to his side. ‘Shhhh, I’m going to start properly now. This will mess with your fur a little but I promise it’s worth it. I’ll brush it all back after.’ Their voice was low and lyrical. Tingling pleasantly across his mind. ‘This can sometimes be a little painful in the beginning but it will soon turn to pleasure. So just trust me. If it really hurts say so and I’ll stop.’
Curious he tried to relax, keeping still as the bed dipped behind him. His guest straddling his hips, letting his tail wrap around their waist. Eliciting a giggle as it ‘tickled’ them. They smoothed both palms down his shoulders, now slick with oil, pleasant to the senses, not too strong to his delicate nose. They pushed their fingers into his fur, letting the oil seep deep down to his skin. Then they continued to press down, moving along the length of the muscle, stretching and rubbing.
Unused to the feeling he tensed up, but his companion was quick to sooth him, whispering with their hypnotic voice into his ear, cooing at him. Having them relax again almost instantly. The moment he did their thumbs dug in, getting the muscle to spasm, tense, relax. immediately a spark of pleasure raced down his spine, tail twitching in response. They beauty over him chuckled and pressed down a little harder, falling silent as they really got to work.
He melted. There was no truer word for it. Whole body strung out across the cool sheets of the bed, rumbling purr deafening him to everything. Those magic cleaver little fingers working diligently, rubbing little circles, stroking down nerve ending, pushing and pulling. Gathering up little balls of tense hard knots in his back and patiently working them out. Little grunts leaving their exquisite lips when a particularly stubborn knot resisted his gentle encouragement to unwind. His fur became matted and mussed from the oil and the movement buts he didn’t ahev the mind to care. Not when every part of him was being slowly taken apart and put back together again.
His companion worked down, starting from his neck and shoulders, moving down to his arms, down his ribs and back, all the way up his tail and then starting on his legs. He could feel his arousal pressing to the sheets but it was distant, mind fogged, passion banked to gentle tingling intimacy instead. Working at his feet caused him to let out a number of moans, euphoria as he felt the zing and fizz of the tense muscles of his toe pads relaxing.
‘Ohhh, ohhh. Yes, yes. So good, it so goooddd. Keep going. Please keep going.’
‘Hush, I’m not done yet. I haven’t even got to the best part. Let yourself relax, fall into it, drift off. Just feel. I’ll take care of you.’
Through one slit eye he saw that magical hand reach forth, picking up one of the many different brushes from the side and the little bottle he had described as a 'dry exfoliant before'. Sighing he closed them, falling into the feeling of those fingers in his fur once more. They rubbed in the strangely dry and gritty cream. Taking their time to work it into every inch of his body, scratching just faintly enough to have his tail and ears twitch.
When not one spec of his body was left to be caressed and rubbed and scratched just right, just enough to have his blood warming from within, little tremors of energy sparking at the slightest shift of the hips above him, the press of the cool sheets to his skin. Only then did his would be lover reach for the first of the many brushes he had selected. First with a course comb, then a fine one until the grit, the oil end every inch of tension was taken from his coat. Then, starting from ear tip to tail, once again his undercoat and his outer coat were brushed down, smoothed, shinned with sandalwood spray. With every pass his purring grew louder and the deep lethargy settled within his flesh. His companion continued with low shushing sounds, reassurances, compliments to his colouring, his physique, the silkiness of his fur.
He felt known and taken apart. Cared for and comforted. Secure and safe and perfect in their hands. A king brought low by love, a sinner shown the light. Lightning euphoria through his veins. Slow liquid pleasure blanketing his mind. Pulling him under, making him undone, fading him to purring dreams.
Bliss.
When he awoke his companion was gone. The only sign of their presence the missing oils and creams from his cabinets, the absent space on his display shelf and an aching longing in his heart. He issued a missive, not even caring for the thefts, desperate to have them return to him. To have one more night, just one more touch. A breathless whisper in his ear, a single fingertip trailed down his spine. His flesh sung for their touch. The return of their embrace. For nothing and no one had he longed for as he did now.
Alas, there was no response. His beau did not reveal themselves and he was left lost and wanting.
'Wait, how are you sure it was the Blue Paladin? Didn’t you say this mysterious lover of yours had scales and claws?'
'Humph, I know a beauty when I see one and would never forget such a face. A little makeup is hardly enough to hide their grace. The moment I saw him spin from his lion in the Voltron show I knew it was him. Besides' the Tabaxi purred, voice turning husky with ardour, 'I would not soon forget those eyes. Such beauty, such elegancy, such delicacy.'
'You are delusional if you believe the Blue Paladin to be delicate.'
The Tabaxi turned, the rest of the party leaning back slightly with alarm as a Galra loomed out of the darkening night. His Marmora blade clear at his hip, muscled arms crossed over his chest. Their mask was down, revealing a scarred face, sober and stern. The Tabaxi rallied themselves from their surprise, sniffing delicately, twiddling a whisker once more.
'And what, prey, would you know of it? Met him have you?'
'Yes, a damn sight more times than you I would say. My men and I have been on missions with the Paladins a number of times. I myself was even partnered with the Blue Paladin on occasion. I will admit to having my own doubts on the Paladins battle prowess at first, all the Paladins are rather small, but those doubts were soon assured. The Blue Paladin is no fragile beauty but a hard and vicious warrior born from war. A weapon master with little mercy.'
'...I’m not sure I can see the Blue Paladin as vicious' chittered the Litten quietly. The Galra merely huffed, shaking his head.
'None of your stories have involved battle. You only know of the Paladin during distress' a node to the Svirn, 'or times of peace. It is only during battle when people reveal their true selves. The Blue Paladin more than proved himself capable in the face of conflict. Defending himself and others with efficiency and deftness. Whether through his lion or his sword he has cut down enemies without hesitation.'
The Svirn shivered slightly, a tendril unfurling from their head. 'I thought the Blue Paladin was known as a marksmen, not a swordsman?'
'Yes I believed so too. In fact it was for this reason that I was paired for him on the first mission. When we were compromised I believed I would be overcome but the Blue Paladin not only returned to deliver me too safety but then proceeded to destroy the rest of our pursuers singlehanded. Wielding his magic weapon with ferociousness. Facade of humour and frivolity cast aside to show his true self. A storm upon those that stand against him. '
'Really now, to imagine him doing such a thing. Those beautiful hands of his around a blade...it is not entirely unappealing' the Tabaxi revealed small needle like teeth with the curl of his lip, pink tongue flashing.
'Do keep your amorous lusting to yourself. The Blue Paladin is not just a wielder of a blade nor just a gun but a true master of weapons. His own changes as water in his hands, decimating those who come against him. Leaving them no quarter to defend themselves or react. I have seen this myself that day and in days since. That is grace, not your frivolous pampering.'
The Tabaxi humphed, pouting and flicked a contemptuous ear at the looming Galra. The Litten tilted their head, clicking their fingers together. 'The Paladins weapons are capable of change?'
'I believe so. Though I have only seen the Blue Paladin himself show such an ability' rumbled the Galra, narrowing their eyes with thought. 'It was truly a moving sight. Injured as I was I had given up on returning safely. We were outnumber and outgunned but the Paladin refused to surrender. They did not falter and their weapon responded' as he spoke the Galras voice dropped less from a growl to a rumble, admiration seeping through. 'He started with a sniper, this I had seen before, and his ability as a marksman is well founded, then he turned it into a grenade launcher, then a rifle, a sword, knives, hammer, lance, pistols, back to the sword. The weapon was like light, flashing and shifting in their hands, the Paladin never still. Controlling the flow of the battlefield as a maestro controls an orchestra. Truly that is beauty.'
'Then you and I will have to disagree. I just cannot see the Blue Paladin as some battle crazed berserker. Though I can believe he is skilled with his hands.'
'I too find it difficult to think of the Paladin as one so...vicious as you describe. Not once when I gazed into their soul did I feel bloodlust or a thrill for violence. There was barely any hatred, nothing truly deep. The Paladin was loving and forgiving to their core.'
'I know the being I fought beside. I know the look of their eyes when they cut down an empire solider. When they take a killing shot. I know the steadiness of their hands, the beat of their heart, the flash of their smile as they triumph in the face of the odds. No matter how they may be at their core the paladin is a capable and dedicated warrior. One I am honoured to fight beside and call friend.'
'Are you alright?' Inquired the Litten, letting the argument go on above their head. Hand reaching out to touch that of the Timmin, who was staring into the sky. 'You have been quiet for a while.'
'No, yes. I’m fine. It’s just...I could swear it’s bigger than before. The crack.' The Litten looked up. So did the Svirn, the Tabaxi and the Galra. Gazing up at the white glowing break in the vast darkness of the void. Inching its way across the sky. The forgotten radio crackled to life.
'Attention. All personal to battle stations. Repeat; all personal to battle stations. Non combatants please proceed to the far side of the moon. The space is unfolding. Voltron is emerging. All personal to battle stations.'
The group of unlikely acquaintances looked at each other, time and stories stretching between them. Joined by the thin thread of blue across culture, species and galaxies. They knew they would probably never see each other again. They knew they would not soon forget.
The thread snapped, they sprung into action. The Timmin grabbing the radio, contacting their squad. The Litten jumping to their feet, mandibles quivering with the anticipation. The Svirn and Tabaxi shared a look before gathering themselves to join the rushing tide of aliens. The Galra drew their blade, forming it into its full size. Grinning he flipped it once, re-sheathed it and called his mask down, nodding once in goodbye before melting into the crowd.
The paladins were coming home. The Blue Paladins story far from done.