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“Is that?” Hunk scratches his forehead, tilting it to the right for a better angle. “Lance’s hand?”
From beside his shoulder, Pidge squints. “I think it might be his foot?”
“Surely not,” says Allura, propped behind them and leaning over the back of the couch. “It’s practically up over Shiro’s head.”
They’re exhausted and sweaty. Adrenaline still coursing through their aching legs. There’s confusion on their weary faces. Bewilderment.
And shame.
Just—so much shame.
On the other side of them, Lance waggles his eyebrows. “I’ll have you know Princess; I am very flexible.” He ignores Pidge’s groan, grabbing at the holopad Hunk holds between them. “Ugh, of course Keith would go for his knife.”
“I thought we were under attack!” Keith defends, then winces to see himself, half crouched with his blade drawn and starting to transform. His teeth are bared but his eyes…
“You look like you’re about to faint,” Shiro snorts, digging his elbow into Keith’s ribs.
Keith’s face turns scarlet. “There were giant humanoid spiders charging us!”
“I thought they were a pack of clowns.” Hunk shudders.
“Really?” says Allura thoughtfully. “I saw a rift creature.”
“Actually, I believe they were a couple of Sintoie, a species of psychics capable of changing one’s perceptions.” Coran frowns, remembering his own terrifying vision. “Though usually their abilities are used for more…supportive purposes.”
Beside him, Pidge shivers. “So many snakes.”
The team is gathered in the lounge. All of them piled together on one of the couches and hovered around Allura’s holopad, staring at themselves in varying degrees of embarrassment and horror. Because looking back at them, in full holopicture definition, with each minute detail captured in mortifying clarity, are the great paladins of Voltron absolutely losing their shit.
It had started so innocent too—mundane even. Just like any other routine mission with a planet in the Xritoo System inviting them to some sort of celebration. A tradition, the Queen had called it. What nobody had bothered to tell them was that the celebration was a lot like
****
“Halloween!” Lance exclaimed the moment they touched down. “It looks just like Halloween out there!”
And truly it did. The paladins had seen a lot of elaborate set ups in their travels, but they’d never seen anything quite like this.
The Dsanci city of Yritu looked surprisingly like the city the Mer lived in, only this was above water. Their buildings seemed to rise from the earth itself; an intricate web of slate and rock that carved elaborate structures from the valley it was nestled in. As they walked from their lions and up to the palace it was clear that its people were gearing up for something huge because every single building, even the palace shining high above the rest, was embellished in full macabre flourishings.
With deep colours of black and violet mixed with splashes of garish red, banners hung from pillars and doorways in seemingly ruined and tattered rags. Domiciles were covered in haunting decorations, not human enough to replicate things like ghosts or zombies, but definitely leering and creepy, and throughout the city an image was plastered on signs and billboards. A fearsome alien outlined in grey with an almost sinister expression, though no real facial features were present.
Arriving at twilight, a thick fog hung in the air and muted the lights that tried to spill from lamps and windows. In an effort to distract herself, Pidge had begun to analyze the mist, trying to decipher whether the mass were artificial or if Yritu was simply naturally cursed.
Lance, of course, had loudly proclaimed, “Who cares, it’s Halloween! It doesn’t matter if it’s real. Only that it’s spoooooky.” He wriggled his fingers for added effect.
“Lance,” murmured Keith, distracted, fingers curling around his bayard. He squinted his eyes over the backs of their escorts and fruitlessly tried to see through the fog. “It’s not actually Halloween.”
“Gee, thanks Keith. Obviously I know that.”
“You know,” Coran said, closest to their hosts, “number three is almost right.” Through the fog, Keith could see the grin Lance flashed him. “The Dsanci celebrate Krahti, which, from what I understand, is similar to your Hallow’s Eve except the emphasis is on conquering your fears.”
“Okay, but how?” Keith asked, clearly suspicious.
“Yeah…like, I’m pretty sure we’re good there Coran. Could we maybe not conquer any fears today? This place is giving me the creeps.” Hunk’s steps were tentative and more than a little jumpy for long shadows were stretching out to meet them. Slashing across the open road like giant gauges ripped from the land.
A few ticks later, and their source pierced through the thickening fog; the large palace twisting up in the sky with spires that loomed into sharpened points. It was gothic and otherworldly. All of it decorated in the same colours as the rest of the city with shimmering lights that played within the shallow divots of its walls.
Their guides motioned to Coran, speaking in a low and guttural dialect of mostly whistles and scrapings of air.
“They want us to follow them this way,” Coran said, as though their gestures hadn’t made it glaringly obvious. Still, they waited for Allura’s signal—her almost imperceptible nod—before moving inside.
When they entered through the palace doorway, more than one of their jaws hit the floor.
****
“I just…” Shiro starts, trying to work out the mechanics. “Pidge, how did you even…?”
Said paladin shakes her head, staring at her image in the holopicture. Her legs are tucked beneath Hunk’s right arm, her head hooked over his left. Her body draped horizontally across his back like a human shawl with her hands seizing into his chest. Hunk’s look of utter terror is plainly caught mid scream, from Pidge’s claws or the apparent clowns, who knows. One foot is off the ground and the rest of his body is curled in fear in a pathetic parody of a terrified flamingo with a monkey clinging to its back.
Hunk groans. “I’m pretty sure my life flashed before my eyes.”
“I think Shiro’s did too.” Keith points to the black paladin. “Look at how pale he is.”
“Hey now. We’re all pale out here.”
“Yeah, but not like that man,” Lance says, shimmying his way between the two and resting his elbows on their shoulders. “You’re white as a sheet here.”
“White as a what?” Coran asks with a curious twitch of his moustache.
“A sheet. You know, like a bed sheet.”
The man tilts his head, his eyes crinkling as he smiles. “Oh! We had a saying like that back on Altea except it was light as a Yarnpopper’s karfoofle.”
Lance side-eyes him. “Riiiight.”
“Oh, I’d forgotten that one,” Allura says, a faraway look and a faint grin tugging her lips. “Shiro does look rather karfoofled here.” She giggles.
Pouting, Shiro crosses his arms. “Well, I don’t think any of us were expecting that.”
Around him, Keith grunts, Pidge nods, and Hunk says, with deep, aching regret, “I told you it was a bad idea.”
****
“Uh, guys? I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Hunk said, his hands reaching as if to physically pull the team back.
They stood outside what looked to be a cave. With a wide, dark hole that had smoke billowing out from behind the same banners that had adorned the houses in Yritu. Disturbing sounds could be heard within. Hunk couldn’t tell if it was ambient music or the wild exclamations of the Dsanci people who entered before them, though that question was answered when one of them came barreling out of the entrance with a blood curdling noise caught high in their throat. Their many arms were flailing madly, their face was absolutely bloodless.
The paladins looked at one another with a range of emotion—none of which was bravery. Coran though, strode to the entrance with purpose.
“Come now,” he said. “The Queen assured us this would be fun. While the celebration of Krahti itself is more serious, this,” he gestured towards the opening, “is child’s play.”
From inside the cave came a flashing of light and another one of those piercing screams. Allura, closest to Coran and the entrance, jumped back despite herself, her cheeks darkening as Coran rolled his eyes. As if to prove his point, a sound like laughter came three ticks later. Well, if the Dsanci considered a shrill, peeling wheeze as laughter.
When they’d first entered the palace, the team had been shocked. In the city, their Krahti decorations had been subtle, if not a little unsettling, but inside had been so, so much more. Onyx and ivory had been strung along each of the walls in pillars. Like zebra print wallpaper but made of a stone that was slick and sticky to touch and illuminated by flickering lights set behind cutouts that were notched into each of them. Little, cartoonish creatures beamed from those holes and cast their shapes on the walls to make it appear like they were slithering around the room. From the rafters hung streamers of dizzying reds. Twisted and pinned in a tented canopy and hanging down like blood dripping off the ceiling. And the Queen herself?
There are times—especially as ambassadors of a universal coalition—when the people they meet have clearly done everything in their power to appear dignified and regal. And then there are times like this.
The Dsanci Queen had thick leather wraps swathed around her limbs when she descended the stairs to greet them; crisscrossing in diamond patterns that ran from the bottom of her legs, across her torso, and down along all of her arms. Weapons were strapped to her thighs, but from where they were standing it was obvious they were fake. The paint that’d been used to cover them was splotchy, revealing naked paper and globs of glue. And around her head, in some sort of camouflage motif, was tied a swatch of fabric. It was clear she was in costume; kind of looking like Rambo might have if he’d had more than just the standard amount of Terran limbs. She smiled the widest they’d ever seen on an ally as she took them all in.
When she spoke, her alien dialect was a series of excited clicks and whistles, and Coran was in his element. Delightedly he conversed back, his own hands gesturing wildly as they spoke. Allura stood politely beside him, happy to let Coran translate as she thanked the Queen for welcoming them into her home.
“We are honoured,” Coran translated. “You could not have come at a better time.”
Krahti, as they would come to learn, was the Queen’s favourite holiday. A time when her people came together to honour and celebrate their greatest warrior, Krahteni. It was said he believed that a soldier’s greatest weakness was fear, and this principle had been passed through the generations, eventually turning into elaborate rituals and rites of passage. While that had been great for the military sector, it had left many of the civil workers and their families—who still wished to honour Krahteni—out. And so, they had developed traditions of their own, latching on to the idea of overcoming all fear.
Like apparently creating their own version of a haunted house. When Coran translated this, Lance’s eyes had lit up like it was Christmas.
“No way. They have haunted houses!”
“Krahti hollows, actually,” Coran corrected.
Lance had already waved him off. “I can’t believe it! We used to go to one every Halloween. Marco was a total wimp and always held Veronica’s hand and Luis and I used to run ahead and try to scare him. Veronica would get so mad at us.”
“We’d go too,” said Pidge. “My mom hated them, but my dad and brother and I used to go just to see the latest animatronics in action. One year there was a witch so real I think Matt almost peed himself.”
“What are you two talking about?” Keith asked, looking aghast.
“Oh c’mon, don’t tell me you’ve never been to a haunted house,” Lance said, and then stared, open mouthed, when Keith just looked at him in confusion. “Oh my god. You’ve never been to a haunted house?!”
Ever the peacemaker, Shiro tried to intervene. “Alright, let’s just take it easy.”
“But Shiro that’s a crime! We have to take Keith to the Krahti Hollow.”
Keith frowned. “No, we don’t.”
“Wellll,” Coran said, sliding over. “The Queen has requested that we enter the royal Hollow, and I think it might be considered rude to decline.”
The trio looked up to where the Queen stood. Her open grin and sparkling eyes giving way to her elation. Even if they’d wanted to say no—like Hunk would suggest in twenty doboshes—there was no way any of them wanted to be the reason that hopeful expression fell. And so, they found themselves, hovering outside the Hollow’s entrance and not listening to Hunk even though they really should’ve.
“Aww Hunk, it’s okay I’ll keep you safe,” Lance said to Hunk’s plea.
Pidge shored herself up beside him. “Yeah Hunk, where’s your sense of adventure? Just imagine all the tech they could have in there.”
Helplessly, Hunk looked between the two of them and knew he wouldn’t find support from either. His pleading eyes tracked to the others.
“Shiro? Allura?”
Allura smiled at him kindly. “Hunk, it’s going to be okay. Look, there are even children going inside.” They all watched as a family entered the Hollow, two children chittering excitedly as they pulled their parents along. “I don’t think there’s anything to be afraid of.”
Hunk didn’t look entirely convinced. His eyes caught where Keith stood by the door, his arms crossed and his signature scowl firmly in place. “Whatever,” Keith muttered and slid his gaze toward the entrance. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Then the red paladin was shaking himself, and with a last glance backwards, he charged ahead and into the Krahti Hollow.
“Hey, wait for us!” Lance shouted and grabbed Pidge’s arm, dragging her with him and after Keith.
“Come on, Hunk,” Shiro said, motioning to the dark, cavernous hole their team was quickly disappearing into. “We’re defenders of the universe. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”
There were a lot of worst-case scenarios that Hunk could think of. Yet somehow, a picture being taken of them at the height of the Hollow’s torture—after half a varga of deranged clowns, stalking aliens, and, yes, enough frightening tech to make Pidge cry in more ways than one—hadn’t crossed any of their minds.
****
“Well I thought it was a splendid time!” Crows Coran, still much too happy for his own good. “Those Dsanci really know how to give a good fright.”
More than one of the paladins’ shudder. The holopicture the Queen had sent stares back at them, looking absolutely ludicrous without context. Though, the more they look at it, the more it becomes ludicrous even with it.
“Uh, Coran?” Hunk asks, noticing something for the very first time. “Does your moustache, um, normally do that?”
They all look to where the advisor is huddled. Coran’s spindly body wrapped like an octopus around Allura’s legs and his curly orange moustache fizzed at the ends like he’s stuck his finger into an electrical socket.
“Oh my god,” Pidge breathes, her eyes going wide. “He looks like Dr. Eggman from Sonic the Hedgehog.”
“I beg your pardon?” Coran asks, clearly affronted. “An egg-man?”
Lance starts to squeal. “Ooh, he totally does!”
It starts with a snicker; a wild snort that Hunk tries to bite back that has Lance grinning and Pidge silently shaking her shoulders. And then a simultaneous bark of laughter when they notice Coran’s indignant face.
“It—” Hunk chokes. “It’s…nothing.” But the effort of speaking while trying not to laugh proves to be too much and suddenly the three of them dissolve into giggles.
“Now guys…” Shiro starts, holding back a smile of his own, and then Coran’s moustache twitches as he sniffs and Shiro is helpless to hold it in.
Laughter rolls through them and the couch shakes with their gasping breaths and only Keith and Allura are left looking as lost as Coran.
“Ummm,” Keith says looking at Allura who only shrugs.
Shiro cups Keith’s shoulder. “It’s an old video game,” he laughs, which doesn’t actually explain anything in Keith’s book, but the light in Shiro’s usually guarded eyes and the happy slope of his grin has Keith smiling too.
“I think we can all agree that we each look preposterous,” says Allura, who is probably the only one in the picture that doesn’t look like a complete fool. Mostly just standing stock still with her mouth hanging open.
Some of them nod, some grin, and some—ahem, Lance and Pidge—wipe their eyes and slap each other on the back. After that they settle on the couch. Spreading out from where they’d bunched together and occasionally bursting into another fit of mirth when one of their eyes catch on the holopad. It’s simple. Nice. A rare moment where all of them are together but not really having to do anything. Hunk is the first to break their reverie.
“Do you think, maybe…we could just stay here for a little bit? I don’t think I’m ready to be alone yet.”
Lance agrees. “Me neither, we should watch a movie or something. Really get into the Halloween spirit, you know?”
“It’s not Halloween,” Keith groans, but he’s joking. Smirking at Lance while the man throws a pillow at his face and pretends not to laugh.
Immediately, Allura beams. “What a splendid idea! Coran do we still have that collection of Altean thrillers?”
“I believe we do Princess!” Coran shouts back, already vaulting over the couch and towards the holographic projector.
When the lights dim, the paladins get cozy. Shiro leans back against the couch and acts like his eyes aren’t already fluttering shut, unaware that beside him Lance is trying to goad Keith into placing bets on how long he’ll last before falling asleep. On the other side Pidge cozies up beside Hunk and reaches her hand into the bag of treats that Hunk has mysteriously managed to produce. The crunchy insides are vaguely reminiscent of tiny potato chips and tasty enough that she resolves not to ask what they really are.
As the movie starts—a sweeping adventure of strange alchemy and harrowing mystery, as Coran describes it—Allura leans over Hunk to whisper at Pidge.
“Pidge, hypothetically, do you think you could erase that image from the Dsanci databases?”
“Already done,” Pidge whispers back. “The only one left in existence is the one on your holopad.” Her eyes stayed glued to the movie. Her glasses flashing in the light.
“I—really? Already?” Surprise colours Allura’s face.
Coran shushes them.
Pidge leans closer. “Yeah,” she whispers. “I figured a picture of us losing our minds in a haunted house might be bad PR for the coalition.”
“Yes,” Allura agrees. And then, “Thank you.”
“No problem. It was fun though, wasn’t it?”
From her slouch, Allura straightens. Glancing around the lounge at the paladins and Coran. Her pilots. Her team. Her friends.
“Yes,” she says, all but beaming. “Yes, it was.”