Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"This is officially the worst field trip ever.”

Lance sat in pitch darkness, debating his current situation.

Stiff cool bars pressed into his back where he leaned onto --what he determined to be through trial and error-- the cage he was trapped in.

His arms were sore from clutching his legs to his chest, especially in the bindings- and his legs hurt from being scrunched up, clutched to his chest for so log- and his head still hurt from where he stood up and hit it- and he was starving- and-

And complaining didn’t help his situation, but it certainly didn’t hurt either.

He’d awoken only a few minutes prior and had already determined any escape attempts would be fruitless.

Anything and everything within reach had the cold slick feel of metal: the bars, the floor between them, the bindings around each wrist.

He’d been huffing and fuming to himself since he realized his only option was to wait.

It hadn’t taken long to realize the futility of searching for an escape route. It left him with only his mind for clues.

Lance’s memory was about as dark as his surroundings.

He wasn’t quite sure what had gone wrong. One minute he’d been with his bunkmates, the next he was… here. Wherever that was.

He couldn’t quite put the scene altogether. Pieces of his memory led him to picture a scene of hectic bustling, perhaps some sort of… Food court?

That couldn't be right.

His hunger was getting to his head.

After what felt like years of bland dry rations aboard a vessel of his bunkmates, he’d been fantasizing even before this poor situation.

He only wished he’d complained less about them.

He could eat just about anything at the moment.

Just thinking about it made his stomach growl -the sound echoing loudly in whatever metal vehicle he’d been contained in. He hadn’t a clue how long it had been since he ate last. It couldn't have been too long—he was still alive, after all. It was difficult to keep track of time without any light though - he could have been asleep — or awake for that matter — for hours for all he knew.

He was pretty sure that other people were in cages alongside him, yet it was eerily quiet, except for the rumbling and clacking echoes of the transport vehicle.

After what felt like hours of silence, he couldn’t bear to stay alert.

With his bindings digging into him as uncomfortable as possible, he drifted into an agitated rest.

"Huh?" Lance slurred, head darting in every direction at once.

Despite his efforts, he couldn’t see a thing; his eyes, too adjusted to darkness, burned with the light streaming into them.

He was unable to take in anything except the world-shaking around him. He scrambled to sit up -his efforts only resulting in further disorientation when he hit the same spot on his head.

Lance slowed down for a minute, remembering his training… did he have training for this? He hadn’t paid attention in class, anyway.

He wasn’t being actively injured — other than the self-inflicted ones — and he could recognize the same metal underneath him. He hoped he wasn’t in any immediate danger. His eyes slammed shut. The dimmer light filtered through his eyelids.

He opened his eyes once he deemed them adjusted.

He absorbed everything as fast as he could, panicking in stunned silence, mind going a mile a minute.

The first thing he noticed was a ship. It had to be a ship; they couldn’t possibly be on the same planet as before. The area he’d landed initially didn’t look anything like this, nor did it resemble the planet he called him. Past the ship, the atmosphere shone a bright green - nothing like the varying shades of blue he was used to.

Well, this is certainly not Kansas.

Lance quickly determined the source of the jarring to be two creatures that stood below him on either side. They carried the — now confirmed to be — cage with relative ease.

His cage lay on the shoulders of either yellow, toad-like being.

Now that he could see his odd-looking captor, Lance deemed it an appropriate time for protesting.

It wasn’t like he had any other options.

"Who are you people? Let me go!" He shouted, banging his handcuffs against the bars.

Aside from a glance, he received no reaction. He continued his onslaught until one spoke, a deep grumble coming from his left, "Knock it off."

"Yeah? What're you gonna do about it, huh?"

When he realized he couldn’t reach either of them, he resorted to slamming into the walls of his cage in an attempt to throw them off. They were much bigger than him, so he didn’t stand much of a fight head-on, but if they opened the cage to “teach him a lesson” he was small enough to slip away.

The grunts — as he deemed them — were unfazed by his small (in comparison to their massive claws) hands attempting to hurt them. He could swear that he saw smoke coming out of their ears (though that could just be a feature of their species). They merely sped up, unimpeded by Lance’s escape attempt.

Without another word, they carried him into a dim hall. He’d paid too much attention to irritating his captors to notice his surroundings; He didn't notice passing through the doorway.

Lance realized he’d reached his final destination when he first hit his head, then his butt as they placed his cage down none-too-gently.

"Hey! Watch the merchandise, buddy." He hissed, rubbing the ever-growing bump on his head.

“Where are you going?” He yelled as the two hurried away. They didn’t plan on interrogating him or something? Why did they even want him?

Though none of the overhead lights were on, enough light shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows to illuminate the scene. His cage seemed to be on some sort of pedestal; he couldn’t reach the floor when he stuck his hand through the bars, though his hands were stll bound.

Rows of creatures sat in the same situation as him. They looked about as despondent as he did.

He attempted to get their attention, to no avail. The most he received was a brief glance, likely in annoyance, before their head sank to the ground again.

He tried the bars of his cage again, shaking them individually at either base, attempting to find even a hint of shoddy craftsmanship.

The grunts continued to unload identical cages across from him- each container set down with much more careful grasps than his cage had been handled with

Heads darted away when they came near. Sure, they were big, but he didn’t fear them. If they wanted to hurt him, they would have done that when Lance was antagonizing them, but, as far as he could see, he didn’t have a hair out of order.

Guess it was a try it, buy it scenario.

Every detail pointed to one conclusion -human trafficking. Well, creature trafficking… alien trafficking?

Either way, this was some sort of auction house if he’d ever seen one. A classy one, too. He couldn’t make out every detail due to the lack of light, but was certain the place looked tidy from the way sun shone on the pristine white tiles.

Once every cage was in place, the grunts disappeared from sight.

It felt like hours had passed before anything else of interest occurred. First came the lights. Fine glass structures hung from the ceiling, spread periodically between each cage.

The large doors they’d carried him through were propped open now, he hadn’t even noticed.

He could see the other captives better. One thing stood out about the miscellaneous figures.

He was the only human.

He supposed that would make sense. Only six people had traveled this far out of Earth’s galaxy. At least, he was thankful that Hunk and Pidge were safe… Well, safer than he was.

While other species had few duplicates and color variations, he was the only of tan skin.

He’d learned a thing or two about supply and demand in school.

He didn’t know much about kidnapping, but he was certain he didn’t want to be sold. His mind darted back to shows and documentaries about slavery and human trading. Saw-esc images of an enslaved future flashed through his head. If no one purchased him, he’d have more time to plan an escape. Plan: stall.

Those around him perked up, sitting up straight and looking out at the strangers. He couldn’t figure out why. Despondent faces morphed into those of curiosity and pleasantness.

At least it decreased his chances of being purchased.

Aliens began filing in, stopping at the cages nearest the doors first as they worked their way down the rows.

He hissed at anyone who came within five feet of him. When he grew bored with hissing, he cursed and insulted. At one point he crudely recited the bee movie script, well what he could remember of it.

Despite his hostility, he seemed to attract more viewers than the other captives.

Those he couldn’t scare off fled to the next cage after viewing something written beneath him.

That must mean he was expensive… or had some foreign space disease.

He couldn’t tell if he should be pleased to be expensive or if he was supposed to be disgusted at the corrupt system.

The room went quiet at the entrance of some new snob.

Purple skin, long white hair, a jawline stronger than his will to live-

He was okay looking. Just okay.

People parted out of his way as if their life depended on it and, considering the underground fancy-ass auction house they were in, it probably did. He strode as if he owned the place, armored boots clacking on tile and echoing off the high ceiling.

Was anyone still breathing after an entrance like that? He couldn’t be certain he was.

Lance was glad to be on the opposite side of the room; he wasn’t sure who would wear armor to an auction, but he certainly didn’t want to go home with someone who did.

He put his act on hold, changing his priority to blending in.

He shouldn’t look at him. He couldn’t risk jinxing it. Staying small. Staying unnoticeable. Staying still. Staying his hand.

Straying eyes taking just a peek and making the longest eye contact of his life.

It lasted merely a moment before he got ahold of himself and pulled his gaze back to his knees.

Lance shouldn’t have done that. He reallyl shouldn’t have done that. Shit.

He could feel eyes boring into his head. He hoped it was his imagination.

Lance forced himself to stare down at his knees, picking at his nails behind his back for the millionth time that day. He forced a consistent rate of breath, feigning calm.

“Now, who is this?” A finger drew under his chin, tilting his face up before Lance had realized what happened.

His eyes went wide as he met piercing blue eyes. He was sure they could see into his mind - too bad every faculty of Lance’s had shut down.

He jumped out of his skin, banging the same spot on his head and scooting out of reach.

Smooth. Real smooth.

He couldn’t just sit there rubbing his head like an idiot. Think. Think. Think.

A growl rumbled in his throat. He snapped at the finger that had touched him, teeth clacking as he gnashed with the most threatening aura he could muster.

He didn’t receive so much as a flinch for his efforts.

"Are you not a Terran? I presumed this species had sentience.” The stranger huffed at the indignant scene.

Lance snapped at him, too caught up in his insults to consider his words, "Shut it! I'm tired of all these disgusting people gawking at me all day. Leave! My price is too high, I'm hostile, and by the way, I do bite."

They tapped the plaque below him with a sneer.

"I pay more for my breakfast." He chuckled and gestured to what could only be the staff, who rushed to serve him. "This one, double the highest bid."

Well... Fuck.

Lance’s mouth got him in trouble yet again.

He hadn’t expected them to take him away so soon after the interaction. He’d been preparing a few more insults when a few grunts whisked him away.

His escape attempt was thwarted before it could begin; he flopped about as they dumped the cage into the back of the snob’s vessel unceremoniously. Despite his restrained hands, he dove toward the exit, sneakers skidding on the metal interior. They slammed the door in his face.

Trapped in the space equivalent of a van and he didn't even get candy.

The lack of respect was astounding. Didn’t they know he was some nobody from Earth? This was one of his first encounters with aliens and he was not too pleased with them.

Even if he was just some… Terran (was that what they called him?), who did that guy think he was? Throwing his wallet around, purchasing him like he was some sandwich.

He was NOT a sandwich.

Said the person trapped in yet another metal box.

At least it had light this time.

He was unsure if the back of the ship had soundproofing, but complained regardless.

“It’s cold back here! Let me in the front at least! Rich boy has no common decency.”

He yelled louder when the engine attempted to drown him out; At least he knew Purple was within hearing range… hopefully.

If he purchased another being so willy-nilly, who knew the extent of his frivolous purchases? He could be carted back by another unhelpful grunt for all he knew.

Either way, he wasn’t going without kicking and screaming.

It turned out that kicking and screaming took energy that Lance didn’t have. After yelling about claustrophobia, the temperature, the light being too bright, and just about anything else that came to mind, he was already tuckered out.

He sat against the wall, hoping to regain enough strength for another escape attempt.

He’d certainly need it after all.

Lance wasn’t quite sure how to escape from the depths of space, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying.

But for now, he sat lamenting his choices thus far, “I had to stray from the group, didn’t I? We could have been on our way back to Earth by now…”

He must have wished a bit too hard for an exit, as it appeared - right behind him; the wall receded from behind him, leaving him to fall from the vehicle.

He anticipated the impact, flailing at realization and attempting to right himself.

Instead of a hard floor, something cushioned his head from the blow it deserved.

His eyes darted upward. His soul left his body yet again as he met the same gaze as earlier -this time unobstructed by bars.

The hand nudged him upward, allowing him to scramble to his feet and back into the container he had, only a moment ago, complained to be rid of.

“Don’t touch me!” He hissed, backing up so far his shoulders touched the wall.

“Would you rather I let you fall?” He made a beckoning gesture that Lance ignored. He drew closer to the exit, leaning down in order to peer at Lance.

He felt like an idiot huddled in a corner, but what was he supposed to do in a situation like this? Basic training and precautions had not prepared him to face an alien captor.

“Don’t bring logic into this!” Lance was partially joking, partially mortified. Humor, of course, that’s really what he needed, wasn’t it? At least it was a better coping mechanism than stupid breathing control and meditation.

“It is alright, come out of the ship.” His captor spoke, entirely unconvincingly.

“Why? So you can use me for whatever you bought me for? No, thank you!”

“You are sore, are you not? Come out, so I may remove your bindings.”

Lance took one step forward, still on the fence.

“Unless you would rather spend the cycle in my vessel?” He took a few steps backward, leaving room for Lance to exit.

It wasn’t like he had any other choice.

He kept his eye on the other, cautiously making his way out.

“Good boy, is it not better outside that stuffy ship?”

He tilted his head at the alien, his vocabulary only further confusing Lance.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Lance mumbled.

“Now, I am sure you are quite confused. You may relax, no harm will come to you so long as you are obedient.

Introductions are in order: My name is Lotor, Emperor of the Galra Empire. I have chosen you to stand alongside me as my pet.”

I have chosen you as my pet.

Pet?

Like a dog?

Not a slave, a pet?

What?

“What?”

“I purchased you to provide companionship.” Lotor clarified.

“No, I understand what a pet is.” Lance was still processing. How could he possibly articulate the whiplash that sentence gave him?

“Where lies your confusion?”

Lance held his hands infront of him in some semblance of surrender; He needed a second to clarify himself. There must be some misunderstanding, there had to be.

“There must be some sort of mix-up. I am a human -a completely sentient being if you didn’t notice. Not a dog. I know I was a bit rude earlier, but I'm really just a lost traveler. If you could just drop me off on Earth, I would appreciate it.”

“I purchased you due to your sentience.”

Lance’s eyes went wide. He took a step backward, needing some space to process. He couldn’t possibly be serious.

He spoke a bit faster, explanation descending into rambling,“I’m not sure how things work in Galra-land, but where I’m from, slavery is illegal, immoral, too. Look- I know you paid a lot for me -I can pay you back… eventually!”

“If it had not been me, it would be another bidder. I am your master now, and you should treat me as such.” He must have sensed the tension building, as he changed the subject, “We can delve into further details of the arrangement once you are settled. I presume you would like something to eat?”

“You can’t just-” Lance’s stomach rumbled, interrupting his complaint, “I suppose I could eat first.”

On second thought, he’d have plenty of time to convince him after the sharp pain in his stomach receded. He still didn’t like the idea of this, but Lotor didn’t seem to be convinced by his restrained panic. He’d have more time to talk him out of this.

The alien beckoned him closer, “Come here, small one. Let me remove those filthy things.”

“I’m not that much shorter than you.” He huffed at the fact that he was that much shorter than the other.

Despite his unease with the situation, getting close was worth the risk to receive the use of his limbs.

He wasn’t exactly filthy, but he supposed sweat and escape attempts had put wear on the device.

Lotor unlocked the handcuffs with a sharp intake of breath upon seeing the flesh beneath.

Under the bindings, his skin was red and raw. He didn’t realize he’d struggled that much.

“Oh. Poor thing. We can get that cleaned up.” His thumb grazed beside the raw skin.

“You know I am an adult, right?” Lance lied.

He wrenched his hands away from the tender grasp, hissing when the skin brushed against the other’s hand.

Lotor paid no attention to the disrespect. Lance assumed the natural consequences of his actions were enough punishment on its own.

The alien looked him up and down, considering the question.

“I do not believe that is true.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at him, “Oh, so now Mr.pointy-ear-purple-people-eater knows human biology?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them, not because he owed kindness or respect to the stranger, but rather due to the fact that they hadn’t moved an inch closer to the promised food.

Lotor pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am being lenient since you are disoriented, but I refuse to tolerate such blatant disrespect. You will refer to me as ‘Master’ or be punished.”

He spoke sternly, though, his heart was not behind it. Especially with that display of concern, Lance was entirely unintimidated. Maybe he just had a distant type of personality.

Either way, he was on a roll, he couldn’t stop now. Adrenaline flooded through him, clearly excited by the danger signs that his active mind ignored in favor of getting his mind out. Self-preservation be damned.

“You have to be kidding me. ‘Master’? Why would you even give me your name if you wanted me to call you that? It’s completely ridiculous that you-”

Lance was on the ground before he could finish his sentence.

Chapter Text

Lance was on the ground before he could finish his sentence.

His shoulder blades pressed against the cool tile as he struggled to get back up - even before understanding what had happened.

Instead of thudding to the ground with the rest of his body, something had cushioned Lance’s head from hitting the floor. It wasn’t there for long, shifting under and over to hold him.

Lotor sat on him, thighs on either side, one hand pinning both of his forearms above his head, the other on his throat. He almost wished Lotor would hold him by his wrists instead and give Lance something to hate him for. Everything seemed almost clinical. Did he hate touching Lance? Why buy a pet if you couldn’t touch it? He hadn’t hurt him yet, but it was likely a coincidence. Why would an emperor spare the rod on a pet?

He mentally smacked himself for thinking of himself as a pet. Twice even.

His countenance quickly morphed into that of a glare. He hoped he was intimidating, though considering his position, he doubted it.

These few alien experiences were definitely going to give him prejudice.

He should definitely be a bit more afraid, but all he could think of was how annoyed he was.

Waking up in a cold, dark cage was scary.

The auction was scary.

This was irritating.

“What was that for? Let me go!” Lance struggled against the hold, every movement proving unsuccessful.

Lotor’s voice was certain, unwavering, “You will remain on the ground until you submit.”

Like an animal? He mentally flipped through knowledge of scruffing. Was that this? Or was this some Galra thing?

He was unfazed by Lance’s frantic escape attempt.

Who did he think he was, holding Lance down like he owned him… which he did, didn’t he? He was not a “good” or “service”!

“What? No!” Lance thrashed, unable to loosen the grip even a smidge.

“Call me by my proper title and I will release you.” Lotor clarified.

Lance would have rolled his eyes had he not been expending all his energy trying to get away.

“Fuck off -Let me go!”

“I have you completely restrained. You are making no progress. Your species allegedly understands the concept of submission.” Lotor looked just a tad confused as if he thought Lance would submit to the knowledge that he was trapped.

Lance had made it out of worse situations before. There was definitely some wiggle room in 0% chance of escape.

“What- Of course we do- what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You are… baffling.” Lotor’s voice was less baffled, more… captivated?

Did he think this was funny or something? He didn’t look like he was laughing, though, merely amused with Lance’s antics.

Lance stopped struggling for a moment, taking deep breaths to hopefully regain his strength. To make up for his lack of energy, he glared with the intensity of a million spiteful teenagers.

"Seriously? I'm not an animal. Get off of me." He said, flailing about in an attempt to budge Lotor even a small bit.

Even if he had his hands, he doubted he’d be able to do any damage to that fancy suit of armor. What kind of jerk wears that stuff casually? Who goes on a shopping spree for some fancy new doll wearing their Prada esc. full, complete suit of-

"Not until you let me hear what I want."

“Just because you’re some pretty rich boy doesn’t mean you can boss me around.” Lance huffed. Who did he think he was?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I- no.” Lance huffed, glaring at the other with a newfound, blush fueled glare.

"We can sit here as long as you want." Lotor resolved, settling on Lance - hopefully uncomfortably.

Simultaneously, Lance decided it was worth the wait; he resigned himself to silence. This jerkwad was clearly unconvinced by his reasoning.

After what felt like hours, Lance decided questions shouldn’t be off the table. Sure, he was a big fan of sitting in silence on the cold floor, but it wouldn’t hurt to make the best of the situation. He had Lotor there unoccupied, after all.

He racked his brain for any obligation or loophole that would get the other to release him.

He had emperor duties to attend to, didn’t he? He had no idea how space emperors worked…

Lance attempted to shoot closer to home — everyone had some sort of bladder, right —, "You're gonna need to get up to go to the bathroom or something soon, right?"

"I can sit here as long as you would like." He pondered something for a moment. "But don't humans need to perform bodily functions every few Vargas as well?"

"I haven't exactly eaten in like a few days. I’m alright on that front,” He caught himself speaking a bit too casually with his captor, “-I don't need to explain this to you. You don't deserve an explanation." He huffed.

“I haven’t a clue what a ‘day’ is.”

“Touche, I have no idea what a Varga is.”

Like he needed another issue? Now he had to memorize a new system of time on top of the “surviving” and “escaping” thing.

He could ask Lotor about the various foreign things he had encountered, but he much preferred to sulk and reject him as his ”master”.

Apparently, Lotor had the same idea.

“I will explain if you submit.”

He couldn’t stand the matching train of thought. He supposed there were few things to consider when pinning/being pinned to an alien floor.

“I’m not falling for that.”

Lotor tried another strategy: "If you submit, then you can eat."

How much more would it take to convince Lotor he wasn’t a dog?

Though… eating did sound pretty good at the moment.

He worked through it in his head: Lotor just bought him — and was putting so much effort into getting him obedient — he’d likely give in and feed Lance anyway to avoid killing him.

It would be a small victory when Lotor eventually released him without submission, but it would be worth it just to foil the Galra’s shitty plan.

"I’m not even that hungry." His stomach audibly grumbled as if in response to his comment.

"It’s a nasty habit to lie.”

Lance huffed for the nth time that day, determined to wait him out.

"How long have we been sitting here?" Lance asked. He had his phone in his pocket, but it wasn’t like he could reach it from there. Either way, he’d been trying to conserve the battery.

"Around 30 dobash." Lotor estimated.

Lance sighed. He wasn’t sure how long that was, but it sounded like a lot.

Being held down by a Galra seemed like a terrible way to spend the rest of his life.

"What am I going to get out of calling you that?" Lance engaged his bargaining skills.

“Food. I’m sure you would like to get on with the day. I can show you around.” He tilted his head to the side for a moment in thought. “If we have enough time, we could work on training.”

"That doesn't sound very fun."Lance spat," I don't want to be 'trained'. I. Am. Not. Your. Pet."

"Terrans," He sighed," I knew they were stubborn, but I assumed that they at least had common sense. Do not claim I didn’t attempt to be gentle."

Lance felt Lotor move one of his knees from the floor onto his pet’s stomach.

"Wait, what? What does that mean? What are you doing." He felt the growing pressure in his abdomen start to hurt.

"Submit." Lotor reiterated the order.

"Ouch!" A sharp pain shot through him as the knee dug into him." Fuck! No!"

Was this pain worth it for the little dignity that he had left....?

In a few seconds, he couldn't take it anymore.

“Okay, fuck! Master! Stop Master, please!" He dropped his head to the side, too embarrassed by his words to continue looking Lotor in the eye.

The instant that he complied, he removed the knee.

“Very well.” He praised, removing his hand from the opposite's throat and ruffling his hair with it.

He offered Lance a hand to get up -which he immediately rejected.

“That was horrible.” The teenager complained, fixing his hair with his hands. After a moment, he gave up the vain attempt, simply crossing his arms.

“The experience is supposed to be unpleasant. Learn from it.”

The experience certainly taught him a few things, his captor was surprisingly patient, persistent, not quick to violence (which relieved him a bit), and, most concerningly, knew a few things about humans - or Terrans as Lotor had referred to them. He’d dissect things more when he had the time; He needed his mind to be in the moment.

“Whatever. Can we go already? Unless you live in the docking area.” The faster he knew the layout, the better. If he had to spend any longer listening to Lotor brag about purchasing him, he’d explode.

“One more thing before we can move on.” He turned around to fetch something from the front seat of his ship.

“Ugh, what’s next?”

Peering around Lotor, Lance noticed there were two seats in the front. How rude, leaving Lance in the back. Though, he did wonder how difficult it was to drive a spaceship with a captive actively strangling.

It couldn’t possibly be worse than having to call an alien his “master”.

Lance’s eyes went as he recognized what Lotor was holding.

It couldn’t be-

“Your collar.”

That was certainly worse than calling Lotor some stupid title.

“What? No! I’m not wearing a collar, I’m not a dog.” Lance was sure his protests went unheard.

“It is alright, come here. This won’t take long.” Lotor’s voice bordered on cooing. This guy really wasn’t a people person, was he?

Maybe Lance should have been more choosy with his battles; this was much worse than some silly title.

When Lotor approached him, he dashed to the other side of the room - well, tried to anyway. Lotor held him by the back of his coat.

He put his arms behind him, ducked out of his coat, and dashed, this time freeing himself from the grasp.

He celebrated the small victory.

“It is an article of clothing, not a punishment. If you comply, the transition will be much easier for you.”

“It’s bad enough that I’m trapped here, but having to wear a collar? Spare me my dignity, bud.” Lance hissed.

“If you do not use my proper title, pet I will correct you again.”

Lance sneered, concentrating every ounce of spite in his body into his words, “Sorry, Master.”

Lance rhythmically rubbed the button on his sleeve, debating his options.

He spoke with no less irritation, “Not to root against myself or anything, but you really should have thought about the whole collar thing when my hands were tied.”

“I prefer compliance to force.”

He tucked that one into his mental filing cabinet. Just about any information at all would be useful at the moment.

He didn’t have any bargaining chips that he knew of. Maybe he’d respect fair odds. There were so many things he didn’t know about the alien race. Anything was up in the air… he hoped.

Lance tried that idea, "Can we flip a coin on it? Heads, you free me, tails, you free-"

“This does not have to be difficult, Lance.”

Lance flinched at the use of his name.

“How did you-?”

“It’s written on your coat, ‘return to the coolest guy around, Lance’.”

Screw his past self. How dare he?

Lotor continued, holding the collar toward him, “You can smell or put it on yourself it if that would make you feel better. Either way, the collar is not optional.”

Smell? What?

He was too tired for this.

He’d just have to figure out how to remove it later.

“Just- whatever. Give me my jacket back.” He grumbled, crossing his arms.

He turned his head to the side, staring at the floor rather than the smug countenance that Lotor likely sported.

Lotor made purposeful strides, seemly to affix the collar before Lance refused again.

Rather than going behind Lance, he stood in front of him, clicking the collar in place at the back.

Lance gasped a small intake of breath at the sound.

“This doesn’t make me your pet.” He huffed.

It didn't sound like the simple latch of human-made collars - that might make his escape a bit tougher than expected.

“I’m not the one wearing the collar.”

He hated Lotor was right. Though, no more than he hated how the air tensed as he stood merely inches away.

He had such an casual experience restraining Lance a minute ago; He wondered how much stronger Lotor was than he let on. The same hand that forced him to the ground now carefully marked him as his property.

Lotor’s ghosting touch remained on his skin, — even after hands left his throat — the feeling akin to that of static on an old television.

Lance’s eyes remained downcast, unwilling to look at the Galra as he waited for them to move on.

Then, a finger under his chin, the slightest amount of pressure. Lotor tilted his head up gently, likely inspecting the way the collar sat on tanned skin.

Lance felt more vulnerable than the moments he’d been pinned to the tile.

His brain shut off. He couldn’t have had a single thought if he tried. He should have jerked away, or made some rude comment, or… anything really. As Lotor guided him, he stood obediently allowing the ministrations.

When his finger moved him again, he was staring back into the blue eyes he’d been avoiding so strongly. The look on Lotor’s face alone had his brain melting. It was so genuine. Genuine with what, he didn’t know.

He swallowed, the sound so much louder than comfortable.

“Lovely.”

If his eyes could have gone any wider, they certainly did, then and there. A compliment? He was too used to scorn. It shouldn’t have softened him so much. He was a pilot, a trained individual, a mature… almost adult. He didn’t have the training to handle a very handsome alien inches away from his face.

His brain should have had an “out of service” sign decorating it.

His face instantly burned with warmth, a blush no doubt covering his face.

Lance didn’t know what to say.

“I-”

Lotor’s eyes mirrored his, going wide at his own words as if surprised to have uttered them.

“The collar, I mean.” Lotor pulled away, clearing his throat, “I- shouldn’t have said that. Apologies, small one.”

Lance let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Did he… apologize? What? Lance didn’t think he’d ever been this confused.

“It’s alright.” Lance scratched the back of his neck, jolting when he touched the collar he’d already forgotten about.

Why did he say alright? It wasn’t alright. He finally had a chance to petition and yet he’d been too entranced to think of a single thing. He blamed it on disorientation.

He shook his head, attempting to ground himself. He needed to be attentive, any clue could help him escape.

When Lotor handed his jacket over, Lance spared no time slipping it back on.

“Come along.”

For once, he didn’t have to tell Lance twice.

He paid attention to Lotor as he opened the door, hoping to memorize a passcode.

Lotor placed his hand on a panel beside the door; the door opening instantly upon command.

Fantastic. A hand scanner. His luck was not improving in the slightest.

He glanced at the panel as he followed Lotor through the door, disappointed to find writing he couldn’t begin to understand.

“This place isn’t so great,” Lance commented without bothering to look around.

He paid so much attention to trying to look uninterested that he didn’t notice someone else until he smacked his face into a wall

He stumbled backward, nearly falling if not for the hand gripping his nape.

Upon further inspection, the wall was a suit of armor - a suit of armor with ten tons of purple fluff sticking out of it

Was this a Galra too? He looked nothing like Lotor. Was that speciesist? He kind of assumed they’d be generally the same, but the only similarity was the differing hues of purple that colored their skin.

Before he knew what was happening, the hand on him had lifted him to eye level. He crossed his arms, securing the -- still open and currently slipping from his body -- jacket to him. He understood the rough treatment with him, though he wished they would leave his poor jacket out of it.

He kicked at what he determined to be a soldier.

“Can I go ten minutes without being yoinked? Let me go!”

Yet again, Lance’s grievance went unnoticed. His efforts resulted in a single glance from the soldier.

“Would you like me to take him to your quarters for you, Sire?” He spoke.

“No, that is alright. Thank you.”

Despite his struggle, it was rather comedic to see this hulking beast of pure muscle, fur, and anger getting ordered around by Lotor.

The soldier released him, making some strange hand signal the second his hands were unoccupied.

Lotor urged him to continue to what, hopefully, was the kitchen

“Who was that?”

“His name is Syntax. You need not fear him or the other guards. They are here for your protection.”

“More people catering to your sick fantasy. Fantastic.” Lance sighed. Not only did he have to escape Lotor, but now he had to flee from a squad of armed guards too. His day only got worse the longer it went on.

“The more you insult me, the less inclined I am to answer your questions.” he continued, now speaking through gritted teeth, “Besides, I wouldn’t do this if I had a choice.”

Lance held his hands in front of him in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, sorry, sorry, I like answers. Do go on. What species was that guy? I thought you said you were the Galra Emperor, but that guy looks nothing like you. Why was he so cool with you owning a person? Are we in Galra land right now? You don’t have a choice? I thought you said you were an emperor.”

He asked questions rapid-fire as if his life depended on it… and in his case, it might. If Lotor was willing to answer, he should hurry up and ask before he took his word back.

They now breached the threshold of a recognizable eating area. A table and chairs sat ont one side of the room. In the back of the room, a counter connected to an area with many metal appliances.

“One at a time, please.” Lotor corrected.

Lance watched him, preferring deeper questions to temporary antics, “Is he a ‘Galra’ too?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Why do you look so different?”

“I am of mixed species.” Lotor made his way to the counter, grabbing two dishes from the countertop.

“Why was he so cool with you owning me?”

“Many rulers own other creatures.”

“Well, why-”

Lotor cut him off, clicking one of the plates onto the table, “I believe that is enough questions for now.”

“I’m playing nice. Come on, answer.” Lance urged.

“I am sure you would prefer to eat.”

He mumbled a response, “I guess so.”

When he attempted to sit in the chair opposite Lotor, he waved him off, gesturing to the floor.

“Really?” Was it necessary to make him eat at his foot?

“Yes, really. That is where a pet eats.” Lotor spoke as if it was common knowledge.

When Lance was properly seated on the floor beside him, he placed the human’s portion on the ground.

“What. Is. That?” Lance asked, disgusted at the ‘food’ offered to him. He expected some sort of food goo or alien dish, not a bowl of unappetizing pellets. He wasn’t even good enough for wet food?

“Your meal.” Lotor replied, unamused by Lance’s protests.

He tapped the bowl aimlessly to watch the pellets shake around, "Not even Hunk could make that look appetizing.” He complained. Though, Hunk probably could improve it at least a little with his magically cooking powers.

He could smell the rich aroma of Lotor's food.

"Why don't I get some of that stuff? It's obvious you can afford it for both of us." He protested.

"You have your own food. It is the most nutritionally balanced thing for you." He brushed Lance off, digging into his food.

"I have tastebuds too. At least give me some of your food or I won't eat at all. You wouldn't want me to die from starvation right after you just bought me." It was his only bargaining chip. He sure as hell was going to use it.

Lotor sighed, "Tolerate it for this meal at least.”

Lotor continued, noticing Lance’s longing look at the steaming plate, “Will you eat your food if you get some of mine?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He shrugged, desperate to have a morsel of Lotor's tantalizing food.

"Here." He cut off a piece of meat and held it between his fingers towards his pet.

Lance started to reach for it with his hand when Lotor corrected him.

"Take it with your mouth." He instructed, pulling the chunk away from Lance’s outstretched hand.

Lance had already gone this far; he wasn’t going to be turned away by yet another degrading action, especially when he was so close to a snack. Before he could process the embarrassment and talk himself out of it, he snatched the meat with his teeth.

The human hummed with pleasure as he tasted the savory bite.

"Satisfied?"

Grumbling about the unfairness of the world, he swallowed his pride and prodded at the pellets in his bowl. He popped a few into his mouth. It was like a thicker cereal. It wasn’t that bad. The shitty garrison rations were probably worse. But if Lotor was as rich as he seemed, he had no right to hold out on Lance.

"Are you sure that this crap is designed for humans to eat?"

"Are you doubting my ability to provide for a pet?" He sounded like he was done with Lance’s arguments.

"Yes? This is horrible.”

“I will look into it for your next meal. Human research is limited, to say the least. Now, no more talking. Eat.”

Lance stood up, moving to lean against the table. With Lotor still sitting, he liked being the tall one for once.

“You’ve never had a person at all, have you?”

“Am I supposed to answer that, Pet?” Lotor answered, truly embodying that stuck up accent.

He wasn’t trying to offend Lotor with his observation -that was just a bonus.

“I don’t see any other sentient beings with your claim on them. Where did you get information on humans if you’ve never had one before? Why are you so careful when manhandling me? This whole thing seems to be more than you bargained for.

“You don’t want this, and I certainly don’t want this. If you let me go, we can put all this behind us. I could see us being friends outside of this whole kidnapping situation.”

Lotor shot up, moving the height difference back into his favor. He stood over Lance, the proximity and speed making him shrink back.

If his posturing wasn’t enough, he spoke with an intensity that brought goosebumps to his skin.

“I am attempting to provide a smooth transition for a clearly disturbed and confused creature. I have not established rules yet in order to give you time to adjust to a new environment, but if you continue to misbehave, I will reprimand you nonetheless.

“So, sit, and eat or tasteless pellets will be the least of your problems.”

“Pfft, okay, whatever.” His words were supposed to be carefree -though the speed at which he dropped to the floor disagreed with any intended nonchalance.

As Lotor sat back in his seat, still radiating an irritated aura, Lance sulked on the ground, crunching on pellets.

The urge to be rebellious remained, despite the correction. He shoved a handful of pellets into his coat pocket. Who knew?

He’d need food when he hit the road after all.

Chapter Text

After he’d shown his “master” an empty plate, Lotor guided him down a hallway to what appeared to be a relatively normal bedroom - aside from certain chrome aspects, confusing technology, and ever-present awful ambient purple light.

One side of the room had a couch set and coffee table, while the other was adorned with bedroom furnishings.

“This is your room? Or is it mine?” Lance tilted his head as he observed the layout. While it was far from the hardwood floors and family portraits of his home, it didn’t look that different from somewhere a human might live. Well, if he didn’t succeed, it was where a human would live.

He didn’t respond. Maybe he should just start talking to himself, at least he’d get more answers that way.

Lotor sat in an armchair, gesturing for Lance to sit on the floor in front of him. There were other chairs he could sit in; Why did he have to sit on the floor?

“Sit. You wanted answers, did you not?”

When Lance remained in place, hesitating, he stood up again, guiding Lance to the floor with a few fingers on each shoulder. He did want answers, so Lance allowed it, settling comfortably on the ground as he anticipated Lotor’s response.

“Good boy.” Lotor sat again, crossing his legs.

“You understand I purchased you to be my companion?”

“Pet. Not companion.” Lance huffed, crossing his arms.

Sure, they were pretty much the same, but one could mistake the word “companion” for that of an equal (or willing) friend - neither of which he was.

Lotor ignored the correction, taking his answer as a “yes”.

“As an emperor, I am held to a certain standard. A societal expectation, if you will. A trend among rulers — started by my late father, unfortunately — insists that a pet is… essential to prove one is a formidable ally or in the worst case, foe. While I am not the fondest of this fascination, the time has come that I must indulge the masses. A necessary evil, unfortunately.”

“That is where you are required. You are to be beside me for certain functions and duties.”

He was just for decoration? Just for Lotor’s ranking? While it was certainly better than… other fates he could picture, it was just as demeaning. Sure, he’d considered being a trophy husband in the past, but at least he was an equal in that scenario.

“So, I’m a lapdog?”

“I know not of this ‘dog’ but you will sit on my lap on occasion.” Lotor nodded.

Lance took a deep breath.

His voice came out shakier than intended, “Look, I’m sure plenty of people would appreciate this opportunity, but I’m not one of them. Can you please just get someone else? I have a family, a home back on Earth.”

He was unphased; he wasn’t. Lance was just going through caffeine withdrawal or something. He was calm and collected. Calm as a clam. It was fine. It would be alright. He’d just keep asking. One of these times, Lotor would come to his senses, right?

“That is not an option. I am unable to return you to your home even if I desired.”

“You’re an Emperor! Why can’t you?” Lance couldn’t stand the flawed logic. His hands balled into fists, nails digging into his palm.

“News will spread that I purchased a pet. If I released you, I would face judgment for letting a mere pet escape. Not to mention those who would hunt you for ransom or claim you as their own. You are unable to comprehend your worth.”

That was the thing, he wasn’t worth anything. He wasn’t worth the money Lotor spent on him. He wasn’t worth the fuel traveling this far into space (he lamented the stupid rigged trip while he had the energy to be pissed). He wasn’t worth the attention he gave him.

It shouldn’t matter that it was him specifically.

He still wouldn’t be worth anything if he’d just followed instructions for once in his life.

Lance had always assumed that if he was ever picked for anything special, it would be more like Barbie Princess Charm school and a lot less like Silence of the Lambs.

Lance pondered an alternative to just releasing him. He wanted a human, right? His planet had more than they knew what to do with.

“I don’t want to be some shiny doll for aliens to gawk at. See this from my perspective, please? I won’t tell anyone, okay? We could go to Earth and pick someone new out for you, right? There’s plenty of Xenophiles- and I’m sure we all look alike to you, anyway.”

That was a perfect idea. It had to work. They could just check search histories or something. There were homeless and starving people too; plenty of people would be thankful to have someone to care for them.

“You may not leave, but I will give you a choice.” Lotor’s response did nothing to console him.

He didn’t want to play some stupid alien mind game -he just wanted to go home. His chest ached at the continuing rejection.

“You may live beside me, cared for and trained by my hand or, if you prefer, you may choose to live on your own, trained by a hired hand. Other than gatherings, you would live on your own in a room with any amenity you require.”

“I don’t know, who’s going to hit me harder?” Lance scoffed. How dare he condemn Lance to this fate so casually?

“I understand you are upset with me. That is why I am providing you with a choice to live without my presence. Mild corporal corrections are the most you will receive. Your body will not be damaged in any circumstance.” he affirmed.

“Kidnapped and I’m still not wanted. Great. Real flattering scenario here. If you don’t even want me, why are you giving me the option at all? Why don’t you just pawn me off to your stable hand and call it a day?”

“I w- No one deserves that. I brought you into this position, it’s my responsibility to teach you. Even if your opinion of me is… not the greatest, I will not force you to grow up with the nanny.”

Lotor ameliorated the statement as soon as it left his lips, “to live with the trainer.”

What was that supposed to mean? Odd.

Stuck in a controlled environment 24/7 — or whatever time system the Galra employed — with someone whose entire job is to discipline and ‘train’ him, or living alongside the stuck-up prince who seemed to know, well slightly less about the subject at least.

Living with Lotor was undesirable, but then again he might get free reign of the ship.

He had to choose the lesser of two evils.

“I’d rather live with you.” He sighed, nodding decisively.

“You understand you will have to obey me and use my proper title?”

It took all of his willpower to force his words out, “Yes, Master.” Lance hesitated for a second- something gnawing at his mind. If he rejected Lotor — disobeyed as he knew he would — would Lance be forced to endure that fate?

Lance continued, “If I screw up, would you make me live like that?” Lance bit the inside of his lip the moment he finished speaking, anxious for the answer.

“No, never. I swear it.” Lotor’s words sounded genuine to him.

He should doubt him -it was only common sense to. He wasn’t sure why, but Lance trusted him.

Lance nodded.

“Very well, Pet. I cannot say I am not pleased you chose me.” He pet Lance’s hair before he could recognize it and pull away.

“I’m sure you’re tired after the long day. You may sleep after we get you cleaned up.”

While Lance would love to disagree more, a bath actually sounded nice. He’d been wearing the same pair of underwear for at least a week, his hair was greasy and felt just wrong on the back of his neck, and his muscles were tenser than watching a cat approach a glass of water on the edge of a table.

“Please tell me you don’t dust bath like some sort of space chinchilla.”

Sometimes Lance regretted his comments. While he received no punishment, he faced the task of explaining what both dust-bath, and a chinchilla were.

They entered the washroom through the bedroom. It had the normal utilities of a bathroom along with additional technology (four shower heads, lit panels, and other appliances he couldn’t begin to explain), a bathtub large enough for multiple people, and bottles of mysterious substances in Galra characters.

He was tempted to look around, but he’d done enough exploring that day (and really preferred not to get corrected again). Maybe once Lotor went to sleep he’d tried eating the space equivalent of a tide pod.

Lotor ran the — normal-looking and hopefully water — bath while Lance explained the vocabulary, swinging his feet on the toilet lid as he tried to picture the fluffy orb that was a chinchilla. Well, he was stuck in space with some strange alien emperor, but at least he didn’t have to run his own bath.

“Bubbles?” Lotor brought him out of his thoughts abruptly. Had he been speaking before?

“What?” Lance tilted his head at him, reflexively giving himself extra time to process Lotor’s question.

"They are small shiny spheres created when gas gets trapped-"

"I know what bubbles are." Lance interrupted

"Where is your confusion?"

"I am a grown-ass man."Lance pouted, reiterating that fact. He hoped it was humanizing, but he wasn’t sure how that worked with aliens who wanted you due to that fact.

"And you don't want bubbles?" Lotor raised an eyebrow, shaking the bottle temptingly.

After a moment, he sighed."Yes, please."

Who said that space had to be depressing all the time? At least baths were the same in space. He’d take the wins he could get.

"That's what I thought." He smirked, pouring a gracious amount into the bathtub.

The room filled with an off floral scent -fragrance mixing nicely with the steam.

"Done. You may enter.”

He stood up from the toilet seat, making his way to the pleasant-looking tub. A large layer of bubbles obscured the water. The first thing he was looking forward to since this whole kidnapping thing. He nearly hopped in when Lotor stopped him.

“Do humans bathe clothed?”

Lance tried his luck. He wasn’t completely lying. He remembered a meme of someone washing themselves in their clothes back on Earth.

“Yes,” Lance answered tentatively.

He was pretty sure Lotor was unconvinced, but he catered to Lance nonetheless.

“Well, unfortunately, you will have to bathe the Galra way from now on.” He looked to Lance expectantly.

Lance scooted back and wrapped his arms around his coat self-consciously as if that would do anything to stop Lotor, "Can you leave the room or something at least?"

"I am not leaving you alone to spill water all over the floor or eat the detergent."

"But-"

"The water will go cold before you concede. Take the clothes off, or I will remove them for you. You will be much more comfortable once you are clean.”

He’d taken a shower in public before, why should it be any different in front of an alien? He despised having to reason with himself.

What about his clothes? They certainly weren’t up to alien standards. He doubted he’d get a suit of armor like Lotor, but he also doubted he’d be allowed to wear his own again.

If he couldn’t keep his dignity, he’d want his jacket at least. He had a few useful things in there - not just the stashed pellets.

"Can I at least keep them after?" He bartered.

"Yes, you may. Now strip." Lotor corrected.

”Fine.” He dropped his jacket to the floor with a huff. He only paused when he went to remove his shirt, noticing the collar around his neck.

“Can you take this off? I don’t want to get shocked or anything.” Lance poked a finger under the collar, tugging it away from his body. It had enough room to shift up and wash under, but that didn’t he’d miss a respite from it.

”Worry not, it is waterproof.” He ruffled Lance’s hair before he could scoot away.

He sighed, taking off his shirt.

He turned away as he undid his pants, schluffing his pants and underwear off at the same time before hurrying into the water.

He sank into the water with an involuntary sigh, melting as the water soothed his aching muscles. He deserved this. He could use a respite. Lance wished he could just sink into the bath and disappear.

He wasn’t sure what to wash with, so he just messed with the bubbles as he waited for further instruction. He didn’t want to accidentally wash with the alien equivalent of bleach after all.

A glance to Lotor revealed him… folding his clothes? He placed them one by one in a neat stack on the countertop.

He watched Lotor as he finished off, keeping an eye out for any funny moves or discarding motions near his clothes. He’d expected Lotor to pull out some gizmo to mess with to pass the time or some sort of alien abacus. What he hadn’t expected was for the Emperor to doff pieces of armor one by one.

“That’s not necessary, please put your clothes back on!” He added as an afterthought, hoping to convince, “Master?”

Luckily, under the armor, Lotor wore a skintight black base layer, sparing Lance from having to view any alien genitals.

“Very good, Pet.” He praised the use of his proper title despite Lance’s intention to deter him, “I merely wish to assist with your fur. I will not be joining you this time.”

He continued to remove armor despite Lance’s protests. After shedding every solid piece, he sat on the edge of the tub, rolling the pant layer up to his knees.

“Really, It’s fine. I know I’m a mess, but I totally got it okay? I wouldn’t want to stress your precious Emperor hands on some filthy animal.” He scooted to the opposite end of the tub as Lotor sat at head, feet and calves sunk into the tub.

“You are not some filthy animal, think higher of yourself. Come here, pet. Let me wash your fur.”

“That’s all you want to do?” Lance raised an eyebrow at him, unconvinced.

“Masters tend to their pets. You have my word.” Lotor assured, beckoning him closer.

Lance hesitantly scooted toward Lotor, settling between his legs.

At least he was still mostly clothed.

Lance didn’t want to risk Lotor undressing further, so he complied as Lotor to gently tilted Lance’s head.

He looked into Lotor’s eyes for but a moment before a hand drew up to his hairline.

He had to admit, it was nice to be cared for, even if it happened to be his captor. He couldn’t help another relieved sigh leaving his lips as Lotor wet his hair. Water pressure melted away the stress in his scalp.

Lotor shampooed Lance, taking his time to thoroughly clean his grimy hair. He massaged Lance’s scalp from front to back, releasing tension Lance didn’t know he had.

The shampoo’s aroma filled his nose; it was crisp, fresh, and slightly fruity - though far from the point of sickening sweetness.

“Why?” Lance asked, eyes closed as he relaxed in Lotor’s ministrations. There was such thing as “too good to be true”, there had to be a reason Lotor was being kind -he clearly wanted something in exchange. He understood being careful when restraining Lance —he didn’t want to damage his new toy— by why now, when completely unnecessary?

He wouldn’t fall for these mind games- whatever they were.

“‘Why’, what pet?” Lotor chuckled.

Pfft, like he needed clarification. He knew exactly what he was doing- Lance was unconvinced.

“Why this? If you didn’t even want me, why would you tend to me? I figured you’d be doing the bare minimum.”

“Do you know what a pet is, Lance?”

Of course he did, he wasn’t an idiot.

“An animal you keep around to prod and parade around.” Lance huffed, though his words held none of his earlier venom. He was far too relaxed to be seriously irritated.

“Are you telling the truth pet; is that what you believe?”

Lance didn’t respond. He’d said the first thing that came to mind about his jarring situation and certainly was not going to admit it.

Lotor scratched Lance’s scalp lightly as he spoke, “It is alright. Few still know the meaning of the word.

“A pet is a creature whose sole role is to provide companionship and obedience. They need not work or strain, merely spending their cycles lounging.” He paused for a moment, addressing Lance’s concern about being ‘paraded’ around, “While it is not required to have an attractive pet, it certainly doesn’t hurt. Is it not selfish to keep that beauty from the world?”

Lance disagreed, nearly shaking his head if not in fear of the sensation stopping, “You’ve got poor taste in company then; I’m not some delicate flower to be ‘cherished’ -I’m a soldier, a pilot. I’m not particularly special or pretty. I’m certainly not obedient, and if you haven't noticed, I don’t particularly like you.”

“Do not put yourself down. Might I reiterate, you are worth more than you comprehend. You need not believe you aren't good enough.”

Lance wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He wasn’t a Queen’s purebred corgi or an Aristocat -of course, he wasn’t good enough. How many times did he have to tell Lotor that he was just some random guy from Earth?

Part of him wanted to believe Lotor, to think he was something special but the only thing that made him “special” was the mistake of going into space.

Thinking about it was too much effort. Lotor was right about one thing: he was exhausted after the long day. He was just about done thinking.

He tilted Lance’s head back, yet again, carefully rinsing the suds.

“But, to answer your question: It has been a long time since I have tended to another creature. While I may not want to succumb to societal expectations and keep another creature, I would not dare to take that out on you. Being under my care should be enjoyable, even if it takes many cycles to adjust.”

That… was a surprisingly nice sentiment. He wasn’t sure how much he believed it, but the intention hung with him. If it was up to him, he’d be out of there before he needed to adjust.

He almost wanted to purposefully not enjoy anything, simply out of spite but was pretty sure he’d collapse and implode if he was pure rage and hate 24/whatever. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be obstinate though. If he wanted to keep Lance as a pet, he was going to get the full package, complaints, mischief, and all.

Lotor squeezed another bottle into his palm, lathering it into Lance’s hair.

He’d rather eat his jacket than admit how nice the sensation was.

If he leaned into the touch, no one would know.

Lotor rinsed his hair.

“All clean. There you are, pet.” He ruffled the wet hair.

When Lotor provided him with a washcloth, Lance hurriedly washed the rest of his body before he ended up falling asleep in the tub. The faster he was clothed again, the better.

Thankfully, Lotor handed him a towel to cover himself before he left the bath.

Common sense came back to him in waves as he stood up.

Stupid bath. Stupid trance. Stupid Lotor with his stupidly nice touch.

How dare Lotor treat him like that? Did he think he could simply spew some sugary words and expect Lance to fall head over heels for this “relationship”? He was unamused. Sure, he’d sat and taken it, but that was simply a matter of survival. Who knew what would happen if he rejected Lotor? He wouldn’t be some docile mutt for a few nice words about how much money Lotor spent on him.

Trying to keep the peace, who did he think he was?

He huffed to himself, venting silently as he dried himself off. Maybe he shouldn't have chosen Lotor.

“I will fetch some clothes for you.” Lotor left the bathroom, leaving the door cracked.

When Lotor returned, he’d already dressed. He held a stack of purple clothes in one hand.

Purple -he should expect it by now. Did they have to theme everything after their skin?

Humans didn't have some sad brown-beige aesthetic- oh. Werner Herzog was rolling in his grave.

He slipped on the clothes, thankful that the stretchy material of the shorts allowed a cleaner fit. The top was some sort of tunic of the same material - it draped to midthigh, the same length as his shorts.

It could have been worse. At least it was comfortable.

“The tailor is set to arrive in a few cycles for your measurements. You will have to tolerate these until then.”

“Measurements? You could just grab me some T-shirts, I’m a medium.”

Even if sizes were different in space, he could probably measure himself; he didn’t need some alien to come in and jab at him.

Lotor’s expression contorted to that of offended disbelief, “You will not be wearing anything like…that. Your closet will be custom-made. You need sleepwear, lounge clothes, daily outfits, and, of course, fine dress for public appearances.”

A custom closet? Like an entire wardrobe sewn for him? He really didn’t need that.

He knew he should be pressuring Lotor to spend more money if anything — to make his pockets hurt for kidnapping him— but he couldn’t see such frivolous spending. He knew space malls existed, they could just stop by one of those.

“Oh.” What else could he say?

He hadn’t realized this was such a complex subject; Lance usually just threw on whatever. He didn’t need more than hand-me-downs -it wasn’t like his sense of style was the best anyway. His jacket tied any outfit together.

He showed Lance around the bathroom before they left for the bedroom. He provided Lance with hygiene supplies, allowing him to brush his teeth of the odd pellet aftertaste.

He followed Lotor to the bedroom.

The only thing on his mind was sleep. He could swear it had been the longest day(or cycle?) of his life.

Upon a glance at the single bed, he looked to Lotor again, “You never answered me earlier, did you? Is this my room or yours?”

Maybe he had some dog bed stashed somewhere. While it would be demeaning, Lance wasn’t sure he had dignity left to lose.

“This is your home now, as well.” Lotor corrected, “You will sleep at the foot of my bed.”

He spoke so casually that Lance almost missed it.

“What?! You’re kidding me, right?” Lance took a step backward.

Not only did he have to sleep alongside Lotor, but at the foot of his bed? It turned out he did have dignity to lose. He couldn’t be serious.

“Do I appear to be joking, Pet?”

What a prick.

“No, but-”

“No, what?”

Lance huffed at the correction, ameliorating his statement quickly to get back to the point, “No, Master.”

“Then what is your concern?”

“Can I have my own bed, please?” He remembered the correction, adding, “Master?”

“You may not, but thank you for using your manners. Pets sleep at the foot or on the floor. Am I understood?”

“But-”

“Am I understood?”

Lance gritted the answer through his teeth, “Yes, Master.”

How dare he be firm with him? Couldn’t he bother to yell so Lance could be pissed instead of frustrated? If he was supposed to be a pet, shouldn’t his puppy eyes be convincing enough?

All he wanted to do was collapse into bed and now he had to face yet another moral conundrum about something as minuscule as sleeping.

For the past weeks, he’d slept on shitty Garrison bunks and hard metal slabs; he wanted to sleep on a real bed for once. One was right in front of his nose and yet he had to debate sleeping in it.

“I’ll sleep on the bed. I’m not happy about it though.” Lance crossed his arms, sitting on the end of the bed as he waited for Lotor to settle in and turn off the lights.

Maybe he could incapacitate Lotor while he’s asleep -it would be Lotor’s fault after all for forcing such short proximity.

“Very well, Pet. I am sure you will find the bed much more comfortable.” He strode to Lance, linking a line to his collar before clicking the opposite end to a bedpost at the foot.

“Of course a leash. That’s exactly what I wanted right now -another reminder that I’m a dog now.”

He ignored Lance in favor of explaining himself, “If you need to wake me, you can simply speak. Do not abuse this privilege.”

He rolled his eyes at Lotor’s threat, inspecting the leash instead of responding.

Lance tested how far he could go on the bed by crawling across it, discovering the decent distance he could travel. He wouldn’t be able to reach Lotor, even at the leash’s limit.

He’d complain more when he had the energy.

Lotor placed a folded blanket beside Lance before moving to the head of the Bed.

“I do hope you are more agreeable well-rested.”

“I’m not, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Lance gave him the cheekiest smile he could manage (with his complete and utter lack of energy) before flopping backward on the bed.

“Sleep well, Pet.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Chapter Text

“When’s the last time you’ve been to space, Hunk?”

“Well never, but-”

“Exactly! This could be our only chance to go!”

Lance looked at Hunk as he worked on an assignment, folding papers into footballs and balloons instead of doing anything useful. He’d been chipping away at Hunk all morning, attempting to convince him.

They’d selected his bunk group to tour the Garrison base on Mars. Lance wasn’t sure how his group was chosen, since none of his instructors seemed to like him, but was thankful nonetheless.

While Lance was ecstatic and Pidge seemed… intense (and slightly less gloomy than usual), Hunk wasn’t impressed.

“We are training for the sole purpose of going to space Lance - I think we’ll have another opportunity down the road.” Hunk raised a doubtful eyebrow at him.

“Not like this, not as bros! It’s like a vacation, Hunk! What do we have to do? Try out a few new flight simulators may be, smile pretty for the cameras so they can put us in the newspaper?

“I know you heard them- we don’t even have to drive there; the autopilot should have us there in a few days, easy peasy.” Lance wasn’t sure if his gestures were convincing, but that didn’t stop him from acting his points out.

The door clicked open while he spoke -Pidge must be back from his first class of the day early. Lance didn't greet him, too concerned with convincing Hunk.

“I’m far enough away from my family here, but Mars? I don’t know, Lance.” Hunk rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’ll have me! I’ll be beside you the whole time.” he placed a hand on the other’s shoulder, grounding him with a reminder of his presence.

Pidge butted into the conversation, “Are you talking about the expedition? You can’t just not go. They picked our unit.”

“They could probably just swap me out with Connor or Jordan I’m sure they’d love to go.”

Lance sighed, “Either of them would make the trip a drag-”

“I don’t think you understand. We trained as a unit -they won’t just swap out one member, they’ll choose another group entirely. I can’t lose this opportunity.” Pidge’s words grew harsher the longer he spoke.

This was the most emotion they’d seen him have since he’d enlisted. Usually, he’d only spare a grunt or two while he tapped away at his computer.

He didn't realize Pidge was so invested in the trip. Whatever mania overtook him was undoubtedly not proving Lance’s point.

Lance stepped in again, speaking more calmly (and more convincingly) than Pidge, “Look, it’ll probably be two weeks in space max. I swear It’ll go by before you know it.”

With a smile and a nod, he’d convinced Hunk.

He wasn’t sure if it was due to his reassurance, or simply the underlying threat of Pidge’s voice, but he’d agreed.

Finally, Lance was part of something special, something big. One of the first students allowed at the Mars campus - that was something noteworthy alright.

It was about time -finally some recognition for his greatness… in whichever way that may be

In all honesty, he wasn't sure how he’d been picked. Sure, he tried his best in class, but his instructors didn't particularly like him. Maybe Hunk and Pidge’s grades were enough to carry him.

Either way, he didn’t plan on taking it for granted.

He was already itching to try out the newest flight simulator.

They’d done a few test take-offs before the day of their departure, though there wasn’t much to do. The ship had only three rooms and a storage hull, each of which was babyproofed so much so that the three of them couldn’t have messed it up if they tried. There wasn’t even a control panel beyond air conditioning - the panel was shut behind locking doors, set to open only under the circumstance they lost connection to the Garrison and needed to manually pilot to their destination.

The likelihood of that happening was nil. The ship, route, and routine had all been tested and practiced a hundred times over. Image what losing a student would do to the Garrison’s reputation, especially after they lost Takashi Shirogane and a few other crew members on the journey to Kerberos.

If anything went wrong on this journey, Lance would eat his jacket.

Despite Lance’s outward confidence, Hunk wasn’t the only one with doubts. He could confidently say he was about as nervous as Hunk was.

The only difference between them was a comedy coping mechanism and the ability to convert nerves to excitement. If nothing, he was optimistic.

It might not be a gigantic part of it, but his name would go down in history…

Or at the very least, it would be a unique experience with his best bud.

Either way, he’d make the most of it.

It wasn’t long until the day had come. The day that they were to begin their journey.

Lance had already triple-checked his luggage - they’d have enough board games to occupy them until their landing. Despite only being there for a few (earth) days, he’d packed underwear as if he planned to shit himself twice a day each

Their families had been invited out to say their farewells and watch the takeoff. With a stern look from his instructor, a few deep breaths of natural Earth air, and a promise to come back safe, they were off.

"We are actually in space!" Hunk said as he watched the ship’s ascent through Earth’s atmosphere.

“We did it, dude! We’re here! We’re on our way!”

Soon, the blue of Earth’s atmosphere had dissipated, leaving only the expanse of space and stars in front of them.

“You’re awful quiet over there. How’re you doing Pidgeon?”

“I’m alright.” He grunted, peering up at the view for a moment before turning back to his laptop to click away. How did he even get that in his seat during take-off?

Maybe he had space nausea or something.

After the thrill of an official count down, the novelty had already worn off. They couldn’t even turn off the artificial gravity due to student safety restrictions

“What do we do now?” Lance asked, staring out the static image of stars around them.

“Just, wait I guess.” Hunk shrugged. He’d been laying on his bunk since they’d let them remove seatbelts. He needed to work on getting his space legs.

“You know, I thought there’d be a lot more fire and asteroids,” Lance noted, tilting his head at the view.

“You what?!” Hunk shot up from his bunk, now introduced to a new fear.

They had a long ride ahead of them

~~~

Lance didn’t notice something was off until he’d woken up in the morning, or rather, mid-day as it would be back on earth.

He’d played card games with Hunk all night, accidentally hanging out until the beginning of the next day's cycle before they bothered to crash.

He returned to consciousness in a harsh jolt with a mouth of sand and no idea where he was.

After orienting himself, he snuck out of the bunk room, leaving Hunk alone to catch up on rest.

They probably shouldn’t have pulled an all-nighter their first cycle off Earth, but what else were they supposed to do? It was the first time they could do something like that - finally unrestrained by curfew or lights out.

He couldn’t possibly wake Hunk after he’d insisted they stay up that late, so he scuttled to the kitchenette on his own.

Despite the dimmed lights of the ship (still in night mode) a square of light shined from the corner.

Pidge was holed up on their laptop as usual. Lance wasn’t quite sure what they always did on that device. It wasn’t like they had any schoolwork due in the vast emptiness of space.

Did he write smutty fanfic? Play Minecraft? Master minesweeper? It was a mystery to Lance.

Well, it wouldn’t be a mystery for long.

Pidge wasn’t just huddled up in the corner, he was huddled up against the wall, next to the walled-off panel.

The walled-off panel looked a lot less walled off.

Lance peered over his shoulder, not quite absorbing the numbers scrawled across the screen.

"Hey, Pidgeon, what're you doing with that ominous hole in the wall?"

"Rerouting the autopilot." He didn’t look up from his computer screen.

"Rerouting the what? I don’t think you can do that Pidge. They’re expecting us on Mars.” Lance pointed out. He felt like an idiot reiterating the obvious - but what else could he say? Lance was beginning to internally panic at the change of plans. He couldn’t be serious… right?

“Well, now they’re expecting us on Kerberos.” He pushed his glasses further up on his face, still not bothering to peer up from the screen.

“Kerberos? Pluto’s moon Kerberos? The Kerberos where they lost an entire team of explorers?" Lance kept his voice low so as not to awake Hunk.

"Yes, that Kerberos.” Despite the extenuating circumstance, Pidge projected disinterest.

“Pidge, buddy, pal? I don’t think that’s a good idea. The Garrison will notice the moment we’re off course.”

For weeks, their superiors had constantly reiterated the tamperproof quality of the ship’s controls, as well as the severe punishment that would come with attempts.

While his chest thrummed with yearning for the beyond, his mind knew better (for once). This wasn’t some prank or harmless deviance- if he didn’t know what he was doing, Pidge’s actions could cost them a lot more than detention.

This wasn’t a pit stop at the gas station for snacks, this was lightyears out of their way.

As much as he disliked making the “responsible” choice, he needed to be the voice of reason.

Pidge finally bothered to look up, though now with an air of superiority, “We’ve been off course for the past three hours. If they haven’t noticed yet, they won't. Well not until we fail to show up on time.”

“Pidge, you’re going to get us killed. Put us back on course.”

“No.”

“What? This isn’t a game, Pidge. This isn’t some Hexbug you can reprogram to go wherever you want. You’re playing with our lives here.”

“If you don’t like it, you can reprogram the autopilot yourself. Just find your own outlet, program, and laptop, no biggie.” Pidge rolled his eyes, clearly not taking Lance’s warnings seriously.

He continued, “I’ve waited far too long for this opportunity. You won’t convince me, so stop trying.”

"That's going to take months! We don't have enough food, or fuel or- anything for that long."

"Covered and covered. I’m not an idiot.” He felt like Pidge was hesitating to add the words “like you” to the end of his sentence.

“I’ve been… altering the ship since the first test run. It didn’t take long to override the training-wheels speed limit, less time to switch out the gas tank and engine for something more efficient. Besides, I packed the cabinets with MREs just in case.” He waved Lance off as if that was enough to alleviate his fears.

A few extra Lunchables and some aftermarket modifications were not nearly enough to do what Pidge wanted. Lance understood adventure, but this? This was borderline mad.

Upon recognizing the mortification on Lance’s face, Pidge continued, “We’ll be fine, okay? It’ll be quick, in and out. I doubt they’ll notice we were off course.”

Lance wasn’t sure how much of that was placating bluffs.

“It took months for a high-tech ship with a fully trained crew to even reach Kerberos. How do you expect us three to do the same? I don’t think a few rocket boosters are going to get us to the furthest humanity has ever explored.”

“Have a little faith, Lance. The professionals have things like, ‘safety measures’ and ‘standards’, without those, we can just pop over to Kerberos for lunch. It helps that this ship is much smaller without all that observation equipment, it’s fine. Trust me.”

Did he really have a choice?

He resolved to tell Hunk once he woke up, unsure if Hunk would be able to sleep at all after hearing the news.

“Morning, Lance.” Hunk spoke with a yawn, stretching his arms over his head.

“Pidge is taking us to Kerberos.” Lance blurted the situation out, too overwhelmed from holding it in as long as he had

“He’s what?!” Hunk nearly fell from his bunk at hearing the news.

Luckily, there were partitions in the rooms, allowing them to discuss the situation freely aloud. He explained the details to Hunk’s awe and horror.

“I mean we could make him take us back, but I don’t know if that would work. Have you seen him lately? I don’t think we could force him when he’s this… manic.”

“I’ll talk to him, maybe we can work something out.”Hunk nodded.

Maybe he’d have the right amount of charm to convince Pidge. He’d always been the one people liked more.

“Morning, Pidge! Lance was just telling me about your idea and- “

Pidge interrupted, “I’m not going to Mars, Hunk.”

“Maybe not you, but just us? If you drop us off real quick, you can explore to your heart’s content.”

“They’d confíscate the vehicle the moment I land it. Besides, we have already passed Mars.”

“It should have taken another day to even reach Mars. How did you-?” Lance’s mouth fell agape.

“I don't know about you, but I did learn from my classes. With this engine, It’ll only be a few more days until we reach Kerberos.”

“Pidge, I know you’re excited for the opportunity, but there is too much at risk. We’ve got responsibilities on Earth, classes, futures, families. We can’t throw that all away for the chance to-”

Pidge snapped at him,“You have a family. You do. Not me. Half of my family is there.” Pidge’s arm shot to the navigation screen, pointing to the dot labeled “Kerberos”.

“I bet I’m the only one who’s even bothered to look for them. I’m not giving up on them.

Hunk asked, a wave of realization apparent on his face, “Takashi Shirogane, Samuel, and Matt Holt?”

“My father and brother.”

Hunk continued, expression softening, “You still have so much to lose back home. If they are alive out there, they’d want you safe at home, not piloting some suicide mission.”

“We’re not going to die, Hunk. I’ve been planning this since they left Earth. I’ll get them back.”

What could they say to that? They couldn’t convince Pidge to leave his family for dead when he finally had the slightest chance to see them again. They could only try to talk him back from the edge.

If this was his way of grieving, maybe they could help that way.

Hunk started by talking about the grass, the sky, the fresh air, and the smell of rainfall on its way.

Lance would talk about his mother back home, describing his favorite things about her - how her hugs made him feel so safe and whole, the way they slipped into a rhythm when they cooked together, the way he could talk to her about anything and feel so heard and special and loved.

Maybe Pidge would feel that way too. Maybe he’d realize how much they all had to lose, how many people they each had to live for, how many experiences they had yet to have.

But, they couldn’t force him, Lance couldn’t put that on his conscience.

After long enough, their words had the opposite effect. Lance knew, if that was him, he’d do the same. If Veronica never came back, he couldn’t guarantee he’d standby on Earth.

So, with a nod and a gulp, they settled in for a trip to Kerberos.

Lance was asleep in his chair when Pidge yelled out.

“It’s here. They made it!” Pidge landed the ship — surprisingly gently — on the icy surface of Kerberos, jumping from his seat the moment confirmation lit up on the screen.

He skidded down the hall toward the entrance, Lance following, mildly concerned about the haste.

“Suit up!” Pidge yelled, poking his head back around the corner.

Lance was thankful for the suggestion - he was sure Pidge had already thrown safety to the wind and jumped into space.

The ship tested the atmosphere, quickly flashing red words of denial in seconds. They probably could have predicted that the atmosphere was inhospitable to human life, but a visual reminder certainly didn’t hurt.

Pidge hurried to don emergency equipment, Lance and Hunk following suit.

Lance almost couldn’t believe it.

They’d really made it. Three teenagers in a field trip spaceship made it the furthest humanity had ever reached. He was astounded, dumbfounded really.

Lance wasn’t sure this was even real.

He knew Pidge was determined, but correctly executing an expedition to the furthest body in our system?

Maybe Pidge did pick up a few skills from the family trade. In the back of his head, Lance was convinced Pidge had patched up the spacecraft with glue and popsicle sticks.

They hopped onto the surface, once again thankful for the quality of Garrison equipment. They were “emergency” suits for a reason; While they had not been outfitted with the specialized technology of official tailored suits, they could sustain life well enough for emergencies or maintenance.

He finally got a chance to look out the window as he struggled into the boots. Icy terrain as far as he could see, only one obstacle breaking up the monotony.

Lance would know that ship anywhere; He’d been glued to the screen since they broadcasted it.
The main point of interest was the observation vessel.

Other than a few scrapes and chips to the paint, it looked the same as the day it’d lifted off.

Pidge didn't hesitate to scurry to the ship, getting into it after only a few wrong entries on the keypad. He wondered to which child the birthday code belonged. The door automatically shut behind him, likely to decontaminate and conserve air. Hunk knocked at the window while Lance explored elsewhere.

He didn’t complain. In space, no one can hear you scream. Lance grinned to himself as he went to inspect the footprints in the ice. They were barely visible. If he didn’t know it, he couldn’t have recognized the Galaxy Garrison symbol.

Three sets of boots met tire tracks.

Three sets. Not six. They were still out there, on the buggy. Lance sucked in a breath.

If… something happened, he needed to see it first. He couldn’t let Pidge stumble upon them, however, they were.

He strode adjacent to the footprints, careful not to damage the history.

The terrain changed at one point. While the area certainly flattened out, it also seemed… ripped? It couldn’t have been the buggy doing all this damage; the tracks were fuzzier, bothered somehow, yet they still shot straight.

Maybe some sort of storm? In this one specific, nearly perfectly rectangular area?

He squinted at the end of the tracks.

The end of the tracks?

Where were the astronauts? The buggy? Any equipment at all?

He ran. Faster. He could barely hear the ice crunching over the ringing in his ears. They couldn’t have just disappeared.

He skidded to a halt at the end of the trail.

Nothing. Just ice.

It didn’t look like anything was buried there, ground a solid slate sat beneath him. It seemed as if something snatched them from the ground.

His mind went back to the idea of a storm. They hadn’t ever released news of storm activity on Kerberos. There had to be something he was missing.

The radio buzzed in his ear, Pidge’s voice coming through clearly.

“Lance? Where did you head off to?”

Lance attempted to keep his voice level, “I’m- I followed the tracks.”

He supposed there was nothing to hide from Pidge.

“We’re on our way.”

He waved as their figures appeared on the hill.

Pidge rushed to Lance, seemingly having already drawn the same conclusion as him.

Which unfortunately happened to be a blank.

“They’re not- How could they just-?” Pidge’s eyes were wide as he scanned the scene for the nth time.

“They’re not dead,” Pidge concluded.

“What?”

“There are no bodies, no equipment, no piles of rubble big enough to cover them."

“There,” Pidge pointed at a circular hole in the ground. “They took an ice sample. They must have been in the middle of something when a storm picked up- er picked them up.”

Hunk derailed his rant before he could get going, “Where could they have gone? Things aren’t adding up, Pidge.”

“My family didn’t just despawn. We can’t stop now, now that we’re so close.”

They returned to the explorer’s ship, prodding around the technology purposefully.

Scanning the surface for traces of life came out negative. So did the visual sweep. So did the trackers in their suits, which stopped pinging after max distance or malfunction.

They were at the end of their rope, tired, homesick, sick of shitty MREs. Pidge looked more exhausted than usual.

“Pidge, I’m sorry they’re-”

When Hunk put a hand on his shoulder, he whipped around with barely restrained rage, “We need to keep going. There are no bodies; they're still out there.”

Lance but in, “Pidge, where do you expect us to go? Where would they be? They couldn’t have left. We don’t even have enough fuel to keep going. They’re gone, but you’re not. You can still go home to your mother -your friends.”

Lance had his fill of space exploration for a good while.

“We’ll take their ship and leave then. You can keep going, but I’m ready to go home.”

Pidge ignored him, “We can make it a little further. I’ll siphon the gas from their vessel -if they’re not here, they don’t need it. We’ll go back when we have only enough fuel to get home. Our vessel is smaller, their fuel should last much longer than it would in theirs. We can’t give up - we’re too close.”

Lance sighed, debating his options. Give a friend the (emotional as well as physical) support they so desperately needed, or go back home and be done with the adventure.

He wasn’t responsible for Pidge’s emotions or self-imposed commitments. He wouldn’t go along with his plan because of pity or some responsibility to look after him. Lance’s emotions wouldn’t indebt him, holding fear over his head for compliance.

Finally, he spoke, “You promise we’ll head back before it’s too late?”

He’d go along with his plan because he wanted to help. He wanted to be the one to help reunite Pidge with his family. Why join the Garrison if not for rescue missions?

But as fun as more adventure sounded, he wouldn’t throw his life away at the mercy of a madman. He needed to know Pidge was still sane.

Pidge sighed, slowing down and looking Lance in the eye, “We have more information on their disappearance, proof they could be alive and the unreleased captain's logs at the very least, the public will know the truth. They might even send other astronauts after them, actually look into the mystery with the public on their ass.” he nodded at Lance, “I won’t put us in danger, I swear. I won't let families go through the same thing I did.”

Lance took a deep breath, knitted brows softening, “We’re losing starlight just sitting around here. Let’s go get them then!”

He propped his hands on his hips with a characteristic grin and looked to the sky dramatically.

He forgot about Hunk, who was yet to make a decision.

He wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“How about it, Hunk? Go down in history as heroes… or at least as the idiots to have traveled the furthest in history?”

The anxiety visibly eased from his face. He glanced back at the ship, then to Pidge, and finally to Lance.

“You know what? Let’s do it! We’re already out here, we might as well.”

Lance hugged him tighter.

Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as anticipated. After all, they did make it to Kerberos in the first place, which was insane in itself. If Pidge had really planned all this out and studied, and trained for ages, why should he be the one to put an end to his plan?

Sure, it sucked to be stuck in a ship for days (well it seemed more like cycles without the passage of day or night) but he was getting used to it. He couldn’t use his phone (due to clear lack of service), but he’d surpassed his previous flappy bird high score by over 100 since he’d left. MRE’s still weren’t the best, but sometimes they did hit the spot -he’d just started an art project with the MRE wrappers too.

Pidge’s company wasn’t the best, what with his manic state and superiority complex, but he was starting to get used to it. He was rude and entitled, but he was also admirably brave and intelligent. When he’d occasionally shed that shell of anxiety and determination, he could be quick-witted, and kind (he was doing all of this for love, after all). Lance had to admit, he was kind of growing on him. He’d always wanted another little brother.

They were like a little space family by now.

So maybe that was why he agreed to keep going, to help siphon the gas and disassemble the spare vessel.

Or maybe he was far from eager to have his superior yell in his face for something that wasn’t his fault (for once). He put that thought on the backburner.

Their plan was simple, target the trackers’ last know location (which was hopefully not a glitch). The transmitter neglected to mark a specific location, likely due to the suits being out of range, so they could only go off of direction alone.

While it would have been nice to have access to all the technology of the original vessel, they needed to keep their ship light, and so only took the essentials: fuel, MREs and water, the tracking device, the captain's log, and, of course, the emergency defensive device.

Who knew? They might need to blast asteroids. A large gun was never a bad thing.

Pidge had them oriented toward the last known location in no time. With the extra supplies, newfound courage, and teenage rebellion they set off into the distance.

Chapter Text

Lance awoke in increments, his body working before his mind- contorting him into a stretch.

He wondered how much sand he had to have eaten to leave his mouth so excruciatingly dry. Despite the discomfort, he remained in place, unwilling to wake up quite yet. His body still ran on Garrison time —up at 5, to bed at 9— but he had no reason to get up quite yet. While time no longer meant anything, due to the lack of an Earth-bound rotation, sleep certainly did.

He trusted that his body would wake him again at the smell of Hunk preparing his morning MRE and willed his body to return to sleep.

“Good morning, Lance. Did you rest well?”

Lance’s eyes shot open at the voice - that was not Hunk. He jolted away from the voice before his mind processed, coughing when he hit the end of the leash.

“It is alright, Pet. Relax. You are okay.” Lotor held his hands in front of him, looking just as concerned as Lance. When he attempted to touch his shoulder reassuringly, Lance jerked away from him.

Weird purple ambient lights, leash attached to his neck, alien captor. Oh, right. Definitely not in Kansas.

Lance slapped a hand on his chest, unsure if he was still alive after that surprise.

“Oh, it’s you.” Lance huffed, “Well I was sleeping fine.”

His morning voice did little to help convey the severity of his irritation.

“Apologies. I did not intend to startle you. Be still, you are safe here.”

“I wouldn’t consider this safe by any definition.”

Lotor changed the subject, clearly unwilling to debate Lance’s qualms, “You must be excited to get on with the quintant, there is much to do toquintant.”

“I wouldn't say excited.” Lance mumbled, scooting to the edge of the bed.

He continued, “So, what’s on the roster for today? You already did the alien abduction part; are going for alien probing or alien dissection or alien-”

“Rest assured, I do not intend to harm you. This cycle is solely for your adjustment to my routine.”

Lance rolled his eyes at him despite his appreciation of the reminder. How far did he have to go to be “harmed”? He wasn’t quite sure how much worse it would get than yesterday (or yestercycle or whatever a Quintant was). Maybe that’s what he’d spend the day finding out.

There is only one way to find how long a fuse is: by lighting it.

It was multitasking really, see where Lotor’s line is drawn and make him regret purchasing Lance.

Sure, it might not be a perfect idea, but it was better than tiptoeing around this jerk’s feelings all day. It was easier to be himself - he’d conserve his acting energy for convincing Lotor to leave the room (or open the door to the docking area).

He’d just use his personality to scare him off, it worked with most of the girls he’d met.

Did he say something about using the day- er cycle to adjust? He wouldn’t bother adjusting, he’d be out of here way before that happened. He was ready to leave at any-

Lotor broke him from his thoughts, “And Lance.”

“Yeah?” Lance sighed.

“Yes, what?”

When Lance refused to cater to Lotor, he wound a finger around the leash -a silent reminder that he wouldn't release him until Lance yielded.

Lance looked away, huffing as he spoke, “Yes, Master?”

He spoke with a smug countanance painting his face, “This is my home, you are the alien here.”

Was that a joke? Did he have a sense of humor? His logic was flawed; Lotor still did the alien abduction part.

“While I have your attention, I believe it is in your best interest to review the rules. ”

While he had his attention? More like while he had him restrained. Lance debated zoning out just to spite him.

He didn’t need to be lectured; Lance knew general rules, he simply choose to ignore them.

Lance butted in, “I think I can figure that out on my own: No leaving, or trying to compete with your freakish strength.” he tugged on the leash, hinting at his anxiousness to have free roam.

“Nearly, Pet. No running from me. I will not chase you down each time you disagree-”

Lance interrupted, “I thought you said I was supposed to live here, not stay at your heel.”

“You deserve free roam once you have proven yourself worthy of my trust.”

Lance hurried to agree so they could move on, speaking with moderately more venom, “Whatever, I won't run from you, okay? Let me go.”

“Watch your language pet. That is another rule. I am accustomed to a certain level of respect. Keep your words pleasant and use my title. Understood?” Lotor looked at him expectantly.

“Okay, is that it?”

“The correct response is: Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.” He gritted his teeth and raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. How many times was he going to do that?

“Patience, Lance. Lastly, I expect obedience above all. The situation — or location — matters not.”

Was this like the lapdog code of conduct? Despite his anticipation of the last rule, it still pained him to hear. Just another reminder of this shitty situation.

It was bad enough to see Lotor in the morning, but to listen to a lecture on obedience? He’d rather wake up to his sister’s cat sleeping on his face and smothering him in his sleep.

“Fine. It’s not like I have a choice anyway.”

“Do not feel despondent, Pet. I am not an unfair Master. You will earn privileges as time progresses.”

“I don’t want to earn privileges, I want you to let me go.”

“Need I explain again why that will not be happening? It is basic respect; common courtesy, Pet. I know more than a few associates who would scoff at such lax rules. I will not expect you to be grateful, but cooperation would be appreciated.”

“You're just gonna leave that ‘or else’ implied? I get it, I’ll play nice. Sit, stay, shush, roll over- got it.”

Lotor chuckled at the continued boldness, “What a scoundrel. I bet that pretty mouth got you in trouble all too often.”

Lance didn’t respond, simply sitting- his mouth left agape. When his mind caught up to him, he shut his mouth with a clack and turned his head away.

It seemed as if Lotor’s words caught up to him at the same time, his expression morphing to one of mild regret.

He mustered the slightest rush to continue, “You must be hungry. Perhaps you will feel better after breakfast.”

Thankfully, Lotor removed the leash as promised -though, the way he pocketed it left Lance irritated. Ready to tie him up at any moment. Fantastic.

Lotor’s eyes followed his, making note of Lance’s sour expression, “I won’t need it today, will I?”

He didn’t answer the rhetorical question, instead following Lotor as he beckoned him to the door.

Guards stood at the entrance to the kitchen, standing alert despite the clear shock of Lance’s presence.

He figured Lotor would have briefed them in human handling or something of that nature, but from their faces, he must not have even told his guard.

Maybe they’d help him escape if he appealed to their better nature. He filed that idea away for later.

Lotor had him sit before he went to the counter to receive their meals.

He narrowed his eyes at Lotor upon hearing the clicking of his dish.

“I’m not going to eat that crap again,” Lance spoke even before Lotor set the bowl down.

“Will one more meal of pellets truly hurt, Pet? I haven’t a substitute overnight.”

“I know for a fact that the fridge is stocked full of food. Just ask your chef to make… whatever is on your plate - but for me.”

“It was… irresponsible of me to give you a piece earlier. Who knows the differences between Earth nutrients and Galra ingredients, you might not even be able to digest it. Worse, you could have some sort of allergic reaction to it. I did not anticipate a human would be for sale at the market; I could not have prepared a better meal prior to your arrival.”

“I think you don’t want to feed me the good stuff.”

“Are you listening to me? At all?”

“Yeah, I’m just choosing to ignore you.”

“I will need to have the ingredients tested to see if they are digestible by your species. Just wait a few days and you can have something more appetizing.”

“What? A few days? Tested? Why does it even take that long?”

“You do know not everything needs to be an argument?”

Lance didn’t speak, looking at him expectantly. He wouldn’t let him change the subject when he was so close to more information.

He continued with a sigh, “The druids need enough time to observe if The Champion has any… negative reactions to the samples-”

“The Champion?”

“It is a Terran, as you are. He serves the Galra.”

The Champion was a human?

Lance’s face lit up, immediately forgetting about the current argument, “What’s his name? What does he look like? Can I meet him?”

Lotor hesitated, “He is simply referred to as ‘the champion’. He has black and white hair and beige, human-colored skin.”

His description narrowed down very little; That could describe many people. He would have asked for their race had Lotor known anything about humans.

It didn’t sound like his friends at least, but nor did it describe any of the people they were looking for in space (Shirogane, Samuel, and Matthew having black and brown hair respectively). Maybe more people had been sent after them. He’d keep his eye out for some old guy.

Lotor continued, “And as for meeting him, I do not believe that would be wise. He is an unstable individual. It would not be safe for you. Though, if you behave, I may arrange-”

“Unstable? I can handle unstable, just let me-“

Lotor cut him off, holding up a finger, “If you interrupt me one more time I will not hesitate to muzzle you. Understood?”

Lance narrowed his eyes, restraining a pout. He wasn’t sure if aliens had the same definition of “muzzle” but he wasn’t willing to find out. He nodded.

“My associate owns a creature of your species -it was one of the reasons I choose you. When you learn to behave, I will arrange for you to meet him.”

Lance looked to him expectantly, waiting for him to be completely done before he started, “What’s his name then? Or did your friend take away his identity too?” Lance asked.

That would have been a cute sentiment had it not been so deranged. Of course, he’d want a purse dog to match his buddy. It was a whole new level of demeaning.

He went into space with Pidge and Hunk to find Sam, Matt, and Shirogane - that already made six humans out of their atmosphere. Then, the addition of these new ones made eight.

“For being exotic or rare or something, there seems to be an awful lot of humans in captivity. Maybe you should rethink your plan here.”

Lotor ignored his comment, “Perhaps I can tell you more if you comply. Eat and we can get on with our day.”

All that and they were back to square one. Of course.

He looked down at the pellets, tapping the edge of the bowl to watch them roll about.

He remembered something Lotor had said earlier, about testing the food. He had three options: Either eat this crappy cereal for the rest of his stay there, wait a week or two with this stuff (while putting another human at risk) or test it himself.

It would be heroic even. Even if he was some sort of feral human, he didn’t deserve that.

Whoever the “druids” were could just check on Lance if he had some sort of reaction.

If Lance was allergic, it wasn’t like they’d be able to tell from “The Champion”’s reaction anyway.

He made up his mind.

Lance took a deep breath, concentrating on looking the least mischievous possible.

Lance sighed, “Can I have some water to wash it down then?”

Lotor looked down at him, waiting for him to finish: to address him by his title.

“Master?” he huffed, restraining the urge to roll his eye

“Yes, you may.” He stood from his seat, leaving his plate unattended.

The moment Lotor turned his back, Lance struck.

He rose, quickly, quietly. In a moment, he’d managed to shove everything on Lotor’s plate into his mouth.

His eyes flicked upward.

Lotor stared back, time frozen.

Sure, he had considered the idea of consequences. What he hadn’t considered was that they’d take immediate effect.

Lance bolted in the opposite direction. To the counter! He placed a hand on the edge and launched himself over it.

Pots crashed to the ground around him, clanging in what would hopefully be a makeshift distraction.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, but hell if that would stop him from trying

A door at the back of the room, he skidded toward it, only slightly tripping on the fallen cutlery and pans.

He placed his hand upon the sensor, using the other to pry the door open. The solid metal door had other plans, such as staying in place and not being pried open.

Lance’s hatred for the door only grew when he found himself pinned against it by a hand on his throat. He clenched Lance’s jaw.

Lotor stood over him, a livid expression painting his face.

“Spit it out. Now.”

Lance swallowed instinctively.

“Have you no self-preservation at all?”

“Well, I-“

“Rhetorical question.” Lotor sighed, “If you cannot handle eating from a bowl, then you’ll eat from my hand from now on.”

Lance scoffed, “Yeah, I’m not going to eat out of your hand; I’d rather starve.”

“I must monitor your vitals regardless. I will let you know when your body starts consuming itself.”

“Whatever, I’ll let you know when I care.” Lance crossed his arms despite the awkward position.

He waited for Lotor to release him already.

Eating his food came without much punishment at all. Sure, his jaw was tense and he was pretty sure his soul left his body for a second, but he was unharmed. Wasn’t he supposed to be some feared Emporer or something?

Lance realized he had zoned out when he heard a faint clicking noise bring him back.

Lotor was holding the leash from earlier.

“You ran from me. As a result, you must stay on your lead. I am a man of my word.”

Lance groaned with all the angst in his teenage body. Sure, it didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things — he didn’t expect to genuinely escape in front of Lotor -the leash didn’t change much about that — but it was demeaning and irritating.

He gestured for Lance to move to the exit, tugging him along when he didn’t get the hint.

Lotor led him back to the dining area.

“I should make you clean that up,” Lotor muttered, picking up the plates and placing them on the counter Lance had slid over.

He’d rather break each pan individually than clean up.

Lotor spoke to the, rather frazzled-looking, chef, “Wrap this up and bring another meal to my office.”

Lance avoided eye contact with the other Galra.

“Come along.”

Like he had a choice. He hurried to match his pace -not wanted to be pulled around all day.

“I promised you a tour, Small one. Down this hall are the barracks. I will introduce the staff to you in time.”

He gestured to a door past the docking area. A different guard stood in the same place as the one from the previous cycle. He paid them no mind, staring straight forward.

Lance tilted his head, “They like, live here?”

“Yes, the ship must be constantly overseen. They have separate utilities, so you need not share space. Might I reiterate that they are here for your protection; I am solely responsible for your discipline, so do not fret.”

Well, that was better than nothing. He’d rather be battered by one Galra emperor than a bunch of burly, fluffy soldiers. Even if he couldn’t piss off Lotor, he could mess with his staff. They were guilty by association after all -they could be helping him escape, but he highly doubted that would happen.

“Like the Queen’s guards or something? Are they gonna stay stock still if I mess with them?”

“I know not of human Queens. My guard is well trained if that answers your question.”

Oh yeah. For being stuck in space, surrounded by purple aliens, he kept forgetting their lack of knowledge of human culture. Lotor’s uncanny approximate knowledge of human biology threw him off each time.

They moved on to the next area.

He could abuse his lack of knowledge somehow. Maybe he’d tell Lotor they had certain holidays or traditions that he needed to uphold or Lance would go into depression hibernation or something. He didn’t exactly expect to spend Christmas there, but he was sure there was something he could fedangle.

“-But I am sure you could figure that out already.”

Lance had not been paying attention. He didn’t notice that they’d stopped in front of another door.

“Huh?”

“I informed you that this is the gym, hence the equipment. If you wish to join me here when the time comes, you may do so.”

Maybe he could just beef up and beat Lotor himself. Lance expressed his desire to join him.

“If you desire so, you may be allowed to spar with the simulation or I, in time.”

He wanted Lance to kick his ass? Maybe this would be easier than he anticipated. All he’d have to do was exercise, train with Lotor, and then he’d know his moves for an ultimate final battle before he ditched him for home. Sure it was a long-run thing, but it was another escape plan after all. He’d need as many as he could think of under his belt.

“Only if you want your ass handed to you,” Lance smirked.

Lotor raised an eyebrow, laughing with his whole chest, “I am glad you are excited, but I promise it will not be so easy for you. I was raised to rule the Galra Empire.

Lance tilted his head at him. Wouldn’t some sort of princely upbringing mean he wasn’t as capable? It didn’t help that he’d only see four Galra, and Lotor was certainly the least intimidating appearance-wise out of them.

“I will have to teach you of my culture one of these Quintants. You will be representing me, so it is only logical to learn as much.”

He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to learn about the Galra- it was why he left for space in the first place. Maybe they had some weakness Lance could take advantage of. Lance nodded, listening eagerly for once.

They kept moving as he began the lecture.

“The Galra are a proud species. If there is one thing my people value, it is triumph above all else; they feel no greater satisfaction than from reaping the rewards of a felled opponent.

“I did not simply assume this title from my father -in order to claim my throne, I had to best the most formidable of our warriors in combat.

“You must have heard Syntax when you arrived. Our salute-” He demonstrated easily with a fist on his chest, “Vrepit Sa. It means ‘victory or death' in my language.

“It is truly a testament to my culture. Centuries of conquering planets left the Galra as one of the most brutal, dominating Empires in the universe- though, such methods are rather antiquated.”He paused, humming contemplatively, “I believe that is a good start for some perspective. Perhaps I can find a book for you to peruse in the future.” Lotor turned to Lance to gauge his reaction, only to find him paces behind. The leash was just long enough for such antics; another few paces and it would have pulled taut.

Lance’s eyes were wide with a mix of emotions.

His expression was nearly unreadable, too many thoughts darting around in his head. His mouth sat open, slack-jawed as he processed.

That would explain the whole “owning pets” thing. While humans valued the friendship of non-sentient species’, this race preferred to conquer and force conscious creatures to submit.

Sure, he could have pieced each factor together —the collar, the submission expectation, hell, even the fact that his father started the mainstream pet ownership thing — but it hurt to hear it said so plainly - that this was his owner and his life now.

Just his luck, honestly. He couldn't have been purchased by some peaceful race? Maybe one that didn't value submission or ripping their opponents to pieces? They were so fluffy and purple, why couldn’t they be sentient teddy bears?

There could only be one reason behind all of this:

“Are we in the Death Star?”

“I am not sure what you- no. Is that what you gathered from all of this?”

Lance held on to every word, but he’d be damned if he’d admit it. He had to be messing with him. That was the more logical reason behind this. Why wouldn’t he be playing mind games? It was just another tactic to scare him, to keep him in line after his last disobedience.

Lance rolled his eyes, “You’re just trying to intimidate me, right? You can’t be serious with all that ‘conquering’ and ‘crushing enemies’ and ‘drinking the blood from their slit throat’ talk.”

“You may be misinterpreting my description. I am serious, Pet. My description is a bit blunt, but that is not to say it is false. It is one of the reasons that highly regarded figures, such as myself, expect a certain level of respect from my subjects.”

Was he trying to sneak in a lesson on respect again? It was only the second day of Lance’s presence, yet he should certainly know that would not work.

“What happened to ‘we come in peace?” Lance muttered, taking a few paces forward to catch up with him. Every alien media he’d ever seen was a lie.

If Lance was to be the one underneath Lotor, why would he even suggest sparring? Was there some fighting ring for Emporer pets? Sure, it sounded outrageous, but so did his current situation. Anything was up in the air in this society.

He continued, speaking up this time, “About the sparring… I’m not gonna have to fight for my life, am I? Was that like a warning shot- er hold, earlier? I didn’t sign up to be in some underground fighting ring.”

Technically, Lance didn’t sign up for any of this, but being in a gladiator-type situation was less than ideal.

Lotor scoffed at the idea, “No, of course not. You will not be subjected to such savagery. That is suited toward traitors or crazed beasts. Your responsibilities are to obey and look exotically charming and, while you are lovely, the former certainly needs work.”

“You do hear what you’re saying, right? All of that just sounds fine, and sane, to you?”

“I assure you, it is much more reasonable than others would deign.”

Lance decided not to go into it. He’d had enough of Lotor’s high and mighty attitude.

By then, they had reached another door.

“This is my office. It is where I spend most of my time.”

His mouth fell open as the door disappeared into the wall.

Lotor was still talking about what he did all day, but yet again, Lance wasn’t listening.

He took a few steps forward without Lotor. He needed to be sure of what he was seeing.

Instead of the dull aesthetic purple lights that usually enveloped the room, light shone through the windows. Not just light, but stars. The windows spanned across the majority of the room, completely covering most of the wall.

Sure, he’d spent weeks in a transport ship, but that was through a tiny little window in a stuffy little ship.

The view spread as far as the eye could see - and considering the vastness of space, his eyes could see quite a bit.

This was infinite, bright, and vivid. It was not the starry sky of his planet — of his galaxy —, it was lush with stars, and planets he’d never heard of, and… ships.

At least a dozen purple ships surrounded theirs- at least from what he could see.

They were certainly bigger than the one he’d shared with his bunkmates, no doubt about that. Even the smallest ones in the lineup had to be ten times bigger than any human ship he’d ever seen.

He strode toward the window, reaching a hand out to touch it, to declare its reality.

-and fell backward, caught off-guard by the pull on his neck.

Instead of falling on his ass, a hand propped him up, pulling him to his feet from his armpit. As soon as he was on his feet, Lance jerked away from the touch.

Lotor spoke, clearly amused, “Do give me a warning if you intend to choke yourself again.”

Lance coughed, pressing a few fingers between his skin and the collar to catch his breath.

“You would have had free reign if you had behaved.” Lotor reminded, fiddling with the end of the lead.

Lance grabbed his end of the lead, unwilling to be surprised again.

“Yeah yeah, I know. Can you hurry up?”

He tugged the lead toward the window, trying to lead Lotor instead of the intended use.

He didn’t move. He didn’t even budge when Lance put his whole weight into pulling him. Had he glued his boots to the floor?

Lotor crossed his arms.

“Just let me look through your stupid window, dude,” Lance sighed, “You’re the one who wanted to give a tour.”

“Is that how you ask for something?”

Lance spoke as fast as physically possible, “Can I go look at the window, Master?”

“You may.”

Lance huffed, practically stomping as he made his way to the window.

He reached out to touch the window, hesitating to dirty the glass before realizing he didn’t care about Lotor’s belongings.

His friends were out there… somewhere.

He hoped they didn’t fall to the same fate.

They had enough gas to barely get back home, he hoped they used it to get somewhere safe. If space really was this hostile, he prayed they made the right choice and left without him. He wasn’t worth both of their lives.

He shouldn’t have gone along with Pidge's plan. He could have insisted they head back. If they overpowered Pidge, Hunk could have tried recoding the autopilot with his laptop.

He took a shuddering breath, expelling the intrusive thought.

Now wasn’t the time to think of what could have been. Hope wasn’t lost. He had to work with the hand he was dealt.

Maybe the Garrison would even send a team after him rather than facing the consequences of losing a student.

He just wished he could talk it over with Hunk. He’d know what to say to make Lance feel better. Sure, he’d be just as freaked out, but he’d put up a front —they both would— to keep each other afloat.

Now, the only one he could talk to was Lotor.

He hated to admit it, but Lotor had common sense and a bit of compassion - even a little bit was enough to work with. It wasn’t enough yesterday (er- quintant?), but it might be this time.

While he didn’t want to tell Lotor anything that could be used against him, he had to humanize himself.

“I have a family back on Earth,” Lance started, “A home too, with a mother, and siblings. I bet my nieces and nephews are wondering where I am. I promised to take them for ice cream when I got back. They were sure I’d forget the taste after only eating astronaut ice cream for a week.

“My best friend misses me too. I’ve known him since I was little. Guess we can’t get houses beside each other anymore.”

“I am sorry to hear that, small one. I am sure Allura’s pet would be friends with you. Once you are a bit more adjusted, I will arrange a meeting.”

He’d go back to the topic of family, family was irreplaceable.

“My mother didn’t want me to go on the trip in the first place. She only let me go because I promised to get home safe. I can’t lie to her. I have to go help clean the dishes and weed the garden for her. Do you know how it feels to know how much pain she is in right now and not be able to do anything about it?”

“Your siblings will have to handle it on their own. I do know such pain, Pet. I watched my mother get torn apart by the very magic she trusted to save us. Instead of watching me grow up, I watched the mother I loved disintegrate before my eyes, degrading until she recognized me as much as I recognized her. She was the husk of her former self long before she passed away, though, the woman I knew had been gone long before that. So, Pet, I do know how you feel.”

Lance’s eyes went wide as he processed.

“That’s- uh, a lot. Was it because of the ‘father owning pets’ thing?” Lance rubbed his forearm, searching for something to do with his arms.

“He created this tradition to fill the void of her loss.”

“Oh.”

That was all Lance could think of to say. What else could he say to that? Sure, he wanted to be rude and generally inconvenient to own, be he wasn’t going to diss his dead family. He just wanted to be annoying enough to warrant dropping him off on Earth, not piss off an alien and disrespect the dead.

Lotor continued, “Now, my family is my people, my citizens. That is why you are required at my side. If I am not capable enough to conquer another being, I am not seen as worthy enough to take after my father and rule the Galra empire. It is hardly a just system, but abstaining thus far has granted me nothing but hardship.

“Do not dwell on the past, Pet. It will only distress you."

Chapter Text

Who did he think he was?

Grand Emperor King Supreme of space land?

Well actually, that seemed to be the case when he thought about it.

He could either laugh about it or cry about it; considering he liked his sanity, Lance opted for the former.

He should be terrified —quivering in his baby seal leather boots— but he wasn’t… well, not yet anyways. It seemed like the worst punishment that could happen was a spritz of water from a spray bottle.

Sure, the whole entitlement thing that came with being an Emperor pissed Lance off, but it didn’t quite scare him.

Instructors at the Garrison use harsher tones than Lotor had.

He was intimidated, sure, but scared? Lance was sure his affirmations shooed away any residual fear if nothing else.

He stared himself down in the reflection of the window, barely able to make out his face against the background of stars and ships before him.

Lance had been sentenced to a cushion beside Lotor’s chair when Lotor had finished drabbling on about his shitty home life and the inevitability of change.

Yet again, Lance huffed at the degradation. He couldn’t even get a real chair? Sure, it had been softer and thicker than he’d anticipated, but that didn’t make it any less rude. He convinced Lotor to drop the leash, with enough nagging, if Lance promised he’d remain on the cushion.

He kept to his promise and remained on the cushion. Now, if the cushion decided it would rather not sit next to Lotor’s chair, that was its choice.

Within a few minutes, he’d scooted it across the room to sit beside the window -all while avoiding the lightly annoyed, slightly amused look on Lotor’s face at his antics.

Lance was still on the cushion -technically he didn't break any rules.

He’d rather look at the stars than Lotor’s stupid purple face. At least he could trace the patterns in his mind instead of simply staring off into nothing.

Lotor had shrugged it off, pulling up some projected screen and tapping away at it.

Lance hadn’t expected him to start working on… whatever an Emporer does during the day. He’d kind of assumed the day would persist of prodding at him.

He’d offered Lance a few pellets from earlier, which he obviously denied.

Later, he’d offered to start training Lance. When he learned it was more “sit” and “stay” than sword fighting, Lance huffed and hurriedly refused. He wasn’t falling for Lotor’s plot that easily.

Lotor had, yet again, shrugged it off. He mentioned something about how it had to happen eventually - which Lance ignored.

He wished he had his phone. He’d kill to talk to anyone other than Lotor. Even if he had his phone, which was safely stashed in his jacket, he wouldn’t be able to contact anyone. He was in space after all (duh). There were no cell phone towers nor wifi in outer space.

He pressed his forehead to the window, uncaring if someone would have to wash it after. It was a bit refreshing, though he lamented the stillness of it all. The Garrison field trip shuttle would vibrate, even if it sat still. Sure, this ship was larger and much higher quality, but it didn’t have that feeling of his teeth chattering or skull vibrating - like pressing your head to a school bus window.

He must be quite bored to miss the shitty schoolbuses from his home. He sighed internally, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He’d do anything but interact with Lotor.

Despite his despise of the alien, Lance’s eyes flicked to Lotor throughout the day. He observed him without drawing attention to himself. Perhaps he was looking for a weakness, maybe lamenting his odd appearance.

He wondered what technology Lotor was messing with. He’d been poking at the pictures and unintelligible characters for ages. Lance was no whiz like Pidge or Hunk, but he wouldn’t mind taking alien tech for a spin.

Even if he got ahold of it, he bet it was like the door sensors: DNA or Galra activated only.

Maybe he’d be able to convince Lotor to give him a tablet or something. He wouldn’t mind watching Cocomelon or something to occupy him.

Between the few activities, he has access to, the day passed faster than anticipated.

Lotor must have been serious about letting him adjust, as he didn’t bother him except to offer food or water.

Before he knew it, Lotor was ushering him back through the hall and to the bedroom.

He wasn’t that tired, but he was ready to be done with his first day, so he followed along without complaint.

He sat on the end of the bed as Lotor prepared for bed.

“How are you feeling, Lance? Are you having any reactions to the food?” He stood before him, observing his skin for pallor or other discoloration. Lance held his breath, hoping he wouldn’t observe him as he had before.

If he concentrated, he could still feel the touch on his skin. His fingers on his chin, observing the collar in its “fitting” place.

The movement, almost clinical in nature. How he tilted his head up, just to observe his addition to Lance’s wardrobe. He found himself — not craving it — simply… questioning it.

His compliment resembling one for a necklace, not one deserved of a pet and their collar.

Not one deserved of a claim on his body.

He only liked his appearance because he was “exotic”. While that compliment and descriptor was completely foreign to him, he found himself — deep down, packed far below where Lance would ever admit it — liking the idea.

Not the action. Not the compliment, Certainly not Lotor.

The idea.

The idea of being special and awe-inspiring.

It made his heart thump. After everything he’d been through, he deserved to call himself awe-inspiring, did he not?

He huffed at himself, at his phrasing, at everything really-

“Lance?” Lotor reiterated.

Lance brushed him off, thoughts catching up to him, “No, I’m fine. The nausea is from being held against my will.”

“Do you require medical attention?” He tilted his head at Lance.

Lance flopped backward on the bed. He required sleep, not to talk to another purple cat about his foreign digestive system.

“I’m fine. Just tired is all.” Lance waved him off.

“Then I will have my guard fetch you a bottle of water?” Lotor offered.

That actually sounded pretty nice. Drinking out of something that wasn’t a bowl on the ground? Count him in.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Yes, what?”

Did he have to be irritating constantly?

“Yes, Master.” Lance huffed, rolling over on the bed.

Lotor strode to the door, stepping out for a moment, leaving the sliding door open a crack. Light shone through the crack.

Perhaps he didn’t want the mechanics to open the door, blinding him with the light difference, but was Lotor really that thoughtful? Lance looked on, anxious that he’d already been leashed to the post for the night.

It took longer than anticipated for him to return, bottle in hand. He palmed the door close.

Lotor hummed thoughtfully, handing Lance the bottle, “The night shift was not informed of your arrival. I will have to make an announcement next quintant.”

The guards who were supposed to protect him, didn’t know he was there? Well, he supposed it didn’t matter. If they couldn’t tell from the clothing, the collar, or the fact that he was at the end of the Emporer’s bed, it didn’t really matter. He wouldn’t be the guard caught poking around in the Emporer’s room.

“Sleep well, Pet. I do hope we can make more progress tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Lance muttered, clutching the bottle and smushing his face into the mattress.

He should have chosen to sleep on the floor rather than suffer the humiliation of the bed. It wasn’t like he was going to get any sleep either way; He hadn’t exactly done very much that day -Instead of putting his mind to studies or training regimens, he’d been stuck on a cushion. The emotional exhaustion wasn’t nearly enough to lull him.

It certainly didn’t help that he was still full of energy and adrenaline from being so close to his enemy. His mind raced with lamentations for Lotor, rude remarks that he’d stocked up on, and, of course, escape plots.

He was bound to the end of the bed yet again, it didn’t look like the opportunity was near quite yet. Especially due to the unbriefed guards. He wasn’t an idiot after all. He didn’t have enough energy to dodge guards until 6 am when the morning shift came (or was he thinking of something else?).

Or maybe he did.

Maybe he was an idiot afterall.

After half an hour or so, Lotor’s breathing evened out. Lance carefully stood from the bed. The leash was long enough for him to move only a short distance from it, but that was enough for him to stretch his limbs at least.

He’d get his jacket. Maybe there was a knife in there to cut the line. He highly doubted it, since he’d left for a field trip, but there was always a chance.

His clothes were on the dresser next to the bed. There was no way he’d be able to reach it with his arm since he was tethered by the neck, but maybe if he stretched a leg he could-

He grabbed the banister, leaning on it as he stretched out his leg. He could barely touch the fabric, just a little further and he’d be able to get it. His neck hurt when he pulled the leash taunt. Normally it was simply pressure, but after pulling so hard, his neck was likely red and bruised.

He kept stretching, no matter how the collar dug into him.

He touched it just barely with the tip of his toe and-

Pushed it out of his reach.

He couldn’t keep going, his neck was sore, his leg was cramping, and he was breathing was getting louder and louder as he strained. He paused, standing on two feet again.

Lance tucked two fingers under the collar, trying to give his skin some air. He traced the collar with his finger, feeling for any sore chafed skin.

His finger stopped along the edge. A bump. Nearly unnoticeable if he hadn’t been stroking the otherwise sheer smooth surface. He pressed it.

click

The collar opened.

It was that easy?

He set the collar down as carefully as he could, afraid of tripping some sort of alarm.

He backed away from the collar with open palms, waiting for it to jump up and latch back on or - really anything.

It sat, blank and discarded. The coast was clear.

He took the few steps to the dresser. Instead of simply grabbing his coat, he picked up the whole pile. He had everything he needed.

He had everything he needed.

Linty food pellets stored in his jacket pocket, a water bottle, his clothes, and… oblivious guards to top it off. Sure, they might beat him up if they find him, but then he might not go back to Lotor. They could send him on his way on a cargo ship (was that a thing in the Galra empire?).

He was decided.

He put his clothes on top of the material Lotor had given him. If nothing else, it was a souvenir.

With a glance back at Lotor’s sleeping form, he snuck to the door.

The handprint sensor. Of course. Foiled before he could begin. Maybe he could pry it open.

He touched the door.

It slid with his hand; a gesture had it pulling a centimeter from the wall easily.

A beam of light streamed through the crack. Lotor had left it open earlier. With the way he’d been palming the door, he must not have wanted to let all that much light in either.

This was his chance. It was now or never. He could make it. He had to.

Lance pulled it open just enough to fit his body through before shutting the door.

He knew the route to the docking bay. He’d get there first and figure something else out once he’d made it. Maybe he could scratch the sensor and mess it up or something. No choice, Lance should keep moving; He had to play it by ear.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the harsh, undimmed light that illuminated the rest of the ship.

With a deep breath and a few blinks, he’d adjusted. He was more than ready to say goodbye to that stupid purple ambiance.

Lance flipped his hood up. Better than nothing.

This was it. He was doing it. His casual gait contrasted with his racing heart.

He knew he looked like an idiot, but he had no other choice. He could pass for the most scrawny Galra in existence. He pondered his excuses as he moved.

A visitor? Maybe an ambassador would be treated with respect. Any guard would recognize an ambassador - it was a dumb plan. Maybe foreign staff? If there weren’t many other humans this far from Earth, they might think he was associated with the “Champion”, whoever that was. Though, If he’d been readily described as “feral” maybe that wasn’t a person Lance should be grouped in with.

He wished he’d found some purple body paint before he made a run for it.

He tucked his head down a little further, willing his “exotic” features away.

He rounded the first corner.

A set of guards stood in his way. He nearly bumped into one, quickly backing up and trying to move around.

“Halt. Identify yourself.”

Fuck.

He didn’t need to look up to feel their presence looming over him.

Lance kept his head down, attempting to sound professional, “I held council with the Emporer. He wants me gone from this vessel.”

“Where is your identification?”

“In my ship.” Shit. Shit. Shit. Stupid excuse.

“No new vessels have boarded in quintants, none aside from Galra standard issue either. Tell us who you really are, Stowaway?” They sounded less mad, more amused. He wasn’t a threat. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

He could strike.

He considered a few factors. It was two versus one. Two beefy trained pumas vs one, out of shape, teenage boy. He’d need an edge to even begin thinking about fighting them. He may be stupid, but he wasn’t an idiot.

Maybe he could loop around and find a better route.

Lance took a step back, then another. He darted in the opposite direction. He’d only made it a few feet when -

The soldier had a hand around his hood. Couldn’t these people take it easy on the jacket?

They held onto it as they observed him.

So much for hiding his human features.

“An Altean? Are you one of Allura’s men? Why are you shifted out of his company?”

With his expanded field of view, he observed the guards. If he had to guess from voice and appearance, one was male, the other female. They wore the same armor as the guard from earlier.

Lance wasn’t sure what “shifted” meant, but he was in high school; he was good at dodging questions.

“Yes?” Lance answered in an instant, attempting to waive the hesitation from his voice.

She let go of his hood for a moment — perhaps in fear of harming a guest, perhaps in surprise — allowing him to straighten up and brush himself off.

“The Emporer must want to personally say farewell to you. We will escort you to his quarters.”

“No, I am alright. I was dismissed, I’ll just see myself out.” Lance held his hands in front of him in a surrender motion as he backed up further.

They continued with mild exasperation, “Then, Altean, please identify yourself, unshift and one of us may escort you home. This is the Emporer’s personal ship, you must understand the security measures. Unless… Perhaps you wanted to stay longer?”

He didn't question the last line. It was easier to ignore than to try and interpret Galra customs.

“Unshift?” Lance muttered.

Lance straightened up, putting on his best “sophisticated and refined” face, “Fine, if you must. I am Allo. I work under Allura as an event coordinator. Now, if you will, take me home.”

He didn’t have any frame of reference for Altean names, so he hoped that passed.

They begin with a slight laugh, “Not an accountant? Very well then. Unshift, if you will.”

Lance huffed, crossing his arms, “I despise my default form, do not impose your cultural standards on me. Let me leave.”

The female guard’s expression changed. She leaned down to look him in the eye.

“Unless you just look like that?” She paused, tilting her head at him, “Are you a Terran?”

He didn’t wait to respond. Lance bolted in the opposite direction again. He was, yet again, caught by the hood. He could slip out of the jacket, but he’d prefer to keep it. He chose to bide his time.

“A Terran. What an odd creature to be hiding. Have you been eating scraps on the Emporer’s ship? He’ll want to dispose of you himself. You’d look real nice alongside the Champion. Come along.”

He braced his feet on the tile, buying him a second to speak.

“No, don’t bring me to him, please. I just want to go home, okay? It’s been a long… couple of weeks actually.”

“Week?” She wondered aloud, ‘You know what, I’ll make you a deal then. I’ll turn you into the Emperor, or you can come home with me instead. How does that sound? I’ve always thought those round little ears were cute.”

“Come home with- What? Just take me back to Earth!”

“Emporer it is. I’m sure he’ll be quite upset to be woken up so late. Unfortunate for you, that is.”

Okay, he had to think. One slavery in exchange for another? Great, just his luck.

He couldn’t go back to Lotor so soon. He had to get further than this. Maybe he could sit in the front seat this time - he’d wait for an opportunity to incapacitate the guard and steal the ship. That was something. Well, it was better than nothing.

He wouldn’t be able to enter any of the ships without a Galra present. Maybe this was his ticket home.

“I have changed my mind, you seem nice enough. Let’s get out of here.”

She smiled, “Works for me.”

She took a second to brief her partner, getting her shift covered before she stalked off.

Lance led the way to the docking area.

“Do you have to hold my hood like that the whole time? You’re going to wear out the elastic.” Lance huffed. This whole escape thing was much less glamorous than he imagined.

“I will once you have a collar on. I won’t have anyone else snatch you up for themselves. I do not believe anyone of my rank has a trinket, nonetheless one of such rarity.”

Rarity? Lotor did mention that, didn’t he? At least Lotor had bothered to pay for him - she just decided on a whim to keep him.

“You guys are really obsessed with that ‘owning sentient beings’ thing, aren’t you?” Lance chuckled nervously. He could feel himself growing tenser the more she spoke. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“It is a tradition of our culture after all. I doubt any other of my rank has another being. On this salary? Pfft. Maybe I’ll even get a promotion if Sendak likes you enough to borrow.” She continued, speaking to herself this time, “I’ll use the group transport, I’m sure the others won’t mind, especially once they have a taste.”

“Taste? Borrow?” Lance muttered. Maybe it was some sort of Galra expression. He couldn’t risk his chance. This might be the only opportunity he got.

Lotor could wake up at any moment to take him back, he had to keep moving.

She led him to the vessel. He could tell it was of a lower quality than the one he arrived in.

“So, uh, are we getting going?” He pressed his hand to the handle of the ship, sighing when it failed to yield under his touch. Stupid Galra technology.
“Cute.”

He was going to move back so she could open the door, but she moved it before he was able.

She leaned over him, pressing her hand to the door and looking down on his shorter form.

His heart thumped at the clear kabedon, but he refused to acknowledge it. He pushed down the urge to flinch or shrink back. This was wrong, it was off.

His stomach turned.

This wasn’t the best idea.

His mind ran through what Lotor had said earlier - something about a ruthless species with a track record of violence.

This was very quickly becoming the worst idea.

He’d have to look straight up to look her in the eye, so he didn’t. He kept his gaze straight forward, observing the sharp lines of Galra armor.

He could feel a cold sweat starting.

He was sure if he looked up, she’d have her mouth open, ready to devour him. He could nearly feel her breath. Heat emanates from her armor, merely centimeters away.

“There you are.”

She pulled him away from the door in order to slide it open.

The only way out was in.

He didn’t have the chance to turn around and climb into the seat; she did it for him.

She lifted him under the armpits and set him on the side in the passenger’s seat. His legs dangled where the door was supposed to shut. He wanted to turn and sit facing the windshield, but she hadn’t let go quite yet.

He couldn’t shrink back from the unwelcome contact.

From under his armpits, her hands had sunk. They now sat on either side of his waist. Her hands were so large that her fingers touched each other on his lower back.

His eyes widened.

“You don’t have to sit over here all alone, you know. You could sit on my lap while I drive.” She offered.

One thumb slunk lower, reaching below his shirt to touch skin.

His skin prickled where she touched him, goosebumps spawning in its wake.

“I think I’ll be alright. You can let me go now.” He put his hand on her forearm, gently trying to push her hand away without upsetting her.

“How about you play nice for a bit, okay? We can leave when I’ve had my fill. No one’s due to arrive for vargas, we have all the time we want.”

Lance’s eyes widened further, mouth slightly parted in shock. Did she just say-

Lance hurried to disagree, “Actually, maybe it would be a better idea to go, you know with all the cameras and-”

She swallowed Lance’s mouth in her own.

Her tongue dove into his mouth.

Lance sat frozen for just a moment, time stopping and going too fast all at once.

Lance would have bit her tongue if he didn’t fear her — much sharper — retaliation.

He pushed her away with a hand on her cool chest plate less than a second after she’d kissed him.

“What do you think you’re-?”

She put a knee between his legs, holding him in place. One hand clutched his waist harder while the other wrapped around the back of his head, pulling him closer.

Panic shot through his body. He didn’t know what to do. He had to do something - and it had to be quick.

With all the force in his body, he slammed his head forward, bashing their skulls together. She let go of his head, clutching her own as she let out a yowl of pain.

Lance took the opportunity to jolt backward and push her head into the seat. With the inflexibility of her armor, she crashed down, losing her balance.

Out. He needed out. And he needed it quick.

He ran the only way he could move -over her. He scrambled on top of her disoriented head as fast as he could. He couldn’t go back down, it was much too far. He went up. He boosted himself on top of the vehicle using her.

“Why you! Get down here. Maybe you’ll listen when you haven’t an unbroken bone!

“That’s not really reassuring actually. I’ll stay up here.”

It wasn’t easy to balance on the smooth surface, but he sure as hell was going to try. The lack of escape routes was concerning. His eyes dashed around the immediate area for any options he had.

Her gaze went to the seat of the vessel.

Shit.

He realized he could just as easily boost herself up.

She did so not a moment later, clambering after him. Her claws left marks in the roof.

Lance spoke,“You know, this whole thing is actually really funny when you think about it.”

“Come here, wretch.”

Each step she made dented the vessel.

Lance held his hands in front of him in mock surrender. He had to play the “pet” card. He’d rather fess up now, than when he had no bones left.

Lance spoke as quick as he could, stopping her in her wake,“Lotor will be pissed if you hurt me.”

She growled, only growing more furious, “Who do you think you are, calling Sire by his first name?”

“His Pet! Don’t hurt me or my Master will have your head. That’s why I’m on his ship, okay?” He pulled the Galra fabric up through his shirt’s neckline, hoping it was enough proof to leave him intact.

Her eye’s widened at the sight.

A door across the room slid open, another guard standing in the doorway.

“Vilxla! What is with the commotion, you’ll wake the Emporer if you aren’t-”

She stumbled on the surface at Lance’s reveal, unsure of what to do.

The other rushed over to assist, getting close to the vessel perhaps in the case of her fall.

The guard began to panic immediately, “What are you doing up there? Why is he up there?”

When the guard drew near enough, Lance jumped on him. It was the only way down after all.

He was able to stay on his feet, but not without struggle.

He swore and swatted at his face to try and remove Lance.

“Don’t hurt him! Let him go, Aldwar! He’s the Emporer’s-.”

“He’s what-?”

Lance scrambled off his face and through the open door.

Sure, he had no idea where he was going, but wherever was better than being there.

He skidded down the halls randomly. Maybe a hiding place would do.

He could have returned to Lotor — it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to run anyways — but he’d already gone this far. Maybe he’d find an emergency pod or something. Either way, he’d already tried to escape, there was no going back. Lance hoped Lotor didn’t share the “unbroken bones “ sentiment.

He passed pairs of guards as he darted, each set adding to a mob.

They were bigger and likely faster, but he was small, nimble, and agile. While they clattered into each other and staggered around bends, he skidded around corners and dodged obstacles.

At one point, he’d scattered the food pellets behind him like caltrops… or like significantly less cool marbles.

There was no greater satisfaction than watching a few guards topple over into each other.

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him going.

Doors clanged shut around him. He could only assume the ship went into lockdown.

He slid under one of the metal doors as it slammed down. He’d always wanted to try that.

He made another dash as the door was overridden.

Then, in the distance, a voice rang out above all the scuffling and stomping of the chase.

“Lance!”

Lotor’s voice.

He was pissed.

Lance’s blood ran cold.

He sped up.

He flinched as the voice rang out yet again.

“Lance, if you dare move another muscle, I will make you watch as I incinerate that jacket.”

Lance stopped so abruptly that a few soldiers ran by him, the others parting like the red sea.

He didn’t have anything to keep running for, after all. Any chances of escape had been dashed when he ran from the first guard. Sure, he’d still been hoping to come across some sort of emergency dock, but if Lotor had joined the fray, he wouldn’t be able to evade for much longer.

They lined up on either side of the hall, fists pressed to chests in salute.

Lotor strode down the hall, catching up with the mob.

Lotor looked to the guards lining the walls, each one standing stock still as they attempted to catch their breath. As Lotor’s gaze passed over them, they straightened up further.

His voice boomed through the hallway, echoing off the walls, “Every single person here has been scurrying around after my Pet for the past half varga. Not one of you thought for a moment to request orders nor allow me to fetch my own pet? You are all dismissed. Back to your posts, now.”

Lance snickered as the guards rushed their own ways. It was nice to hear that voice used against someone else.

Lance’s expression faded when Lotor turned the look toward him. Maybe he should save the snickering for later.

Lotor’s countenance was nearly unreadable. Traces of a glare still remained on his face -though, he seemed overall calculating. Lance picked at his nails as he waited for Lotor to address him.

“Come along, Lance.”

Lance pressed his lips together and followed Lotor back to his room in silence.

Sure, Lotor was the one holding him captive, but he didn’t mean to do all that. He should be angry, full of adrenaline and rage, but instead, he was just tired.

Lotor stood across from him, fingers pressed firmly to his temple.

He’d prefer Lotor just punish him in the morning.

Lance opened his mouth to make amends, “I-”

“I apologize, Lance.”

What?

Chapter Text

“I apologize, Lance.”

What?

“What?”

Did he hear Lotor correctly?

He’d just wanted to speedrun the lecture, suffer through the punishment, and get to bed.

The last thing he’d expected was for Lotor to apologize.

He tallied up the offenses in his head:

He removed his collar, ran from Lotor, unintentionally damaged a transport vessel, bothered his guards, caused multiple messes, and- he could probably go on with the offenses for ages.

Lotor continued, “I am sorry you had to experience that.”

He still wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for.

Lance corrected him without thinking, “You do know I was trying to leave, right?”

Why did he say that? Was he really that much of an idiot? Why would he announce his intentions so freely? Apparently playing dumb would have been easier, since he was already such an idiot.

“I am well aware. It was only a matter of time before you attempted to escape. It is hardly a surprise that you tried to leave after the number of complaints you uttered.”

“You’re not going to yell at me for running? Or like ground me or something?”

“Would you like me to?” Lotor teased, a smile pulling at his lips.

Lance jolted at the question.

“No- I’m just surprised is all.”

“I believe that pursuit was punishment enough. I can not say I am pleased that you ran from me, but I grasp that you must work out those urges on your own.

“You did stop as per my orders. If you forced me to chase you down, I would not be so forgiving.

“As for my apology, it draws from the lack of capable staff. My subordinates should have been properly briefed on the situation. Even once they discovered who you belonged to, they handled the situation poorly. The security is just that, personal for the sole reason of security and protection.

“My point is- I promised you safety and peace of mind. I desire your contentment, if not quite joy. You should live comfortably in your home, even if it does not feel so, yet. So long as you are mine I will protect you.”

He was apologizing for letting Lance feel unsafe?

Sure, he felt unsafe, but that was due to the general sense of impending doom that accompanied slavery. He felt just as safe next to Lotor as he did running for his life a few minutes ago… Well maybe he did feel slightly safer with the man insisting upon the importance of his protection.

He hated to admit it, but it was a surprisingly nice sentiment.

Lance restrained himself from physically shaking the thought from his head.

That was ridiculous Lotor’s “honor” was likely the driving force of all this, that was probably more important than any “safety” he felt. What was he playing at? If he honestly cared about Lance’s safety, he’d take him back to Earth.

“Really?”

“No, I did not purchase a pet with the intent to terrorize them, Lance.”

Lance tssked, “Honestly, that’s a bit hard to believe. I mean considering the way Vilxia or whatever was acting, you could have fooled me.”

“Vilxla? Did something happen with her? Did she hurt you?”

Lance’s eyes went wide. Shit. Now he’d be mad at Lance. He let a gaurd touch him. He’d lied to his staff.

Lotor wasn’t watching the cameras or anything, he couldn’t have possibly known that. Why did Lance have to give out that info for free? He was digging his own grave.

“Well, no…” Lance didn’t know what to say. He wished he hadn’t brought it up.

“Lance?” Lotor insisted.

“Well uh. I wasn’t hurt or anything I just-” He started over, “She tried to take me home. She got a bit… handsy and kissed me. It was pretty uncomfortable to say the least.” Lance scratched the back of his neck as he spoke.

Lotor began listing her crimes, “Destruction of property, theft, treason, even. Do you want her head?”

“What? No?!” Where would he even keep a head?

“It is an expression, Lance. Though that punishment isn’t out of reason for my kind. She has dishonored her Emperor -to go without punishment would only encourage that behavior among the ranks. What will prove my intentions, Pet? Would you like me to duel her for your honor?”

“No, that’s alright. Maybe just give her some mandatory therapy and a different job.” Lance offered.

“As you wish.”

Oh, it was as easy as that? He wasn’t getting reprimanded for being “tainted” or something? Ugh. He felt pretty tainted after all. He could still feel the remnants of her touch on his skin.

Before Lotor could say anything else about executing criminals, Lance spoke, “Could I take a shower? I feel pretty gross and all.”

“Of course.”

To his surprise, Lotor allowed his privacy. He sat in the bathroom as Lance showered behind the divider.

It was only after he had schluffed his clothes that he regretted the choice.

“You’re not throwing away my clothes, are you?” asked Lance, speaking up against the patter of water on the shower floor.

He’d used them to attempt escape, it was only logical that Lotor would get rid of them. He’d promised the safety of his jacket, not the other articles.

“You stopped when ordered. I see no reason to be rid of them.”

Lance let out a sigh of relief, “Oh, cool. Thank you.”

“I am a man of my word.”

He washed up quickly, too tired to stay in any longer.

He found his mind drifting to Lotor’s minstrations on his hair from the first day.

His body had grown weary from both the emotional and physical stress. It would have been much easier to relinquish control and let someone else cleanse the sweat and stress from his scalp.

He found himself desiring such treatment for just a moment before he came to his senses and realized what he was thinking.

He was insane, he had to be.

He just wanted social interaction, not Lotor interaction.

He redressed and sat at the end of the bed, waiting for Lotor to turn off the lights and say his goodnights.

Lance tilted his head at Lotor,“‘Nite?”

He’d still had a punishment in store, didn’t he? There was always a catch. He sucked in a breath.

“You seem to have forgotten something.” Lotor held up the collar. Lance’s collar.

Lance sighed, he knew this had to come at some point.

“You may put it on yourself if you desire.”

Allow Lotor to touch him, and mark him with a collar, or willingly submit and close the collar around his own neck? It had to happen one way or another -even if he was inviting Lotor’s touch, it was better than sealing his own fate.

It was too late for this.

“You do it. Just hurry up” he huffed, “please.” he added, unwilling to take any scolding this late at night.

“It is not a punishment, Lance. My mark will get you far in this world.” The metal cooled his skin as Lotor pressed it to his neck.

His touch lingered on Lance’s skin. He simultaneously wished Lotor would stop and that his touch would never leave

“Will it get me back to Earth?” He muttered under his breath.

Despite the relatively light weight of the object, it sat heavily on Lance’s neck.

Yet again, his fate was sealed with a click.

“That is better.” Lotor continued after Lance refused to respond, “Goodnight, Pet.”

Lance sighed and settled in for bed. He could sleep for a few years after all he’d been through.

He stared at the ceiling as his body disagreed with the idea. His mind was still racing with everything he’d seen. He couldn’t possibly sleep after all he’d been through..

He should be exhausted. His mind raced with the thought of the night.

Lance spoke aloud, mainly to himself, “You’re not going to spring some surprise punishment on me in the morning are you?”

He doubted Lotor was still awake. He hoped he wasn’t; regretting the words the moment they left his mouth.

“I am not upset with you.”

“Reallly?”

“Must you question me time after time? I will reiterate: no, I am not mad at you. I understand it is only natural to explore your boundaries. Just know that next time, will not get nearly as far.”

Lance took in a deep breath, not entirely convinced. Lotor hadn’t lied to him yet - though, it was only the first day.

Lotor continued, “If you want my honest opinion, I was impressed.”

Lance let out a noise of surprise, his eyes widening in the darkness.

Impressed?

Lotor went on, “I did not realize you possessed that much stamina. Maybe training will go smoother than anticipated.”

Lance huffed.

“Training with a blade.” Lotor clarified.

“Oh.” Lance turned to face the opposite wall, hiding the smile that had crawled to his face. He’d always wanted to do someone so… cool for lack of a better word. Despite his general dread and negative feelings, the idea of swinging a sword excited him unlike many others had.

Sure, the circumstance was not ideal, but learning the way of the blade from an Emperor? A heavily trained Emporer. He’d have to be crazy to turn down that offer.

Lotor continued, “You ran from highly trained soldiers for the better part of a varga. It is impressive. You seemed as if you could go on longer still.” he complimented.

He did do that, didn't he? He blushed as he considered Lotor's words. He proceeded to feel like an idiot for the warmth in his cheeks. He sighed, thankful that the lights were out.

“Well, um. I was just nervous and all.” Lance brushed it off, shrugging despite being sure Lotor couldn’t see him.

“Accept the compliment, Lance. You deserve it.”

“Thank you,” Lance whispered.

He shouldn’t be this “buddy-buddy” with his enemy. He needed to maintain distance. Humanizing his captor would only make him feel bad for retaliating.

Sure, the compliment seemed genuine, but this was an emperor, they were used to spewing honeyed words to appease the masses.

Lance sighed, yet again, still figuring out his emotions. He had nothing more to say.

“Sleep well, Pet.”

Because that's all he was, wasn't he?

“Goodnight.”

Chapter Text

Pidge had them oriented toward the last known location in no time. With the extra supplies, newfound courage, and teenage rebellion they set off into the distance.

Lance only hoped that Pidge knew what he was doing.

Sure, he looked all professional with the pile of tech he spent his cycles buried under, but to track Garrison suits? All they had to go off of was their general location and that was good enough for Pidge?

Every time he thought to suggest they head back, he ended up stopping himself.

For a start, Pidge didn’t seem to be worried in the slightest; sure, he’d check in on the navigation to ensure they were still on course, but other than that, he seemed significantly less anxious than the Pidge they’d bunked with for so long.

He could only assume Pidge’s space legs (wings?) had come in.

Hunk, on the other hand, had only recently stopped puking; nausea induced from stress, as well as assumedly from the not-quite-right artificial atmosphere in the vessel.

For a lifelong resident of Earth, Pidge seemed pretty confident navigating through the vastness of space. Shouldn’t he be nervous at the constantly looming, ever-growing, dread and sense of doom that accompanied the idea of this escapade?

When he thought about it, it did —sorta— make sense that Pidge could be calm when embarking on a treacherous journey into the deep unknown of space.

He was finally on track to finding his family after all.

He still spent his days huddled in his nest of technology, but Lance could swear he heard the beeps and buzz of a video game occasionally; did he have that this entire time? Why did Lance have a high score of 300 on Flappy bird if Pidge had real games with him?

Pidge’s confidence seemed to put Hunk at ease too. Lance was grateful for it; It shocked him that Hunk hadn’t had a heart attack yet.

It seemed like they had finally settled into a routine.

He had to admit, it did feel good to be on vacation. So what if the vacation involved traveling into depths of space that no adventurer had ever dared to traverse -it was still a break? No waking up at ungodly hours or cramming his head with jargon.

He lamented the day he had to hear the voice of his instructor.

“Lance, stand up straight.”

He could hear them say.

“Lance, pay attention.”

He heard that one on a daily basis.

“Lance, take a look at this.”

That one was new.

“Lance, really, look at this. C’mon!”

Lance blinked a few times, looking into the —only slightly concerned— face of Hunk.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to play off the way he was zoning out into the wall (as opposed to the window right next to it).

His brain took a second to catch up.

“Oh. Yeah?”

Lance followed Hunk to where Pidge sat, staring at the display.

A small camera lay on the ground plugged into a wall-mounted monitor.

A face sat on the screen, mouth open, frozen in speech -clearly due to the pause symbol pasted on top of his face.

Lance gasped, “Shirogane?”

Hunk jumped into an explanation, “Pidge dug out the captains’ log from the stuff we salvaged! We figured you’d want to watch it with us.”

“Hell yeah, scoot over.”

They huddled around the screen as entries from the three astronauts played.

“This is Takashi Shirogane on hour forty-five of the voyage to Kerberos. No unusual astrological activity detected. We are midway past Mars- right on schedule…”

“This is Samuel Holt on hour fifty-nine-”

“This is Matthew Holt on hour-”

They listened until the logs ran out. Even after they had absorbed every word of the scientists, they kept listening. It wasn’t like they had anything better to do. Who else had ever had the chance to memorize videos personally made by the legendary adventurers of Kerberos?

While Pidge was entranced by the faces of his family, Lance was more so endeared to Shirogane’s words. Lance couldn’t help but admire him. He could only dream that Shirogane was his family- Lance was sure he had the stories and wisdom to entertain him for a lifetime.

He spoke like he knew people were listening, holding on to every word- and they were. Lance wondered if he’d pick up some of that confidence merely by standing in his proximity.

He was just so cool.

Lance found himself longing for the mission’s objective- even more so than before if that was possible.

Not only would he get to meet Shirogane, but he’d also be his savior! They could talk about piloting and his high scores on the simulators, and and- everything! Even after Shirogane wasn’t forced to stay in Lance’s immediate vicinity — since they had to take the same vessel on the ride home— he’d still think highly of Lance for saving him.

After a few hours of Lance’s constant badgering, he’d convinced Pidge to download the files onto his computer, freeing up the recording device for personal use.

What was more awesome than listening to Shirogane’s words? Walking in his footsteps, taking after him and making his own.

This could go down in history. His name — his recordings — displayed in museums next to Shirogane’s -just the thought got him pumped up.

He held the camera in his hand as if it was a newborn. It wasn’t the same as making some cliche vlog on his phone, this was making records, making history.

This was his chance. He had to make it count.

“This is Lance McClain on hour-” He cleared his throat, “of the rescue mission past Kerberos. I’m aboard the SS. Mclain with Pidge Gunderson and Hunk Garret -If you couldn’t notice from the fact that we’re missing. Moral is relatively high. Rations are lasting. We’re hot on the trail of Earth’s missing scientists -headed to the location as we speak.”

It didn’t matter if he told the truth - if they ultimately perished in space, at least they’d have a record of the events.

Lance continued, “This is Pilot er- Captain of this vessel signing out-”

“I think I’m more of a captain, actually.” Pidge butted in, sticking his head in the frame.

Lance huffed playfully, “Well I’m making the video, so I’m the captain now-”

Hunk spoke up, rushing into the video, “I provide moral support, isn’t that what a captain is all about? Team spirit?”

Lance cleared his throat, “This is Co-co-captain Lance-” He let the others cut him off.

“And Hunk!”

“And Pidge!

“-signing off!” Lance clicked the button to end the video, “That was good! I think that officially makes us explorers.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” Hunk nodded, a goofy smile plastered on his face.

“Sure as hell does!” Pidge cheered.

Lance nearly froze for half a second. The energy, excitement, expletive, everything, threw him off. Pidge hadn’t spoken like that since the day they’d met. It was refreshing. He spent the other half second smiling harder than even Hunk.

“This is it, guys. We’re doing it! We’re really doing it! We’ll find them in no time and be back by winter break!”

At the end of the cycle, Pidge discovered how to project more than just the logs onto the monitor. He set up a movie while Lance gathered all the sleeping material on the ship into one big pile in front of it. He laid out all four mattresses (as bunks only came in sets of two) on the floor, blankets were strewn about according to Lance’s creative vision.

He held his fingers up, framing the scene.

“Something is missing.” he tapped his chin thoughtfully, the other hand landing on his hip.

“Us?” Pidge tilted his head toward him, away from the laptop screen he’d been tapping at.

Lance couldn’t help the smile from crawling to his face.

“You’re right, but one more thing…hmm.” He darted to the emergency storage closet, searching in the darkness for a minute. Not a moment later, he pulls a bundle from the depths.

A thinner blanket, perfect for one thing.

He tucked the middle of the blanket into the ceiling- professionally tucked into the ceiling tile.

He pressed the other sides under the mattresses, creating a canopy overhead.

Perfect. Well minus them.

“All set?” Hunk poked his head out of the kitchen.

“Yupperoni. Looks good.” He gave a double thumbs up.

Attached to Hunk’s head was, of course, his body. More importantly, attached to his body, were his hands, each clenched around the handles of two mugs. He began salivating before his brain caught up.

Lance was sure his eyes were bulging from his skull. He’d recognize that scent anywhere- he didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it earlier. Hot cocoa. Fresh, hot, beautiful, Earth, coco.

He handed one to Pidge and the other to Lance before heading back into the kitchen to grab his own.

It tasted like all his childhood trauma had washed away at once.

If there was some entity in the sky controlling existence, they had certainly sent Hunk as a guardian angel.

Lance wiped his eyes for good measure, partially convinced he was crying at the realization, “Hunk. Where did you get hot cocoa in space? Did you grind up magic space rocks for us- pestle mortar style?”

“Pidge isn’t the only one who can sneak stuff onto the ship.” He laughed so hard at his joke that he nearly spilled a drop of the precious nectar.

Pidge spoke, “You’re a gift, Hunk. Truly.”

Their high spirits carried through the night as they sat together to watch the movie.

Even after the movie had long faded to black, they sat and talked.

It felt good to finally be on top. It didn’t hurt to celebrate just how far they’d made it. They had passed Kerberos after all. They were the 4th, 5th, and 6th people to have traveled so far.

Maybe once they reached the crew, they’d scoot a few inches further into space, taking the record for distance traveled by humans. It didn’t hurt to tack on a few more achievements.

They’d worried enough for the week… maybe even the year.

Lance woke up early to make another log- one that would be hopefully uninterrupted. The first log was created, it showcased the whole crew after all, but he wanted the spotlight to himself too. Maybe he’d pass around the camera once he was done.

“This is Lance McClain on hour-” He cleared his throat again, still unsure how long they’d been away from Earth’s system, “of the rescue mission past Kerberos. We’ve officially traveled further than any man- apart from the crew we’re heading toward — but I’m not sure that counts since they left their ship behind —”

What was he saying again?

“- And we’re excited to keep on! Hang in there Shirogane and Pidge’s family!” He winced at the awkward wording but kept going for the sake of the recording.

“We’ll be there in no time. I don’t know what kind of aliens you’ve befriended, but I hope you introduce me either way. It’d be pretty neat to meet some space babes- or like dogs, if they don’t have human intelligence. That would be cool, keeping an alien as a pet?”

Why was he so nervous? Maybe he’d delete it and start over. Space babes? Sure that sounded rad, but that’s not the type of stuff you put in a recording that you might want to look back on.

“Moral is still high. Team bonding is… occurring, which is good. And we’re still on track! This is co-co-co-captain Lance, signing out.”

“Space babes? Really, Lance?” Pidge stood around the corner, slightly amused at Lance’s monologue.

“Hey, who knows? Maybe we could make an alien alliance or something. Who knows what’s out there?”

“If you get a space babe, I’d eat only MREs for a month.”

“You’re already doing that.”

“Well, I’d eat them for a month more.” He huffed.

It wasn’t until a few cycles later that he decided to make another video log. He was still excited, sure, but the general merriment of their partial success has nearly worn out.

If nothing else, they were closer from the experience, and that was something he appreciated. If he was going to die in the depths of space, he might as well be doing what he loved with who he loved.

He couldn’t bear to say his doubts out loud. He couldn’t bring down the mood with his nihilism. What if he jinxed it?

Everyone else was keeping their head up, so he had to as well. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

So he kept his fears inside, waiting until the night cycle fell to tuck away into the bathroom and record another log.

“This is Lance McClain on hour-something or other of the rescue mission past Kerberos. I never thought I’d get sick of this stale artificial atmosphere, but here we are. We’re still on our way Shirogane.” he chuckled at the small rhyme, “I know I should be happy, I should keep celebrating, but I just… I don’t know. If these logs somehow make it back to Earth without me, I just wanted to say a few things. Mom, I love you. Everyone, I love you, okay? Even you Victoria, even though this choice doesn’t make it seem like that. I know you’d rather I stay safe on the ground. I’ll be back, I promise, okay? I’ll bring a space babe and you’ll love them, okay? I just- no matter what it looks like, can’t come back yet. You’d understand if you saw Pidge - he’s kind of a mess without his family- like I am without mine.” he let out a soft sigh, heavy with built-up emotion.

“This is Lance, signing out.”

He clicked the recording to an end.

“Goodbye.”

He shouldn’t be so grim. It would be fine. Everything would be. It had to be.

He left the bathroom, flushing the toilet for no reason in particular since he hadn’t used it.

He resigned to not think for the rest of the night, crawling into bed with a yawn. At least he’d have no jet lag since the cycles were synced up to the daily cycle where the Garrison was.

He couldn’t stop dwelling on the recording.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said some of that, but what else could he say? It was good footage for the documentary if nothing else.

It niggled at him how much of the plan he’d given away, but it didn’t matter, either way, did it?

It didn’t matter if he told the truth - if they ultimately perished in space, at least they’d have a record of the events.

If they found the vessel.

Wait a second.

Lance’s eyes bolted open, sight unfocused on the ceiling above him.

There had been no recordings released to the public when the scientists were lost on Kerberos, but that didn’t mean there were no recordings. Sure, they lacked ground control in their vessel, but who was to say the logging device was a closed system?

Well… shit.

He closed his eyes again, rolling over to press his face in the cheap, standard-issue Garrison pillow.

He’d be in trouble either way. If he was going out, he’d go out with a bang.

Maybe the tapes would even be revered- who knew? Once they made it back with the scientists, they’d be too relieved to punish them for using the recording device without permission… or stealing a ship, or stealing parts from another ship, or disobeying direct orders, or-

Whatever happened, he’d be a hero, if not to the world, to Pidge, and Hunk, and the scientists- he’d be a hero to himself.

His crew was already asleep, but that didn’t stop him from wishing them goodnight, “Night Hunk, night Pidge.”

Chapter Text

“If you try to make me eat those shitty pellets from your hand again, I will bite you.” Lance huffed, turning away from Lotor. He clacked his teeth with the ferocity of a capybara - a warning for what was to come if Lotor kept pushing the palmful of tasteless nutrition pellets at him.

Lotor only spoke when Lance’s gaze returned to his face, vision reluctantly pointing out of the corner of his eye

“I assure you-” Lotor paused to flash a toothy smile, “you will find I can bite much harder.”

His canines seemed to glint in the light, points clearly sharper than any human teeth Lance had seen. He needed to remind himself that this was an alien… not just some dickhead purple human.

Carnivorous species; sharp teeth; not the best person to be biting.

He ignored the goosebumps and whipped his head further in the other direction.

He hadn't eaten since the previous morning — since he'd stolen Lotor's meal — and was starting to suffer for it. It was only mid-cycle and he was already regretting his accidental hunger strike.

He cringed each time his stomach audibly grumbled… And Lotor’s hand consequently extended with more of those stupid pellets.

If he thought Lance was going to sit there like some house cat, crunching on morsels from Lotor’s palm, he was dead wrong. He’d have to be an idiot to fall for Lotor’s game. He wouldn’t let him starve; Lotor had already proven that Lance was an asset - alive that was.

Even just the idea of getting so close to Lotor again rattled him. The idea of lowering himself to eating from the palm of such a person fazed him.

Sure, the palm had been no less than pleasant when it held Lance’s cheek, but that didn’t mean he was willing to eat from it.

He couldn’t help but let his mind drift. He had nothing better to do than think.

If he grew weary enough to accept Lotor’s offering, would he snatch the morsels quicker than his mind could process or rather, be careful, tentative, as not to touch his hand whatsoever?

The warmth of his palm radiating just a tinge- just enough to feel with the graze of lips. Enough to lament the ghost of his presence, having faded in the instant before he could think to appreciate it.

He didn’t appreciate it- he didn’t want to either. What was he thinking?

He physically shook the thought from his head, huffing and looking off into the distance when Lotor looked at him questioningly.

He really was touch-starved…

It was just an inconvenience. Lance didn’t need contact or affection or any of that garbage, he was a trained Garrison soldier! He was tougher than that.

Maybe he could guilt trip Lotor into giving him a weighted stuffed animal (was that a thing in space?).

He wouldn’t fall victim to such tricks. Despite the enforced proximity, he’d attempt to maintain his distance -physical and emotional as well.

Likely in an effort to keep Lance bored and cooperative, Lotor had insisted Lance remain beside his chair -or throne rather.

Why did he need such a large chair in the center of the room? He understood the need for a Captain's chair but was such a pedestal necessary? He’d preferred his spot across the room where he could zone out and gaze dramatically into the vastness of space instead of having to focus on his current situation. Lotor must have noticed this, hence the change in proximity. Sure, he could still gaze dramatically into space (what with the viewport covering the majority of wall space), but it was a bit harder to disassociate with an Emperor lording immediately over you. Did Lotor think he’d simply “start liking him” through osmosis or something? He’d have to be an idiot to-

He was rambling to himself again -of course, he was; Lance currently existed in a constant state of fight or flight mode since Lotor had caught him running. Sure, Lotor had been the one to apologize, but Lance couldn't be sure he was off the hook.

They hadn't addressed the situation all morning.

Lotor had even granted him off-leash privileges so long as he stayed by Lotor's side - which wasn’t saying much since he still had to sit on the dog bed, but it was slightly less humiliating than being tethered to the chair.

If he was still a bit on edge from the whole incident, that was merely a bonus to keep him alert. Sure, he claimed not to be upset, but could Lance really be certain?

It didn't help that he had nothing to occupy his mind or hands. Whenever he asked Lotor for something to do, the only option was “training”. Not the kind with a blade either.

Lance wasn't quite sure what the training entailed, but he wasn't quite ready to find out. Every time he pictured it, some nightmarish scene of jumping through flaming hoops always seemed to plague his mind. It seemed outlandish, but this was an alien society -anything could be on the table.

The fact that he had avoided it this long was pure luck.

What he hadn’t avoided happened to be equally as bad: the lingering looks and — more concerningly — touches.

Lotor would check in on him, occasionally with a question, sometimes with an offering of water, but most often with a simple look his way.

Why was it that Lance flinched at the unexpected eye contact every time? His expression lacked malicious intent, yet, Lance couldn’t help but feel it bore into him each time. It was only his third cycle with Lotor, how could something so simple throw him off his rhythm?

At one point, he’d let his guard down so much so, that he ended up falling asleep against the outer arm of Lotor’s chair.

He did need extra sleep after his escape attempt yester-cycle.

When he awoke again, he remained still, eyes lidded. Maybe he would fall asleep again, that would be nice.

He remained lax against- wherever he was. It was too much effort to come to full consciousness.

He was much too comfortable to bother.

Against his better judgment, the cloudiness faded as he remembered his situation. Captured by an alien; there was no time to relax.

But he was comfortable and tired and the hand on his nape was warm and soothing as it pets him.

The what?

The hand on his nape was-

His eyes bolted open, his body moving before his mind could process it.

He tripped over the edge of his cushion, legs not bothering to stand up first.

Adrenaline flooded his body as he struggled to form a defensive position. Maybe it was more of a “ready to bolt” position. He didn’t care. His eyes couldn’t get wider. They darted around the room, taking in everything at once.

Large threatening purple alien: check. Lance had stood from the seat- he was in trouble, wasn’t he?

Lotor looked at him with alarm, “Are you alright?”

“No! Don’t touch me!” He hissed, jerking only further away despite the fact that Lotor was five feet away.

His senses returned to him one by one. There was no threat. Lotor hadn’t hurt him - he’d merely touched him.

He felt rather foolish for such an extravagant reaction to being touched. His embarrassment only fueled his rage.

At this rate, his heart would beat out of his chest.

“Sit,” Lotor instructed, gesturing toward the cushion with a palm as if Lance didn’t have enough sense to understand him.

“Only if you stop- whatever you were doing.”

“You appreciated my touch last quintant.”

“No, I didn’t. I just didn’t want to fight you- that’s all.”

“While I would love to respect your preference, I will not guarantee anything of the sort. You are simply surprised, not oppositional to my embrace. If anything, more contact is required for desensitization purposes - it is not permitted to react as such in a professional environment.”

Lance made no motion to sit down again, instead glaring harder yet at Lotor.

“You may take a few breaths to calm yourself, or I can help you sit down.”

Lotor spoke the threat so casually.

“No- no I got it. Whatever.”

Lotor sighed at his begrudging compliance, “The tailor is set to arrive in a few vargas, Pet. I expect you to behave for them.”

“Tailor, varga? What is- How long is a varga?”

“Sixty dobash.”

“Oh.” He paused, thinking over it for a moment.

“How long is a dobash?”

“Sixty ticks. Ticks are the smallest unit of time.”

“So they’re like seconds?”

“Like in a competition?” Lotor made a small huff of realization before continuing, “You do understand I have no way to answer that.”

Oh.

“I realized that yeah.”

“Come here, I will show you.”

Lance stood from his cushion, leaning over the arm of Lotor’s chair to peer at the screen. He couldn’t make it out from the angle he was at. He stood on his tiptoes, leaning further over Lotor to see.

Before he could properly balance his weight on the arm, a hand snaked around his waist, pulling him down onto the chair with Lotor - more specifically, on his lap.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!” He struggled in the hold.

Lotor merely held him firmly for a moment, making Lance squeak and prepare for further protest when-

“Lance, listen for just a moment. You are unable to view the screen unless you are seated here - It prevents others from seeing what they should not. Now, see this?” He pointed at a moving graph on the projected screen. Every second or so, a line bobbed to the right.

“See that? It moves every tick.” He traced the side with a nail, “ When it reaches right here, a Varga has passed.”

This must be a Galra clock. It was an ever-growing meter -unlike the circular clocks of Earth. He tilted his head at it, watching as the ticks added up.

“And this-” Lotor pinched the screen, zooming out to a larger timeframe, “is the current quintant. We are almost halfway through it.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at the divisions of the day. It looked… off.

He realized what was missing, “There are only twenty hours in a day here?”

“Twenty vargas in a quintant.” Lotor corrected before continuing, “Then six quintants in a movement and four movements in a phoeb. This is the current deca-phoeb, we are five movements through the total of six.”

“What’s that mark at the end of the month- er phoeb? Is it like a holiday or something?”

“That is not of your concern at the moment.” Lotor changed the subject to the measurements, “Would you like me to repeat anything?”

“Can I write this down somewhere?”

Lotor ignored him, pointedly looking away.

He huffed, correcting his question, “Can I have something to write with, Master?”

“Perhaps you should learn manners before you move onto a subject as complicated as time.”

“Please? It would keep me occupied so you could work on.. space taxes or whatever you do on your weird floaty screen.”

“I will consider granting you a datapad with good behavior.”

Better than nothing.

While he’d like to laugh in Lotor’s face at that demeaning idea, he’d like a datapad (whatever that was) more so.

He scooted to the side of Lotor’s lap so he could look at him while he spoke, “Like with that tailor guy? I’ll let him measure me or whatever- if tailor means the same thing in space.”

“You are correct. He is to measure you for daily attire as well as formal dress. Perhaps in the future, I may order a set of armor for you as well.”

“Armor? Like yours? Awesome! I could kick some ass!”

Not that he thought Lotor’s armor was cool. Or that he thought he would look just as cool and intimidating in a set like his.

Lance cleared his throat, blushing at his excessive enthusiasm.

Lotor spoke, voice hinting toward amusement, “There is no circumstance in which you will be anywhere near the battlefield. It will be exclusively for sparring with a simulation, or myself. Though, perhaps it could be of use in an emergency situation.”

Lance added, under his breath, “Still pretty cool.”

A suit of armor is still a suit of armor after all.

“You know, back on Earth, they used to call me the tailor-” Lance spoke the line with the practiced ease of a man who said it every time he was allowed in the simulation.

He paused dramatically.

“-Because I always thread the needle.”

Lotor’s countenance remained neutral, “Is that not the typical job description?”

Culture differences. Duh. Well, that was better than the usual reaction; usually, he only received annoyed sighs in response.

“Oh. It’s a pilot joke. I guess you needed more context. I was a fighter pilot back on Earth- well I was in the fighter pilot training program back in the Garrison…

“But that doesn’t really matter anymore, I guess.” Lance sighed, pressing his lips together.

“You serve a greater purpose now. As a representative of the Galra empire, you are a symbol of peace and wealth -a lavish lifestyle bestowed upon a lower creature — for the minimal service in return — portrays the grandiose generous nature of your Master. Your presence is essential to convey the competence and level-headed nature of-”

Lance zoned out, watching the way his lips moved to form the words, and hearing his pretentious voice, but not listening to whatever propaganda was spilling from his mouth.

Maybe he would have paid attention if: A, he valued whatever lecture tangent Lotor was on or B, he didn’t get so distracted by his stupid fancy accent.

Tolerating Lotor’s speech was like listening to the history of yarn; it was boring, worthless, and surprisingly soothing. If he wasn’t so sure Lotor would try to touch him again, he might have fallen asleep. Wait — he was already touching Lance — how could he have forgotten? His cadence was so specific -Lance wondered if he’d pick it up from osmosis. How weird would that be, coming back from space with an accent-

“Do you understand?”

Lance popped back into consciousness.

“Mhmm. Yup. Definitely -can I get off your lap now?”

Lotor remained silent, looking at him with a — slightly irritated — expectant countenance.

“Master.” He added with a huff.

“You may.”

Lotor moved the screens with a gesture, allowing Lance to hop off of him. His opposite hand rubbed his temples.

“You must adjust to the position sooner or later. Not all occasions come with the proper padding for you to kneel by my side.”

He grunted something about positioning his foot up Lotor’s ass, settling back into his cushion.

The only warning Lance received was a rap on the door.

Lotor turned to him before he had the chance to ask a question, “I expect you to behave during this process. Do not take out your frustration on my staff, Pet. They will not set you loose nor will they feel for you. He is required to touch you with the measuring device in order to get proper readings, so let me know if it becomes too much for you and I will let you take a break. Do you understand, Pet?”

What, did he think Lance was some feral cat, ready to claw at anyone who came near? Actually, with the way his body responded to Lotor petting him, that wasn’t

“Yeah, I got it. I won’t bite him, promise.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master- when are you going to get sick of doing that?”

“When you learn your place and address me properly.”

Lance scoffed at him, “But-”

Lotor had already directed his attention to the door before Lance could voice his complaint, “Enter.”

The door slid open to reveal… Yet another Galra - Lance wasn't sure what he expected.

He saluted with a fist to his chest.

“Introduce yourself to my pet and you may begin.”

He held a single hand out toward Lance, palm up, tilted toward him at head height.

What was Lance supposed to do with that? Was there some Galra handshake he should have been briefed on?

He looked at Lotor, tilting his head in confusion.

“Smell him, Pet. You do not have to let him touch your face quite yet.”

Oh.

Okay?

For some reason, he leaned forward and did as instructed. He didn't notice it with Lotor — likely (and luckily) because he wasn't covered in fur — but Galra had an earthy scent, which was ironic since they were nowhere near earth. It was soft and powdery, yet rich. It made him curious about how Lotor differed. He was only partially Galra after all.

He was supposed to be mad at Lotor! Lance was insane.

He nearly pulled back, satisfied with the sniff he’d gotten when he realized the opportunity presented to him. He didn’t care about some odd Galra touching him, especially since Lotor had expressed his concern for Lance’s safety, what he did care about, was his captor enjoying his presence and staking his claim with physical affection.

Before Lance could talk himself out of it, he’d grabbed the fluffy hand and moved it to cup his cheek, nuzzling into it with uncalled-for affection. He made sure to make eye contact with Lotor as the Galra keened and cooed.

Yeah, maybe he was adorable and sweet, just not for Lotor. He regretted referring to himself as “sweet” as soon as his brain processed the thought.

Lotor’s countenance changed very slightly, unnoticeably even, eyes narrowing into a glare.

He twitched as a shiver flew down his spine.

He pulled back, having successfully proved his point - definitely not due to his fear of Lotor punishing him on the spot.

The tailor seemed to be in a good mood after that -at least someone there was happy.

When the Galra had handed a tablet to Lotor, he’d nearly snatched it from the other’s hand.

Lance choose to avoid any more antagonizing gestures for the rest of the visit, though, that wasn’t to say the Galra did the same; At any opportunity, his free hand would travel to Lance’s head or neck to pet or lightly scratch. It was better than the sense of underlying dread that accompanied every moment of contact from Lotor, except, whenever it occurred, he could feel Lotor’s irritation grow.

He’d been so distracted in his attempt to annoy Lotor that he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to the other’s name.

He hadn’t stayed for long, — whether it be from his skill at measuring or rather his fear of the emperor's rath — leaving the room with a bow, a salute, and without a single parting word to Lance.

“I see your disdain does not extend to other members of my species.”

“Well, he didn’t kidnap me.”

“You will have to adjust to my presence sooner or later. It would cause you less strain overall if you allowed my ministrations.”

“My ‘strain’ is none of your business! Just leave me alone.”

“Perhaps you require a more intense desensitization.”

“I’d rather pass away.” Lance’s stomach tossed at the idea of dying there, unearthing his hunger — without his consent — yet again.

He continued, “And at this rate, that won’t be very long.”

“I will provide you with your preferred food if you cooperate.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“As you wish. You require nutrients regardless, so you may eat your ‘pellets’ from a bowl for this meal.” Lotor tapped something into a keypad as he spoke.

Lance huffed, “Fine, whatever.” as long as you leave me alone.

Within a few minutes, a knock sounded on the door.

“You may enter.”

A staff member presented Lotor with a steaming plate of some strange, savory-scented dish.

The sound of his bowl of pellets hitting the floor was deafening.

When Lance looked to Lotor to express his discontent, he was already looking back down at him. He stared down at Lance blankly as he cleansed his hands on a wipe.

He salivated in anticipation.

Lance concentrated his hate and repulsion for the other man into a few choice words. He didn’t deserve this. Sure, it wasn’t in the palm of Lotor’s hand anymore, but it was just as demeaning and rude. These conditions were inhumane… well, actually the food was designed to be “human” specifically -which he couldn’t determine to be better or worse. He should tip the bowl again.

As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Lotor took it upon himself to go first, “Since you behaved for the tailor, you may have one piece.”

Despite the perfectly fine fork on his plate, Lotor choose to pick up the small chunk between his fingers, extending it toward him in offering.

Lance snagged the piece before he could talk himself out of it. It was so worth the embarrassment.

The flavors melted on his tongue; rich, creamy, savory sauce filled every inch of his mouth. It was some sort of meat, though it was more tender than any he’d tasted.

The flavor overwhelmed him so much so that his salivary glands ached as they struggled to keep up. It was worth it -without a doubt.

Lotor chuckled at Lance’s enthusiasm.

“Do you desire more?”

Lance spoke before the words had fully left Lotor’s mouth, “Yes.”

He added quickly, “-please.”

He added again, “Master?”

“Up.”

Lance stood automatically.

When he didn’t immediately provide him with more, he tilted his head at Lotor.

He patted his lap invitingly.

He drove a hard bargain.

Lance could forget about all of this once he was home. This was strictly survival. If anyone made that bogus claim, he’d deny it. He crawled onto Lotor’s lap, remaining alert. He’d skitter away at the first hint of funny business.

“That was not so hard, was it?”

Lance didn’t respond, attention directed solely to the full plate of cooling food.

He’d expected two or three more bites before he was excommunicated to the cushion, but, to his surprise, Lotor served every other bite to him. When he thought about it, wasn’t that plate a bit larger than the one Lotor had eaten off of previously- or rather, more pressingly, wasn’t that fork stacked a bit higher than his other bites had been?

He felt like a hamster; maybe Lotor stuffed his mouth to stop him from blurting out whatever he planned to get himself in trouble with next.

Lance couldn’t say he minded.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to play along. It was just for a little while, after all.

He couldn’t keep on as he had been. It had only been a day of refusing food, yet he was as frail and weak as his resolve. He needed his strength, mental and physical, in order to escape.

If he took the path of least resistance, he could gather supplies under the radar.

Right?

Right?

It wasn’t like anyone out there knew him- the only one he had to be embarrassed for was himself.

And it would be sure as hell easier to escape with sword training and a set of goddamn armor.

That didn’t mean he’d trust Lotor — he’d remain perpetually vigilant — but supposed he could tolerate him.

If this was the food Lotor normally ate, and would likely provide to him on a daily basis if he behaved, what else could he get for good behavior? Lotor was the emperor after all (which hopefully shared the same significance as the word did on Earth), there could be some perks to his… ownership.

It was only when Lance had tucked himself in and Lotor had lowered the lights (even further than the odd aesthetic dim lights of the “daytime” mode), that Lance realized something.

His eyes bolted open, speaking before he processed the thought, “You said that I couldn’t see the screen without sitting on your lap earlier.”

“And?” Lotor sat on the left side of the bed, scooting under the covers as he spoke.

Lance scooted into a sitting position, “You lied! When I got off your lap, you moved the screen. You could have done that from the beginning.”

“I did not lie. It would not have allowed you to view the contents from where you were seated. I never claimed I was unable to adjust it. You could have requested I move it for you.”

“How was I supposed to know you could do that?”

“If you did not notice, I have moved it in your company previously. Moreover, you struggled minimally. I would have released you if you displayed true distress as opposed to your disoriented state.”

Lance huffed. He should have punched Lotor and run away. Why didn’t he think of that?

Did Lotor need his presence that desperately?

“Well, why did you want me to sit on you in the first-”

“Hush, Pet. If I answer that, you will be up for vargas asking more. Save it for the morning.”

“Okay, whatever. ‘Night then.” He plopped onto his spot, determined to remember his question. Sure, Lotor had given him some bogus about “needing desensitization” but it was just the two of them why would he need that so urgently? Something wasn’t adding up.

Well, he was in space after all. Maybe there was some custom he didn’t know.

“Good night, Lance.”

Chapter Text

“Why can’t I just wear my normal clothes?”

Lance swore he’d play along. He knew it was best to gain trust.

But honestly, how could he be expected to behave in these conditions?

Couldn’t Lotor let his brain catch up before they had to get on with the day?

Lance awoke to Lotor’s insistence he dresses immediately.

Lotor, as usual, had been awake and dressed long before him. When Lance first groggily sat up to rub his eyes, Lotor had already unpacked and laid out one of many outfits that had been miraculously sewn overnight (he couldn’t be sure if their technology was just that advanced, or rather if Lotor had employed a dozen or so Galra to manufacture at Mach speed).

Sure, he’d like to not care, having more concerning issues, such as leaving or maintaining his sanity, but he couldn’t let this slide.

Lotor’s eager urging wake-up call was the last thing he needed.

Maybe he believed Lance would be more malleable in his half-asleep state, or perhaps he just figured he’d put up enough of a fight to require the rest of the day for recovery. Nevertheless, Lance was not buying his bull so early in the morning.

“You gotta be kidding me. I probably couldn’t even put that on -forget walking or moving without looking like some idiot spider tangled in its own web.” Lance huffed. He was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, but he decided against it upon reanalyzing the thinly veiled nerves of Lotor’s countenance.

Sure, he’d only been there for a few days, but he’d never seen the alien so out of sorts.

It was just his luck that his apparent anxiety had to do with the outfit that Lance turned his nose up at.

Laid out before him was the oddest set of clothes he’d seen in his life. It was a combination of diaphanous fabrics layered on top of each other. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to wear it, only that he should avoid it at all costs - to Lotor’s detriment.

Not only was it strange (and clearly fancy), but it was also purple -like the rest of his “master’s” species, and hallways, and dim ambient lights and-

Like usual, he was the odd one out, what with his peach human skin.

While he would have preferred something blue, a more prevalent concern was with the quality; It was a drastic contrast to the cotton T-shirt and jeans he’d shown up in. He was certain he’d ruin it before he had the chance to put it on- if he could get it on in the first place.

The fact was, he was not meant to wear something like this- even if it was tailored for him.

Lance held a hand out to touch it but receded it to his side before he could feel the texture.

“You may change into daily wear after the broadcast. It will only be for a few ticks.” Lotor urged, moving to touch the fabric as if to display that it would not bite him.

Easy for him to say; Lotor stood beside him in the same armor Lance had first seen him in.

He couldn’t stand how cool he looked. Lotor was supposed to be evil; He didn't deserve to look cool.

Lotor had mentioned armor for him at one point. Why couldn’t Lance wear a set as well? Why did he get shiny plated space armor while Lance was supposed to drape odd, thin, light fabrics over him like some sort of doll?

Lotor’s words caught up to him. Wait, a broadcast? Like on TV? Like a public announcement from the Emperor on space television? Oh boy.

“I have to wear that in front of your entire Empire?”

Shit. His public image was ruined before it began. Maybe he could go into witness protection after all this to avoid living in shame for the rest of his life. Sure, Earth wouldn’t hear of his dishonor, but the rest of the universe would. He’d never be able to go to a space mall again.

“It is imperative I announce your status.” Lotor insisted, changing the subject back to the outfit itself, “You have not even tried it on yet; you may like it once you have it on.”

“I can tolerate getting pet and wearing this stupid collar, but being paraded around in some fancy flowy stuff? I’ll look like an idiot in that. Some pretty space girl should wear that, not me.”

He already had the collar; wasn’t that enough? Did he really have to wear something that appeared to not even cover his midriff?

He’d always wanted to rock a crop-top, but not like this (he could have started small, like with a cropped version of his favorite shirt).

He was a pilot, a warrior, not some pretty, delicate thing to be worshiped and draped in fine clothes.

“It was not designed for some “pretty space girl”, it was designed for you - pretty Terran boy.” He hurried to continue as if embarrassed by his statement, “Please, try it on. If you look anything less than exquisite, I will make other arrangements.”

Lance huffed, ignoring the compliment.

Maybe he would look good. Curiosity killed the cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

He had to admit, he was tempted. If not for Lotor (because why would he do anything for Lotor), to sate his own curiosity.

“I- I don’t know how I’m supposed to wear this.”

Sure, he could mess with it, strangling himself with the cloth until he died of exhaustion, but he’d prefer to avoid the strain. It wasn’t worth the work just to satisfy the whim of his “master”.

Lotor was quick to offer his assistance, “Would you like my assistance?”

That was one solution. Not the solution he had in mind, but it was a solution.

“I guess so.” Lance shrugged, regretting the words as they left his mouth.

“Master,” he added before Lotor could correct him.

He had to admit: he was curious how he’d look in it. If he was going to be on video, he’d rather be wearing more than just a pair of one size fits all clothing.

The first part of his outfit was a base layer to cover his nether regions. Luckily, he needed no assistance to don it.

Lotor addressed him when he was properly covered.

“Sit, please.”

Lance sat on the edge of the bed, tilting his head at the outfit curiously as Lotor grabbed the first piece.

Good luck with that mess of… Whatever type of alien fabric it was.

He chuckled to himself at what Lotor had gotten himself into.

Then Lotor dropped to his knees. Lance was no longer laughing.

He looked down at Lotor for the first time. He detested his adoration of Lotor‘s hair. He’d never seen a man so suited for it, and he despised it.

Well, other than Henry Cavill.

Lotor removed his gauntlets, setting them on the bed so he could manipulate the delicate fabric.

Then his hands were on his skin -a palm on his calf in preparation.

He didn't think this through.

Maybe he should have denied the offer and simply struggled helplessly in newly knotted fabric.

He gazed upon Lotor as he determined the proper orientation of an article.

His brows knit slightly.

It was… Odd to look down at Lotor.

He wasn’t sure what he was accepting when he agreed to Lotor’s help. As Lotor progressed, he was less sure.

Maybe it was easier to accept his fate if he believed it was forced upon him - in every sense of the word. Maybe that was his issue; He shouldn’t be letting Lotor this close; Engaging in his culture, and learning his time measurements, he was getting too deep.

Lance’s hand drew to his neck, fingers tracing the edge where the collar met skin.

Lotor’s hands gently drew fabric past his ankles, delicate fabric trailing up his skin with only a hint of Lotor’s obfuscated warmth.

“How are you so good at this?” Lance asked.

Lotor chuckled.

Then he spoke, with that soothing cadence and placid accent, “I was a prince once.”

“I was raised to be fastidious; In this empire, or at least in the royal family, anything less than perfect was unacceptable.

“While I have never worn something of this nature, I have ample experience with finicky garments. Nothing if not presentable.” He let out a soft laugh, though it clearly wasn’t without weight.

He continued, “I deplored my governess, natheless her touch, so I dressed myself.”

Then came another layer, longer on the opposite side. Lotor’s hand cupped his leg as so to guide the fabric. Goosebumps rose in his wake, clearly uneasy from the lack of Lotor’s warm presence.

Lance said nothing, simply letting out a hum of acknowledgment at Lotor’s words.

Lance watched in awe (and mild admiration) as he donned him. He looked on, simply appreciating the motion. It wasn’t every day he had someone paying so much attention to him. It was… relaxing to watch and sit as Lotor handled the work.

Lotor continued on with his ever-present lilt, unbothered by Lance’s lack of attentive listening, “If I think about it hard enough, I can still feel the bruises.”

“It is the reason I am pleased you choose to live alongside me -even if you are still oppositional to the idea; you deserve guidance and attention unconditionally. I brought you here, into this… empire, after all. It is only fair.”

He continued to work methodically, even as he spoke with such an inflection.

“I have said this before, but I do hope you will enjoy living here eventually.

“You are not the only one adjusting to a new way of living, so do not feel alone. I will remain by your side as you do mine. Your purpose is immense, to not only the Galra but to me as well. Does this make sense to you, Pet?”

Lance let out another hum of acknowledgment, staring down at his hairline.

He didn’t flinch when Lotor made eye contact, merely resigning to stare back.

“What are you thinking, Pet?” Lotor asked, words delicate as if tending to an injured creature.

He smoothed Lance’s skin with a bare hand, persuading the skin to return to its usual lithe normalcy, flinching as soon as he did so. He opened his mouth for a moment, as if in apology, but closed it at the lack of reaction from Lance.

Did he compliment Lance to force compliance?

He heard what Lotor was saying, but he couldn’t quite absorb it.

As Lotor’s touch drifted across his skin — only little more than clinical — Lance’s full attention drew to it.

Lance waited for his hand to travel up further.

He bristled at the anticipation of Lotor’s careful touch smoothing further up his leg. Those hands resting on the bare skin of his stomach, cupping him as if he required an utmost tender touch. His hands would leave a scorching line of hesitant remorseful yearning - making him crave less and more and everything all at once. His heart pounded to the beat of devotion to him alone as his master marked his body with a scorching touch, scoring the memory of his presence into his mind until it was the only thing he could ever think of again. His other hand would do the same — Lance was certain —; It would join the former in its travels, staking out every part of Lance's body as it climbed the bare chest. Then they would reach his neck — where he was marked with Lotor’s binding, where he had claimed him, where he had held him and felt the beating of his racing heart, thumping for him — and they wouldn’t stop for more than a moment; he’d take the time to appreciate the smooth, warm skin, for just a tick. He wouldn’t move on without the proper acknowledgment, no, not until he had appreciated every part of his pet’s body with utter admiration. He would finally settle each hand on either side of his face, thumbs caressing rosy warm skin. Lance would turn away, certainly unable to handle such a level of eye contact, but Lotor would keep him in place, insisting that he deserved that and more. He’d lean into the hand instead, closing his eyes until he was ready to believe his master-

What was he thinking? Not a single thing. He couldn’t remember having a thought in his life. He was certain his head was full of cotton.

He had gotten distracted in his own mind.

Lotor wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t touch him like- that.

He couldn’t tell if it was a nightmare or a daydream. He decided it was a nightmare. His teenage hormones were running rampant. He shook the thought from his mind. Physical contact? He needed no such thing. He could feel his concern slipping through his fingers like soft sand.

He needed more sleep or his mother’s hug, or- anything other than this really.

He sighed, body relaxing as he dwelled on the thought, on the memory.

Maybe that (his reckless train of thought) would be nice with a human, with someone not holding him captive.

Lotor continued to look up at him expectantly. His brows knitted in concern at Lance’s lack of response. His hands were no longer on his leg, where they had only remained for the necessary moment to dress him.

Lance started, “Why are you-” Being kind? So odd? Touching him?

He wasn’t sure how he wanted to finish the sentence. He ended it there, certain he wouldn’t be able to choose the perfect ending. He pressed his lips together, looking away from Lotor.

“It is unbefitting of a royal companion to wear anything except the highest quality fabrics.”

As good of an answer as any, especially without a question to go off of.

Lotor stood from the ground, crawling on the bed to sit with him.

Lotor put a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to face him, cross-legged on the bed.

“Bow your head for me.”

Lance did as instructed, leaning down so Lotor could slip his head into the fabric slit.

The fabric trailed down his arm, Lotor smoothing and fitting it as designed. Lotor slipped a loop around his middle finger, securing the fabric in place.

On came a second layer. This one remained on his shoulders alone, draping over them with soft wispy fabric. Lotor adjusted it until it was centered, a hand resting on each shoulder as he gauged how it rested.

It fit perfectly.

“Look up, please.”

Lance obeyed without hesitation.

“How does it feel?”

“‘S nice. Soft.” Lance mumbled.

Lotor tilted his head at the response, an eyebrow-raising in mild concern.

“You look lovely.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Lotor smiled. He was distantly glad to be the cause.

“You would not want to mess up the arrangement. Please, relax.”

Lotor leaned over, scooping Lance into his arms bridal style.

They were in the cockpit before he knew it.

He set him down on the cushion next to his chair, positioning him on his knees with his head down. He followed Lotor’s guidance as if it was an extension of his body.

He traced the tiles with his eyes lazily, not exactly paying attention. He would have preferred to look at the stars through the viewport, but it didn’t concern him too much.

Lotor was talking. Not to him, just talking. Lance didn’t notice anyone else in the room, but he also couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“All done! That wasn’t so hard, was it? You did marvelous, Pet!”

“Hmm?” he tilted his head up at him. Had they done something? He just sat there. Despite this, he was inclined to believe him.

“Come. Up.”

He did as he was told. He was playing along right? He’d decided that in advance, hadn’t he?

He sat on Lotor’s lap.

One hand went to the base of his neck, the other holding one of his hands. He pressed his thumb into the palm of his hand, kneading at the muscle.

“Move your fingers for me, will you? One at a time.”

He massaged his pet’s hand, squeezing up and down each finger gently.

“The entire empire knows who you belong to. I can see the headline now, ‘The new Emperor, accompanied with a new long-awaited exotic pet, decrees with a new levelheaded outlook’. Well, I hope it flows much better than that. I am an emperor, not a journalist.”

He traced where Lotor’s hand touched his own.

“Love, look at me.”

He obeyed.

“Perhaps we should get you into something more comfortable?”

Back into the bedroom.

He let him keep the shorts underneath, swapping out the complex layers of fabric for something less convoluted, but just as soft.

In the back of his mind, he recognized that it was light, blue, more covering, yet just as flowy. It wasn’t the one size fits all outfit he’d been wearing before.

He leaned into his touch as he worked.

“All done.”

“Maybe I should just keep you like this. You’re making it difficult not to get attached.” Lotor laughed.

He blinked at him.

“Lay back on the bed, Love.”

When he had done as told, his master gently grabbed him by the wrists, pulling them above his head.

He recognized his eyes were closed.

“Stretch.” He leaned into the stretch a small bit, unwilling to push his muscles too much.

“For me.”

He leaned into the pull, stretching his muscles satisfyingly over his head.

“Breathe, please.”

He pulled in a long breath.

“Open your eyes.”

Lance opened his eyes. Lotor was above him.

He pulled his wrists from Lotor’s hold. They were in the bedroom, on Lotor’s bed. He was wearing some slightly more casual version of the elaborate outfit that Lotor had begun dressing him in. He changed him a second time (when did he do that?). Hmm. He wouldn’t have needed help with the outfit he was wearing.

Where did the stretchy stuff go? He had to admit that his new clothing was thankfully more covering than his previous temporary outfit.

He couldn’t help but smooth down the fabrics that adorned him.

What happened? Did they finish the broadcast or something?

He stretched as he looked around, orienting himself.

“Uh. So are we gonna grab breakfast or something?” Lance tilted his head at Lotor.

Lotor nodded before he finished speaking, “Yes, of course. What would you like?”

He flinched at Lotor’s excitement, “I don’t exactly know any Galra… food.”

“Oh. Of course.” He pulled up a screen, tapping it a few times before collapsing the projection.

Lotor continued, “You behaved so well for me.”

He’d never seen Lotor so relieved. Sure, he’d only been there for around four days, but the point still stood.

Lance couldn’t help but enjoy the praise. He didn’t really do anything, but it was nice to receive a compliment - even if it had to be from Lotor.

“Oh, thanks.”

Lance swung his legs, heels tapping at the side of the bed. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He bit the inside of his cheek.

What was he doing? He let Lotor touch him, physically manipulate him, and compliment him for sitting pretty. What an idiot. He was only playing along, right? That’s what he said he’d do.

Then everything was right on plan. He played along, it was only right that he should reap the benefits -take advantage of his good mood.

Lance started, “So, uh. Now your empire knows you bought me, right?”

“Indeed. The announcement proceeded better than expected. Your compliance was unanticipated, though beyond appreciated.”

Lance blushed, turning away from him.

“I think I kinda zoned out during that.” Lance scratched the back of his neck.

“I noticed; you were quite malleable -much easier to work with.”

Lance huffed at him.

Lotor continued in a reassuring tone, “Though, I admit, I prefer you aware. Your perspective can be refreshing at times. No other person has ever dared to speak to me the way you do- Well at least not without leaving within an inch of their life.”

Lotor laughed. Lance did not.

He forgot that Lotor is a soldier, not just some rich entitled jerk. Lance attempted to scoot further away from him on the bed.

“I jest. Worry not, such harsh treatment is unbefitting of a pet.”

He appreciated the reassurance, but it was consolation enough that he still had all of his bones intact.

Maybe he shouldn’t give Lotor any ideas.

Lance changed the subject, “Since I behaved like you wanted. Do you think I could have something to track the days- er quintants with, then? Master?”

“You certainly earned that much. I will order a modified datapad. It should be delivered in a varga or so.”

“Awesome! Thank you, Master.”

Lance wouldn’t say he forgot about the datapad, what with how excited he was to have some form of entertainment, but with all the food, attention, and praise he received —for the small act of sitting still and staying dressed— he was surprised when there was a knock on the door.

Lotor spoke as if he didn’t share the sentiment, “Come in.”

Instead of yet another vague, uniform Galra soldier, the person who stepped through the door was… well different.

They were clearly of higher status than any random Galra peon, dictated by their specialized armor, but that wasn’t the only thing off about them. Instead of being covered in thick purple fur, like the rest of his soldiers, her body was striped with purple, blue, yellow, and — mostly — pink.

She was much less intimidating than the bulky soldiers he'd run from.

This was the first female Galra he’d seen, so maybe it was some sort of sexual dimorphism (vocabulary he had very proudly learned of from Pokemon), but Lance couldn’t be sure.

He tilted his head at her.

“Vrepit sa.” She spoke more in greeting, as opposed to the usual formality of Lotor’s staff. She paused for a moment to do the proper salute before approaching them.

“Ezor?” Lotor asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Lance blurted out before bothering to think, “Master?” he added with a slight wince. Lotor mentioned something about using his proper title around the tailor; he didn’t want to face his wrath for embarrassing him around his general friend.

“No, Pet. This is Ezor. She is one of my top generals.” he responded briefly, “Is there a reason for your visit or have you so little to do that you deign to deliver parcels?”

Despite his words, the sentence came out more annoyed than upset. It was a far contrast to the voice he’d used to scold his guard for chasing Lance.

“I had a little extra time on my hands, so I figured I’d hand deliver the trinket to your trinket.” She accentuated her words by extending the device to Lance, “Besides, we couldn't possibly miss the chance to meet the royal howndop.”

Lance accepted the tablet gratefully.

Sure, he was excited to mess around with alien tech, but that didn’t compare to interacting with a real live space babe. This was the first alien that didn’t seem like she’d rip out his throat at a moment’s notice.

“Can I pet him?”

If for no other reason than to spite Lotor, Lance nodded.

She waited for Lotor’s confirmation.

“Yes, you may.”

Lance leaned into the hand, an eye darting to Lotor to revel in his discomfort.

Sure, it was still odd, but he was getting used to the whole ‘being pet’ thing. Maybe it meant something different in space. He highly doubted it, but you never know.

After a few seconds, Lotor spoke again, tearing his eyes away from the scene, “Wait, did you say ‘we’?”

She let out a — only slightly — nervous laugh, “I volunteered to go in first. The rest of the team is outside- we didn't want to overwhelm the small one.”

He was only a head shorter than everyone here, how dare they call him small?

“I suppose now is as good a time as any for proper introductions. Pet, will you be fine to meet the rest of my generals? Four in total.”

“Uh. Yeah, I guess so.” He shrugged, “Master.” he added, nearly forgetting the title.

He was more curious than nervous. If they were anything like her, he wouldn’t mind.

He hated how reassured he was by Lotor’s presence; if they tried anything, he was certain that Lotor would protect him. Sure, he’d only shown concern for Lance’s health and security, but he shouldn’t be so comfortable with him so soon. He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Enter.”

Three more armor-donned aliens strode into the room.

He regretted his previous thought, now he was more nervous than curious. Ezor was cute, pink, and, most of all, she seemed nice enough. The three additional generals looked nothing short of intimidating.

He looked to Lotor as if to reiterate his initial question.

“Still no. Lance, this is Acxa, Zethrid, Narti, and-” He gestured to each of his generals, each frozen in salute. He paused, clearly looking for another person.

“Kova, come,” he called.

At his call, a cat strode into the room. It wove through the legs of each general before padding up to Lotor.

“Is that a cat?”

Lance’s mouth remained open in awe. So they did have the concept of normal pets in space. He let out a small huff watching Lotor pet the creature as he attempted to do to Lance.

Lotor clearly did not recognize the word, “We do not have ‘cats’ here. Kova is a Koathurvinite.”

Of course, a space cat named their equivalent of “kitty”. He was glad that Lotor respected his name, he couldn’t imagine being renamed “spot” or “fluffy”.

Lance pressed his lips together in distaste, “I think I know what a cat looks like-”

“So this is the royal mutt?” Zethrid interrupted.

He’d ask about the whole cat thing later. He needed his attention to focus on not looking terrified at the — somehow larger, in both height and muscle, than average — Galra soldier standing over him.

He was tempted to stand up and defend himself as a “mutt”, but he was sure his height would still be laughable in comparison.

He looked to Lotor, pre-offended for whatever his response was. Instead of laughing along with the taunt, he seemed uneasy.

So much for being in a good mood.

Lotor spoke, “I presume this visit is about the announcement?”

“Yes, Sir. I apologize for the intrusion; you must be occupied with far greater duties to deign to introduce us to the long-awaited, unanticipated addition to your empire.” Acxa spoke.

“Cease the chiding. You are here now, is that not enough?”

Ezor spoke, “Kinda odd how we had to find this out from an announcement. We are second in command after all.”

Lotor sighed, “It is not you, it is- all. All except absolutely necessary have been ordered to maintain their distance. My Terran is quite- skittish.”

“He seems fine to me,” Zethrid added, calling his bluff.

Lotor rubbed his temples, “He finds my presence… undesirable. With the attention of such, highly trained, capable, and affable individuals, I can not be sure his loyalties would lie with me. Though, since you have taken it upon yourselves to make an introduction, I see no reason to conceal him any longer.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Lance asked.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was hearing, but he knew he should be… upset? Lotor was speaking over him after all.

What did he mean by ‘his loyalties’? Did he think Lance would like them better than him?

He acknowledged Lance for once, “I am aware.”

His generals appeared less tense at the reveal.

“Oh.”

“What is done is done. Go ahead, greet him. He knows not to bite at the very least.” Lotor gestured to Lance.

He licked over his canine, reminding Lance to behave.

Zethrid asked, “Can we touch him?”

“You may.”

This time, Zethrid leaned over to pet him. He tensed beneath her hand, praying that her claws wouldn’t maim him.

“We could chuck him around if you’d like. Seems like he doesn’t know how good he has it.” Her words contrasted with her gentle caress. Her hand roamed his scalp, stopping near his jaw to touch his ear.

Lotor answered fast enough to have not bothered to consider the option, sighing, “That is alright. He will learn in time- no matter how frustrating that may be.”

Yeah right. He’d be out of here before he had the time to “learn”.

Lance bristled at the feeling of her fur brushing against him.

“I’ve never seen one up close before. They’ve got such cute round ears.”

“Thank you?”

Acxa spoke, this time more casually, “To be honest, I figured you’d given up on the idea of owning one- what with the gala so close and all. If he acts like this in front of the other leaders, they’ll think you’ve gone soft.”

“The what?” Lance asked.

A gala?

“I nearly hired a shifter to stand in and take the place of some exotic creature; though if they were revealed to be an Altean, Allura would be less than pleased seeing me treat her kind as a lesser species -even if it was voluntary.

“I found this one at an auction just in time.”

He turned to Lance for a moment, “Terrans have become somewhat of a symbol of this empire, what with the Champion earning such a high profit in the arena.”

Lance huffed, “Then why didn’t you make them your pet?”

“He is much more useful providing entertainment and morale for the Galra. Besides, he is not nearly as pretty as you.”

Without leaving Lance an opportunity to deny it, he continued, turning back to his generals, “Between that and Allura’s Terran companion, it was only natural to purchase him, even with such short notice.”

For the amount Lotor talked about his Altean friend’s Terran- human pet, one would think he’d have gotten an introduction by now.

“Short notice? Gala? Am I missing something here?” Lance reiterated.

“Does he still not know his purpose, how many days have you had him?”

Lance huffed. He was getting sick of being ignored and talked over. So much for not embarrassing Lotor in front of his friends.

“If I recall, when you first arrived, I told you were to be beside me for certain functions and duties.”

Sure, he mentioned that briefly, but that didn’t explain anything at all. What was a space function? He thought all he had to do was sit on Lotor’s lap while he clacked away at the hologram computer.

“Is that why you make me sit on your lap? So I can do it at parties?” Lance asked, pressing his lips tightly together.

“That is the premise. We can delve into it when we are alone. I am sure you would rather discuss this in private.” He paused for a moment, tapping his chin as he mulled over something, “Though, since you insist. Come here, up.”

If every eye wasn’t on him before, it sure was now.

His face went from normal to flushed in 3.5.

“In front of your friends? Really?”

He scratched the back of his neck, startling himself when his hand met the collar.

He remained seated, unwilling to face the embarrassment.

Narti stepped forward. They gestured to Lance in a silent question.

“Go ahead.”

“Just manhandle me yourself, don’t make her-”

Lance’s eyes went wide. His body began to move without his permission, his brain full of cotton.

He stood from his cushion, sitting on the arm of Lotor’s chair.

“Master. Emperor. My love.” The voice coming from his mouth was certainly his, though he couldn’t control the words flooding from it.

He reached his arms above his head, leaning backward until his back was in Lotor’s lap.

He held the position for a moment, staring up at his master for just long enough.

He slid back until he sat upright in the chair, pulling one leg over Lotor’s lap so they were face to face.

Lance leaned forward, drawing closer to his master’s face.

His master only spoke when Lance’s face was within an inch of his, “That is enough.”

Lance blinked rapidly, his brain catching up. He jolted backward when Lotor’s face — much too close to his own — came into focus.

“What? What was that?” Lance’s eyes darted around, his breathing picking up.

Why’d he-? What was happening?

The only thing he saw was purple.

His eyes came into focus.

The only thing he saw was Lotor’s stupid smug face, inches away from his own.

When he realized he was not only sitting on Lotor, but sitting on him backward, he jolted backward, his thoughts only on “away”, as opposed to any logical choices.

A caught him from falling backward off the chair, Lotor’s reflexes, unfortunately, saving him from smacking his head on hard tile.

Lotor allowed him to move both legs to the same side, alleviating him from the embarrassing position but holding him in place when he attempted to slip off his lap.

“Narti borrowed your mind for a moment. Perhaps if you put on a performance like that in front of the other leaders, you’d have a passable rendition of a royal pet.”

He shrunk into himself as the generals laughed.

“Do not be ashamed, Pet. It was a lovely display. It only further proves how suited you are for this role.”

Lance wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he didn’t. He settled comfortably into Lotor’s lap, allowing him to converse with his generals.

They, thankfully, took the attention away from him after that, the conversation converting to a much less interesting discussion on treaties and government organization.

Before he knew it, Lotor was dismissing them.

“While, I do appreciate you all popping in, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Lance nearly let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to get off of Lotor, and onto the datapad.

“If you’re busy, why don’t we borrow your pet? Lance was it? I’m sure he’d love to learn more about our empire.” Ezor suggested.

What?

Lotor raised an eyebrow at her, seemingly not entirely convinced of her pure intentions.

“I’ll volunteer for puppeteer duty for the other half of the time that Narti can’t work,” Ezor assured as if that was some bargaining chip.

Lance wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it couldn’t be good.

“Bring him back in one piece.”

“Wait what?”

“I jest, Pet. It may be good for you to receive a bit of… perspective. ”

“Unless you’d rather stay with me -we can work on desensitizing you to my touch.” Lotor punctuated his sentence by snaking a hand up to Lance’s cheek, cupping it in a way that brought an immediate blush to his cheeks.

He tilted Lance’s head to ensure eye contact.

“What a good idea. I’d love to hang out with them. Better get going; we’re losing daylight.”

“Good boy.” Lotor patted his cheek before removing his hand.

Lance scooted off his lap as soon as his hand left his skin. He turned around, removing himself from Lotor’s gaze as fast as physically possible.

“Daylight?” Zethrid mumbled.

“One more thing.” He could feel Lotor’s presence standing behind him.

He sighed as he heard a familiar whooshing sound -the leash attaching to his collar.

Ugh.

Chapter Text

Lance rushed to keep up as they lead him down the hall.

The only thing convincing him to remain at their heel – instead of ditching the Galra to complain to Lotor – was the leash stubbornly attached to his collar.

He couldn’t tell if they were excited, rushing, or simply wanted to torment Lance with their stupidly long legs.

“Where are we even going?” Lance asked between labored breaths.

They’d said something about learning their history and… gaining perspective? He didn’t need any perspective; he’d never gotten so much perspective in his life - he swore his neck was stiff from craning his head upward so often.

“You’ll see,” Ezor responded, unhelpfully.

He’ll see? He could barely see as it was; They strode down the same dim hallway with identical ambient purple lighting, their destination ever unclear.

It was only when they reached a viewport that he did see. Rather than an endless expanse of stars, below him, alone in its own hangar, sat a ship. As opposed to the dominating arsenal that floated just beyond the cockpit’s viewport, this one was sleek and aerodynamic; it was similar to the Earth fighter ships that Lance had only dreamed of flying.

He froze in place as he admired the vessel, reaching out a hand to touch the glass.

A tug on his neck ripped him from his trance.

A hand on his face stopped him from leaving a Lance-shaped dent in the floor paneling.

He wasn’t sure if he should be pissed or thankful that Acxa stopped his descent in such a degrading way.

“We are not getting any closer by gawking through the viewport.” Acxa scolded, helping him to his feet again.

“Closer? To the ship? Are we going down there?”

Acxa gave a curt nod.

“Shit, really?”

He’d never been allowed anywhere near the fighter ships at the Garrison. The closest he’d gotten to any real ship was the time he’d been punished for sneaking about after lights out and had to clean the empty hangar as punishment.

“Need I reiterate?” Acxa asked.

“Maybe you are his friends.” Lance sighed, only mildly amused at her familiar vernacular. He couldn’t bring himself to be irritated by the statement, his excitement overriding any resentment.

When she continued to look at him for an answer, clearly unsatisfied with Lance’s antics, he responded, “Nah. I got it. Let’s go already.”

She nodded, not unirritated, tugging his leash (unnecessarily) to get him moving again.

Axca spoke again, “Odd that he has not brought you here himself,” she noted aloud, “It is about time you understand Emperor Lotor’s eminence and the marking of an era that is his reign.”

“In English please?”

“We don't know English. You’re speaking common.”

“You know what I mean.” Lance huffed. He didn't want to hear whatever propaganda she had to say about how “cool” Lotor was supposed to be anyway.

This time, he was the one pulling the leash. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but that didn’t stop him from charging forward.

He glanced around with concern when they entered a small indistinct room. What were they doing? He doubted his intelligence for a moment when Acxa tapped a few buttons into a screen that formed in front of the wall.

Oh, duh, an elevator.

When the door slid open, he would have run up to it had he not been tethered to the Galra.

Instead, he gazed upward at the enormous ship, mouth agape as he took the sight in. It had to be five times bigger than the ship Pidge’s family had been sent out in.

“Is this your ship?” Lance asked no one in particular, unable to peel his eyes off the ship.

Zethrid responded, “This is the primary multi-purpose fighter-class cruiser of Emperor Lotor’s armed forces. It is his personal vessel for establishing universal relations as well as directly addressing interplanetary disturbances.”

“Lotor pilots this thing?”

Lance didn’t receive a response. He only managed to tear his eyes from the machine when Acxa cleared her throat and broke the unnerving silence.

Narti finished making a few hand gestures as Lance looked at them. He tilted his head at them.

Ezor nodded and spoke, “She’s right.” She turned to Lance, “Try again. This time with a bit more respect.”

“Really? Seriously?” Lance huffed, “Does my master pilot this?”

Acxa responded, “Occasionally. Usually, he is more occupied issuing orders. He prefers smaller fighters, though we are working toward a future where the Empire that needs no such defense.”

“Can we go inside?”

He wondered if it had the same dim ambient purple light as the rest of the ship.

He would have rushed to open the door himself had he any idea how Galra technology worked.

He received his response when Ezor tapped a few buttons on her bracer; upon punching in a code, a portion of the wall opened, lowering a staircase to the ground.

He darted up the stairs the moment they emerged. Only when he’d taken half the steps two at a time did he realize someone was still holding the leash.

A hand on his back pushed him to his feet on one of the steps.

He choked out a, “Thank you”, running a few fingers under the collar and reorienting himself.

He turned around, now at equal height to them with the addition of the few steps he’d traversed.

“Can you please just let go of that? I won’t run away, I swear.”

“You’ve already tried to run away twice.”

“Give me a break, I’m excited to be away from Peepaw Willy Afton for a second-” When no one laughed, he continued, “Because he’s a purple guy. That would have been funny on my planet.”

“It’s not like there’s anywhere I can go.” He added.

Ezor rolled her eyes, “I don’t want to spend the rest of the cycle hunting him down if he hides.”

“I won’t, I swear. Scout’s honor. I wouldn’t ruin my chance to have a break from ‘the emperor’” He said Lotor’s title with a huff.

He wasn’t a boy scout, but they didn’t know that.

On second thought, they also wouldn’t know what a scout is.

Ezor relented, “If you leave our sight, you’ll be back on the leash.”

“Totally. Understood. Ay ay, captain.” He nodded fervently.

Ezor dropped the leash with an obvious gesture, letting it thunk to the stair.

She could have just unclipped it. It must be a reminder.

“Thank you.”

He turned around and bolted up the stairs, pausing at the top to show, cheekily, that he was still in their sight.

It was easier to admit how impressive everything seemed when he was outside the judgemental gaze of his “Master”.

And impressive it was.

Forget being allowed around expensive human technology, this Galra stuff was a whole different level. His instructors would explode if they saw him that close to anything so expensive.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Lance drew further into the vessel.

Four stations lay equidistant to a seat in the center of the room.

“I’d assume this is where L- he sits?” Lance asked. It closely resembled where Lotor usually sat; he’d recognize the armrest anywhere -he’d stared at it long enough, in avoiding eye contact with Lotor, that it was surely burned into his brain.

Ezor leaned against a button-covered surface, gesturing to each spot, “Sure is. And this is my station! There’s where Narti, Zethrid, and Acxa sit.”

Lance sat in Lotor’s spot, grateful to be the only one in it for once.

He got settled in the chair. It was much more comfortable than it looked.

He put a hand on his chin, leaning forward to feign a focused gaze out the viewport.

“All men-” Lance paused for a moment. They weren’t men were they? "Men" means “human” in some sense.

“-er aliens on deck. We have got a code 0158 with foreign bodies invading from the rear. Are you reading me?”

He was bored with his roleplay the moment it left his mouth. It was a lot less interesting to think about space exploration when that was what had gotten him stranded in the first place - that was just what he got for dreaming, wasn’t it?

Lance huffed to himself.

This was Lotor’s seat after all.

He scooted until he sat identically to how he’d seen the pompous jerk earlier; Lance scooted in the chair, spreading his legs in mild mockery of Lotor’s usual confident positioning. His elbow sat on the armrest, propping his head on his fist as he gazed uninterestedly at a holoscreen that didn’t exist.

He wasn’t looking for another lecture about respect, so he kept the contents on the lighter side.

He tried again, this time in a poor imitation of Lotor’s accent, twirling an imaginary strand of white hair around his finger as he spoke, “Aback thee enemies. I shall hold you down until you yield to the indomitable force of your Emperor.”

“That’s not how he sounds.” Zethrid rolled her eyes.

He thought it was pretty funny.

“You try then.” He stood from the chair, gesturing for Zethrid to take a seat.

She did as requested, sitting in the chair with more ease than Lance possessed.

“Ezor, take the left, Zethrid, the right. Narti, around back. Acxa: remain by my side as I stare melodramatically into the distance. Allow me to contemplate our glorious culture and tragic history.”

Lance’s eyes went wide, a laugh bubbling up against his will.

Ezor joined her, sitting on the ample space on the seat between her legs instead of pushing her out of the way to gain access to the chair.

She held her hand up in a Shakespearean manner as she spoke, looking at some imaginary object in mockery of contemplation, “Fear not, the wind will always be perfectly angled to carry my hair behind me during my monologue.”

Lance doubled over in laughter. Maybe these guys weren’t so bad.

Ezor shifted so she was sitting on the armrest.

Acxa huffed, “Cease this nonsense. What kind of an example are you setting for him? The Galra — and their Emporer — are an honorable race with a history of-”

Lance interrupted, “Now that sounds like him.”

This time, she directed her chiding toward Lance, “Emperor Lotor is working to establish peace across the universe; He is changing the way Galra have conquered and ruled for centuries.You ought to show him more respect.”

Lance huffed, “Maybe I’d respect him if he didn’t make me roll over like his little puppy dog. I had a life, you know?”

“So did he.”

“What?”

Sure, he knew that Lotor technically has a life. He’s got daddy issues and royal responsibilities -so what? He put Lance into this situation, so he deserves to suffer for it. Why should Lance be complacent and considerate just to save some rich jerk’s feelings?

“He put his life on hold for you and you haven’t even noticed, have you?” Acxa asked.

Lance scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean? My life is on hold, not his. It was his choice to buy me- so what if he has to ask his servants to bring me a bowl?”

Acxa continued, “Since the emperor commissioned this ship, it has never sat in the hangar for this long. We were certain he had fallen ill - figured that was the only thing that could stop him from getting out in the field. Turns out, all it took was one ungrateful howndop.”

Lance grunted in indignation, “What does he even do- other than lounging on his royal butt and typing in some hologram?”

“Everything. Organizing meetings with possible allies, hosting gatherings in celebration of the new era, liberating planets still constrained by those loyal to the late emperor and his antiquated ideals - his workload is ever increasing, no thanks to you.”

Lance’s hand snaked up to scratch the back of his neck, flinching when his hand met the collar, “I’m not going to stop running away- and I won’t put up with just anything he tries to do to me, but I’ll behave, alright? I’ll sit pretty at his fancy party so I don’t embarrass your country- er empire. Happy?”

He planned to play along anyway, just to save his sanity. He should have played along earlier in the cycle when Lotor asked him to sit with him, but he couldn’t handle looking like such a dork in front of Lotor’s general friends. It shouldn’t matter to him, none of it should. His priority was on maintaining his sanity and getting home -so what if his purpose was to be publicly humiliated for some rich people’s entertainment?

It sounded so much worse when he phrased it like that.

Acxa responded, “I am content.”

Lance shifted his weight from one foot to another, uncomfortable with the way the conversation always seemed to go.

“Why does he even make me do all this “pet” stuff? It’s not like anyone can see me sitting on his lap or calling him ‘master’?”

It was all so… crazy, for lack of a better word. He hated to generalize, but these people were insane if they called this treatment “normal”.

Acxa spoke again, this time much more gently than her previous scolding, “What do you think will happen if you call him by his name in a crowd of officials? What about if you slip up and hesitate to follow his instruction or flinch from his touch? If he can not control some measly pet, how is he expected to build a reputation and control his country?”

“That’s ridiculous. It doesn't make sense to judge someone from the person they’ve enslaved.”

It was completely illogical.

“What if he showed up to the Gala in his undergarments? What would others assume from that? You are an accessory.”

Lance crossed his arms. Sure, he knew that already, but it hurt to hear it out loud. He clenched his teeth, the urge to speak battling with his completely empty head.

“You’re thinking too hard. Take it easy. All you have to do is follow instructions and you’ll be fine.”

Narti gestured something Lance couldn’t understand.

“Good idea.” Ezor responded to Narti, turning to Lance after, “You listen, you get rewarded. Sit.”

Lance tapped his opposite arm with his index finger, arms still crossed.

“Fine.” He gritted his teeth.

They had proved their point. Why did they have to harass him? The faster he got this over with, the faster they would drop the topic.

He’d rather tolerate their antics and see where this was going than go back to Lotor.

He sat on Zethrid’s lap, uncrossing his arms to hold them up in a “satisfied?” motion.

Surprisingly enough, she did seem satisfied.

Acxa looked marginally more pleased, “See, that’s not so hard. You listen so well for us. Just do that a little bit more and our prince- your Emperor will treat you well.”

Ezor mussed up his hair affectionately, “He is the most powerful man in the Empire. You can get far under his good grace.”

Narti gave him a gesture that seemed to represent approval.

Lance blushed at the words, the attention a bit more than he was used to.

Zethrid butted her forehead into his gently, leaning over semi-awkwardly. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t seem like anything negative.

Her head was fluffy and warm -he almost wished he could touch it more.

Ezor suggested, “As a reward, you can play with swords.”

Acxa asked, “Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

Ezor rolled her eyes, “How bad could he possibly hurt himself? Worst case, we pop him in the healing chamber for a few hours and the Emperor never has to know.”

“I vote for swords.” Lance pitched in.

Swords it was.

While he would have loved to take the ship for a spin, he knew there was no chance he’d be allowed to pilot anything worth that much. They’d said some excuse about Lotor wanting him to remain within the main ship- end of conversation.

They had come to the conclusion that the four of them could handle damage control well enough to trust Lance with a sword, so off to the gym they went.

Lotor had given him a brief tour of the gym before but he’d been too busy being anxious to concentrate.

Along the walls sat various pads and complex-looking equipment. In the middle of the room sat a circle drawn on the floor. A small bot hovered at the midpoint.

He followed the group as they retrieved blades that sat mounted to the wall.

Acxa handed him a hilt. Just a hilt. Where was the blade?

When she noticed him looking down in bewilderment she reached over and pressed a button on the handle.

A purple, semi-translucent, blade formed from the base.

He looked upon it in awe. That was rad. It almost made this whole “sold into alien slavery” thing worth it. Almost. He put that on his checklist to steal when he eventually ditched this joint.

He turned it to watch the light glint off of it.

“You just let pets use swords in your empire?”

It likely wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but he never claimed to be the smartest person.

Acxa responded, adjusting his hold on the weapon as she spoke, “It would be a great dishonor to forbid any creature from wielding a sword if they are so able. Besides, any master worthy of calling themselves such is powerful enough to best a belonging.”

Lance was pretty sure he was supposed to be offended by that.

Acxa continued, “Have you had any experience with a blade?”

He pressed his lips together as he responded, “Not exactly.”

They were trained soldiers with years of practice, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t embarrassed.

She smiled at him reassuringly, “There is no better time to learn than the present. Mayhaps your arrival was fated.” She turned to Narti, “ If you will.”

Narti stood beside him, her ease and efficiency in assuming the proper position indicative of the beginning of training.

She must want him to copy.

He mimicked the position the best he could.

He looked at Acxa when he was sure he’d got it correct, only to jolt in surprise when something pulled his legs further apart.

Narti’s tail receded from where she wrapped it around his leg.

He was thankful that Lotor didn’t have a tail. He’d go insane if he had to tolerate Lotor’s tail wrapped around his hand or neck at all times.

Acxa moved behind him to adjust his stance more precisely.

He could feel her nodding over his shoulder when she was finished, “You will assume this position after you salute your opponent. Then, when you want to strike, you move like so.”

She snuck an arm along his to show him how to swing it.

“I think I got it.” He practiced a few strikes on his own. They were sloppy imitations of what Acxa had shown him, but they were a start. He smiled as he recalled the movements.

She seemed pleased, “Very good. Perhaps a demonstration is in order.”

Lance beamed at her praise far too quickly for his liking.

Acxa seemed a lot less likely to rip out his throat when he wasn’t trash-talking Lotor. She wasn’t a half-bad teacher either.

He supposed it wasn’t the worst thing to have some allies in space. Sure, they were most certainly on Lotor’s side, but they seemed to like him. Besides, they’d brought him to a ship, he could wear down their resolve by the end of the month- er pheob if he put his mind to it. Maybe they’d take him on a shopping trip or something, where he could slip away back to Earth.

“Already on it,” Zethrid responded, moving into the circle with Ezor in tow.

Lance caught the playful smirks they shot at each other.

They bowed to each other before drawing their weapons.

Lance almost missed the first move.

Ezor moved first, using her superior speed to her advantage.

He flinched at the clashing of metal.

Zethrid kept up with her blows, deflecting each despite lagging slightly behind.

Zethrid jolted back. She waited for Ezor to come at her again, this time launching her blade forward.

Instead of clashing with Ezor’s armor, the blade simply flew past her.

Without a weapon, Zethrid had to dodge any further attacks.

Sure, the scene was quick and the strikes were unrelenting, but he couldn’t feel any negative intentions.

The battle played out so methodically that it almost appeared choreographed. It seemed almost intimate -as if Lance shouldn’t be looking on.

He looked on in utter captivation.

Ezor darted so quickly, she seemed to disappear. When he took a closer look, he couldn’t spot her -even after the sound of faint footsteps ceased.

Invisibility, of course. That was allowed?

He couldn’t even spot the sword anymore.

Zethrid barked out a laugh, catching on without having to scour the arena, “Showing off?”

She dodged the nimble nothing that bombarded her. Fed up by Ezor’s attacks, she froze. The moment felt like hours compared to the previous pace.

Lance cringed at the strategy, bracing in anticipation of the slash to come.

If he wasn’t on the edge of his seat, he wouldn’t have noticed it: Zethrid’s ear twitched, ever so slightly.

She flung herself to the side, using the momentum to-

The floor below them trembled. Lance scrambled to his feet aided by Acxa pulling him up by his upper arm.

The tile lie crushed below Zethrid’s fist. With a triumphant countenance, her other arm shot out, grabbing at the empty space before her.

Ezor rematerialized, her hand in Zethrid’s grasp. Her legs stood off balanced over the line - her opponent the only thing stopping her fall.

Out of bounds. Zethrid won.

That was probably the coolest thing he’d seen in his life.

“Show off.” She mimicked.

Zethrid pulled her into her chest in a half hug.

“You didn’t have to let me win. Thank you.” Zethrid nuzzled Ezor’s forehead.

“I’m just having a bit of fun.” She laughed, returning the affection.

“For a demonstration on using swords, there were very few swords used in that fight.” Lance laughed, wholeheartedly amused.

He wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. That was so much cooler than any duel he’d ever seen (especially since he hadn’t seen any in person before).

Acxa spoke, “It was less than traditional, what with the immediate discard of her weapon, but their forms were perfect- as usual.” She praised, “Are you ready to try it for yourself?”

Sure, Lance would love to boast about being a fighter pilot class or embellish his strengths, but he would prefer not to be stabbed. For once, his self-preservation kicked in.

“Do you have, like, a punching bag for knives?” Lance asked

“You can use the training drone. I’ll reset the arena and set it up.” She looked to Acxa, “Acxa can grab you more fitting gear.”

“Good call, this thing is probably dry clean only.” Ezor noted, “An undersuit should do since you won’t be fighting a real opponent.”

He donned the black skin-tight suit, admiring the way it hugged his body. It was a bit snugger than the temporary clothes he’d been given when he first arrived, though overall similar.

When he returned to the circle, the broken floor tiles had reformed. He’d never understand space technology, but that was pretty rad.

Instead of standing across another Galra, a semi-translucent robot stood before him. It waited in bow position.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Lance went through his movements one more time before standing across from the robot and mimicking the bow.

He made the first strike, only to be blocked by the machine.

The second strike he reciprocated, parrying it proudly.

He just dodged the next blow when-

“What do you think you are doing?” A voice boomed through the room, accompanied by purposeful intimidating footsteps.

His blood ran cold.

Lance flinched, hiding the blade behind his back.

Lance swallowed, trying, and failing, to come up with an excuse,“I- uh well she gave me a sword and-”

“Without me?” Lotor continued, a layer of faux hurt coating his voice.

What?

Wait. He’d mentioned something about training Lance with the blade before, hadn’t he?

He let out a breath he didn’t notice he’d been holding in.

Then, a sensation in his chest.

Not for Lotor no, as much as he denied the anxiety and… other emotions that the man brought up, this was much more physical.

Lance yelped.

His eyes darted down to the source of his distress.

He gasped. The tip of a blade poked through his chest.

He glanced up at Lotor’s matching gasp when he realized what had happened.

“Lance!” Lotor’s eyes went wide.

It hurt, but not as much as it should have. Was he in shock?

When he took a closer look, he could see his suit was still intact through the translucent holo-blade. He tested the feel of it, moving to the side gently only to see it phase through him in a perfect horizontal motion -the blade remaining still in the same place in the air.

He was sure the insides of his bones were being scraped clean, so he hurried to remove the intangible blade.

He stepped to the left, watching the blade come out of his body without a scratch. On second thought, he should have just stepped forward to pull it straight out; while it didn’t appear to do any tissue damage, it still hurt.

He’d never understand space technology.

He clutched the spot on his chest where it had dragged through him.

“I’m fine. Still though -ouch.”

Lotor threaded his fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh of exasperation.

He approached Lance to ensure, yet again, that he was fine.

Lotor placed one hand on his chest, tracing where the blade had passed through him. When he was certain no tissue damage occurred, his other hand cupped Lance’s chin, pulling it up as to examine his face.

“I didn’t get stabbed in my face.” Lance huffed, failing to look away.

“I apologize, Pet. Pardon my disruption. I will make it up to you later.”

Lance nodded into his hand, forgetting about its presence briefly.

He was already blushing from exertion, no other reason. Lotor didn’t spawn any butterflies in his chest, replacing the pain from the blade. Most of all, Lance certainly didn’t lament the loss of his cool hand on his face.

He laughed off the embarrassment of his mistake, “I did not realize it was not set to kill. I grew up fighting strictly the 'lethal' setting. I am glad you are alright.” He pet Lance’s hair before he could jolt away.

“Emperor Lotor has time to play with his peons?” Acxa addressed him, playfulness full in her voice.

He seemed to remember his purpose for the visit, eyes lighting up in recognition.

“I wanted to be the one to teach him how to fight.” Lotor pouted with the amount of dignity only a royal could manage.

“Don’t you have paperwork to do?” Ezor teased.

“Reports can wait. I figured I could spare a few moments to spar. Idleness is atrophy after all.”

He strode to the weapons mount, pulling a sword from the wall.

He wouldn’t mind watching Lotor fight, it was win-win; either Lance got a good estimation of his strength, or he got to watch the Emperor get the shit beaten out of him.

Though, If it was anything like Ezor and Zethrid’s fight, it might be a whole new level of interesting.

He’d already tried to fight him on the first day and ended face up on the tile within moments. He pitied whoever dueled Lotor.

Lotor spoke, pointing a sword at him across the room in challenge, “Lance, care to show me what you’ve learned?”

“What? No. No thanks. I’m alright with the robot.” He hurried to reject the offer.

He preferred the robot; at least it only stabbed him in the chest physically.

“Trust me, Pet. How about this? I will not strike at you with the blade. I do not intend to hurt you either way, though that should provide consolation.”

“Fine. Just don’t laugh at me when he kicks my ass with both hands behind his back.” He muttered, moving to the circle.

At least he could say “I told you so” when he lost. Maybe he’d have had some false show of bravado if it was just them two, but he preferred not to get laughed at by every top-ranking general in the empire.

He took in a deep breath as he stood in the circle, looking up at Lotor, who had made his way across from him.

He looked much too confident for Lance’s liking. Couldn’t he tone it down to make him feel better?

Why did Lotor get to wear armor for this?

Lotor looked much too pleased with Lance’s proper mirrored bow. He swore to himself this was the only circumstance he’d bow to “his emperor”.

Lotor stood opposite him in suspended afk animation.

Lance licked his lips. He had to make the first move; Lotor said he wouldn’t strike. He had four people to hold him to that promise.

How often did he get the chance to wield a blade against his enemy?

He took a breath and imitated a move Acxa had shown him.

Lotor parried it, with far too much ease might he add, and returned an approving smile at his attempt.

He tried again, and again, to no avail.

The next time he struck, Lotor simply ducked out of the way, seemly unamused with simply blocking his attacks.

How did he see with his hair flurrying past his face at every movement?

Lance grew more frustrated as he failed to strike close enough to warrant a block.

“You are growing sloppy. Try again.” Lotor corrected, backing up to demonstrate the proper method.

Lance huffed.

“Even if I get you, you’ll block it- I don’t have a chance.” He huffed, growing more frustrated by the moment.

Lotor hummed, tapping his index finger to his chin, “How about this then? Acxa?” He threw his sword to Acxa, who caught it without hesitation.

Even without the ability to block, Lotor seemed no less confident.

This felt much less like the graceful flow and ebb of the previous battle.

Every time he struck, all he could see was that stupid smug expression as Lotor slunk away at the last moment.

He could feel himself slow as he exhausted himself in his attempts to merely graze his opponent- he’d appreciated an equivalent level of exertion, heck, he’d even accept a single misplaced hair.

Lance grew suspicious the moment he noticed the satisfied countenance, just slightly askew from the smug one he’d bore all battle.

Lance wasn’t quite sure what happened after he’d caught the look on Lotor’s face.

One minute he was ready to chop him, and that infuriating face, into bite-sized, finger food, the next, Lotor aimed a blade at his throat.

His eyes went wide as he stared at the blade, vision following it back to its new wielder.

The blade did the rest of the work for him, tilting his chin up to make eye contact with Lotor.

“That was rigged.”

Lotor spoke, unfazed by the insult, “I assure you it was not.”

When he receded the blade, Lance clenched his teeth and swallowed down the gulp he’d been too stiff to finish. His hand rose to his throat where it had met the cool metal, scoffing at how Lotor had the decency to avoid cutting him.

Couldn’t he at least have something to complain about, other than his damaged pride?

At least Lance had the right to say, “I told you so”.

“I told you so,” Lotor spoke before he could.

“Huh?” Lance asked, eyes darting back to Lotor.

His eyes were on Lance’s hand, mainly, where it cupped his throat.

“I believe I promised I would not strike you.” Lotor went on with his ever-present air of superiority.

Oh.

Lotor turned to his generals, “I wore him out for you. He can be a handful when he’s worked up.”

Lance crossed his arms, speaking between pants of exertion that proved Lotor’s words to be true, “I’m standing right here.”

He knew they could see right over his head, but they could at least have the decency to talk behind his back.

Zethrid spoke thoughtfully, gesturing to Lotor, “Looks like you’ve the energy to continue.”

As opposed to Lance’s utter exhaustion? Thanks. Great. Just what he wanted to hear. Lance huffed in indignance. At least he could wear him out mentally.

“Oh hush.” She dismissed him fondly, “How does another friendly match sound?”

Oh, that’s what she was getting at.

A smug smirk crossed her face, “You have already bested a one-on-one match -how about a challenge? Acxa, care for a 2 v 1?”

“I like those odds.” Acxa returned the look before both sets of eyes fell on Lotor.

Were they… defending his honor? Maybe they’d get payback for him and show Lotor what for. Sure, he could beat Lance, but that was no feat; A particularly determined wombat could beat Lance - he wasn’t exactly strong or skilled in defense.

Lotor spoke easily, voice gleaming with far too much confidence, “As you wish.”

Acxa returned his sword before fetching her own from the weapons rack.

Maybe he should’ve been a bit more thankful that Lotor was going easy on him. Well “easy” was one way to put it; this time when he faced his opponents, there was much less playfulness in his countenance.

Sure, he claimed to be some child soldier, not the spoiled prince Lance had pinned him for, but to see it with his own eyes – without the fog of rage and frustration to boot – was quite the spectacle.

Lance would have a better chance of fighting off a bear. At least he’d be able to see whatever attacks a bear threw at him - even if he only lived a few seconds.

Was this some kind of trick? This had to be some kind of plot to convince him not to run away. The way Lotor moved was just- inhuman. Though, he supposed that made sense considering he was an alien.

Of course, his luck had him sold to some pseudo-superman. Couldn’t he have gotten lucky for once in his life and had to fight off a race of that “Bibble” guy from the Barbie fairy movie?

Maybe that was what they wanted him to know: That he didn’t have a chance from the start. Just another way to “show him his place”. His eyes tracked the fight, his thoughts moving as fast as their strikes.

The fight was over before it began. He’d like to say he learned something from watching, but he’d had no way to distinguish one set of limbs from another.

He’d managed to use Zethrid’s weight against her, toppling her from the ring. Acxa, on the other hand, he dealt with by pinning her against the imaginary barrier. She stood at the very edge of the circle, the edge of Lotor's blade at her throat.

When Lotor’s eyes darted to his, he fixed his slack-jawed expression of awe, unwilling to give Lotor the satisfaction. Unfortunately, the satisfaction had already been granted, a smirk crossing his face far too quickly for Lance’s liking.

It could have been that they were playing it up to bolster Lotor’s reputation in front of him- though the disappointment on their faces seemed as genuine as their pants of exertion.

Lotor joined him as the others regrouped for another match.

Lance wished he hadn’t had to go first - Maybe then he’d be able to watch the rest of the sparring without yawning.

“Impressed?

Chapter Text

Lotor joined him as the others regrouped for another match.

Lance wished he hadn’t had to go first - Maybe then he’d be able to watch the rest of the sparring without yawning.

“Impressed?”

Lance didn't want to give him the satisfaction, “Suprised maybe? I don't think I've seen a swordfight before- forget being in one. Didn’t realize it was some space trend.”

He’d never seen Lotor’s face so contorted with disbelief. Lance almost laughed at it.

“I suspected you may have been of a… Lower social class, but I didn't realize-”

Lance held his hands out in defense, “It’s not a status thing- It’s just not a big thing where I’m from. I mean the queen’s guard has swords and some people take fencing but like-”

Lance was thankful that he interrupted his rambling, he wasn’t quite sure where he was going, “Mayhaps it is fate that has brought you thus far. The champion’s affinity had led me to believe otherwise. I will teach all you desire.”

Lotor grabbed both of Lance's hands in his own, seemly inspecting his muscle structure.

Lance managed a flustered response, “Oh, uh- yeah. That would be cool.”

He systematically massaged Lance’s palm as he went on, “For your first time with a blade, you did excellently. I am delighted to hear that you are eager to learn of my culture.”

He’d love to tell Lotor where he could shove his culture but he swore to himself that he would play nice. The more he behaved, the more trust he gained. Besides, It wouldn't hurt to come out of this place with some experience.

He couldn't help but blush at the praise. Lotor’s genuine enthusiasm did stir up a bit of excitement in Lance. Sure, he was the one who’d been kidnapped, but it wouldn't hurt to look forward to something.

“We should get you cleaned up for the night,” Lotor suggested, pulling Lance to his feet with the hand in his grasp.

“No fair, we’ve only had him for a few vargas,” Ezor complained, sighing with playful immaturity.

Narti gestured furiously, Lotor laughing in response.

Lotor spoke, “You may have him for the rest of the quintant if you so desire. I will return him when he is adequately clean.”

Lance huffed about having to leave so soon, but followed without complaint, leaving with a small wave.

When they were just out of earshot, Lotor spoke, “I believe they like you.”

“They’re alright.” Lance downplayed it. He’d have wanted to be in their group if they were humans back on earth.

“Have you been behaving for them?”

“Yes, Master.” He sighed, keeping the lecture about manners in mind.

“Perhaps I should let them borrow you more often. Very good.” Lotor praised.

This was his chance to give up. Well, act like he’d given up. He just had to work off the truth and Lotor would be off his back in no time.

“They said a few things- about you and the empire and all that.” He needed to get to the point or he’d forget altogether.

Lance continued, “I’ll behave at your party, okay? If it’s really too late to bring me home, then I won’t take it out on your country. I’m not gonna- I won’t tolerate everything- I’m not a saint, but I’ll cooperate.”

If he was just pretending to be complacent, why did his face heat up so unbearably hot? He couldn’t stand it.

Worse was the look Lotor gave him. He stopped in his tracks to look completely and utterly pleased with Lance.

“Magnificent. This makes things much easier. I am glad to hear that.” A hand rose to his hair, straightening out askew strands.

“Well, don’t take it personally. I’m just sick of being tugged around.” Lance bit his cheek, restraining the urge to comment further.

“You will find that life here is much easier with compliance. Good boy.”

Good boy… because that was all he was supposed to be, wasn’t it. Lance thought about what the group had said earlier. Something about him being a doll, a lapdog, an accessory even.

He’d said his part, he didn’t need to keep talking. It would only make his situation worse if he were to expose himself like that.

When they reached the bathroom, Lotor excused himself to shower first- of course, not without Lance’s promise that he would sit and stay inside the bathroom.

He sat awkwardly on the bathroom counter, staring into the corner of the room so as not to view Lotor naked- even after he shut the door to the shower.

Lance couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation.

He spoke without thinking, “If I am just a statement piece - just a trend. Does that mean- what happens when you get bored of me or-?” He couldn’t get it out. How could he possibly phrase this?

He bit the inside of his cheek, grateful that Lotor couldn’t see him.

He’d already started talking, he might as well finish his thought.

Lance got to the point, “Are you going to replace me?”

Sure, he didn’t want to be here in the first place, but he couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if Lotor just moved on to some other alien. He was sure it was coming anyway; Lotor would pick a new “pet” as soon as he learned that Lance wasn’t exactly a show-stopper. He’d said that Lance was his first pet, doesn’t that leave open the possibility for more? What happened when he got bored of Lance misbehaving and moved on to-

“Lance. Come.”

That was not the response he was expecting.

“But- you’re in the shower- what do you-?”

“I recall you giving me your word that you would behave.”

Maybe Lotor couldn’t hear him too well at this distance. He scooted off the counter and stood next to the shower. He leaned against the wall to give him the false appearance of nonchalance.

When the door to the shower slid open, Lance jerked his head in the opposite direction.

Then he was in the shower with Lotor. Before Lance could recognize it and stop him, he had hoisted him under his arms into the shower with him.

He flinched as warm water soaked his bodysuit from behind.

“Wait! I’m still wearing clothes- you’re naked- I-” Lance shut his eyes as hard as he could.

“Then do not look down there, look at me,” Lotor spoke gently.

Lance remained frozen. He just wanted an answer. He knew he shouldn't have asked. Why did he think Lotor would care-

Hands cupped Lance’s face, tilting it upward.

“Open your eyes.”

Lance winced at the thought, leaving them closed. He concentrated on the water on his back. Lotor was out of the shower head’s range.

Lotor spoke again, voice just barely audible over the pitter-patter of droplets, “Do you trust me?”

Did he?

Lotor kidnapped him, embarrassed him, and bossed him around.

He had the patience for him, gave him choices, and taught him their system of time.

He recalled Lotor’s face when the robot stabbed him.

Lance opened his eyes.

The image of his mortified expression melted away as one of a softer concern filled Lance’s vision.

Lotor’s thumbs gently stroked either cheek.

“I do.”

“Then I give you my word: I will not replace you. I will never ‘get bored’ of you.
“You are worth far more than you comprehend; You need not believe you are not good enough. Your presence is a tremendous service to me- my empire; it is not one I will consign to oblivion.”

“Once you get to know me, you’ll change your mind.” Lance clenched his teeth, willing the wetness in his eyes away.

He’ll be just another teacher who pinned him as a troublemaker. He’ll be Lance’s old friends -the ones he messed up with and lost -the ones he got too comfortable with and showed his true colors. Once he got to know Lance, he’d realize the mistake he made. He’ll realize he wasted his money on some kid who can’t shut up or sit still to save his life.

When Lance pulled back a small bit, Lotor followed him -despite the droplets soaking him. The drops obscured just that bit of Lotor where it fell in the inches between their faces. He savored the protection. He shouldn’t have said any of this. He wished he could disappear down the drain with the droplets.

Lotor’s thumbs smoothed away the tension in Lance’s jaw, “Give me the chance to get to know you before you make that choice for me.”

Lotor spoke with a fondness Lance had never received before, “You have already disobeyed me a number of times. You have insulted me in every way you can think of. You are still here, are you not? Every time you reveal more, I break the promise I made to myself -I get-

“I get more attached.”

“I- I don’t- you won’t like me, I- I’m-”

“Allow me to reiterate, Lance.

“Do you trust me?”

Tears joined the droplets. From who, Lance couldn’t say.

“Yes.”

Lotor smiled, a bit too mischievously, “Yes, what?”

Lance let out the best sigh of exasperation he’d ever felt, “Yes, Master.”

“Good boy.” Lotor pressed his forehead to Lance’s, wet white hair cascading around them.

The contact shielded him from the water- it let him see Lotor clearly.

After what felt like an eternity – but not nearly long enough – Lotor spoke, “Let us not be rude and keep the ladies waiting. I will give you your privacy.”

Lotor pulled away.

When he turned to leave, Lance panicked.

“Wait!” Lance winced at the urgency in his voice.

Lotor tilted his head at Lance, stopping in his tracks.

Lance continued at a normal volume, “I mean. Would you, uh, wash my hair? Master?”

“I would love to, Pet.”

When they finished cleaning up, Lotor delivered him to his general's quarters as promised.

Their room sat just outside the wing he shared with Lotor.

Lotor touched just one finger to the panel beside the door, speaking into it,“We have returned.”

The door slid open a moment later, Ezor standing on the other side.

Her eyes went wide. Before they could say anything, she stepped forward and started petting his hair with gusto.

“Ooo, squeaky clean. Your fur is so soft.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Lance would’ve thought he’d be used to the attention by now.

With a promise to behave and a wave, Lotor left him with the others again. They were supposed to bring him back to Lotor before the end of the cycle. While Lotor didn’t give his reasoning, Lance could figure that he didn’t want him sneaking off or attacking anyone in their sleep.

Bold of him to assume Lance could take out anyone - even while asleep.

Thus far, he’d keep trying to keep in their good graces.

“Zethrid is still drying up so she’ll be in in a few. We can start the movie when she gets back.”

“Oh cool, I didn't know Galra had movies.”

“Our Pr- Emporer is not one to remain stationary for too long. He’d rather be working on some proposal or monitoring relations. You’d think he’s never relaxed a day in his life.”

“Yeah, he sure acts like it.” He hurried to address her mistake, “Prince? One of you called him that earlier. Is this like a new thing?”

Acxa responded, “He has not made you aware of the situation? He only usurped his father a few pheobs prior. We’ve all been doing our part to strengthen his grasp on the empire- Which includes your presence, might I add.”

That did tend to slip his mind. He hadn’t even gone

“Usurp? He told me his father was dead.” Lance tilted his head at her.

“Who do you think disposed of him?” Acxa spoke far too casually.

Yet another reason he should probably think twice about messing with Lotor.

“Oh, of course, he killed his father. I should have guessed.”

He’d be more surprised if he didn’t already think Lotor was a maniac.

“To be fair, he would have done the same had Prince Lotor lost. He was a tyrant who nearly ran the empire into the ground. Emperor Lotor’s reign is that of progress.”

“Then maybe he should progress enough to let me go home.” Lance huffed.

Lance flinched when the door opened. He was certain Lotor had heard him and was coming to defend his honor.

Zethrid strode into the room. She wore something much less coverage than the armor he’d seen her in prior. Where previously lay a hard metal chest plate now sat an enormous fluffy mound of fur.

“I swear, it takes longer and longer every time.” She ran a claw through her fur to emphasize her words.

Ezor hopped up from her seat, immediately disregarding the conversation in favor of sticking an entire hand into her fur.

It looked so magically fluffy and comfy, how could he not not stare?

Zethrid noticed his complete awe, beckoning him closer, “You can touch, come here.”

Lance tentatively stepped forward, reaching a hand out to pet the surface.

He gasped when he brushed the surface.

All he could say was, “So soft.”

There was no other way to describe it. Lance’s family had had cats and dogs, sure, but none of them compared to her fur.

A tap on the table had everyone’s attention turned to a holoscreen. Narti had set up a video, the fact evident by the triangle waiting on the screen.

“Beat me to it.” Acxa spoke, glancing at the screencap of the paused video, “Good choice.”

He retracted his hand from the fluff.

“You sitting with me, babe?” Zethrid’s eyes moved to Ezor as she sat down.

“I wanted to give Narti some audio description tonight. Maybe give my spot to Lance?” She responded.

Zethrid nodded at the suggestion.

When she beckoned him, he sat beside her, not entirely sure what she wanted. His position lasted only a tick, Zethrid picking him up and positioned his head on her chest fluff.

Sure, Lance had laid on people before, but nothing compared to this experience. He felt like he was lying on a cloud. He let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m getting the feeling he likes it.” Ezor laughed.

Lance blushed, mortified that he had made that sound out loud. Aliens had no business having such nice fur.

“She’s why I can’t shave it off.” Zethrid teased. She threaded a hand into Lance’s hair,

“All set?” Acxa asked all.

With affirmatives coming from every direction, they settled in for the movie, Acxa flicking the light off.

Luckily, it was dubbed in common, so Lance could understand it. He couldn’t read the captions, but that was alright.

It was captivating. He never knew Galra had movies, but he’d only known about Galra for less than a month- or phoeb, so it was only fair.

Despite his best attempt to stay focused on the movie, he could feel his eyes fluttering.

He held them open as hard as he could.

He allowed himself a single blink, just to rehydrate his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t sure where he was.

A small purple screen floated in the distance. The light was on again.

He blinked until he could see better.

A mound of purple fur blocked most of his vision. He squinted, shifting just enough to see over it without moving out of ever-comfortable position.

Upon recognizing the figure, he shot up - well tried to. He sat up so quickly that he nearly fell off the bed. Zethrid managed to grab his upper arm in time to pull him back onto the bed.

His head darted in every direction, taking it all in at once.

He’d been in the same spot of fur he’d fallen asleep on, though, now they were on a bed rather than the couch.

“Thank you.” Lance blushed, addressing Zethrid.

She nodded in acknowledgment, sitting up and snaking her free hand to his hair. He leaned into it before realizing that everyone in the room had their eyes on him.

Zethrid was the only one not dressed in day clothes (apart from the technology on her wrist) everyone else having risen and readied for the day already. She flicked through a wall of text on a holoscreen above her bracer.

Most notably (and surprisingly) was the person sitting across from him, on an identical bed; Lotor sat, one leg crossed over the other, opposite him. Acxa’s hand sat in his own, where he rhythmically rubbed it.

“Good morning.” Lotor addressed him first.

“Oh, hi.” He looked back at Lotor, head tilted in an unspoken question.

“He forgot we borrowed you - nearly called a search party,” Acxa announced much too loud for Lotor’s liking.

“You forget that I can exile you.” Lotor huffed, clearly embarrassed.

“Only if I can take your poppet with me.” Acxa rebutted.

Lotor continued massaging her hand -more pleased than annoyed.

“I take it you all got along well, then?”

Chapter Text

“At least they brought you back in one piece. I was hoping for a bit longer to prepare you, but this will have to suffice.”

Lotor had retrieved Lance from the generals’ quarters a few vargas prior - this was his first glance into why Lotor seemed so… antsy to put it simply. Sure, his appearance remained as refined and sanctimonious as always, but Lance could tell there was something on his mind.

This latest comment did little to enlighten him. He needed “longer to prepare him”? Lance had never heard such an ominous sentence.

“Prepare me? For what?” Lance tilted his head at Lotor.

He mentally glared at his heart as its pace sped up, such a blatant unknown stirring his nerves.

There was always something, wasn’t there? If Lotor, of all people, was nervous, then Lance ought to be as well.

Lotor sighed, tapping his chin as if deciding upon his wording, “The gala is next cycle.”

Lance deflated, “A gala…?”

He remembered Lotor mentioning it in passing the cycle prior but he hadn’t exactly delved into details. He wrung his brain for any information. How was Lance supposed to remember? He had a lot on his plate.

Despite Lance’s ignorance, Lotor’s words held no condescension, “The gala is your primary purpose. You are to remain by my side as a representative of the Galra empire’s affluence.”

Oh.

Shit.

The entire reason he’d been purchased, right: to be on display as a lap dog.

Lance broke into a sweat at the realization.

Tomorrow?

Like tommorow?

His mind raced.

The generals had mentioned something about it being short notice but he had no clue it was this short notice. Lance had only been there for less than a movement.

Sure, Lotor tried to act all put together, but he procrastinated where it mattered. Lance himself was notorious for procrastinating, but at least he showed his true colors and admitted it. When he thought about it, if Lotor hadn’t waited until the very last minute, Lance would have been purchased by someone else. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

It couldn’t be too hard, all he had to do was sit and look pretty, right? Right? He hoped he didn’t have to do tricks like some show dog. He didn’t like being under Lotor’s gaze alone; how was he expected to tolerate a million aliens staring at-

Lance panicked, “I haven’t even been here a week! I don’t know anything about aliens! Heck, I don’t know anything about Earth parties, forget about space parties. I barely know my world’s social cues - how am I supposed to follow yours? Well, yours and a million other species to boot-?”

Lotor held up a hand, ceasing his rambling, “Lance, do relax. You are amply prepared for the event. The only thing required of you is obedience; sit and remain silent and you will be perfectly fine. You will not be the center of attention; many other beings are in your position.”

Lance wasn’t sure he believed him, but he appreciated the attempted consolation.

Lance nodded, taking a breath, “Okay, alright, -right. Lapdog mode, got it. One measly dog park? Pssh.”

Lotor made a face at the word but continued without acknowledgment, looking to Lance quizzically, “You will behave for me, correct? I am certain Narti would assist you if you desire.”

It was both a threat as well as an option. He didn’t feel any hostility in his voice. Sure, Lance could sweat and stress all he wanted or he could relinquish his body for the night. He would wake up a bit disoriented, but wouldn’t that be better than a night of stress and embarrassment?

Lance pressed his lips into a fine line, contemplating his options.

He settled on the former. He needed intel. He couldn’t talk to the other human if Narti kept him sitting properly.

“I’ll be good. I’m a man of my word.”

When he considered it, perhaps he agreed too quickly; He should be playing an angle! He should be taking bribes, shouldn’t he? Did Lotor just expect him to behave for free?

Lance added, “Though, I wouldn't be opposed to some incentive.”

Lance’s chest thudded at the grin he received in response; the smile was far too genuine for his liking - was his cooperation worth that much to Lotor or was it something else entirely?

Lotor didn’t flinch at Lance’s request, responding easily with, “An exemplary performance demands a reward.” He pet Lance’s hair, “Though, exactly what it is, depends on your execution. Perhaps it would be beneficial to go over the ground rules.”

He would have preferred they stayed on the subject of rewards, though he supposed he had to know the rules before he could conform to them.

Lance nodded.

“You recall my proper title, correct?”

How could he forget? It was the first rule Lotor set after all.

Lance restrained the urge to roll his eyes, “Yes, Master.”

“Very good. Aside from obedience, the most pressing formality is your silence. No speaking unless spoken to, and even then, with the utmost respect. ”

Despite his reluctance to humiliate himself with Lotor’s title, that rule was probably for the best; He’d received quite enough scolding from his teachers back on Earth when he ran his mouth, it was more likely than not that he’d embarrass himself (and, more consequentially, Lotor).

“Fine by me. I don’t want to talk to a bunch of freaks who keep other people as pets anyway.” Lance laughed at the peculiarity of the scenario. It was so much worse when he said it out loud.

“I would appreciate it if you would take this seriously. Perhaps I should enforce this at home, as to keep you acquainted with it.”

Lance held his hands in front of him in surrender, “No talking it is! Consider my lips locked! You won’t hear a peep-”

Lotor shot him a pointed look.

“Right. I can be serious, I swear.” Lance nodded as sternly as he could muster.

“I do hope you are telling the truth.” Exasperation flooded his voice.

Lance couldn’t absorb much more than that. Lotor babbled on about eye contact, heeling, and other meaningless rules he’d have to follow.

Eventually, Lance couldn’t just smile and nod; he had to participate as Lotor guided his positions.

Lotor stood from his seat, instructing Lance to do the same.

When Lance stood as he usually would, Lotor directed him to the socially correct position, “Clasp your hands behind your back, head down.”

“Very good.”Lotor praised before continuing, “Sit.”

Lance sat as he usually would.

“You may kneel or sit with your legs to one side. Your hands may be clasped in front of you in this instance.”

He readjusted, waiting for Lotor’s verbal approval without meeting his eye.

“You kept your head down. Good boy. What a quick learner.”

Lance prayed that his fringed covered his warm cheeks.

“One more.” Lotor sat in his chair beside him, “Up.”

Lance rolled his eyes, thankful Lotor couldn’t see from that angle.

He crawled onto Lotor’s lap. He wasn’t sure that would ever get less embarrassing, no matter how many times he “prepared” him.

This time, instead of telling him how to sit, Lotor placed his hands upon Lance’s thighs in order to guide his limbs into position. Before he had a chance to acknowledge the contact, Lotor was already lifting Lance from his lap in order to tuck both legs under him.

He froze as Lotor maneuvered him, eyes going wide in shock.

How did he always forget how strong Lotor was?

Lotor spoke, “Oh. Apologies. I should have warned you.” He pet Lance in reparation before pulling his head against his chest.

Lotor’s warmth spread through his shirt, competing with the unrelenting blush upon Lance’s cheeks.

Was this position necessary; why was it required that he nestle into Lotor’s chest? Lance prayed he would not have the chance to sit this way at the gala. If he stretched, maybe he could hide his face in Lotor’s neck.

“This is the proper position, though, for now, you may sit as you wish.”

He rearranged himself to a slightly more comfortable position- one with significantly less contact with Lotor’s chest.

Guess that was the end of the training session.

He barely remembered how to stand at attention in class- how was he supposed to remember all this?

“You did marvelous, Pet. Your compliance is more than appreciated.”

Lance didn’t shy away when he pet his head. He supposed he should get out of that habit if he wanted to fit in.

Lotor handed him the tablet and left him to his devices while he booted up the holoscreen. Lance didn’t mind the break- he’d had far too much social interaction already.

Before Lance’s tablet had even begun to start up, Lotor instructed him to hand over a palm while he reviewed tasks on his holoscreen. Despite the obviously nervous action, he retained his royal air; Lance wasn’t sure how he could look so composed.

He didn’t mind the touch too much; it felt pleasant and Lotor seemed to be eased by the repetitive motions. He deemed it a nervous habit. Maybe he’d ask about it later; he’d rather not further agitate him.

Lotor’s free hand swiped through images and walls of text on a floating screen.

It seemed like he was… studying faces?

It would be in Lotor’s best interest to know his competitors (or rather allies, perhaps).

Lance wasn’t too sure how governments worked, nonetheless space governments.

Lotor should have just waited to make the announcement the morning of the gala- it was the only thing on Lance’s mind the entire cycle. He went over the rules and positions in his mind to ease his anxiety.

He needed to keep his mind occupied.

Despite the looming anxiety of the cycle to come, Lance whiled away his time exploring the tablet. He found out quick enough that the device was in neither English nor common- Lance had his work cut out for him. He discovered a clock application, and shortly after, a drawing pad, where he charted the Galra characters he’d learned and their approximate English equivalent.

Maybe he’d ask Lotor to clarify.

Lance glanced at him, jolting when he made eye contact.

Lotor gestured toward the characters, “You are… Almost correct.”

“How would you know? You don’t know English.”

“I have an approximate knowledge. Since the druids are allowed only superficial knowledge retrieval, they were able to retrieve artifacts of your language.”

“Language? You mean artifacts of English, right?” Lance tilted his head at him.

“If that is the language of your planet, then yes.” Lotor nodded.

Lance tilted his head at Lotor, “You do know Earth has multiple languages, right?”

“What?” Lotor blinked away his surprise.

“There is no universal Earth language.”

Lotor tapped a finger against his chin, “That would explain a number of things.”

Lance stifled a laugh, “Humor me, okay? Say something to me in ‘human’.”

“You are uno wa degli esseri più charming che abbia mai hitoridesu.” Lotor spoke the abomination far confidently.

Lance put the tablet in his lap to free up a hand. He slapped it on his mouth, barely containing the onslaught of laughter. He couldn’t even begin to extrapolate that sentence.

“That was the most mangled combination of English, Japanese, and-” Lance thought for a moment, “Italian, I think- that I have ever heard.”

He could have sworn he noticed Lotor’s cheeks growing… darker? Was he blushing? His complexion obfuscated the reaction.

Lotor muttered something about needing to invest more resources in human language research before continuing, “At least I can provide you with translations in common.” he pointed at a word Lance had crudely drawn on the tablet, “Your lines need work, but this group of symbols means ‘time’, not ‘clock’. A ‘clock’ is such an antiquated thing regardless.”

Lance quickly jotted that down. He angled the tablet in encouragement for Lotor to go on.

He continued, clarifying each set of symbols down the line.

Once they had ameliorated Lance’s notes, Lotor spoke again, “This device is designed to aid kits in learning the Galra language,” Lotor hesitated before continuing, “-but I can arrange the production of a version in common if you would prefer.” he offered, with thinly veiled disappointment at the thought.

Lance shook his head, “That’s alright. I might as well have something to do while I’m stuck out here.”

Lotor lit up at the confirmation.

Lance clenched his teeth, willing away the flutter in his chest.

“May I?” Lotor waited for permission before taking the tablet and drawing a few symbols.

Lotor continued, “That is your name. There is no direct translation, but if I take the meaning into consideration, I can construe a meaning.”

Lance tilted his head at the characters, “How do you pronounce it? Is it like, different?” He didn’t have the slightest idea of how to read foreign symbols.

Lotor spoke the name aloud. His cadence held amusement and a fondness that Lance couldn’t pin down.

“Could you use it in a sentence?” Lance asked. He’d never heard Lotor speak in Galra -aside from phrases that lacked a translation in common.

He spoke a few lines in Galra.

Lance couldn’t help but let his face warm at the sound.

“That is how it is to be engraved beside my crest when your official collar is complete.”

“What’s wrong with the one I have now?”

“While the one you adorn is of quality, it is far from the opulence that a creature of your status deserves.” he thought for a moment, “Besides, this one does not suit you. It is much too bland. You may choose the color if you desire.”

He supposed the grey was boring, but it was a neutral color after all- how was he supposed to match his outfits?

He looked up at Lotor. Like everything else in this ship, his complexion was a smooth pristine purple. He couldn’t possibly choose that color- that would make him the regal Galra pet that they wanted him to be.

He concentrated on his favorite color- it was on his favorite pants, shirt, and-

He met Lotor’s gaze.

If he concentrated, he could get lost in the color- it was the one familiar thing about him. It reminded him of his family, of his home. The vast oceans of Earth endlessly laving, all hidden behind the veil of patient fondness in the other’s eyes.

He’d been silent for far too long. He had to say something.

His face flushed, mouth moving on its own accord to alieve the self-induced tension.

“Blue.”

He doubted he’d be able to think of another color if he tried. It helped that it was his favorite color nonetheless.

“I drew the same conclusion- I am pleased we agree. It would compliment your eyes marvelously.”

When Lance couldn’t find the words to respond, Lotor continued, “Would you like to learn the Galra word for ‘blue’?”

Lance nodded.

“Not to root against myself here, but why don’t you speak your language more often? Like with your guards and generals?”

On Earth, he’d swap back and forth on a dime with his family; for a species so culturally oriented, it didn’t make sense to limit their use.

Lotor explained, “Common is standardized on my vessel- in order to minimize miscommunication for those who have lost their roots or speak more traditional strains.” He paused for a moment, considering his next words, “ It sounds… intimidating to nonnatives. Many species have joined the Galra empire – you included – it is in everyone’s best interest to maintain some level of synergy.”

Lance tilted his head at Lotor. He didn’t find it frightening- should he? His self-preservation has been out of wack since he left Earth.

Upon viewing Lance’s countenance, he continued, “Though, perhaps I should utilize my native tongue more often.”

It wasn’t like he listened to whatever high and mighty lecture Lotor was usually spewing anyway. The less he had to pay attention to, the better.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Lance spoke with a thoughtful hum.

Lotor pulled him close for a moment, leaning in to be beside his ear. A shiver ran up his spine as Lotor’s breath warmed his ear in the distinct pattern of his Galra name.

Lance sucked in a breath.

He ameliorated his wide-eyed countenance, regaining his composure, “I don’t- I don’t think I’ll forget that any time soon.” He padded his sentence with nervous laughter, writing the approximate phonics of the word as an excuse to look away.

“I am pleased that you show interest in my language, Pet.”

“I already know Spanish, English, and, apparently, Common as well. What’s another language to the repertoire?” Lance downplayed it; Lotor seemed much too satisfied for his liking.

It wasn’t just for Lotor after all. Sure, it helped to get in his good graces, but that wasn’t his only motive; when he escaped, he might need to gather intel or read a sign.

“Look at the screen, see this?” He gestured to the holoscreen floating before them, pointing at a specific set of symbols, “This means’ executed’. The paragraph dictates how this ruler executed the tyrannical leader that held their planet captive.” He thought for a moment, “Perhaps this was not the best page to start on.”

“Uh, maybe not.” Lance tilted his head at the normalcy in Lotor’s voice.

“My first words, like many others, were ‘Vrepit Sa’”

“Oh, that’s the salute, right?”

“Correct. If you recall, it means ‘killing thrust’. Though, I doubt you will find very much use for a salute in your position- I am the only one in the empire of higher status.”

“Your country has some weird customs. My first word was ‘mama’.”

“Not all Galra kits are reared by their parents. Many nobles have more pressing priorities.”

Lance bristled as the air changed - something clicked.

He remembered Lotor’s words from one of the first conversations they had.

“I w- No one deserves that. I brought you into this position, it is my responsibility to teach you. Even if your opinion of me is… not the greatest, I will not force you to grow up with the governess- with the trainer.”

“Was that why you gave me that choice- on the first quintant, right? Whether I wanted to live at your side or not?”

Lotor smiled at the reminder, “I suppose it is.”

He looked away, staring at some distant spot to gather his thoughts, “My parents never wanted an heir -my father never planned to give up his throne; they tolerated having a weapon instead- a tool to support his reign.”

He looked back at Lance, eyes softening, “But, that is all in the past. I am establishing a new era. With you beside me.”

Lotor gazed into him, his face inches away, mind clearly bogged with bittersweet memories

Lance met Lotor’s forehead with his own. He relaxed as warmth emanated from the other’s skin...

Lotor blinked a few times – processing the action – before he returned the gesture.

Chapter Text

“You know what? I think we should swap; I don’t exactly have the hips for this.”

Lance shifted weight from foot to foot, antsy from having to keep still for so long.

Lotor knelt behind him, fastening the nth chain of foreign metals and gems around his waist.

“Only a little longer, I promise. You are doing so well.”

Who knew that getting dressed would be one of the more arduous tasks of the day?

At last, it was the quintant of the gala.

Lance had never worn something so airy yet so overbearing at the same time- space continued to amaze him.

A few diaphanous layers draped over him, one over his chest, two flowing down either crease of his hips, and the last – most crucial part of his plan to impersonate a proper pet – the veil draped over his face.

There was no plausible way Lance could control his expressions or amount of eye contact; with a layer to obfuscate his face, he didn’t have to.

While Lance had to fiddle with silks and layers—which ensured there was no way he’d be able to use the bathroom in any reasonable amount of time—Lotor donned traditional Galra wear which only appeared slightly more convenient to wear.

“I almost feel bad adorning you in such rarities - their gleam dulls around such a creature of your radiance.”

Lance huffed, seeing through his saccharine words, “Compliments won’t hold me still any longer if that’s what you’re after.

“It was worth a try.”

It was vargas after that they made their way to the docking port.

He physically shook away the thought of escape when it crossed his mind -he promised he’d be on his best behavior.

The memory of his previous failure reinforced his good behavior; It was impossible to drive a ship when he couldn’t even activate any terminals.

His bare feet padded across the metal floor toward the ship Lotor eyed.

He clenched his jaw as they approached, not looking forward to a long, dark drive sitting on the floor in the back- no different from when he first arrived.

He fought the lump in his throat.

Sure, he was neat and clean, adorned with gems and fine metal chains, but that’s all they were- chains. He was still a prisoner. Lotor invaded his head with honeyed words and righteous convictions. Lance meant nothing more now that he knew how to sit and stay or carry a conversation with Lotor without being held to the ground. He was nothing on Earth—just some kid that his professors bickered over keeping out of their class— why did he expect to be anything more in space? He was still some second-class tool to-

“Lance? Are you alright?” Lotor interrupted his train of thought.

Lance broke eye contact with the floor tile his eyes trained on.

“Perhaps this is a poor idea; If you are not ready to accompany me—so soon after your arrival as well—I will not force you.”

He unclenched his fists, aware of the crescent indents on his palm.

“This is what you bought me for, right? I’d hate to waste your money on my preferences. Let’s just go.” Lance swallowed the lump in his throat, moving toward the tail end of the ship.

“Lance, please. Come here.”

He turned around, already thankful for the veil, keeping his head down as Lotor had taught him.

“Yes, Master.” He spoke the word like a swear.

“You have a choice, Pet. Stay and I will call a keeper to care for you or sit beside me and we can work out your nerves on the way to the gala.”

“Like the passenger’s seat?”

Lotor hesitated at Lance’s question, tilting his head at him.

“Well, yes. But if you are opposed to the idea-” He thought for a moment, “You may sit on my lap if you prefer?”

Oh.

His face reddened.

“No, that’s alright- It’s fine! I just thought you’d make me sit in the back again.”

“You worry far too much; I would prefer if you left that to me.”

“I’ll overthink if I want to!” Lance huffed playfully, relieved to have the anxiety off his shoulders.

He followed Lotor into the ship, plopping down beside him and gaping as he observed the cockpit.

He hadn’t gotten the chance to observe the inside of a Galra ship before. Well, aside from one that he lived in.

He poked at the control panel, huffing when it remained dormant.

This time, he concentrated with all his might, thinking Galra thoughts, like fur, violence, and the general color purple.

He gasped- the panel lit up.

Lotor’s hand sat beside his, activating the controller.

His expression dropped (thankfully hidden behind the veil). He snatched his hand back as if it burned.

“I just wanted to see if it worked. Did you really have to baby-proof everything?” he crossed his arms against his chest with a huff.

He wasn’t trying to escape, he just wanted to mess with it. Honestly, it was the designer’s fault for putting the panel across both seats.

“I did nothing of the sort. Our technology is biologically incompatible with your species. Unintentional, but convenient nevertheless.”

Wasn’t Lotor’s qualm that Lance would escape if he had front-seat privileges? If he couldn’t use their technology anyway, why would it matter?

He tilted his head at Lotor.

“So why did I have to sit in the back, before?”

“You tell me, Lance. What would you have done if you were dragged into the cockpit?”

“I probably would have tried to strangle you or tear up the seats- oh. I see what you mean. Not exactly the best first impression.”

They were pretty nice seats, after all, Lance recalled- he could see why Lotor wouldn’t want clawing marks in them.

“Speaking of first impressions: Are you looking forward to meeting Allura’s human?”

Allura’s human? He’d almost forgotten. After such a tedious morning, he was surprised anything was still in his head.

“Definitely. I wonder if they miss the same things from Earth- like hamburgers. It’s been months since I’ve eaten a hamburger. You know, I told Zethrid about them and she couldn’t understand why someone would want to ‘smother’ meat with bread in the first place.”

There were only so many humans in space; he wondered if he knew this other human. There was no way he’d reveal that to Lotor- he couldn’t be sure how he’d react.

Sure, he trusted Lotor on a base level, but what if Lance sold out his friends and Lotor decided to keep them as well? If one human was a symbol of prosperity, then having multiple would certainly boost his reputation. Then Lance would be just another trophy.

He hoped Pidge and Hunk had found his family and headed back without him. He still had a chance to escape on his own, but he couldn’t risk Hunk’s life if they were stuck there together; How could he willingly throw his best friend into an escape pod with no map or leave him behind if his stamina wasn’t up to par?

Besides, if they made it home without him, it would certainly help If Earth found out about aliens- maybe they could negotiate him back.

“I don’t think you’ve told me their name before.”

“I know little of the creature despite her owning him for many years; I do not know his name, maybe ‘Yurak’ if I recall. I have had greater priories for the past few pheobs.

Lotor didn’t deign to learn a mere human’s name? How rude.

Greater priorities?

“I thought you said this social event thing was a common occurrence?”

“One could call this my reintroduction to society as ruler of the Galra empire. Growing up, I would occasionally accompany my father. Though, as I developed and my impure features became less exotic and more obscure, he refused to involve me any further..”

He had way too many questions.

Lance blinked a million times, head pulling back in shock as he attempted to suppress his befuddlement.

“Sorry, did you just say you’ve never really been to one of these? Am I just your emotional support dog? Wait, how old are you? Impure?”

“Indeed. I will not dissuade you from providing emotional support, though you are doing a rather poor job currently. I am nearing the tail end of my adolescence. I am not a pure-blood Galra. One of the reasons I must fight to assume my rightful place as Emporer is due to my mixed heritage; I am the first Galra Emporer to be of impure blood.”

Lance tilted his head at him- he wasn’t expecting to actually get answers.

“You mentioned that when you brought me to your place for the first time, right? What else are you, then?”

“You haven’t a reference point yet, but I am an Altean. If you recall, as is Allura.”

Lance’s eyes widened, “You’re an Altean? Does that mean you can shapeshift?”

“I see you have been paying attention, very good.”

Lance looked at him eagerly, “So?”

“So ‘what’, Pet?”

“C’mon! Shift for me! Please?” When Lotor refused to respond, Lance added, “Master?”

Lotor’s eyes left the viewport for a moment, glancing at him.

In a moment, Lotor’s skin faded from its usual vibrant purple to an earthy tone; a soft brown color spread across his face, the same shade as Lance’s own hue.

Lotor shut his eyes tight for just a moment before opening them to a familiar white sclera. Apart from his pointed ears, he appeared entirely human.

He made for a decent human.

Lance’s chest fluttered.

He hated to admit it but had he met this version of Lotor on Earth he might have made his move.

If Lance squinted, he could pretend this was just that; he was the florist with a shop adjacent to a tattoo parlor. Lance always had petals in his hair that Lotor would pick out and save for later- the same ones that Lance would braid into his white hair just to make him think of him when they fell out at the end of the day. They could have been friends, maybe more.

“You're staring, Pet.”

Because that’s all he was; They were not in the same class.

Lance clamped his mouth shut so quickly that his teeth clacked together.

He changed the subject in his mind, swallowing the lump in his throat.

With none of the fur or scales of other members of his species, he fit in easily.

“You’d fit in just fine on Earth. We could get you a beanie and no one would be the wiser.” Lance laughed for a moment, before his words sunk in.

Lance’s heart sunk in his chest at the realization. He pulled his knees up to his chest on the seat.

“But we’re never going there, are we?”

“Lance, It is not so simple-”

“Yes, Master.” Lance’s words bit.

If that’s what he wanted, an obedient pet who’ll sit and stay, then why did Lotor seem so hurt by his words? He bit his cheek, unwilling to acknowledge the obvious.

“Please do not dwell on such matters today. Need I remind you how crucial your role is?

Lance sighed.

“Sorry. I just- I’m nervous. I know how important this is to you.” He shouldn’t have to apologize- he was the one being held captive and all. This wasn’t the time to get into their issues.

“I understand, Lance. I am certain that the event will go well, take my word. Worst case scenario, my colleagues discover that you require a bit more training. You will have my guidance-” he hesitated to continue, “as well as my protection.”

Lance nodded, looking anywhere except Lotor’s face.

His eyes stuck to the viewport, squinting at the venue as they drew nearer.

“This is it?”

“Indeed.”

Lotor gave him one last reassuring look before he pulled up to an alien manning a post.

Lance shrunk into himself as an alien opened the door for him, keeping his head down as Lotor taught him. Lance swallowed his anxiety and followed Lotor without another word.

Lotor had made the right choice to add a veil; His eyes darted around the room uncontrollably as he took in his surroundings. High ceilings, extravagant decor (including a chandelier that seemed like it would blind him if he stared too long), and many, many species of aliens. He took in a deep breath, fighting away overstimulation.

Lotor lead him to a table. He nearly sat in a chair before he noticed the cushions settled between them. Of course. They expected him to sit on the floor. He shrugged internally- it was better than sitting on Lotor’s lap.

“Many attendants are already allied with our nation if not members. Few high-ranking Galra officials were invited as well.”

When Lance looked at him eagerly, he motioned permission to speak.

“Like your generals? Is Zethrid here?”

“I see you have already picked favorites.” Lotor chuckled, “Usually Acxa or Narti are the only generals who deign to arrive, though there are members aside from my personal guard.”

He put his head down upon hearing footsteps approach.

“Vrepit Sa, my Emporer.”

“At ease. These are festivities, are they not?”

“Thank you, Sire.” Sendak paused for a moment, “I see you acquired a bauble of your own. Is that a Terran?”

Lotor likely nodded.

“May I touch it?”

“Be gentle;They are such delicate creatures.” Lotor directed his words toward Lance, “This is Sendak- he has been a trusted official of the empire since the decaphobes of my father’s rule.”

Lance’s skin prickled as the free chair slid against the floor beside him.

Without warning, a hand lifted the veil from his face, another tracing up the skin of his neck before settling to cradle his chin.

Lance froze as a thumb – and correspondingly, the tip of a claw – stroked his cheek. His eyes darted to his other hand - Lance was thankful he’d chosen to hold him with his flesh hand.

“Look at me,” Sendak ordered.

Lance’s eyes met his one, solid yellow eye. This was a pure galra – aside from the biomechanical additions – this he could tell.

For once, he was thankful for Lotor’s ownership. Had he been purchased by this… individual, he was sure he wouldn’t be so intact.

He could feel the slightest bit of breath on his face, despite the decent distance between them.

Sendak seemed to scrutinize him just as intensely.

“It looks nothing like the other few I acquired.”

He “acquired”? Lotor only mentioned one person owning another human, nonetheless a commander employed under him.

Lance tilted his head at him. He caught himself before he spoke aloud.

“Go ahead, what is it?” Sendak implored.

“Other few? Where are they?”

“Three of them, one of which became our very own Champion. It is difficult to believe that you two are the same species.”

Lance ignored how insulted he felt at the statement. That didn’t clarify nearly as much as he’d hoped.

Instead of retaliating, he dug for more information, “What are their names?”

“You ask far too many questions for your own good- You are lucky to be so fair. Perhaps I could borrow him for a night, as a reward for my loyalty and service. It would be nice to have a trinket warm my bed after such a long hiatus, Emperor.”

Lance didn’t like the look in his eye. He wished he could have shrunk away from the hold.

“I will consider it, though for now, he is not nearly adjusted enough.”

A smile quirked at the edge of Sendak’s lips, revealing a canine that was far too sharp for his liking.

Sendak released his face.

“May your rule last evermore, my Emporer.”

With that, he left.

Lance poked Lotor’s thigh to get his attention, unsure about the rule of eye contact.

“We will discuss this in private later.” Lotor responded, “You are doing well.”

Other attendants came and went, none drawing more attention than a mere compliment.

After a while, he became lost in his thoughts. If not for reassuring words or gentle touches, Lance would have drifted off.

“Empress Allura! I am pleased you could make it.”

“Emporer Lotor.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

Allura? She had the human, didn’t she?

She took the seat next to him.

“And who is this?”

“Lance, this is Allura, Empress of the Alltean Empire. Allura, this is my terran.”

She was… angelic to put it lightly. White hair cascaded down her back, covering the small amount of skin revealed by her backless dress. If not for the small pink marks atop her cheeks and pointed ears, Lance may have mistaken her for a human. Her appearance put him at ease a small bit; she was the least intimidating alien Lance had ever met.

“A Terran? As is my pet, Keith. I was not aware you were in the market for a creature at all, you did not seem to be the sort.” Allura noted.

Keith? A common enough name. It was a human name too; Lance was surprised she hadn’t renamed him like some rescue pitbull in footie pajamas.

He used to know a Keith back in the Garrison - though he highly doubted this was the same person. Out of the seven billion people on Earth, the chances were slim that anyone (else) he knew would get stuck in space.

The “Keith” in question stood behind Allura; He couldn’t see very much of him and the little he could was obfuscated by white and red silks draped over him- not unlike Lance’s outfit.

“Keith?” Lance repeated the name aloud, feeling it on his tongue.

When he realized what he had done, his head shot down, teeth clenched with nerves.

“Freedom to speak, small one.” Allura allowed.

He let out a sigh of relief, head tilted back up to observe her features.

“It- it is nice to meet you, both, Empress.” He paused for a second, observing her fair features, then continued without another thought, “I didn’t know an alien could look so… divine.”

He flinched at his words. Why did he say that? He shouldn’t have complimented her- he couldn’t be taking risks right now. What if she took it the wrong way? He had no right to-

Her laugh, light, and bubbly, yet graceful, interrupted his train of thought.

“How sweet. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lance.”

He glanced at Lotor, gauging his reaction. He didn’t look mad… just bothered. Lance might have overstepped.

Lance sighed internally as Allura sat in the empty chair beside him, with Keith seated on her opposite side. He’d have no chance to speak to him like this.

Lotor drifted into polite conversation with Allura. The pleasantries were of little interest to him, though he did cock an ear when they discussed a “playdate” with Keith.

Then the conversation stopped mid-sentence.

“Shall we?” Lotor asked.

“To your reign- may it last evermore.”

Allura and Lotor stood from their chairs.

Lotor bent over to speak to Lance, “I shan't be long, but I must take this dance. I will be just over there. No one will bother you. Please, keep being so well-behaved. You are doing such a good job.”

With that, Lotor was gone.

Lance chanced a glance after them. He bit the inside of his cheek as she slid into Lotor’s hold so perfectly.

What was he thinking? It was better to keep attention off of him. He’d rather have Lotor’s intense gaze aimed at her than scrutinize his every move.

Despite this, the lack of his presence had Lance’s nerves on edge.

Then he realized: his lack of presence, and hers.

Lance glanced at Allura’s empty chair and consequently, the other human sitting beside it.

Lance leaned closer to the seat, attempting to get the other’s attention.

“Psst. Keith.”

“What? Shush, you’re going to get us in trouble.” Keith huffed, not looking at Lance. He kept his head facing forward and aimed downward.

Lance huffed, he hadn’t expected the hostility. Keith should be excited to see him- the only other human trapped in this odd society’s norms.

He’d keep trying. Keith would give in and talk to him. He started with an easy topic.

“Where are you from- on Earth I mean.”

Keith muttered a location under his breath– likely hoping this would be the end of the conversation–before shushing Lance again.

“You are that Keith then- Keith Kogane from the Garrison, right?”

Finally, he broke Keith’s composure. He turned toward Lance, analyzing him for recognizable features.

Keith whispered, “What? How did you-?”

“It’s Lance, remember? When you left, I got promoted to fighter class.”

“A lot of good that did you-” He glanced around to check the coast, “If you have to talk, keep your head down - and stop looking at me already.”

“Right right!” Lance went back to position, “You’ve gotta be working on some plan to get out of here, right? Let me in on it!”

“Did Earth lose its concept of discretion in the time I’ve been gone?” Keith snapped, “Don’t talk about that here. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”

That must mean he did have a plan. Lance smiled, waiting for him to go on in whatever code or secret phrase he preferred.

“Our masters are on good terms. Convince yours to let us meet and we’ll talk in private.

Lance didn’t want to wait; He’d already been there for a lifetime!

When he noticed that Keith couldn’t see his nod, he huffed, “Fine. Just don’t forget about me-”

“I didn’t think the Emporer would spring for such a chatty thing.”

A hand settled on his head, claws dangerously close to his scalp. Fingers curled in his hair, tilting Lance’s head toward him.

“Lance, was it?” Sendak asked.

A thumb dropped down his cheek, pulling the veil off his face in one motion

Lance froze, revealed and vulnerable.

“It’s alright. Look at me.” His words were less than reassuring.

Sendak loosened his grip on Lance’s hair, instead tracing his fingers on his scalp.

Sendak hummed thoughtfully before he spoke, “He must have done a number on you already- you’re shaking like a leaf. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your master.” He tilted his head at Lance, drawing nearer to scrutinize him, “I would treat you better. When he gets bored of you, let him know you are welcome with me. It has been far too long since a prize has warmed my bed.”

Lance didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t.

Sendak clenched his jaw at the lack of a response.

“Stress isn’t good for such a small thing. Drink. This will make you feel better.”

Sendak brought a glass to Lance’s lips.

Was he allowed to drink this? Was it even safe for humans? Sendak didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt Lance- rather, he didn’t seem like he wanted to kill Lance. He wasn’t sure what the Galra definition of “better” was, and he wasn’t looking to find out. He couldn’t just drink from a stranger’s glass-

Sendak tilted the glass, forcing Lance to swallow or be doused in the liquid.

The liquid nearly spilled into his airway- he caught it with a gulp before he could embarrass himself with a coughing fit.

It burned going down his throat. He found he didn’t mind it. It had an odd amount of iron in it.

The three huge gulps Sendak provided had hardly made a dent in the Galra-sized glass.

“What do you say?” Sendak swiped a finger across Lance’s lips, cleaning off a spare droplet.

“Thank you-” Lance panicked, “Sir.”

Sendak’s laugh rumbled heavy in his chest, nearly resembling some weird purr.

“Oh, I like you.” He drew his finger to his mouth, the remnants of Lance’s sip disappearing on Sendak’s tongue.

Sendak released him and strode off, seemingly with better things to do.

“Should’ve asked about your sector. He’s in charge of it after all.” Keith mumbled beside him.

Maybe Keith forgot how to read the room after so long in space.

After a little while longer, he realized what Sendak meant- Lance relaxed as the liquid worked. He loosened up, the tension draining from his limbs. His head was a bit fuzzy in a pleasant way.

Lance was relieved when Lotor returned. He couldn’t stand how happy he was to see him.

It wasn’t long before they served dinner. As the servers came and went, Lance peered over the edge of the table, wondering where his plate was.

He realized what that meant when Lotor hand-fed him a bite.

Thankful that he had the veil to hide his humiliation, he lifted it just enough to allow access to his mouth. The bite was almost worth the indigency of it. The meat was smooth and tender- the flavor, was unlike anything he’d ever tasted before (probably because it wasn’t like any meat found on Earth).

Then, a glass sat before him, cradled in Lotor’s hand.

He leaned forward and accepted a sip, surprised to find a much lighter substance in Lotor’s glass. It still burned, but much less than Sendak’s drink. It was oddly savory. He didn’t mind it.

He grew drowsy as Lotor fed him bite after bite, only kept aware by the rare slight brush of contact of a fingertip against his tongue or lip.

The taste of alien wagyu was almost worth the embarrassment- almost.

It wasn’t long before his mind drifted. His eyelids fluttered. He presumed a gala would have many more activities, though he supposed he should be grateful for the peace.

He didn’t notice he had broken position until there was a presence on his face, his eyelashes brushed against cloth as he flickered back into consciousness.

He’d rested his head on Lotor’s lap.

He jerked away a small bit, slowing down immediately so no one would notice his mistake.

Then, a hand on his head. Lotor gently guided him back to his previous position on his lap. The hand remained in his hair, caressing him and carefully easing Lance back into his fuzzy semi-conscious state.

Lotor only woke him when it was time for them to depart. Lance was surprised he stayed awake long enough to follow Lotor to the vessel.

He didn’t have the chance to watch the stars on the ride home, eyes shutting the moment he sat again.

“Sleep well, Lance. You deserve it.”

Chapter Text

Lance awoke slowly–not to his alarm clock, or the smell of Hunk’s cooking, or even to Lotor padding about, readying himself for the day– to the world rumbling around him.

He blinked furiously, fighting the fuzzy warmth to gain awareness.

He pushed the blanket off him, eyes wide as he glanced around.

This was not Lotor’s room, though it shared the same purple hue of Galra-made interiors. Lotor was nowhere in sight. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or not.

There were two doors, one open, one shut.

He set his feet on the floor, flinching when the trembling metal floor reverberated up his legs.

He needed to think.

The last thing he remembered was… The party. He’d fallen asleep on the ride home. Were they home? It didn't seem like it, but Lance hadn't seen every room so he couldn't be sure. Had he been kidnapped? Again?

He made his way to the open door, heart racing in his chest. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that it was not a door, but a balcony.

A large oval sat far below him, quivering purple shapes wavering on every side; It was an arena with hundreds of Galra onlooking, shaking the entire building with their cheers as a loudspeaker announced in some other language.

Rather than a sports team or performance being displayed, instead, two people stood distantly across from each other.

Lance leaned his forearms against the railing, staring down as the fight progressed.

He hadn’t noticed monitors lining the ceiling; Lance turned his attention to the screens displaying the duel.

On one side, a bulky Galra, wielding a thick sword with two hands, on the other side, a much smaller adversary, clearly making up for his size with a helmet.

Lance looked on as the opponents bowed to one another before beginning.

Lance barely kept up as they exchanged blows.

The larger combatant missed strike after strike- the other dodging with an inhuman pace.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes before Mr. rippling-furry-muscles planted face down in the sand, a sword at his throat.

The position reminded Lance of his arrival.

Then, the figure looked up- he noticed Lance. Among a thousand Galra soldiers, why would he look at him?

He didn’t acknowledge how little he thought that through- he wasthe only thing in a mile radius that wasn't purple.

Lance gave him a small wave.

With his free hand, the victor removed his helmet -white hair cascading around him.

Lance's eyes went wide. He straightened his arms to lean over the railing for a better view.

“Lotor?” Lance blurted- not considering the disobedience.

He glanced around to ensure no one has heard him before looking back to Lotor.

What was he doing? Why was he beating the crap out of that guy?

Why didn't he have a hair tie? Lance would have had helmet hair the moment he put the helmet on. Taking off a helmet with flowing locks in front of a nation; Did Lotor lack any semblance of self-preservation?

Lance was beyond confused. They should be home. It had been a long tiresome day- all Lance wanted to do was go back to bed.

He glanced back at his previous resting spot, tempted to lie back down.

“The Galra empire has superseded all previous eras! May this be a lesson to all who oppose my reign!” Tonight, we have re-established our position in the ranks of Lords of ages.

“Now, do I not deserve a proper battle?”

The crowd roared.

“For the glory of the Galra Empire as well as…” He paused for a moment, his free hand drawing upward.

What was he-

“for the honor of my dear pet, the newest addition to it.”

Lance’s eyes went wide as the hand gestured to him.

The monitor flashed away from Lotor’s face, his own taking its place.

What was he supposed to do? He was still waking up- he couldn’t process the situation nearly fast enough.

He hesitated.

This was the role Lotor purchased him to play, right?

He donned a smile and waved giving his best impression of someone who wanted to be there.

He was going to kill Lotor.

Against his better judgment, his smile grew genuine as the crowd cheered for him. Sure, he was beyond humiliated being put on display so suddenly, but they seemed so genuinely enthusiastic.

The camera remained on him for eons, eventually panning back to Lotor when the crowd settled down.

He let out a sigh of relief.

Lotor strode to one side of the arena, allowing his opponent to scurry off in exchange for a supposed replacement.

He was tempted to stay and watch- it wasn't every day that he got to see an alien arena.

An arena- the arena.

It was obvious when he'd thought about it, but, until then, he hadn't considered that the arena was for gladiator battles. Why wouldn't he have anticipated it? He should be prepared to expect the unexpected by now. Why would aliens use an arena for anything remotely normal, like a concert or a sports game?

It wasn't every day that he got to check out an arena. This was the first time he'd been out of the ship since he'd been purchased, he had to make the most of it.

How many other humans got the chance to explore space at all, nonetheless something so absurd as this?

How many other humans…

At least one, right?

If this was the arena, then the Champion must be there.

He was still mostly dressed like a prissy housepet, but It’d have to do.

For a moment, he thought of leaping from the balcony. Upon looking down at the sea of Galra seeming miles below him, he reconsidered. He backed away from the balcony, spinning on his heel and heading towards the door.

He stopped by the cushion he’d awoken on. Popping off his collar with the push of a button, dropping it easily, and snagging the blanket with his spare hand.

He looped it over his shoulders as a cloak and closed the distance between the door.

He still didn't have any way to open the door.

He was important, right? Wasn't that why he was in this special room -for protection? There had to have been someone guarding the door.

He tried his luck and knocked.

The door slid open.

Two armored Galra blocked his path.

“The bathroom is to the right, small one.” One of them informed him.

Lance huffed at his demeaning tone, “I don't need the bathroom. Let me pass.”

He was of average height on Earth.

“No can do. We were ordered to guard you.” The other filled in.

“Well, I order you to stop.”
They shifted uncomfortably.

“Disobeying a direct order from the Emporer might as well be a death sentence. You must understand.”

“Well, you can guard me while I talk to the Champion, right?” Lance kept pushing.

“I’m not so sure that’s-”

He assumed the most prissy, privileged attitude he could manage.

Lance huffed, “Others have been reassigned to far reaches of the galaxy for simply looking at me wrong. Escort me to the Champion or I will inform my master as to how you’ve offended me.”

“I suppose I could escort you to the Champion’s quarters- though you cannot get too close to it for your safety.”

“Fine, let’s go.” Lance let the blanket flip behind him as he strode toward the other human. Immediately, the guard redirected him in the opposite direction -the correct way.

The other guard stayed back, supposedly to inform Lotor of his location when he returned.

He followed along, far too proud of himself. Maybe being the emperor’s pet did have benefits.

They stopped at an identical door in the identical purple hallway, with an identical sign in a language he couldn’t read. He never would have found this if he hadn’t had help.

“You can wait out here. I’ll yell if I need you.”

The guard stood at attention beside the door, leaving Lance to enter the room on his own.

“Could you get that for me?”

“Oh, apologies.” He opened the door and returned to the spot beside it.

Lance knocked on the door frame, unsure of the etiquette.

He took a step into the room, jolting when the door shut behind him.

The guard hadn’t followed him into the room. He wasn’t sure why, since he seemed so determined to guard him, but he wasn’t ungrateful for the privacy.

The room was oddly comfortable. The most evident change was the lack of the usual purple ambient light- instead, white-yellow light illuminated the room.

Sitting in one of the seats was indeed a human. He spoke before his brain could fully absorb what he was seeing.

“Holy shit!”

The human jolted at his exclamation.

“Are you alright?” The guard’s voice rang from outside.

“I’m fine! Leave us alone.” He waved a dismissive hand behind him.

He couldn’t help but yell. The human was him. Takashi Shirogane sat before him. His childhood hero. His inspiration. His reason for traveling this far into space in the first place.

“Takashi Shirogane!” It was more of a statement than a question,“You’re the Champion?”

“The Emporer’s pet? How did you- I’d prefer you keep your Altean alchemy to yourself. Would you unshift, please; I would prefer to speak to your natural form.”

Lance’s face went hot in an instant. Sure, he never met Mr. Shirogane in person, but

Lance rushed to explain, “No! I’m not his pet- Well, yes, I guess I am. But not by choice!” Lance considered the rest of his words, “Unshift? Why does everyone think I’m an Altean? I’m a human, like you. It’s so good to finally meet you-” He glanced at the metal arm and amended his words internally.

He was a human, like most of Shiro. He’d have to ask about that later.

The only other difference from Lance’s memory was the white tuft of hair. Wasn’t Shiro only twenty-five?

Shiro shifted uncomfortably, “I understand the emperor insists you play this charade, so I will leave it alone. Though, you should know, where I come from, it is rude to change species.”

Lance refrained from getting frustrated. This was exciting and new. He’d finally found something he’d left home for. He could start listing franchises, but he it would probably make more sense to fill Shiro in while he explained.

“I am not an Altean! My name is Lance- but you didn’t exactly know me.
“On Earth, you were one of the best pilots at the Galaxy Garrison–let me tell you, I would know, I’ve attempted to beat your flight simulator records time after time– until one day you took the opportunity to go the furthest humans have ever traveled: Pluto’s moon Kerberos.

“When you, Samuel, and Matthew Holt failed to return from the mission, the Garrison swept the whole thing under the rug. That’s actually while I’m here -in space, I mean; we’ve been looking for you.”

Shiro considered the information before speaking, “That’s impossible- you can’t be over twenty; The only technology advanced enough on Earth would be at the Garrison and they’d never send someone so young into space.”

Shiro went through a range of emotions, the realization and excitement quickly turning to complete and utter bafflement.

Lance scratched the back of his neck. He startled when his fingers didn’t meet the metal collar,

Lance shrugged, “Well, they didn’t exactly intend to send us as far as they did.”

“‘We’? ‘Us’? The Garrison let more than one teenager get lost in space?”

Shiro gestured for him to sit down, clearly needing to brace for the information.

He explained how Pidge had rigged a field trip vessel in order to locate his family. When he spoke of the abandoned ship on Kerberos, he could feel the despondency weighing on the room.

“I’ve been searching for Matt and Sam as well. We were separated upon arrival here. Since the last Emporer passed away, I’ve–technically–been free. But, I can’t head home until I find them. I use my wage to buy information on their whereabouts but I have had no luck so far.” When Shiro looked up hopefully, Lance could only shake his head.

“I haven’t even seen Hunk or Pidge since I’ve been… here.” Lance clenched his jaw, swallowing a lump in his throat, “But it’s great to meet you Mr. Shirogane.”

“Just Shiro is fine.” He ran his fingers through the white tuft of hair, considering Lance’s words. He stared off into a spot on the floor for a moment before looking to Lance.

Shiro looked at him, “How about you? Why are you with the Emporer?”

“Long story short: he bought me.” Lance sighed, “I’ve been trying to run away for the past week but you wouldn’t believe the security in the Emporer’s personal ship.” He laughed at the absurdity of his words.

Shiro grew alarmed, “I- I thought they stopped keeping captives! Are you okay -is he hurting you?

Lance held his arms out in a placating gesture as he spoke,“No- well not anymore! It’s complicated- but uh, I’m fine, really.”

Shiro’s eyes widened, “If you came here- without him, you’ll- The druids will-”

“Such means are archaic.” A voice rang out from behind them.

Lance’s soul left his body for a moment.

Before he could recognize the situation, Shiro was between him, and the figure in the doorway.

His metal arm glowed an intimidating purple as he brandished it before him. His body shook with shuddering breaths.

Shiro was… protecting him?

Shiro was the reigning Champion of the arena, but Lotor was an expert swordsman.

He couldn’t be certain who would win- or even who he wanted to.

Lotor refused to flinch at the display. His sword remained sheathed on his hip.

Lotor spoke calmly and steadily, “At ease, I mean no harm. I am simply here to receive what is mine.”

He was certain of one thing. He couldn’t let that happen. Not here, not now.

He contained his panic, putting on a calm facade

“It’s alright, Shiro. I’m fine.” Lance reassured.

It seemed to take Shiro a certain level of willpower to break eye contact with Lotor, instead glancing back to confirm Lance’s words. Wide eyes stared back at him, iris barely visible around his dilated pupil.

Lance assured him, “No danger- everything is fine. Relax, alright?”

Recognition flooded his eyes, the light fading from the metal arm.

A countenance of mortification drew across his face, “Emperor Lotor- I sincerely apologize! It was instinct- I wasn't thinking.” Shiro fell into the Galra salute, “Vrepit Sa.”

“At ease. I did not mean to startle you. No harm done, I absolve you.” He turned to Lance, “Now, come here, Pet.”

Lance squirmed at the title, moving to follow instructions. As much as he would have liked to keep talking to Shiro, It wouldn’t do any good to disobey at this point.

Lance kept his head down, hoping to hide his embarrassment.

Lotor started, “Why are you wearing a blanket-”

“It’s cold,” Lance mumbled

Lotor continued, “-and not your collar?”

Oh yeah. He forgot about that part.

“I didn’t want to wear it.” Lance squirmed.

“And why is that?”

Lance glanced at Shiro, who was pretending not to listen as intently as he was.

“I didn’t want him to think I was someone’s pet.” His hand drew up to his neck, scratching the back of his neck. He shifted his weight, antsy at the direction the conversation was taking in front of Shiro.

“Everyone in the Empire knows who you belong to, Pet. There is no use hiding it.”

Well, he figured that part out himself. He didn’t have to announce it.

Lotor took out his discarded collar, “You broke a rule.”

“Sorry,” Lance muttered.

“Sorry, what?”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat.

He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt.

“Sorry, Master.”

“You are forgiven.”

A hand rose to Lance’s head, fingers running through his hair.

Lotor leaned in close, likely attempting to spare him from any more humiliation.

He whispered, “You may put it on yourself if you so desire.”

“Just get it over with.” He muttered under his breath, “Please.”

“As you wish.”

Lotor clipped the collar back onto his neck, fingers ghosting over his skin as they had on the day he arrived.

Lotor raised Lance’s chin with a finger, “Do not look so despondent, you are not in trouble.”

“I needed to meet him and I wasn’t sure I’d get another-” Lance jolted backward with a shout.

“What is the matter?” Lotor asked.

“Are you alright?” Shiro asked, drawing closer.

When Lotor made eye contact with him, he noticed something different; instead of their usual normal relatively round shape, Lotor’s pupils were slits.

“What is wrong with your eyes?”

“My- my eyes?” Lotor pulled up a holo screen from his bracer to observe himself.

“You look like some sort of cat.”

It wasn’t as ominous when Lance got a closer look -it just happened to be a startling surprise.

“It is rather bright in here; my pupils are constricted,” Lotor spoke as if it was common sense.

Lance spoke, “Bright? What? It’s finally a normal light level- this is probably the only room in the empire without evil, ominous purple ambient lighting.”

“Evil? Ominous?” Lotor was taken aback.

Shiro stepped in, “Lance, their sun is purple, and much dimmer than ours. Hence the dim lights. When I got my own room. I asked for a yellow light like ours usually are -so I could actually see. Though it also helps that no one will barge into my room when they need me.”

That was why the guard didn’t follow him in.

Lotor must be less sensitive to light since he was mixed species.

Lance went on,“I just figured you were committed to the ‘evil empire’ bit. All the dark colors and dim lights don’t make people think ‘friendly’ when they see you.”

“Maybe more fitting for my father’s empire.” Lotor insisted, “I was unaware we made such a poor impression.”

Lotor swiped to another page on the holoscreen before retracting it, “Well, I am glad you two were getting on well, but I believe that is enough excitement for the day.

Lance didn’t want to get in further trouble with Shiro watching so it was best not to argue.

Lance rushed out, “Can I see him again another time, then?”

Lotor waited for him to correct his sentence.

“May I please see him again another time, Master?”

“I do not see a reason to deny you.”

Lotor continued, “Then, we should be on our way. Your selflessness is admirable; it has been a pleasure to be formally introduced to one with such ties to galra culture. Come along, Lance.”

Shiro seemed more confused than Lance felt, “Oh- thank you! Nice to meet you and Lance.”

Lance said his goodbye before following Lotor out of the room. Lance ran over what he’d done in his head, coming up with as many excuses as he could to stay on Lotor’s good side. He had just begun to gain trust; he didn’t want to be scolded for an attempt he didn’t even make. He waited until they were aboard Lotor’s ship, traveling home before he spoke again.

“I didn't- I wasn't trying to run away, okay?”

“I did not believe you were.”

Lance deflated. He expected to have to defend himself, but now he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Oh. Then what was with that display in front of Shiro- the champion?”

Lotor could have taken him into the hallway for any of that or corrected his word usage elsewhere, but instead, he made him an example. It had to have meant something bigger. Maybe Lotor would start using the leash again. He’d tried to be so good at the party but this was where he slipped up? He wished Lotor would just yell at him and get it over with.

“I am not mad at you Lance. You were already scolded and you apologized. All is resolved so that we may move on from this.

As for the, public nature, of the event. A traditional Galra may have struck you where you stood; I was simply assuring your human friend that he needn’t worry about your wellbeing, as I am in no way, a traditional Galra. Besides, you can not expect such a blatant claim to my belonging to be ignored still easily.”

Lance added, “You still seem upset though.”

“I am disappointed.” Lotor showed his rare hint of hesitation, “You shed my mark and you did not watch my performance. It has been such a duration since I dared step foot in the arena- but I do not suppose you understand that. I needed to- You could have simply asked to meet him after the fight.

“I know you do not like being here, nor do you like me. I seemed to have forgotten that fact for just a moment- but that is my fault. I do not blame you for doing what you so expressly desired in the past. It is my fault for having gotten caught up in the charade.”

His performance? The battle- it was in his honor, wasn’t it? That was why he gestured to Lance.

“I didn’t know.”

“I should not have expected you to.”

“I guess I’m a pretty shitty pet then, huh? I’d get fired if I was a therapy dog.” Lance chuckled.

Before Lotor could draw the proper words to respond, Lance continued, “I didn’t know it meant something to you. I’m sorry, okay?

“I don’t think it helps but I honestly did want to watch. I was on the edge of my seat for the first fight- you were awesome. I just, don’t know when I’ll get my way- ever; if I missed the opportunity to meet another human, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself for ‘sitting pretty’ and letting my chance slip by…”

He didn’t know why he was telling Lotor all of this. Lotor was right for once, Lance didn’t like him- he didn’t want to anyway; why would he reassure him?

He couldn’t stand how thoughtful Lotor was. He was disgusted by how well Lotor had handled the situation with Shiro. He thought his sword-fighting techniques were lame and brutish.

He liked that Lotor was upset. He wanted that. He should be miserable for keeping another person captive.

He should have liked that Lotor was upset.

When Lotor looked at him, his gaze softened. When he spoke, the tension had slipped from his voice.

“Thank you, Lance.”

And, unfortunately, he was welcome.

Chapter Text

By the time they had made it back to the ship, Lance had begun to nod off again.

Lotor sent him to bed with the promise to join him once he’d taken a shower.

Lance listened without complaint. Forget “playing along”, if Lance found arena sand in the bed, he wouldn’t hesitate to square up.

He’d been more than eager to sleep without him, as it let him execute one last rebellion.

Lance sat at the head of the bed–the one that was not Lotor’s side, he wasn’t insane– and proceeded to get under the blankets.

If Lotor wanted him out, he could yell at Lance himself- maybe it would be enough incentive to give Lance his own bed.

He drifted off, content with a newfound sense of superiority sloshing through his veins.

He felt significantly less superior the next morning.

At first, he’d believed himself to be elsewhere- maybe he’d passed out on the couch with one of his nephews. Perhaps his mother had a long shift and wanted more time with him. Maybe he’d fallen asleep behind the heater in a Garrison storage closet again.

At least he knew one thing: he was incredibly–almost absurdly–comfortable.

Sure, the foot of the bed, where he normally slept, was as luxurious as one would expect alien royalty to own, but it didn't compare to this. Warmth enveloped him in the best way. Consider him a bug in a rug.

He almost didn't want to return to consciousness; then he’d have to acknowledge whatever was radiating heat in front of him.

He couldn’t help but take in the scent of whatever it may be. The aroma floated gently, rather than the barrage such an intensity as this usually warranted. He took in floral notes. It was rich- like a warm tea.

It seemed to prolong the haze in his mind, willing away care.

Lance resisted the urge to phase into consciousness, certain that his face would warm exponentially faster as he gained awareness. Unfortunately, his mind had other ideas; He took in the sensation of limbs wrapped around him.

Lotor’s arms firmly cradled him about his waist and back, holding Lance securely to his chest.

Eventually, he couldn’t deny reality any longer- he dared to open his eyes and confirm his suspicions; an expanse of purple skin lay before him, white hairs cascading–just visibly–past the mound.

Mortification seeped into him as he realized his position: How did he manage to tuck his face in Lotor’s neck as they slept? He swore vengeance against his unconscious self.

He stiffened. Was it treason to refuse a cuddle with the emperor? His Garrison training did not prepare him for this.

Shifting in his hold was to no avail. He pulled his head away from the space heater that was Lotor’s neck, somehow rotating to face the other direction. Lotor – whether on purpose or subconsciously – drew nearer to Lance. His hold stiffened, firmly halting Lance’s escape.

“Stay.” Lotor muttered, his mouth dangerously close to the back of Lance’s neck.

Goosebumps rose on the skin where Lotor’s breath met- he regretted shifting positions. .

He clenched his teeth.

Lance started quietly, “Uh, Lotor?”

“It is Master to you,” Lotor muttered. His words scalded Lance's skin despite the lack of heat behind his reprimand.

“Yeah, that. Could you let me go now?” Lance squirmed, reaching for the leverage of the edge of the bed.

Lotor tightened his hold on Lance, the hand wrapping further around his waist. He shifted until his chin, yet again, rested on Lance’s head.

Lotor muttered, “No one on Earth could ever need you as much as I do. You are invaluable to the empire.”

Lance rolled his eyes.

“I meant physically, not in the grand scheme of things.” Lance huffed.

“Request denied. Go back to sleep, Pet.”

“I have to pee, c’mon.”

Lotor let out a heavy sigh.

“I should have you exiled for this,” Lotor muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, exile me to the bathroom, will ya?” Lance huffed.

Lotor reluctantly allowed Lance to squirm out of his hold.

Lance laughed to himself- who knew emperors moped?

He strode to the bathroom- he didn't actually have to go, but he might as well while he was up.

He caught his reflection in the mirror- the smile still evident on his face; he dropped the expression when his eyes met. What was he doing? He was supposed to be playing along, not enjoying alien antics. Just the night before he’d been kneeling for the emperor. He should have been looking for a way out last quintant, not getting a royal escort to the esteemed champion. Sure, his goal was to find Shiro in the first place, but circumstances were extenuating!

He needed to remain vigilant - gain trust and run at the first chance he had.

But, Lotor did trust him, didn't he?

Lotor didn't make him sleep on the leash anymore, nor did he supervise him if he needed the bathroom. So, he was crawling toward freedom, even if it happened to be within the ship.

Lotor hadn’t so much as reprimanded him for sleeping at the head of the bed either -he seemed more pleased than upset at the disobedience.

Lance left the bathroom. He’d drive himself mad if he had to be alone with his thoughts any longer. When he noticed Lotor upright on the bed, readying himself for the day, he tilted his head at him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Lance mentioned.

He certainly wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t have to fight off a sleep-drunk Lotor.

“This is when we usually rise. It seems you have already adjusted to our sleep schedule.” Lotor assured before continuing, “How did you sleep, Pet?”

“A little too well if you ask me.” Lance laughed, “Yesterday- Yesterquintant was a lot to take in.”

Lance sat at the end of the bed on the opposite side–where he was supposed to have woken up–as he spoke.

“Your behavior at the gala was immaculate.”

Lotor caught him off guard. Lance blinked a few times as if trying to clarify the statement.

“Oh, it was?” Lance furrowed his brow at Lotor, trying to figure out what about the last Quintant could be considered “immaculate”; He reflected on the previous night; Sure, he tried to behave, but he’d been far from perfect. The minute Lotor stepped away, he spoke with Keith, then Sendak without permission. To top it off, he fell asleep at the event.

Lance jolted when he felt the bed dip behind him, the movement breaking him from his thoughts. Lotor crawled across the bed, scooting to sit beside him.

“Oh, it certainly was. I do hope it was not too boring for you.”

Lance couldn't help but laugh.

The event was overwhelming, embarrassing- a bit frightening even; boring was not the word he would choose.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it boring; It was probably the most humiliating experience of my life.” Lance let out a bittersweet laugh.

His comment didn’t damper Lotor’s mood.

“It will get easier with time.” A hand traced his shoulder blades, smoothing down Lance’s opposite arm in a soothing motion.

Lance bristled in surprise at the contact.

“You're not upset?” Lance spoke as if it was more a statement than a question, “If everything went alright, why were you in the arena last night? You said something about fighting for honor, didn't you?”

Lotor tilted his head at Lance, brows slightly furrowed in disbelief. He didn't follow Lance’s train of thought.

“That was a celebration. What better way to show off the strength of our empire than to give an active demonstration? You heard the crowd, they adored the show- they adored us.”

“That is how you celebrate?”

“Of course. There is no sensation superior to the thrill of an earned victory. Do your people not revel in the triumph of an enemy yielding to your will?”

“We have sports back home, though, those are usually much less… violent.”

At least the aim of football was to transfer the ball, not maim the opponents.

“Do not mistake us for savages, the arena is voluntary in current times.”

“Current… times?”

Shiro had mentioned something about choosing to keep up the act. Lance wished he’d had more time with him- they’d only barely passed introductions.

Lance shifted on the cushion, crossing his legs and turning to face Lotor with his body. Lotor took the opportunity to take one of Lance’s hands, massaging the muscles as he spoke.

“Until recently, under my father’s rule, those who opposed our empire would be eliminated. Luckier beings–ones who merely crossed our path–would be studied or used to boost morale in the arena. The Champion is an example of such a being.

“Now, the arena is voluntary; competitors receive profits from tickets and betting.”

“If you already had a human on hand, why did you buy me?”

“I could not possibly commandeer the most popular warrior in the arena for personal training. It would simply be a poor financial decision. That is not to mention the public outrage that would occur.”

“Fair enough.”

For someone who was supposedly an imperial public figure, Lance knew next to nothing about managing an empire.

“There is also the matter that he is considered generally volatile and violent. When I discovered that your guards had left you alone with him, I nearly- well, let us just say, I was not expecting a conversation to occur, least of all, for him to defend you.”

“You thought he’d hurt me?”

“He has a track record of injuring other humans. Perhaps you can ask him yourself–under more controlled circumstances of course– next time you visit.”

Lance’s mind raced. That could only mean Matt or Sam. Shiro wouldn’t do something like that, Lance was certain.

Lance nodded. It wasn’t a good idea to base his expectations on Galra gossip, he’d ask when they met again.

“You handled the situation well,” Lotor added.

Lotor thought to himself for a second before his face lit up.

“Which reminds me -there is still one thing to be addressed.” Lotor paused long enough to draw a concerned hum from Lance

“Your reward, Pet. What would you like it to be?”

His reward. Right. Sure, he could ask for a suit of armor like his mind first went to, but it wasn’t a very practical reward. How often would he even get a chance to wear it?

He wasn’t even sure what the extent of the reward could be- what if he chose something too big and Lotor laughed in his face. Well, metaphorical face laughter anyways -Lotor didn’t seem like the type.

He supposed it didn’t matter, it wasn’t like he could take anything home with him- he might as well live in the present.

“I would kill for some candy right now- it seems like 90% of what you eat is some sort of savory meat.”

Sure, royal Galra meals were otherworldly, pun intended, but he needed some variety! He’d received a sip of both Sendak and Lotor’s drinks last quintant, only to find that those too were savory.

“Candy? Of course.” Lotor paused for a moment, “But, Pet, you can just have candy. That is not a reward.”

Oh. Well, that worked out.

Lance concentrated.

Back on Earth, he probably would have asked for a game system or a trip to the beach. He’d had far too much vacation time already. The only place he wanted to go, was home.

Out here, he didn’t know anything. At home, things made sense, well to some degree at least.

The sun was yellow. The people were shades of brown, pink, and yellow.

In space, there was no up from down. Sure, there was artificial gravity, but he meant more than just literally.

He didn’t realize he had gotten lost in his head until a teardrop silently rolled down his cheek.

He flushed at the realization, turning his head to hide the clearly visible tear.

Lotor's eyes widened with concern.

What was wrong with him- how could he let himself become so overwhelmed so quickly?

“Oh, you do not have to decide immediately. I did not intend to stress you out, Love.

“Come here.”

Lotor gently positioned them until Lance’s head was in his lap. He soothed Lance with soft words and a softer caress - fingers gently carding through his hair.

Lance spoke around the lump in his throat, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I- I just miss it so badly. I never thought I’d miss grass so much. I miss the sun on my face.

“I miss my mom’s baking. She would make a cake from scratch for every birthday- even if you were a close friend, she’d never forget to include you. We’d have cookouts with the whole neighborhood and you’d have to watch where you were walking unless you wanted to be trampled by a herd of kids.” Lance laughed to himself at the memory.

He supposed, that was the only thing he’d go back home for- for his family, for the experience of Earth itself.

It wasn’t like he could pick up his classes again. Even if he hadn’t been expelled (which he highly doubted, considering he commandeered and tampered with a government vehicle), he was months behind everyone else.

Lotor spoke gently, “My home planet was destroyed long ago. We eventually settled more planets and recruited populations to our empire, but my people still suffer the aftermath of the tragedy. I know it does not feel like it yet, but you are helping me to pave the way for a new generation- a new era of peace. This is more vast than a single person- more vast than a single planet even.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel like I’m paving anything. It feels like I’m wearing a collar in an alien spaceship millions of miles away from home.”

“This is your home-” Lotor stopped for a moment, clearly working over his thoughts internally.

Lance was tempted to look at his countenance but resisted the urge as not to disrupt the position.

“But it does not feel like your home. It does not feel like anyone’s home.”

Lance nodded into his lap, unsure what Lotor was getting at.

“I grew up here, in identical halls, for nearly my entire existence. But you have not.” Lotor spoke, this time seemingly to himself.

Lance wasn't sure if he wanted to know what he was getting at.

Lotor spoke faster, a touch of excitement filling his voice, “Take a soak; Relax, bathe, while I prepare something.”

Lance didn’t get the chance to respond. Lotor shifted him in moments, lifting him into his arms. Lance made an embarrassing squeak of surprise at the sudden, yet gentle, movement. Before he could consider protesting, Lotor carried him bridal style to the bathroom and set him on the edge of the tub.

Lance nodded. How could he refuse an offer like that?

Lance had to admit, he felt better after the bath. He wondered what Lotor was getting at. It seemed like some sort of epiphany, but Lance couldn’t be sure what he was getting at.

He was done before Lotor returned, fingers and toes having pruned twice over already. When he left the bathroom, a set of clothes waited on the bed beside his tablet.

Words were sprawled on the screen. His name was written crudely in English, while the rest of the note was in common using neat handwriting.

“I will return shortly.” was all the note said.

He smiled at the note. Guess Mr. Perfect Emperor wasn’t great at everything.

The note was truthful, as it couldn’t have been more than 10 dobash until Lotor returned.

“You are dressed, excellent! Come along, I have arranged your reward.” Lotor took his hand, leading him to the docking area.

Despite his earlier despondency, Lance couldn’t help but feel the rush of excitement. It wasn’t every day that they took a trip out of the ship.

Lotor lead them to a ship. When Lance attempted to shed his hand to sit in the passenger seat, Lotor pulled him closer.

“Not there. Not today.” Lotor corrected.

The back of Lance’s mind suggested that he should sit in the back again- he dismissed the idea immediately; Even if it was a surprise, Lotor wouldn’t do that to him. Lance walked around the ship, Looking to Lotor for instructions- there weren’t many other places he could sit other than there.

Lotor sat in the pilot’s seat, pulling Lance onto his lap a moment after.

“How are you supposed to drive like this?”

“Oh, I am not driving. You are.”

“I get to drive?” Lance lit up immediately.

“You were training to be a pilot, were you not?” Lotor insisted.

Lotor remembered that? Lance was used to prattling off since usually, no one bothered to listen.

Lance ignored the copious times he’d crashed the flight simulator. He failed to mention that he'd never been allowed to fly out of the atmosphere before and certainly wouldn't say that now.

He nodded eagerly.

He showed Lance the basic mechanics of the machine.

After Lotor initiated the machine, Lance could turn the tangible steering structure without hassle- or Galra heritage.

He wouldn’t have been able to see out the viewport and press the pedals at the same time, so he was thankful for Lotor’s assistance. With the height boost, all he had to worry about was steering.

He missed this.

His heart pounded as he sped through the stars.

“You are doing wonderfully for your first time. I have said before that you are a fast learner.” Lotor praised.

Lance squinted at the planet as it came into view. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but this certainly wasn’t it. It appeared, lively, green and lush -clearly not a planet any Galra would live on.

“Where are we?”

Lance was certain he wouldn’t recognize any planet names, but it would be nice to know for future reference, especially a planet as nice as this.

“You will find out soon enough.”

Lotor showed him how to land in an open field.

Lance glanced out at the thriving flora, bright yellowish sun, and light violet sky, and- it was everything that he had been missing for so long.

When Lotor opened the door, it took every ounce of self-restraint not to bolt out of the vehicle. Lotor caught on to his excitement, quickly helping him to the ground before he couldn’t help himself any longer.

Lotor retrieved a large bag from the car before joining him.

Lance was too busy staring at the atmosphere to pay him any mind. Sure, you could certainly tell you weren’t on Earth, but it was pretty dang close. He dug his toes into the grass.

Lance took in a deep breath; he savored the first breath of fresh air he’d had in months.

Lance’s eyes welled with tears.

“Take this”

When Lance turned around, Lotor plopped a blanket in his arms.

“Lay it out on the ground wherever you like,” Lotor instructed.

“Are we having a picnic?” Lance gasped, eyes going wide.

A smile stretched across his face without his permission.

Lotor nodded, mimicking the expression - knowingly or not, Lance wasn’t certain.

“This is my reward then? A picnic? Thank you! This planet is beautiful!” He spoke as he knelt on the blanket, spreading it out over the field.

“The picnic isn’t your reward, Lance.”

“Then what is?”

Lotor gestured around.

Lance rolled his eyes at the semantics, of course, the physical trip to this place counted as part of the picnic.

“The trip here too? And letting me drive?” Lance added.

“The planet, Lance.”

“The planet?” Lance tilted his head at him, unsure what he was getting at.

“This planet is yours to do whatever you so desire. How would you like to live here? This is better than some stuffy government ship, correct? This is what you are used to, is it not?” Lotor asked.

“Yes! Yes, I’d love to! This place is amazing. Where would we live? Would we build a house or just land a ship here?”

Lotor was taken aback.

He spoke softly as if still considering Lance’s statement, “We?”

“You want me to live here alone?” Lance deflated, tilting his head at the other.

“No! No, of course not! I would provide you with guards.” Lotor assured.

Lance ignored the offer, clarifying his question, “You don’t want to live here with me?”

“I- you want me to live here with you? You made it clear that you are not fond of my domicile. Nor did you like your training. Now that you know how to behave and have proven yourself, you no longer need to tolerate me. I drew the conclusion that you would not want anything further to do with me until your services are required again.” Lotor spoke as if It was common sense.

Lotor had clearly been thinking about this- overthinking it really. Sure, Lotor could be pushy when he wanted something, but you didn’t become emperor by saying “please” and “thank you”. He liked Lance–he had to like him to not have murdered him thus far–which was saying a lot, since not a lot of people on Earth did.

With the amount of freedom he’d been gaining by behaving, it wouldn’t be long before he could have his own ship–probably one with boundaries to keep him in the empire, but a ship nonetheless–it wasn’t a stretch after receiving a planet.

Life on this planet would likely be the same as in space, except, without Lotor, he’d have to start over on wooing guards for freedom and snacks.

It wasn’t a difficult choice when he considered it: He could either have a guard follow him constantly–one whose job depended on keeping him on the planet–or, he could convince Lotor to stay and keep half an eye on him while also juggling emperor royal duties. He attempted to justify his uncanny urge to keep Lotor's presence.

Besides, who was he to squander the kindness of the emperor? He couldn’t possibly shoo him off after a gift like this.

“Oh no, don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. You don’t get to make that choice for me. A pet is a lifetime commitment.” Lance huffed, cocking a smile at Lotor.

“What?” Lotor squinted in surprise.

Lotor only fueled his smirk; It wasn’t every quintant that he caught the emperor off guard.

“I’m sure you’re used to flying solo, pushing people away, and making every choice on your own but that’s not how it works anymore. You said it yourself, this is a new era- maybe you should act like it.

“Besides, you’re not done training me: you promised to teach me how to read. Swordfighting too- don’t think I’ll let you weasel out of showing me that.”

Aside from the residual remnants of a smile, Lotor’s face was blank. He clearly needed a moment to process Lance’s words.

Did Lance make a mistake?

When he spoke again, he started slowly, “I do not believe I can argue with that logic. It is agreed then.”

Lotor smiled again, though, this time, silent droplets trailed down each cheek.

Lance held out his hands apologetically, “Oh! Sorry- Did I say something wrong? I can be kinda stupid some-”

He let out a soft “Oof” as Lotor pulled him into his chest. He returned the hug.

After they parted, Lotor cleared his throat, “Now, I suppose we should get on with the picnic.”

As Lotor began unpacking the bags, Lance unwillingly bounced in place. Despite his best effort to help Lotor, his eyes kept darting to the field around them. He shifted positions 8 times in the span of a minute.

“Is something wrong?” Lotor tilted his head at him, addressing his fidgeting.

“Do you mind if I just stretch my legs for a bit before we eat?”

“Oh. Yes, of course. I suppose there is no harm in acclimating first. Go ahead.”

Lance took one careful step off the blanket before bolting into the distance.

He took a deep breath as the wind rushed past his face. He reveled in the way it cooled his skin.

He kicked up dirt and grass-ish strands as he pushed into the plush soil and greenery.

It was only once he had run a good 50 meters that he realized what it might look like to Lotor.

He looked over his shoulder, planning on giving Lotor a wave when he came face to face with the man in question.

Lotor strode beside him for a moment before zipping past him.

He allowed Lance to catch up with him for a moment before effortlessly beating him at his own game. Lotor only stopped when he reached the treeline.

Lance had slowed considerably by the time he'd reached the tree.

Lotor waited for Lance at the edge of the forest, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. He wore his signature smug countenance of superiority.

When he reached the shade of the tree, he dropped his hands to his knees; he was doubled over in search of any air that would kindly fill his lungs.

Lance spoke between pants, “How dare you- have so much stamina.”

He glared at Lotor, who didn't seem to have broken a sweat.

“I wasn’t running away- you didn’t need to hunt me down,” Lance explained, still catching his breath.

“If I was hunting you, you would be over my shoulder already.” Lotor laughed.

Lance didn’t doubt him. He let out a huff of slight indignation.

“You know what? I wasn’t ready for a real race. I bet I could beat you on the way back.” He restrained a mischievous smirk.

“Challenge accepted.”

When Lance counted down, both of them set off toward the blanket.

For the first few seconds, he kept up with Lotor.

The glimmer of hope faded as Lotor gained momentum, his full speed yet again leaving Lance in the dust.

Lotor had nearly reached the blanket when Lance tripped, shouting out in pain as he hit the ground.

“Lance? Are you alright?” Lotor rushed to him, completely disregarding his objective.

As Lotor kneeled down, Lance shot up, bounding the final stretch to the blanket.

“Ha Ha! Victory!”

“I do believe that is some form of treason.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna exile me?”

“I am still mulling it over.” Lotor laughed.

He patted a spot on the blanket beside him, “Come, sit- While you’re still in my good graces that is.”

He could get used to Lotor’s good mood. He certainly didn’t mind the treatment.

He spread out on the blanket, basking in the sunlight as Lotor sorted through the contents of the sack he’d brought.

Out of the bag, Lotor retrieved refreshments that he arranged on the blanket. At some point, he donned sunglasses. The sun sat high and blindingly bright in the sky. Lance refused the pair he offered him.

“I can not say I know what your Earth ‘cake’ tastes like, so I hope this is adequate,” Lotor announced, pulling a small sealed container out.

Lance gasped, “You got me an alien cake?”

Lotor was quick about dishing portions out.

Lance nearly cried as he bit into a piece. It wasn’t exactly Earth cake, but it was pretty close.

“Galra are carnivorous. The chef had to dip into an old Altean cookbook to make this.”

“Well, that explains the fangs at least.” He didn’t expect Lotor to have cooked anything, yet still, he added, “You’re telling me Home Ect. wasn’t included in your child soldier regimen?”

“If I had cooked anything, it would be considered charcoal. I can rehydrate rations at best.” Lotor laughed.

“In that case, maybe I can teach you something then.”

He was certain he could figure alien ingredients out. How hard could it be to alter human recipes?

“I am certainly unopposed to that.” Lotor smiled.

Lance had to admit, this planet was a perfect middle ground; No throne to grovel at or ominous purple lighting.

They spoke for long vargas, Lance taking full advantage of his reward.

Lotor doffed the shades as the sun settled below the horizon.

For once, he didn’t mind the shade of purple filling the sky and glancing off the clouds. He supposed he finally fit in, the hues of the setting sun adorning him with the familiar color.

As stars began to speckle the sky, Lotor started tentatively, “It is getting late. I suppose we should head back to the-”

Lance only grew more intrigued as stars grew visible in the sky; The patterns were new and brighter than he’d ever seen on Earth.

He lay flat on his back for a better view.

“It’s beautiful,” he hated to admit it, but it was a better sight than that of Earth’s sky, “Where I come from, the light pollution is so strong that you can only see a few thousand stars.

“It’s stunning.” Lance sighed, his fondness for the beyond surfacing again- even after all this time.

Lance took a deep breath, savoring the atmosphere, “You know, I see this view every day, yet I still never get sick of it.”

“I can not agree with you more.”

When Lance glanced at Lotor, their eyes met; Lotor had not been looking at the stars.

Lance came to a decision. Right there, he wasn’t a pet. He was a normal guy, on a normal planet–his planet–or rather, on Earth.

Why not ignore his circumstance? When everything seemed so perfect, it would be a crime to shatter the illusion. Every pleasant experience washed over the negative ones, like a diary entry pressed into sand.

Every moment spent dwelling on his place, destiny, or- or helplessness, brought back the reality; it stung with a whiplash that never ceased to catch him off guard.

So, for now. He’d stay in the moment.

He relaxed, loosening muscles he hadn't realized were tense.

He sighed as the breeze cooled his warm cheeks, gentle as it eased him back to his surrounding

Finally, he let his eyes refocus, donning a smile as Lotor came back into view.

When he looked back to the sky, he noticed something off about the view- a star seemed to shift.

“That star is huge,” Lance pointed to the star he’d been squinting at, “and getting bigger?”

“What is it now?” Lotor huffed.

A ship descended no more than 100 feet from them. It was clearly Galra in origin, the starlight illuminating the trademark Galra purple color.

When the stairs descended from the ship, a Galra descended. Not any of Lotor’s companions as he imagined, but instead, another general.

He recognized the Galra, it was the one he’d met at the Gala just the day prior.

General Sendak stepped down the stairs, each heavy footstep echoing with an ominous metal “thunk”.

He approached the Emporer, standing at attention as he awaited acknowledgment.

Sure, Sendak was creepy–well beyond creepy, really–but that could just be how Galra interact with others. The only other full Galra he’d interacted with had tried to take him home- they clearly had some sort of issue, it wasn’t right to judge all of her species on one–suspected to be–rash member.

Lotor was only half Galra, so it wasn’t like he could use him as a basis for all Galra behavior.

Sendak was twice the Galra Lotor was- That became evident the closer he drew.

While Lotor seemed to be two hundred pounds of lean muscle, Sendak was quite the opposite -in nearly every sense. Sendak towered over not only Lance, but Lotor as well.

From a spectator's perspective, it was a bit comical- Sendak stood, rigid, subservient, awaiting his Emporer's command. He stared straight on, over Lotor's head, as he awaited acknowledgment.

Lotor gestured for him to begin.

“Vrepit Sa, my emperor. Pardon the intrusion but your communicator was off-”

“What could be so important as to require my immediate attention?”

“Sire, there is a rebel attack in sector five hundred thirty-eight.”

“Quiznack!” Lotor stood up, giving Lance a hand to do the same, “Unfortunately, I must cut this short. My presence is required elsewhere.”

Lance had a million questions darting around in his mind. Against his better judgment, he held his tongue -he’d rather not offend a high-ranking official, especially when Lotor already had so much on his plate.

Lotor considered the situation for a moment, “That is the furthest sector from our central base. I do not have time to return you home but you can not possibly come with me.”

“Might I be of service, my Lord?”

Chapter Text

“Might I be of service, my Lord?” Sendak offered.

Lance jolted at the suggestion, eyes going wide.

His hackles raised.

What was he supposed to do? What could he do?

His best bet would be to play it safe- he donned the facade of an obedient pet, keeping his head downturned and awaiting instruction or acknowledgment

Sitting with Sendak at the party was one thing, but being alone with him?

As much as Lance wanted to protest the suggestion, he doubted it would have ended well; Sendak seemed to be a more... traditional sort. His disobedience would only be a testament to Lotor’s weakness as a ruler. Lotor had taught him that much.

His mind raced in turn with his heart.

He stayed still as Lotor turned to him.

Lotor cupped his jaw with a palm, stroking his cheek for a moment as he drew his attention back.

“Look at me.”

Lance obeyed.

Lotor’s countenance softened, attempting to relax Lance’s wide eyes and racing heartbeat.

Lance needed to say something-anything. He couldn't just let him leave.

Lance opened his mouth to speak-

Lotor leaned down to Lance’s ear to keep their words private, “Be a good boy for him, alright? I will be home as soon as I am able.”

This was what Lotor bought him for, right? It was his job to be quiet and obey. Lotor seemed stressed enough, after all he’d done for Lance today, he deserved Lance’s obedience.

Sendak seemed off, but so did every other pure Galra he’d met. He was a trusted general for a reason. Besides, Lotor wouldn’t send him off if he wasn’t sure that Lance would be safe.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Lance closed his mouth and nodded, certain that if he tried to speak, he’d beg Lotor to stay.

Lotor pressed his forehead against Lance’s for a moment before backing away.

“Return him home. It goes unsaid to treat him fairly, humans are fragile.” Lotor spoke, a hint of rare reluctance in his voice.

“I will keep him safe, my Lord. He is in good hands.” Sendak assured.

Ironic, considering Sendak only had one.

The emperor looked Lance in the eye, “Take care.”

With that, Lotor left.

Lance followed the ship with his eyes as it sped off into the distance.

He clenched his teeth. It was selfish of him to imagine keeping Lotor behind. He had an empire to manage.

As much as Lance wanted to pout and complain, he was so close to regaining some sense of normalcy. He couldn’t just throw it away because his babysitter’s vibes were off.

He dropped his head again, remembering the other’s presence.

Sendak only grew more intimidating as Lance realized he was completely and utterly alone with him.

He refused to acknowledge what that meant in contrast; to some extent, at some point, he had grown comfortable with Lotor's presence- maybe more than just comfortable if he was honest with himself.

After spending numerous vargas in his presence, it was odd to be without Lotor.

Lance withheld his shudder as Sendak finally deigned to approach him.

"Didn't your Master teach you how to greet your superiors?" He growled. Literally.

It sent a shiver down his spine.

He flinched as claws traced the rim of his collar, eventually settling under his chin to tilt his face up. He allowed the hand to guide his head, the talon pricks enough of a threat in themselves.

He held his breath until he realized he'd been asked a question, "Oh- Sorry, Sir. I am not permitted to speak unless addressed. It is a pleasure to be in your presence again, General."

He gulped, wincing at the pressure of Sendak's touch.

"You are pardoned, Terran." Sendak smirked at his obedience, "I cannot say I am displeased to be in your grace; it is not every quintant one is allowed to converse with the royal trinket."

Sendak’s hand slid until his index and middle fingers held the edge of Lance's chin, a thumb tracing his jawline.

"And graceful you are." Sendak heaved a laugh from his chest as if in on some inside joke.

His tone sent shivers down Lance's spine.

Maybe he was judging too quickly. Sure, he was four times Lance's weight with teeth sharper than his intellect, but Lance could be mistaken. Zethrid had a similar build, yet she was the alien equivalent of a Tibetan mastiff. Who knew, maybe Sendak simply came off like he kicked kittens as a hobby.

"Now, come along."

Lance fell into a heel slightly behind Sendak. He had to stride to keep up with Sendak's walking pace.

He stopped when they reached Sendak's vessel. Lance couldn't assume where he was supposed to sit so he awaited instruction.

He tilted his head at Sendak as he walked past the ship.

"Not so fast. We'll be making a slight detour."

This was not happening. It couldn't be. Sendak was supposed to take him home -that was it. They hadn't been instructed to go gallivanting in the woods.

Sure, he didn't have any power, but Lotor did. Lotor owned him. He couldn't just go along with Sendak willingly.

Lance dared to speak, "My master didn't give me permission. I would hate to upset him."

If he had the choice, he would prefer not to go into the woods with someone who could crush his head in one hand. Though, he doubted there was anything in the woods more terrifying than the alien standing before him,

"Your master is not here, now. That means you are to obey me. I will not ask again."

Lance believed him. He'd prefer to stay on Sendak's good side until he could gauge his intentions. He padded after Sendak, the knot in his stomach growing proportionally dense the nearer they approached.

The canopy of tree-esc foliage blotted his view of the stars as they trekked into the dark.

Lance tentatively followed, eyes darting in every direction at once, yet taking in nearly nothing as the last modicum of light faded.

Lance jolted as Sendak strode ahead unphased, heavy boots cracking the first log that dared defy him by lying in his wake.

He stepped past the pulverized splinters, thankful for his intact bones.

He bit the inside on his cheeks, needing something, anything, to distract from the dread.

The breeze–once soothing as it wove through the grass-like plants and shook branches–now stung his dewy skin, leaving a frigid sheen.

Lance shivered, for once unwilling to voice his complaint to his captor.

His gait matched the racing of his heart; Sendak charged forward, unwilling to pace himself, even in the unknown.

Sendak stopped without warning, leaving Lance stumbling not to pass him.

He pointed to a log- an unmutilated one.

“Sit.”

Lance did as instructed. Sendak did not join him.

“Do you know what I am?” Sendak asked, leaving his back turned to Lance.

His brow furrowed as he inspected the wooded area. Lance couldn’t make out anything in the darkness- he hoped Sendak couldn’t either.

As much as he wanted to get a better look, he’d been asked a question. It was best not to keep him waiting.

Lance was certain it was a trick question.

“A general, sir?” He tried.

Lance stiffened when Sendak spared a glance over his shoulder.

“I said ‘what’, not ‘who’.”

Lance could think of a dozen descriptors, none of which would likely land him in Sendak’s favor.

He was purple, unnaturally large, terrifying, and furry even.

“A Galra?”

“You are correct. I am not some half-breed like your Master. Do you know what that means?” Sendak smiled, turning to Lance finally.

“No, sir.” Lance gulped.

He bent at the waist, forcing Lance to meet his eye with a finger under his chin.

Sendak bore his teeth, flicking his tongue over his impossibly sharp canines.

“It means that I am a predator, which makes you and your species-” he gestured for Lance to finish the sentence.

Lance answered tentatively, “Prey?”

Sendak’s mouth morphed into a wide smile, showcasing his many sharp teeth.

“You are not as simple as you look.”

“My point is, I have a friend–another predator–who would love to meet you, and that collar of yours- but they still need a bit of incentive to come. Since there is no other meat, that leaves just one thing to be bait.

“A worthy prey.”

Bait? He clenched his teeth, mind racing for any excuse to go back to the ship.

“General Sendak, sir- my master didn't authorize me to meet any-”

Sendak snorted. Lance’s words glanced off of him. Lance was thankful that he was supposedly amusing enough to keep out of trouble.

“You are quite chatty, aren't you? We can fix that when you are officially under my command. Does that make you feel better?”

Sendak caressed Lance’s neck with the tips of his claws, eventually settling on his collar.

“I planned on making the announcement when you were home with me, but I suppose it cannot be helped. You are mine now. Your master is on the opposite side of the empire handling the distraction my people arranged.”

Lance’s eyes went wider even.

“All you have to do is sit pretty and listen to your new master. Even a simple creature like you can do something like that, correct?”

So much for avoiding prejudice. Sendak sent Lotor on a goose chase to get to him. He wanted to get to him.

He was in trouble. Shit. His stomach tossed and turned. He wanted to throw up.

“Your people? You're a general- in your- our empire. This is- you’re betraying your empire- why?”

Lance regretted the word the moment they slipped from his mouth.

He never should have let Lotor leave.

He just questioned his “master”.

Sure, Lotor tolerated his questions, but Sendak didn’t seem like the type.

Lance added the title, squeaking out a “Master” at the end of his sentence.

He couldn’t get Lotor back. He couldn’t run from a beast that crushed logs like twigs.

His only hope was to play along.

Lance held his breath. His heart pounded where Sendak’s claws touched him.

Sendak quirked an eyebrow at him.

Lance couldn’t read a single emotion from that pure yellow eye.

Sendak tilted Lance’s head to the side with a finger, licking a long streak up the exposed expanse of cheek.

The rough lick left a slick layer on his skin.

Lance froze solid. He wasn’t sure his heart was beating anymore. His goosebumps had goosebumps.

This was it. He was about to be eaten.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, unfocusing.

“You are smarter than you let on- perceptive too. I suppose your obedience deserves a reward.”

Sendak traced the edges of his collar with a finger, settling at the back of his neck, where the button lay.

The collar clicked open.

Sendak gently removed it from his throat.

The air burnt the exposed skin. He gulped, wincing at the unnatural emptiness. He might as well be naked.

“Now, isn’t that better?”

No.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the article swinging lifelessly between Sendak’s fingers.

“Yes. Sir.”

“Yes, Master.” Sendak corrected.

Lance parrotted the correction.

“Now, will you be the perfect prey for me?”

Not a chance in hell.

“Yes, Master.”

“Perfect.”

Sendak kneeled.

He grabbed Lance by the knee. Claws ghosted on the soft skin behind the joint, sending a shiver up his spine. He held Lance in place as he leaned forward.

Sendak’s eyes darted up to meet his own, evident only by the widening of his eyelids.

He sunk his teeth into the skin on Lance’s thigh.

For a moment, Lance was convinced that Sendak would take a chunk out of him.

He barely broke the skin before he opened his jaws and released Lance. Sendak lapped over the wound with a large rough tongue.

“Now, all that’s left is to wait.

“Stay on the log, or it’ll be your throat next.”

Lance’s hand subconsciously drew to his throat, savoring the–currently–intact skin of his throat.

“You’re leaving me here?”

“Do not fret. I will not let any harm come to you. Do not question me again.”

Lance highly doubted that.

Sendak disappeared into the dark moments later.

He attempted to control his breathing as his heart thudded in his chest.

What did Hunk used to say? Something about panicking. He couldn’t- he couldn’t think.

One thing he could smell.

Blood, only barely more pungent than the plants that lay trodden and decaying underfoot.

Two things he could hear.

Nature sat unstirred- dormant save for the breeze rustling foliage. That was the only sound he could- his eyes darted forward, to the place Sendak had been staring off into.

Rustling. Not far from him either.

He would have run, had he not been certain his legs would give out under him. His muscles tremored.

Instead, he spoke, “M- Master?”

He wasn’t sure what he should fear more, Sendak’s “friend’ in the dark, or Sendak himself.

He needed to focus on something else. He had one more sense to take in.

Three things he could see.

It was nearly pitch black. He couldn’t see anything. He was going to die here. He was going to-

Three things he could see

He bit into his cheek.

His hands shook when he held them before him.

One.

The log beneath him.

Two.

The edge of the treeline- that didn’t count. It was barely visible. He couldn’t see it-not really.

He squinted. Maybe he could make out something else, anything else.

Three.

Eyes.

Eyes

He scrambled. Back. Away. Anywhere but here.

It struck, launching in time with his panic. An open maw with dozens of teeth. It roared with a rumble akin to an engine.

It thudded to the ground with a crack. The fur on its side bled into the dirty bootprint. Lance didn’t look close enough to identify bone.

Sendak stepped out of the woods, donning a satisfied countenance.

He approached the animal.

He fitted Lance’s collar on its neck.

When Sendak looked to Lance, he thudded himself back onto the log, remembering the command.

“Now that that is taken care of, I will take you home.

“Come along, Pet.”

Lance apologized to the creature in his head. It was a victim too.

Lance wasn’t sure he was alive. He’d been eaten. Either by Sendak or whatever that thing was. His heart was beating–pounding rather–in his chest. He had no idea how he’d survived that, but he was alive.

He stood on shaky legs, stumbling after Sendak. He was a newborn fawn. After the third time he tripped, Sendak scooped him into his arms with a snicker.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Toy?”

Lance’s teeth chattered so hard that he couldn’t produce an intelligible answer. Sendak didn’t mind.

The door shut with a hydraulic hiss behind them.

He deposited Lance on a seat once they had boarded the ship.

He had a tick to himself. His mind raced through the overload of information. His current objective was to survive.

Sendak turned his back to him, instead compelled to the cockpit, where he prodded at holograms while Lance waited, mind scattered and processing.

Prodded at holograms with his prosthetic arm. Galra technology could interact with other Galra technology. He filed that information away for later.

This was an imperial ship? It seemed more like a studio apartment than a government vehicle.

Against the wall sat a utilitarian bed, not unlike what the Garrison provided.

There were no personal items of interest aside from weapons mounted on the wall- all far out of his reach. He marked them down internally as an option, though he doubted Sendak would let him stand on his shoulders.

At the back of the room sat an open door. He yearned to explore the inside as well as the stack of boxes that loomed beyond the threshold.

“It will be four vargas until we are outside the empire’s bounds. Once you are stored away, far from the emporer’s grasp, we can make our announcement, declaring him incompetent. He will be forced to accept my challenge for the throne.”

He had Sendak’s goal, now he needed his motive. Didn’t their culture revolve around loyalty to one’s country? A death before dishonor scenario, right? He couldn’t think of anything more dishonorable than this.

Lance forced himself to take a few deep breaths before speaking.

“M-master? Why are you doing all this? I thought the emperor was trying to improve the empire- h-he said something about a new era?”

“When Lotor ascended to the throne, he eliminated the former emperor, my Emperor Zarkon. His reign had made the Galra powerful. We were a force to be reckoned with. Now, under Lotor’s rule, we are barred from taking creatures, like yourself, as prizes. We hold negotiations for trade and taxation instead of making such demands ourselves. He made a mockery of the glorious Galra empire.”

“Oh.”

Of course, he got himself caught in the middle of a rebel usurp.

“Do not force yourself to understand it. I do not expect you to comprehend something so complex.” Sendak pulled himself from the screen, turning to Lance, this time.

“I will not require you to think; With me, your only responsibility is to behave. Now, come.”

Lance stood, legs still shaky, but grateful for the small respite.

He stood before the pilot seat, awed at the size of it. Lotor’s chair could have been a human-sized seat in comparison.

“Relax, I must rid you of the stink of that halfbreed.”

“I don’t smell! I took a shower this morning.” Lance huffed.

Sendak chuckled at him, scooping him into the palm of his metal arm. Lance flinched at the contact, wincing at the cool feel on his skin.

He raised Lance until they were at eye level with each other. He scrambled to stay on the hand, accidentally grabbing a fistful of fur on Sendak’s neck in his frenzy.

“Don’t worry small thing, I will not let you fall.”

Lance didn’t exactly trust him.

His other hand crept up Lance’s back until it settled on the back of his next.

He guided the human to him, roughly nuzzling Lance’s forehead with his own.

He pulled back, only to lick a stripe up Lance’s cheek again.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Sendak seemed confused as if he wasn’t doing anything out of the norm.

“I am staking my claim. Your former master has never bathed you before?”

“Not with his tongue.” Lance scrunched his nose at the thought.

Lance winced at the thought. He thought it was creepy enough when Lotor washed his hair, he couldn’t imagine getting licked on a daily basis.

But that was his daily basis now, wasn’t it?

Sendak hummed to himself, “It isn’t enough. C’mere.”

Lance was unable to move, being suspended in the air at Sendak’s control. Additionally, he was less than a foot away from Sendak’s face, how much “closer” could he get?

Sendak forced his face into the fur of hs neck. He attempted to push himself away to no avail. Is this how he was going to die? Spending his last moments being smothered into someone’s fur?”

It was much more coarse than Zethrid’s fur, thicker as well.

“Relax, breathe. It would please me if you would take in my scent.”

This was the weirdest thing Lance had ever done.

Of course, the alien wanted him to smell him- like that was supposed to be a normal thing?

He smelled of metal and musk.

“This may be a disappointing substitute for the real thing, given the circumstances, but I promise that I will scent you properly when I have succeeded to the throne.”

Lance swallowed. If this was a poor substitute, he couldn’t imagine what Sendak had in mind for the “real thing”.

He hoped that Lotor had caught on by now. He had to have made it back to their home, right? He would notice that Lance was missing and find him!

In the endless expanse of space.

In an identical imperial ship.

With no collar.

Lotor had his work cut out for him.

After half a varga of nuzzling and licking, Sendak seemed satisfied with the results. He ended it with one last lick to Lance’s healing wound before settling him on his lap.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose so.”

“What- why did you hurt that thing in the woods?”

“That ‘thing’ was a feline species similar to myself. It’s species currently lacks a name and I care not to bore you with the identification code. I needed to incapacitate it in order to give it your collar.”

Couldn’t he have just thrown it into the woods? Lotor would be equally likely to find it in a bush as he would on some cat.

Lance hummed a noncommittal response. He didn’t receive quite what he wanted to hear, but he wasn’t sure that further questions would be well received.

“Your collar, it contained a tracker, among other features. I could have thrown it a few miles into the woods, but then it would be unable to detect a pulse.”

With the adrenaline fading from his veins, Lance put the pieces together. At least the collar had more use than humiliating him.

“Other features?”

“Obviously, vital sign sensors, life-sustaining services, as well as a mild painkiller. It is a nicer brand of collar, though, out of the box nonetheless. Satisfied?”

Lance nodded, too focused running through the implications to give an official acknowledgement.

“In this empire. Information doesn’t come for free.” He trailed a finger up Lance’s body.

Information? Sendak was a high-ranking official, an official in charge of his sector. He should be getting actual information, not just asking about his collar- he probably could’ve gotten that info from Lotor, had he asked.

He doubted that Sendak would divulge valuable information freely. Lance had nothing to give him -he’d have to play whatever angle he could.

Lotor had exchanged information for obedience, but he was already playing perfect-pet with Sendak, what else could he want?

Lance flinched at Sendak’s touch as it trailed to a more sensitive area; The claw grazed the bottom of his foot.

Lance could only imagine what Sendak was thinking as he traced the pads. He chuckled as he traced Lance’s arch, amused by the way he tensed up.

Lance doubted that the clawed boots on Sendak’s armor were just for show. He was thankful that a layer of armor sat between them, no matter how uncomfortable it was to sit on.

He was playing simple, coy. How could he ask about his planet without getting on Sendak’s bad side?

It was hard to focus on anything other than Sendak’s wandering claw.

Sendak was being careful. If he put any pressure on his touch, Lance’s skin would yield, parting to its will. For now, it merely left a small red line of irritated skin.

Lance held still. He bit his cheek. Sendak seemed to be in a good mood. Maybe this would be easier than he thought-

He traced up Lance’s leg, eliciting a small gasp when he crossed the soft skin behind his knee.

“Delicate little creature,” Sendak murmured.

He couldn’t let Sendak drift any further lest he dip below Lance’s clothes.

Lance put his hand on Sendak’s wrist, halting it with little force. He didn’t force him away, merely pausing him in his tracks.

Lance furrowed his brow, “Perhaps a little more first? Information- I mean. The emperor never gave me the time of day- quintant, but you seem different- more attentive.”

When Sendak seemed unconvinced, Lance dared to trace his knuckles with his fingers.

He had an idea.

He took Sendak’s calloused palm in his own and started to knead it.

“Please, Master?”

“I suppose I could spare another moment to elucidate you. What is it, Pet?”

“You are in charge of my sector, right? Where Earth is, I mean.”

“I am.”

“Shiro- The Champion, he left Earth with two other humans. Where are they?”

“They were unfit for battle, and so were transferred to a work camp for the benefit of the empire.”

Lance tilted his head at him, “You don’t own either of them? Didn’t your crew pick them up? I kinda figured this thing was ‘finders keeper’.”

“The emperor dissolved all unwilling sentient ownership in the empire.” Sendak sounded far from pleased as if the topic crossed his mind consistently.

Ashton Kutcher must be in the storage closet; There was no logical explanation for this other than the space equivalent of Punk'd.

Lance huffed, “That doesn’t make sense. Why does he own me then? Of course. He can restrict his people from owning others, but he’s a hypocrite himself?”

Sendak’s laugh shook Lance to the core. He clutched his hand–well paw, really–so as not to fall off his lap.

“Do not strain yourself with thought. I wouldn’t consider the wretch to be logical.

“It is promising that you show so much loyalty already. The emperor should have kept you on a shorter leash. You are quite the prize.”

Lance blushed at the compliment, not quite sure how he felt about it. He settled on “humiliated”, similar to the rest of his space experience.

Sendak wanted him.

Lance always found a way to dig himself in deeper. He’s opened a can of worms, now he has to lie in it.

He needed to defend his uselessness as much as he could. It never seemed to work on Lotor–who always ended up validating him for reasons Lance couldn’t be sure–but Sendak already looked down on humans; It couldn’t be too hard to make Sendak realize he wasn’t a very good pet.

“Well, the thing is: I’m not a good prize. Earth has billions of humans better than me. If you took me back there, I could find you a better pet. You don’t really want a used human after all."

“That is not a poor idea.” Sendak hummed.

“Once the emperor is usurped, you may assist me with first contact with your former planet. A human pet is a fitting reward for each of the Galra that remained loyal to the late Emperor Zarkon.

“And you, sweet thing, will be the crown jewel of my harem.”

Harem?

Lance’s heart dropped.

“Such big plans ahead of us. You must be excited to watch the new beginning of the Galra empire.”

Sendak made a thoughtful hum, one that sounded awfully similar to a content pur.

“I suppose it would do no harm to consummate my ascent early.”

Consummate?

Lance scrambled to speak -he had to say something, anything, “W-wait. I don’t think this is the best idea- maybe we should save that for later? It would be a more meaningful celebration!”

Lotor, where the hell are you?

“You know how to undress your superiors, correct?”

He wasn’t serious, was he?

“Not exactly.”

He was.

“Then, do pay attention. I expect you to learn.”

Sendak’s hand moved to the armor plate between his legs. With a click, Sendak detached the thick armor plate and handed it to Lance- presumably to familiarize him with the clasp.

A growing bulge was already prominent beneath the undersuit.

Nope. No. He was not doing this. No way in hell he’d do this. Lance still had a little dignity left.

Lance trailed a hand down Sendak’s thigh, being careful not to touch the area that Sendak insisted.

“Let’s take it slow- we still have a few vargas.”

He went to nuzzle beneath Sendak’s chin.

“I wish to see the skills of my new prize. Do not stall, you will not be punished for poor performance.”

Sendak freed himself the rest of the way.

Like that was reassuring. Lance clenched his jaw.

There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

The logical thing would be to comply, preserve his energy, and get it over with.

He continued to stroke Sendak’s thigh, smoothing across the top until his hand hit something other than armor or undersuit.

Chapter Text

The logical thing would be to comply, preserve his energy and get it over with.

He continued to stroke Sendak’s thigh, smoothing across the top until his hand hit something other than armor or undersuit.

But when did he listen to logic?

He pulled back from Sendak’s neck, instead catching his eye.

Lance licked his lips.

He slammed the crotch plate into Sendak’s face. His other hand tightened around the grip of the imperial gun, tucking it close as he scrambled over Sendak’s shoulders. He made sure to get a good foothold as he climbed; Sendak doubled over in pain, Lance’s heel had made direct contact with his dick.

He hissed as Sendak caught his calf. He couldn’t grasp his limb, instead only catching him with the tips of his claws. Lance’s flesh parted like a warm knife through butter. A flash of white in his vision told him of the pain, the adrenaline sidelining the sensation. He landed less-than-elegantly behind Sendak’s chair.

“Quiznack! What do you think you’re doing?” Sendak roared. The sound shook the vessel, the vibrations reverberating through the soles of Lance’s feet.

He only had a moment.

His hands quaked as he attempted to handle the weapon.

He aimed for Sendak’s head.

Breathing out, he took the shot.

Nothing happened.

Lance couldn’t activate the tech.

He was an idiot.

He panicked and flung the gun into Sendak’s face.

Shit. He might have given Sendak a bruise, but he also reunited him with his gun.

He scrambled in the opposite direction.

Lance didn’t look back, he didn’t need to; he could feel the floor shake as Sendak stormed after him.

He needed a plan. Anything other than panicking and flailing would work. His mind scrambled for any semblance of order.

There was no way in hell he’d be able to outrun Sendak. Maybe he didn’t need to.

He’d evaded a dozen Galra soldiers for the better part of an hour, how hard could it be to do the same for a single highly trained general?

He couldn’t beat him on his terms, but Lance had no qualms with playing dirty.

If he could incapacitate Sendak, then maybe he’d be able to use his prosthetic arm to pilot the ship home.

Lance had one thing on his side: Sendak underestimated him. His consistent insults to Lance’s intelligence had been indication enough to prove such.

He ran and dove under the bed. Sendak’s bulk would work to his advantage.

“Come here, now.” Sendak spoke through gritted teeth, “I understand that you may be confused. If you come out and obey me, I will not punish you unfairly.”

Sendak got on his knees to look under the bed.

Lance cursed his tidy militant nature; there wasn’t a box for him to hide behind.

When Sendak’s face came into view, Lance kicked him, aiming for the organic eye.

He didn’t watch Sendak’s reaction, instead scurrying out the other side of the bed. He rushed into the storage closet. The stacked boxes provided the most cover he’d seen thus far.

“You cannot hide, Pet. Come out and be the obedient creature you’ve displayed thus far, or else I will be forced to punish you.”

Lance padded through the aisles, careful not to disturb the boxes and alert Sendak of his position. Sendak hadn’t traversed through the boxes, clearly obstructed by his mass.

Lance snuck toward the back of the room. This would be the safest place for him.

His eyes darted around the room. None of the boxes were open. He wouldn’t be able to rip anything open precisely or quickly enough to work in his favor. He had approximately four hundred pounds of angry fur hunting him for sport- he didn’t have the time to sort through useless alien tech.

He swore to himself when he noticed bread crumbs; he’d left a trail of blood behind him.

He wove through the maze of boxes, thankful, for once, for his lack of shoes. He traced multiple routes. He doubled back. He climbed over boxes. He smeared the trail.

He hustled as he felt Sendak stand with a growl from the room over.

Lance couldn’t believe his body contained so much blood. He’d need a cookie and a juice box after this.

The room wasn’t enormous, but it would take a moment to trace him down, especially if he didn’t want to wreck the room. He moved a few boxes to obscure his route. If he was prey, Sendak would have to hunt him fair and square.

He hoped the trail had the bonus of obfuscating his scent. He might not have a galra nose, but he was certain that the room reeked of blood.

Sendak spoke, gaining volume as he approached, “You will regret that. I am a Galra–a real, pure Galra–meaning that I am superior to you in every way imaginable. My senses are at least ten times stronger than your species.

“This may be inconceivable to a creature like you, one so lacking in manners and common sense among other things. I will teach you to respect your betters one way or another.”

He was out of prep time.

He settled at the back of the room, attempting to slow his breathing.

He felt Sendak’s footsteps approaching the room.

He’d wait until Sendak reached a certain point in the maze before he darted to a new location. He could play cat and mouse as long as he wanted.

Sendak decided against maintaining organization; He charged into the small storage area with only mild regard for the precariously stacked boxes around him.

This might be more difficult than anticipated.

He didn’t want to picture the type of punishment that Sendak had in mind.

At the back of the room, where he hid, sat a shuddered wall. No, not a wall. A vent maybe? Perhaps a window.

Lance scanned the perimeter of the texture. A cord sat on one side. He yanked it.

The blinds slammed open less than delicately; the sound of the metal shutters echoed through the room with a crash.

The ship had been traveling in the opposite direction of Lance’s planet, as well as, fortunately, the local sun.

Beams of light streamed into the room.

Sendak clutched his organic eye, discombobulated for a moment.

Lance used the opportunity to topple the boxes and crates- all falling in Sendak’s direction of course.

“Why you little-!” Sendak growled.

He dashed around Sendak, toppling more boxes as he went. He winced at the sound of sliced cardboard, thankful he only obtained a minor wound thus far.

Sound. The sound. Sendak’s senses were stronger weren’t they?

He screamed. His throat burned as he picked the highest pitch he could manage. He smiled as Sendak’s ears flattened to his head with a twitch.

Lance’s eyes darted around for his next move.

There were no more rooms to destroy. The only open room had been the storage closet.

He had to make a choice, any choice. He slid beneath the bed again.

Where else could he go? At least he was partially protected in the narrow area.

When Sendak caught up, he leaned under the end of the bed, leaving Lance with no exit.

Lance looked to the side nearest to the door with a gasp, “Lotor!”

Sendak slammed his head into the underside of the bed, scrambling to get back to his feet.

Lance crawled out the opposite side of the bed with Sendak distracted.

His ruse worked.

Where was Lotor? He could only keep Sendak occupied for so long.

“You useless whelp! You dare deceive me?”

When Sendak scooted out from under the bed, rubbing his head, Lance leaped. He used Sendak’s head as a foothold, boosting himself until he reached the weapons mounted at ceiling height.

Grasping a sword, he used his free hand and feet to slow his descent down the wall.

Lance held the sword before him as he’d seen Lotor do before. Sure, he had no formal training, but Sendak didn't know that.

He’d triggered Lance's fight or flight- it just so happened that Lance was a flightless bird.

The ground shook beneath him- it could only be attributed to Sendak’s ever-increasing rage.

He braced himself to strike.

It took him a moment to realize that this time, the rumbling wasn't due to any stomping or growling, rather, it originated from the ship itself.

Lance kept his eyes on Sendak, even as shunk emanated in the distance.

He let his eyes dart to the side for a moment before returning his gaze to Sendak.

It took him a moment to process what he had seen.

“Lotor!” Lance gasped.

“Don’t expect that to work a second time!” Sendak smirked, satisfied at having a single minor victory over Lance.

Sendak took a step toward him.

That was as far as he could progress before his body went stiff; He froze, clearly not of his volition.

The prosthetic arm thunked to the floor before his body followed suit.

Lance nearly lunged for the arm before he realized he had already been saved.

Lance rushed to Lotor instead.

Lotor cupped Lance’s cheek with a palm, turning his head to check for damage, “Are you alright?”

Lotor seemed torn between keeping an eye on Sendak and evaluating Lance’s condition.

“Is he…?” Lance trailed off.

“He is alive, for now. My weapon is set to stun.”

He pulled away from Lance, temporarily satisfied that he was still in one piece.

He grabbed Sendak by the fur of his head, retching him up to make eye contact.

“What did you do to him?” Lotor snapped.

Lance flinched at his tone, rushing to explain the situation, “It's just a scratch… And a bite. I-uh lost a lot of blood.”

Lotor softened his tone when their eyes met, “He did not violate you? You reek of his scent.”

Lance smirked, “I didn't let him.”

Lotor released Sendak’s head, letting it thunk to the floor.

“Good job, Pet. Go into the ship and wait for me, We can go home once I am done with the traitor.”

Lance nodded, backing away from the scene.

He followed directions as loosely as possible, standing in the doorway in order to preserve his line of sight.

Sendak grunted into the floor, “There is something fundamentally wrong with that human.”

Lance doubted it was comfortable having his nose squashed into the metal tile.

Lotor contained his fury, speaking through clenched teeth, “You have no right to speak of him in such a manner! You have dishonored your empire. I should strike you down where you lie for your insolence.”

Lance wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. Sendak had been nothing but foul to him, but did that warrant the death penalty?

Lancedidn't want to think anymore; He wanted a bandage, some alien meat, and a ten varga long nap.

He should lie down in the cockpit, but he couldn't take his eyes off the scene.

Sendak twitched his fingers, clearly mustering the strength to fight off the paralysis.

Sendak spoke, voice echoing off the metal floor, “I invoke my right to challenge you for the throne.”

Lance’s hand flew to his mouth, containing his gasp.

He didn’t know that was an option. In this state, paralyzed on the floor, could that be anything other than a suicide attempt? Lotor wouldn’t return him to equal footing, would he?

The air hung thick with tension as Lotor mulled over his words.

Lotor tensed at the request before immediately regaining his composure. Lance doubted he would have noticed had he not spent so much time with him.

The Emperor laughed, “You think you have any chance of besting me after failing to conquer a mere human? Even the Champion required Galran enhancement to challenge one of my men. You, a pure Galra believe you are worthy to challenge the rightful Galra heir after being fooled and toyed with by something so simple.”

Shouldn’t Lance be praised for lasting as long as he did? The lump in his stomach grew heavier the longer Lotor spoke. Lotor would never see him as an equal. He had fallen for the gifts and kind words. He was just as simple as Lotor claimed.

He should use logic; this couldn’t be anything more than big talk–a simple boast to reduce a traitor’s confidence–though Lance could feel truth in the ease with which Lotor spoke.

He shouldn’t be thinking. Now was not the time to be emotional, not when he was in such a vulnerable state. He dug his nails into his palms, focusing on the pain to keep him in the moment.

Lotor eventually spoke as if the idea was against his better judgment, “If you desire to be publicly humiliated, so be it. I accept your proposition.”

Lotor leaned down to disable Sendak’s arm before cuffing the flesh arm to a loop beneath his imperial armor.

“Come. If you so much as glance at my pet again, I will not hesitate to eliminate you.”

“Of course, my Lord.” He spat the words, though he obeyed the command.

He struggled to get to his feet, the stun having taken its toll.

Lance pulled back from the doorframe, settling in the passenger’s seat. He doubted he’d be reprimanded for eavesdropping, but he didn’t exactly have the energy to test his luck.

He mulled over what Lotor had said. How could he boast a moral high ground when his words echoed those of Sendak?

Lance tensed as Sedak was escorted into the room first, Lotor following suit. He secured Sendak to the wall before taking his seat in the pilot’s chair. He sat on the side of it, gesturing for him to hand over his damaged leg. He wrapped Lance’s injuries in bandages with gentle hands, deft with practiced ease.

“This will have to do for now. Please hold tight.” Lotor’s voice now held compassion, a stark contrast to the way he conversed with Sendak.

Lotor quickly turned to the steering device,

“When we reach the arena, my trustworthy generals will escort you home while I dispose of the traitor. Those four are loyal to me alone- having been opposed to my Father’s rule from the beginning.”

Lance nodded. He didn’t doubt their intentions. None of Lotor’s immediate generals had said anything similar to Sendak’s vague threats.

Sendak wasn’t so cocky now, though Lance couldn’t help but remain intimidated by him. He sat backward in his seat, keeping his eye on Sendak.

“Be at ease, Pet. He will hurt you no longer. Come here, relax.”

Lotor spared a moment to glance at Lance, urging him to come closer. When he was within range, Lotor scooped him onto his lap before returning to the viewport to continue steering.

Lance flushed, though he had to admit, the coddling did make him feel better.

Sendak dared to speak, his voice rumbling from behind, “How did you train him to do all that? I didn’t think such a meek thing could manage to evade me.”

“It would fair you well not to underestimate the empire’s strength, including that of the royal pet. He is Galra now, after all."

“It might not be possible to underestimate you.” Sendak snorted.

He could feel Lotor tense, even through the armor, “I am honoring your last wish as a show of respect- though you certainly do not deserve it. If you do not plan to show me the same amount, I see no reason not to end you here.”

Sendak huffed but remained silent regardless. He mustn’t have had anything nice to say.

They rode in relative silence.

Lotor parked in an area that seemed more than illegal- the middle of the walkway near an employee entrance.

Before Lance could attempt to walk, Lotor lifted him bridal style.

Acxa rushed out the entrance, taking hold of Sendak’s restraint. He could only assume Sendak was to be escorted to the opposite entrance. Narti followed her silently.

“Zethrid will take you home to be treated properly, please behave for her.”

Before Lance could say anything, he was being shoved into the arms of the Galra. Lotor had strode off before he could get a word in.

He couldn’t leave. Not now, when Lotor was about to fight Sendak. Not when he was defending him. He had to see it through.

“Wait- wait. Please- don’t take me home yet. I have to watch.” Lance petitioned, grabbing Zethrid’s bracer on an arm suspending him.

“You can watch from the screens when you are safe on the ship,” Zethrid replied instantly, as if having anticipated his protest.

The touch stilled her for a moment. She stopped in her tracks to hear him out.

He could probably slip out of the hold, given how gently she carried him, but he would tear himself open again with that much strain on his injuries.

“Lotor bandaged me up well enough for now! I won’t die if I stay to watch the match. It’ll only take a few minutes, knowing him. Please! I can’t just leave him here.”

“I can’t disobey a direct order from my emperor.” She seemed torn.

Lance spoke as fast as possible in his panic.,“Then disobey an order from your friend. Or- or tell him I made you- I’ll take the blame. He was upset I didn’t watch his last battle, let me watch this one- especially since it is for my honor!” Lance begged.

Zethrid took a deep breath and nodded.

“I- If that is your wish, I supposed I can’t argue with it. He should already be in the arena.”

Lance’s face lit up- he pressed it into her chest-plate as she turned on her heel.

Lance thanked her about four times before they arrived at the edge of the arena.

Unlike his previous spectating room, this area was at eye level.

Beyond the mounds of sand, stood Lotor, his back to them. He drew near the center of the stage, the same place Sendak approached from the opposite side. His white hair flowed in the artificial breeze.

Despite the distance, Lance could feel the tension in the air. His heart raced as it had when he had been the one pitted against Sendak. His hold on Zethrid’s bracer tightened.

The buzz of anticipation was palpable. A white noise of chatter and curiosity resonated.

Lotor cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the arena. The multitude of soldiers stilled.

The building rumbled yet again. This time it was thousands of soldiers, all standing at once in salute.

“When you lose, I will take great pleasure in reaping the rewards. You have been far too lenient with that trinket of yours. You have no idea how eager I am to break him. I doubt he’ll remember your name after I am done.” Sendak snorted, flashing his teeth and lapping over his canines.

Lotor remained silent, his fingers tensing on the weapon.

When Sendak tensed, Lotor dodged.

Sendak made the first move, lunging at him with his prosthetic arm.

Lance urged Zethrid to bring him closer.

Lotor struck the back of his knee.

When the prosthetic arm whirred around Sendak’s back unnaturally, Lotor struck it with his blade, sending it into the other’s back.

Lotor planted a boot into the general’s back. He planted Sendak’s face into the sand, but not without the prosthetic arm taking hold of the emperor’s boot.

Lotor rolled with the motion, slamming the hilt of his blade into that prosthetic base as the arm attempted to drag him to the ground.

He damaged the mechanics, forcing the arm to release.

He kicked the worthless machinery aside.

He forced Sendak to the ground again. His flesh arm contoured painfully to the center of his back, Lotor sitting atop his helpless form.

Lotor pressed the blade to Sedak’s neck.

“Yield. This match is mine.” Lotor spoke confidently, a glint of satisfaction in his voice.

Sendak spoke, voice hoarse, tainted with pain, “I am done sitting by as the Galra empire is decimated by the likes of some ascended half-breed.” Sendak spat, “I may have dishonor under your rule, but under Emperor Zarkon’s rightful reign, I am the honorable descendent. I am he who remained loyal despite-”

“Cease your chatter. You have lost.”

“Ah, but I am alive, am I not? Have you forgotten the terms of this duel?”

“You are immobile. I alone won. You bear humiliation in front of your people for longer yet?”

“Yet you are humiliated; you tolerate such disrespect.” Sendak choked back a laugh at Lotor’s resistance to ending him, “A Galra who is afraid to kill- to revel in victory. When I return, your pet will revel in the opportunity to lie beneath a real Galra, one who shows him his place-”

The blood coated his hands as Sendak fell limp.

Lance’s eyes went wide.

A single tick of silence lasted as the crowd processed.

Then, a roar of cheer–one so vehement that Lance flinched–filled the arena.

“If anyone else dares to challenge me, step forward. Let there be no doubt in the competence of your emperor. I earned the throne through no birthright- I fought the Galra way, of battle and glory. I am more Galra than that traitor ever was.”

Somehow, the cheers grew louder. Applause transitioned to a salute and a chant of “Vrepit Sa”.

Lotor stormed through the sand in their direction.

Lotor killed him. He executed him, right there. His blood spilled into the sand as they spoke. This was Lance’s fault. He wasn’t exactly innocent, but did that mean he deserved to die? Lance dug his nails into his palm.

He batted at Zethrid until she let him stand. He stood as close to the barrier as he could, watching Lotor approach them.j

What should he say to him? What could he say? He had to thank him, right? For defending him- for killing for him.

Lotor’s expression soften as Lance came into view.

Lotor was alive- not ended as Sendak had so cheerfully described. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to punch him. He didn’t know what he wanted.

He took Lance by the hands, looking down at him with the fondest expression Lance had experienced.

“Can you walk?”

Lance nodded.

He was certain that if he spoke, he would scream at him.

Lotor guided Lance onto the sand. He padded along, unsure of the goal but unwilling to ask.

Lotor released his hands. He wrapped one hand around Lance’s waist.

A hand slid up his neck, touching the skin where his collar once lay.

He felt naked without it. Lotor’s touch tingled his skin, especially potent where his mark once sat.

He cupped the back of Lance’s head, stroking the short hairs at his nape.

Lance’s lips parted easily for Lotor’s mouth.

Lotor kissed him passionately, before a crowd of thousands.

He froze.

“Applause for the jewel of the Galra empire! A creature who remained unmarred despite that traitor’s attempts.”

The audience hollered and whistled and cheered for him.

“C-can we go home? Please, Master?”

“Of course, Pet.”

With a wave, Lotor led them out of the arena.

“Are you alright?”

Lance nodded, eyes glazed.

He waved a bye to Zethrid.

He couldn’t walk any longer. Lotor carried him to the ship. Lance said nothing as they returned home. Lotor allowed the comfortable silence.

“I will set up a regeneration tank for you.” He carried Lance to a room he’d never been in before.

He put Lance down on a cushioned chair before rushing to one of the devices.

He took a few deep breaths. His hand traced the fabric he sat on.

Lance opened his mouth to speak, but closed it moments after.

Lotor had kissed him. He didn’t know how he felt about anything, nonetheless something so consequential.

Lotor returned with a washcloth.

When he went to clean his pet, Lance stopped him, placing his hand over the emperors.

“Can I do it?” He asked.

“Of course, Pet.”

He was thankful that Lotor didn’t correct his words.

Lotor sat beside him as he ran the warm cloth over his body. He rid himself of Sendak’s touch.

His eyes went wide when the cloth came back red. That wasn’t right, his wounds were covered- he hadn’t been damaged on his stomach. He glanced at the area in question. The remnants of a bloody handprint dried on his skin.

If neither he nor Lotor had been injured- then it was- It was Sendak’s blood. He washed the area. Then he did it again. He rubbed his skin until it was raw. Tears welled in his eyes. They ran down his cheeks without his permission.

He rubbed the skin harder, watching the red grow darker. Every emotion rushed into him at once.

“Pet! Stop, please!”

He stopped scrubbing.

“Lance.” He corrected, voice shaking.

Lotor reached a hand out to comfort him, unsure of what he meant.

Lance pulled away from his touch.

“I said- Lance! My name is Lance. Sendak wouldn’t say it. Now you won't either.”

“Lance. Please be at ease. Sendak can’t hurt you anymore. You are safe.”

Lance spoke through clenched teeth, “But you can.”

It was overwhelming. He couldn’t stand it. He sobbed.

“No! I’m not safe. I never was. Sendak stole me so easily. You let him! He touched me and- and made crude jokes and- now you’re just like him.”

“He won’t ever do anything like that to you again- I ensured it! I am nothing like him!”

“What am I?” Lance choked out.

“You are many things. You are intelligent, beautiful, and beloved. You are the most valuable part of my empire.”

“It’s always your ‘empire’, everything is for your empire. You can’t bear to admit that you might like my presence. But you don’t do you?” Lance spurted the first thing that came to mind. Now that he had started, he couldn’t stop. He had bared through so much silently, as the perfect little pet. Now, everything all came out at once.

Lotor tilted his head at Lance, “Where is this coming from? Today, we won. This should be a time of celebration.”

He reached forward for a tick but pulled back.

Why would he bother to stop now, just because Lance expressed dislike? What had ever stopped him before? His huffed breaths were not nearly enough to supply his brain. At least he was useful like that. His use only lay in that- what the emperor could gain from him. He was just a stupid pawn in a game of cards- he didn’t even belong.

Lance insisted, “No. Do it; Touch me; Why should you care what I want? Kiss me to your heart’s desire! I don’t care! That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Fuck me like Sendak wanted. Do it on a stage, in front of your people- that would show Sendak wouldn’t it?

“But know this- I will never love you. So long as you own me- as you have that power over me- I won’t love you. So, go ahead! Make the most of your money why don’t you?”

Lotor reached toward Lance, scooping him into his arms.

Was he going to-?

He stood Lance up in the pod, shutting it behind him.

“I will return when you are healed. Good night-”

Lotor nearly used a title of his, be it his name or his occupation, Lance would never know.

What did he mean by that? "Good night"?

He sat where Lance had been, simply watching him. He was just sitting? What was going to happen to him? Why did Lotor stay? Why wouldn’t he-

Things simplified in an instant.

His mind slowed down.

He couldn’t muster the urge to care.

He viewed Lotor through fluttering eyelids.

He wished he had sat closer.

Chapter Text

The floor shook underneath him as he blinked to consciousness.

“Are you feeling better-? A voice spoke. It was unmistakably Lotor’s, though his words cut off as if in self-restraint.

“I- I’m a bit nauseous,” Lance muttered, raising a hand to rub his head.

Lotor guided him to sit.

His weight sunk into it comfortably; It was a bed. It smelled of Lotor;It was their bed. Lotor must have brought him back to their room.

“The regeneration capsule tends to be disorienting. Take all the time you need. I will leave you to gather your thoughts.” Lotor spoke quickly.

When Lotor pulled away, Lance grabbed toward the shaky purple blob, latching onto his hand.

“W-wait. Don’t go.”

Why would Lotor leave? He needed someone to ground him. Lance felt a pang of ache in his chest.

Lotor sat beside him. He seemed hesitant; he wasn’t acting like himself.

Lance whined involuntarily under his breath. He needed something- he couldn’t articulate quite what. He squeezed his hand.

Did he do something wrong? Sure, Lotor was with him, but he wasn't there.

His muscles went lax as Lotor placed his free hand on Lance’s back. He rubbed soothing circles into his skin.

Lotor spoke, “The feeling should dissipate shortly, focus on breathing.”

Lotor took a few audible breaths, encouraging Lance to do the same.

His memories came back as his vision stabilized.

“Thank you,” Lance said as Lotor’s face came into view.

They sat in comfortable silence as Lance came to.

“Your wounds have healed with any marring.” Lotor acknowledged, voice tainted with what Lance could only identify as remorse.

His stomach thickened as he absorbed his tone. He was upset. Something was wrong.

“Wounds?”

Lotor traced over his leg in a few places, pointing out spots of identical healthy skin.

He ran his finger over his calf, where he’d been “injured”.

Where he’d been scratched.

Where Sendak scratched him.

Where Sendak had bit him.

And licked him, and touched him and-

“You remember.” Lotor spoke with certainty, “Be still, he can not harm you any longer.”

He flinched in recognition of his distance, returning to the present.

“Because you killed him,” Lance spoke without thinking. His grasp relaxed where he had been clutching Lotor’s hand.

He hadn’t noticed that he had been holding it so tightly

The day came back to him piece by piece.

He had felt like a person again–for the first time in a long while–and it was all stripped away in a moment.

Sendak treated him- like he was “supposed” to have been treated as a pet. He thought he was treating Lance with care, as he deserved to be treated.

Then Lotor saved him. Then Lotor kissed him.

Then- Then-

He screamed at Lotor. At the one who had praised him for his resilience and saved him from further harm.

He winced as he remembered his words.

“No. Do it; Touch me; Why should you care what I want? Kiss me to your heart’s desire! I don’t care! That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Fuck me like Sendak wanted. Do it on a stage, in front of your people- that would show Sendak wouldn’t it?

“But know this- I will never love you. So long as you own me- as you have that power over me- I won’t love you. So, go ahead! Make the most of your money why don’t you?”

Lance swallowed thickly, speaking tentatively, “How long has it been?”

“A quintant.”

Lotor had been steeping in Lance’s words for a day. He killed for Lance, and he insulted him to his face.

He told him that he didn’t love him. He compared him to Sendak.

Lotor had avenged Lance, and yet all he received was scorn.

“We do not have to address the situation immediately. I understand that you may need time to process.”

He couldn’t possibly wait any longer to talk about it. He couldn’t let it build up in his mind. He would overthink it and implode if he had to marinate in it.

Lance’s eyes welled with tears.

Lotor looked away from him.

Lotor spoke apologetically, “Forgive me, I should have waited longer. Please, cry- experience your emotions. I will give you your privacy.”

Lotor eased himself away, standing up to leave.

Lance threw himself forward, wrapping both arms around Lotor.

“Thank you.” Lance sobbed.

“W-what?” Lotor stood stock still, stunned.

He embraced Lance back, sitting back on the bed and pulling Lance onto his lap.

For once, Lance was grateful for the familiar position. He needed to feel safe. He desperately craved comfort.

Lance spoke, words shaking, “You came for me. I- I saw the whole thing. I saw how you killed for me.”

“I know.” Lotor sounded disappointed in himself, “I did not intend for you to watch.” Lotor spoke softly.

“But you wanted me to.”

It felt right- to stick with Lotor after he had saved him. The betrayal in Lotor’s eyes had been palpable the last time he slipped away; He couldn’t have possibly done so again at such a crucial moment.

Lotor ran his palm up and down Lance’s back, soothing the tumultuous emotions.

“I did. Regardless, you should not have been subjected to it.”

It shouldn’t have been his choice to make, not at a time like that, but he couldn’t blame Zethrid, one who knew how paramount the event was to Galra culture.

“I begged Zethrid to let me stay. It was my battle you were fighting. I couldn’t let them drag me away- not without seeing you win.”

He could feel Lotor well with pride. He held Lance firmly, tucking his head beneath his chin.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both reveling in connection; he melted in the embrace, finally able to relax after an eternity of stress.

He fawned.

Tears continued to stream down his cheeks as he processed.

Lotor placed a hand on his nape, rubbing a thumb soothingly against his skin.

He still didn’t have his collar, though, Lotor’s affection helped him feel less exposed.

They sat until Lance’s eyes dried.

Lance spoke again, softly, “I said some things that I didn’t mean.”

Lotor spoke, “You were frantic, due to my actions no doubt. I do not blame you for expressing your pain. I simply did not account for the fact that you are unused to such experiences.

“Our upbringings were quite different.”

That was putting it lightly.

Of course, Earth had violence, but Lance was not one to get into that kind of trouble. They fought for both entertainment as well as victory, but it was far from the brutal Galra preference.

How much had Lotor seen to be so desensitized to this? What must he have experienced to remain levelheaded despite being enraged and tasked with disposing of a traitor?

Lotor continued,“Despite your frenzy, you spoke the truth. In fact, I agree with you to a certain extent.

“As much as I enjoy your company, I harbor no affection for you.”

Lance knew it was for the best but he ached nonetheless; A pang struck through his chest as he absorbed Lotor’s words.

“I care for you, and I will protect you but-” Lotor paused with a hesitance reserved for conversing with Lance, “so long as you are in my possession, you are… vulnerable”

Vulnerable?

Oh.

Lotor didn't want to take advantage of him.

“You kissed me.”

Lance wasn’t sure what he was getting at. It was a statement, a question, and a plea all at once.

“It was a lapse in judgment for a myriad of reasons. Our relationship is purely professional.”

This was what he wanted. Lotor set boundaries and Lance was more than happy to oblige. Why wouldn't he want it? He couldn't care less about Lotor- if anything, he was grateful to have an excuse to have less regard for him.

Lance swallowed the lump in his throat.

At least It would make it all the easier to leave when the time came.

“Lance?” Lotor asked tentatively.

Lance had forgotten to respond.

“Good. Fine with me.”

He trusted Lotor, but it was nothing more than that. When he got home, he would forget all about him. He would move on with his life and never look back.

For now, though, he listened to Lotor’s steady heartbeat as he held him close.

Lance mimicked Lotor’s breathing to calm himself. Eventually, Lance’s heart slowed to match Lotor’s steady thudding.

Long dobash passed before Lance could bear to be without Lotor’s contact.

As soon as Lance pulled away, Lotor ceased all but necessary touch.

The quintant went by as normal, though, the atmosphere was far from its usual.

As much as Lance craved comfort and security, he couldn’t bear to admit that he missed the usual touches. Not a single time did Lotor’s hand slip down his armrest to run through Lance’s hair. Nor did he invite Lance onto his lap.

When their meal arrived, Lance’s portion was segregated into a bowl rather than hand fed from Lotor’s plate as usual.

Every so often, Lotor would open his mouth as if to speak before dismissing the notion entirely.

This was what Lance had wanted; Lotor finally left him alone. If he wanted this, why did his chest feel so hollow? Why were the backs of his eyes so heavy? His organs sat thickly in his body.

Lotor spoke so suddenly that Lance jolted, “We are to visit the Atean Empire today.”

So soon? Lance wasn’t sure he was ready for excitement so soon.

“For tourism or ambassador work?” Lance asked.

“We are to meet Empress Allura for a social visit. Her human will accompany her as usual.”

Lance nodded.

He bit the inside of his cheek. Sure, it would be great to speak to Keith–especially about whatever escape plan he seemed to be conjuring–but Lance was still exhausted.

“Is something wrong? You were ecstatic to meet Keith before.”

“It’s just… very sudden.” Lance rushed to excuse his lack of enthusiasm, “I am- I’m excited to see him. It’ll be nice to talk to another human.”

Lance nodded determinedly as if convincing himself as much as Lotor.

Keith would know what he’s been through. Sure, Allura seemed nice, but she was the same as the rest; She owned a pet like everyone else.

Later that day, they set off for the Altean Empire.

The “Castle ship” (as Lotor referred to it), was a stark contrast to the dark purple of the Galra empire. Light, towering structures opposed the sharp dark corners of Galra architecture.

They were greeted by a few Altean representatives who escorted them through the castle. Well, Lotor was greeted- they seemed uncomfortable making eye contact with Lance.

Save for their ears and facial markings, the Alteans appeared to be nearly human in appearance.

Had Lance been bold enough, he would have attempted to slip away and hide amongst them. At the moment, he wasn’t in the mood to cause any trouble, especially if it cost him the chance to talk to Keith and discuss the long game.

Lance kept his head down and followed Lotor

“Empress Allura. It is a pleasure to be in your presence once more.” He greeted her with a kiss on her hand.

Lance clenched his jaw.

“I see you have brought your, Lance with you. I am glad you could join us. You remember Keith, correct?”

Lance blinked a few times, realizing he had been asked a question.

“Oh- Yes. It’s nice to see you both again.” Lance spoke hastily.

Allura smiled at his awkward greeting.

“I was surprised to hear from you on such short notice. Is all well in your empire; I heard the news of a traitor in your midst. What might be your motivation?” Allura inquired.

Lotor waved a hand dismissively, “It was nothing I could not resolve. This is a social visit, nothing more. I simply felt as if my pet could use some support from another human.”

They were here for Lance?

Allura smiled, “Well, let us not keep them from it. Keith is eager to show your human around, shall we dismiss them?”

He nodded, “Go ahead, small one.”

Keith gestured for him to follow.

He glanced back to Lotor before scurrying behind Keith.

When Keith made no effort to interact, Lance spoke, “So, does the Empress treat you well?”

He corrected himself

“Uh, yeah, she's great.”

“That's good to hear, there are some real sickos out there.” He padded his words with laughter, attempting not to ruin one of his only chances for human contact.

Keith stayed silent as they padded down the hall.

He must not be used to social interaction anymore. He didn’t mind picking up the slack.

Lance spoke again, “So do you have your own room? Where are we going?”

If he had visitors, he'd rather not show them the bed where he slept with Lotor. He hoped Keith had some semblance of privacy- he seemed like the solitary sort.

“Yes, my room.”

“Oh cool. That’s nice of her. Lotor still has me sleep in his bed.”

Keith spoke under his breath, “We are still in earshot. Just wait a tick until we’re alone.”

“Oh, okay,” Lance muttered, matching his volume.

“This is it.”

Keith opened the door, gesturing for Lance to go in first.

Lance gasped.

“You can use the doors? I can't interact with anything where I live.”

A look of realization washed over Keith’s face.

“What does ‘wait a tick’ mean to you? Geez, you want to give me a heart attack? Just go in.” Keith hissed out in a peeved whisper.

Lance exaggeratedly stepped into the room, looking back at Keith.

As soon as the door closed, something knocked him off his feet.

Something was on him, grabbing at him. His face pressed into a solid mass of fabric.

The hold was… Oddly gentle?

He gasped, his mind catching up with his senses. His limbs hung stiffly at his side as he processed. The back of his eyes sat heavily in his skull.

He’d recognize that hug anywhere. Still, he couldn’t believe it.

“Hunk?” Lance asked tentatively, his suspended disbelief holding him back from what he recognized so dearly.

“I’m right here, Lance. I got ya.” Hunk assured, squeezing just a hint tighter.

Lance went lax from the assurance, leaning into the embrace even before his mind understood.

It was Hunk. He was safe. He was safe.

Lance hugged back as hard as he could, stopping Hunk from slipping away again.

His fingers clawed onto the fabric; He latched onto him as if he could dissipate at any moment.

“You're gonna send him into shock- give him a tick Hunk!” A distinctly “Pidge” voice called out.

He swallowed, throat thick with emotion.

If Hunk noticed the wet patch growing on his shirt, he didn’t mention it; Hunk let him cry into him until he was exhausted of tears and emotion alike.

“I thought I lost you two.” He glanced up, tracing the origin of Pidge’s voice.

“C’mere, Pidge.” Lance beckoned, opening the hug for one more.

Pidge rushed in to join them, urged by Lance’s permission.

Lance spoke slowly, his words conveying every ounce of sincerity that he felt, “I am so glad you’re safe.”

He held them until his breathing evened out; His heart rate slowly leveled, matching that of his companions’ steady patterns.

They only pulled apart when Lance was certain that they were more than a mirage.

His emotions tinged in his chest, the embarrassment spreading cooly at his breakdown. His doubt melted from his chest as he met his friends’ eyes; both humans shared the wet puffy eyes that adorned Lance’s face.

He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

When Hunk moved aside, he noticed two additional people standing at the back of the room. One resembled a larger version of Pidge, while the other stood–with oddly perfect posture might he add–beside him, bright red hair- facial included.

Upon closer inspection, the latter was no human at all, but rather an Altean; he clearly displayed the facial markings and pointy ears of their kind.

He made a mental note to be mindful of his words.

Pidge and Hunk didn’t seem to be on edge around him; Pidge hadn’t looked to him for permission, and neither had been scolded for acting of their own accord.

“Is he your Master?” Lance tried tentatively.

Hunk answered first, “Coran? No, he doesn’t own us. Oh, and that’s Matt beside him. He’s Pidge’s brother.”

Coran gave a small wave. Matt nodded and shot him a smile.

Lance tilted his head at them. This “Coran” didn’t own them? Well, none of them–save for Keith–wore collars.

Upon seeing Lance’s confused countenance, Pidge continued for him, “Allura doesn’t own us either.

Lance blinked a few times, attempting to grasp the situation.

“Then how are you-”

“I can answer that!” The man with the orange mustache started, taking a large step toward him, ”Allura is the leader of a coalition working towards dismantling the current hierarchy! We strive to eliminate the ‘need’ to trade and own intelligent lifeforms like property.”

“So Keith is-”

“Undercover.” Keith agreed.

“So I’m the only one who’s…” Lance’s words dithered into a sigh.

He didn’t want his friends–or any other human for that matter– to be owned like some lap dog, but he couldn’t deny the sting of his situation.

One of the reasons he had been excited to speak with Keith was due to their shared misfortune.

He took in a breath, thinking rationally. He wasn’t ungrateful. He was thrilled to see some familiarity in the depths of space. He nodded, more to himself than any other confirmation.

Pidge started tentatively, “Are you alright? The last time we saw you, you were shaking, and covered in blood.”

The last time they had seen each other Lance wasn’t-

His eyes widened.

“The arena. You saw all saw that?”

Pidge went on, “It isn’t every quintant that an Emperor publicly executes a high-ranking official for treason. The stream was broadcasted.” Pidge continued more tentatively, “Did the Emporer hurt you and kill him for helping you escape?”

“No!” Lance answered far too quickly, “I mean, no. He didn’t hurt me. He’s never hurt me.”

Why was he defending Lotor so vehemently?

He cupped the back of Lance’s head, stroking the short hairs at his nape.

Lance’s lips parted easily for Lotor’s mouth.

Lotor kissed him passionately, before a crowd of thousands.

He froze.

“Applause for the jewel of the Galra empire! A creature who remained unmarred despite that traitor’s attempts.”

The audience hollered and whistled and cheered for him.

“Lance?”

Lance blinked a few times. He had been staring into the distance.

Lance answered, “Lotor saved me. Sendak stole me from him- he was the one who bit me.”

Coran asked, “So Emporer Lotor spoke the truth?”

Lance nodded.

“How does he treat you?”

Lance laughed, “Like a lap dog. He can get a bit annoying when he’s insistent. A little too much talk of honor and duties for my taste, but I’m helping him with those social skills.”

He supposed it could be worse with Lotor- he could be with someone like Sendak. At least Lotor generally understood that his situation was less than desirable.

“Are we talking about the same Emporer here? Emperor Lotor, usurper of the Galra throne; The one who executes his enemies publicly? You can tell us, Lance. We’re here to help.”

Lance spoke with a huff, rushing to speak, “Well, I’m not his enemy, I’m his pet.” Lance’s eyes widened as he realized what he said.

One arm drew up the other, settling just above his elbow awkwardly.

“I mean, I’m important to the empire. Lotor isn’t a bad guy- he just has higher priorities.”

Lance wasn’t sure who that last part was intended for.

Defending Lotor felt… odd.

Lotor had defended him–literally, might he add–it was only right to do the same.

He swallowed, the sound loud in the noiseless room.

Matt broke the silence, “Well, that’s good to hear.”

“Yeah- we’re glad to have you back,” Hunk assured.

Have him back?

“Are you ready to head home?” Pidge asked.

Lance’s eyes widened. Home? His heart sped up at the idea. He’d be able to see his planet again- his family again.

This was all he wanted for so long, and yet…

“If I left, it would destroy the alliance between the Galra and Alteans. I can’t do that to two nations.”Lance said.

“Allow me!”

Coran strode forward. With each step, his body morphed. His height diminished. The enormous orange mustache shrunk into his skin, leaving a blank expanse on his upper lip. His body morphed until, before him, stood a perfect imitation of Lance, save for the ill-fitting clothes.

“I will fill in for you for the foreseeable time being.”

Lance tilted his head at him, face contorting in awe as Coran mimicked his action.

Lance started, “I-

“I can’t. Not yet.”

He searched the depths of his mind for the reason behind his hesitation.

Lance continued, “What about Takashi Shirogane?”

Keith visibly perked up, speaking for the first time since he’d led him here, “We don’t have any way to contact him without drawing suspicion to our operation.”

Their response sounded as if it had been reiterated many times over.

“Well, you don't. But I do.” Lance smirked.

Keith only led him back once Allura had beckoned them back, a small sound of indiction ringing through Keith’s collar.

He gave each member a long, deep hug before he headed off his own way.

He said his farewells to Keith and Allura before following Lotor back to their vessel.

It was only when they were alone that Lotor addressed the elephant in the room.

“Keith made you cry? Are you alright?”

“It- It was a good cry,” Lance assured.

He continued softly, “Thank you- for taking me. Talking to Keith helped.”

Lotor’s expression softened.

“Do not exalt me, I am simply caring for what is mine.”

It was a nice sentiment. It was the exchange they had both agreed to at the beginning. They could simply peacefully exist together in the same space. Things would be different, but that didn’t mean they had to be bad.

Or, Lance could do as he always had.

Lance snickered at the comment, “Well, in that case, shut your quiznack.”

The ship jolted at Lance’s words, Lotor’s concentration having been shattered.

Lotor went from the stoic solemn Emperor to a concerned caregiver in an instant. If he had fur, like most of his species, it would be ruffled.

He spoke quickly, flustered, “That is not how you- Where did you hear that from? Did Keith teach you that?”

“I learned it from you. You’ve said it a couple of times already.” Lance laughed.

“Do not- Do not use that language. It is unbefitting of a proper pet.”

“I’ll say whatever I quiznacking want.” Lance taunted.

“Lance.”

“Quiznack!”

Chapter Text

Lance awoke to the clatter of a bowl on the metal floor. He shot straight up in bed, nearly smacking his head into the bunk above him.

“Lance! You might want to check this out!” Pidge called from the only other room on the ship.

He hurriedly detangled himself from his sheets, making his way to the cockpit.

Pidge and Hunk both stood before the viewport, staring off into the distance. A bowl lay on the floor before Hunk, though he made no move to pick it up.

“Guys…?” Lance started tentatively, “What is it?” Lance joined them, staring out into the depths of space. He didn’t notice anything in particular.

Pidge pointed at a spec in the distance.

“There. Right there. I’ve been tracking movement for some time, but I couldn’t imagine it was this.”

“Uh, right. Is this some nerd stuff? Asteroid patterns or something?”

“That planet is composed of processed materials. The movement to and from it can only be life.”

Lance’s eyes went wide as he realized.

“We discovered aliens!” Lance yelled, pumping his fist in the air.

He launched into Hunk, grasping him in a hug. It took Hunk a moment to process the action, returning the affection when he reoriented himself.

With around four hours until contact, Lance had plenty of time to record another log.

“This is Lance McClain! My crew and I have discovered extraterrestrial life forms traveling to and from a planet of ‘processed materials’! It’s been nearly a month since we left Earth, so it’s about time! Things are finally going right for us! Space babes, here I come!

“The suit trackers pointed in this direction, so we’re hoping to find the scientists here, too. Pidge actually ate something other than crackers today- I’ve never seen him so optimistic! Just a little longer and we’ll be there; Hold tight guys, we’re coming!

“This is Lance, signing out again!” He gave the camera a wink before ending the recording.

His heart thrummed in his chest, and wonder for the unknown ignited again. This was what he signed up for! It was far from flying a ship within their own atmosphere–something he’d never experienced outside the simulator–but that didn’t mean it wasn’t better than he’d imagined.

He was a real explorer!

Aside from cleaning the bowl from the floor, no one dared leave the viewport. Sure, Pidge was recording the entirety of their approach, but nothing compared to watching history in the making.

When they drew near, the details of the planet were elucidated. It was a stark contrast to their planet; rather than having water and plants and individual settlements, it was all encapsulated in walls and barriers.

The creatures traveling to and fro were not organic at all. They were vessels for space travel, much like their own, but far more complex.

“Holy shit,” Lance muttered.

Upon seeing one pass through a barrier, they tempted fate by doing the same.

The passage revealed equidistant lines painted on the ground. They had discovered… a parking lot?

When Lance offered to land their vessel, his companions quickly shut him down. The only “landing” experience he had, was crashing the flight simulator. It was worth a try.

They descended to the surface with help from Pidge’s autopiloting technology.

Hunk fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he looked at their vast discovery.

Hunk spoke tentatively, “Maybe we should just stay on the ship for a little longer? We probably can’t even breathe out there.”

“I’ve been in this stupid ship for too long already- I’m going to go in.” Lance announced, “Pidge, how’s the atmosphere?”

“Within normal levels for human existence! You can stay behind on the ship if you want.” Pidge offered, readying themselves to descent.

Lance chucked the bulky helmet to the side, going with his normal outfit for the journey.

Hunk ultimately decided to tag along, the fate of waiting alone worse than discovering the unknown.

They followed the path of other lifeforms, making their way to the apparent main attraction- an arch that indicated the entryway.

Their initial plan was to greet the inhabitants and gather information, but the sheer scale of it all would make that impossible.

Greeting an alien was to no avail. When they spoke to it, it spoke back in a garbled language that they couldn’t begin to dissect.

It didn’t help that Pidge wanted to take notes on everything, structure, and inhabitant. It turned away from the technology, rightfully annoyed.

The being merely gestured toward the building before scuttling away in the same direction.

Of course, why would it speak English? Lance, Pidge, and Hunk attempted to speak Spanish, Italian, and Samoan (respectively) at other beings, to the same lack of result.

“Pidge, maybe knock it off with the camera- That’s probably scaring them away.”

“Lance, we’re the aliens here- I don’t think the camera is what’s making us stand out.” Pidge relented regardless, settling for the footage from their body cam instead.

“Is it just me or does it seem like the rest of the universe discovered each other first?” Lance huffed. This was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him- he was a bit upset to not have discovered it sooner.

After accidentally harassing a dozen aliens, one finally approached them first.

He seemed official-looking looking, donned a pressed uniform. He held out something resembling a badge, though none of the characters were in any recognizable language.

They tried speaking at him, this time accompanying their words with a mix of gestures and ASL. He didn’t seem to understand them.

He gestured at them with the universal gesture for “follow me” before walking toward the busiest part of the planet.

They’d been on the planet for a good half an hour now, yet they hadn’t thought to leave the parking lot yet. What were they supposed to do, march into a hub of aliens without any idea as to how their society worked? It was as tumultuous as they’d anticipated.

The group stuck close to their escort so as not to get separated in the crowd.

He led them to something that resembled a Chuck E. Cheese ticket blaster.

“What does that thing do? I don’t see any other humans around- it might not be safe for us…” Hunk asked no one in particular. He worried the hem of his shirt.

When no one volunteered to enter it (as it became apparent was his wish), the alien nudged Pidge forward.

If Pidge popped, Hunk might not be able to get them home. Lance was the most disposable of the three of them. Lance took a step forward.

“It’s fine. I’ll go first. If they have to clean me off the walls, tell Earth that I died in an awesome daring battle.” Lance laughed, storing his anxiety deep inside.

He stepped into the booth, wincing as it closed behind him.

His heart rate sped up as he waited for the floor to fall out from under him. He took a deep breath and looked back at Hunk and Pidge as the machine started up.

He bore down as it whirred around him; he clenched his jaw as he anticipated the melt or splatter on the glass.

The door opened uneventfully a moment later.

“Oh.” Lance stepped out, unmarred, “Well, what was that for then?”

“Are you alright?” Hunk asked, looking Lance over.

The countenance of the alien had changed from irritated to mildly amused.

He spoke gruffly, “Tell your friends to get in, I don’t have all day.”

“Oh, sorry.” He turned to his friends immediately, “It’s safe. Get in.”

Hunk spoke tentatively, “Lance? Did you just speak to it?”

It took Lance a moment to process.

Lance spoke clumsily, “Hmm? Did I speak to- I understand it- I mean, you.”

“It is a biological scanner as well as a universal language transmitter.”

“It gave you their language!” Pidge exclaimed. She shifted her weight, visibly excited.

She strode into the machine and received the language, Hunk following suit when she finished.

“Welcome to the Trading Hub.”

“Your scan displays that your small companion is injured, follow me to the med bay. We must examine the compromised organic lining.

“That’s a normal bodily function for my species.” Pidge blushed, explaining quickly.

“Oh, I apologize. I have never come across your species before.”

Lance’s heart sank. If he didn’t know about any humans, that meant that the explorers hadn’t passed this way. How were they supposed to track down the humans without any leads?

Pidge clarified slowly, “You’ve never seen one- at all, before?”

“Well, I have seen Arena broadcasts if that is what you mean.”

Lance asked, “Arena?”

“The reigning Champion is a human fighter.”

A human fighter? There were only so many people with the technology to reach this far into space. He had to be someone they knew.

Pidge asked, “Where is this arena?”

He seemed amused by this conversation, as if in awe that they knew so little.

“It is permanently stationed in the heart of the Galra empire.” He continued.

Then he spoke again, this time listing out coordinates and numbers that he hoped Pidge or Hunk understood.

Lance tilted his head at them as they nodded at the instructions.

They had made it this far… he supposed the only thing they could do was keep going.

After a minor interrogation from Pidge on alien specifics, the guard shooed them on their way.

Pidge thought aloud as they strode through the hub.

They spoke, “All we have to do is set off in one direction. He claimed it would only take a few ‘varga’, but with our vessel’s capabilities, it’ll take days to reach the empire.”

“Are we not concerned about the compromised organic lining? Is your stomach eating itself or something?”

“It’s my uterus. Like I said, a normal function.”

Uterus?

“Oh, you’re trans?” Lance asked, trying to play off accidentally exposing him.

“What? No, I’m a girl.”

At this, both Hunk and Lance sported surprised countenances. They both halted in their tracks, processing at the same time.

“I just figured you were in the closet.” Hunk spoke, then turning to Lance, “We’ve been living in the same ship with her for nearly a month. How did you not notice?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah, well we’ve been in the boy’s dorm for semesters! If you said that earlier, I wouldn’t have been walking around in my underwear on the ship!”

“Well, now you know the truth.” She grumbled, clearly embarrassed by revealing the lie, “We have more important tasks at hand. C’mon.”

The boys hurried to catch up with her, nodding with determination.

Pidge continued,“Ideally, a better ship would move the mission along. Though, we might have to settle on another tank of gas depending on the economy.” Pidge added.

After some discussion, they decided that the most efficient way to reach their goal was to infiltrate alien society… meaning they had to get minimum wage jobs to earn GAC.

Hunk found a job in a kitchen while Pidge worked on selling “Earth relics”. She insisted they could get Lance a new hairdryer (among other possessions) when they returned to Earth.

Lance didn’t exactly have many redeemable skills but was determined to be useful as well.

He set off on his own, trying to find someone, anyone that would pay him for completing basic tasks.

Lance had anticipated that he would blend in–considering the wide range of species present–yet, he seemed to get more stares than anyone else.

He was refused a number of times, each place dismissing him as if he was of little use. One word seemed to repeat among them, “Altean.”

He wasn’t the best at reading social cues, nonetheless alien social cues, but he could pick up a harsh edge in the word. It was if their intention was to demean. Maybe it was some alien slur.

“It isn’t often that you see an Altean all alone out here.” A voice caught his attention.

This was the first alien to have initiated a conversation with him.

Lance turned toward the source of the sound, stopping in his tracks.

The being before him was a soft yellow color. It was feminine in shape and voice.

It could only mean one thing. Lance had finally found a space babe.

“People keep calling me that, what does it mean?”

Another alien appeared this one with masculine features. It was bipedal, grey, and partially shirtless, “You mean the planet you’re from? Altea?”

Two space babes?

“I mean, I can be from whatever planet you want.” Lance winked, “But, I’m from Earth. The name’s Lance, I’m a human.”

“Well Lance, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Nyma, and this is my partner Rollo. what are you doing so far from home?”

Partner? Business partner or life partner? Either way, Lance wouldn’t mind joining.

“I’m on the lookout for other humans. For now, I’m looking to make some GAC to refill my ship and be on my way.”

The yellow alien glanced to the other, “We could get a hefty sum for him.”

“You could? Are you hiring then?”

She took a step closer, tilting Lance’s head side to side with a finger.

“What are you doing?” Lance asked.

“It’s the way my people greet other species.” She excused.

“Come with us. We’ll show you to your position.”

Lance followed along eagerly. This was it. He was finally contributing. He’d earn the most GAC and be labeled a hero by his companions.

“Let me affix your identification and you’ll be ready to go.”

She grabbed one of his wrists and clasped a bracelet on. Alien technology was so different from Earth’s.

Then, she grabbed his other wrist, attaching an identical bracelet.

“This is identification? It doesn’t say anything.”

“Oh, it says what it needs to.”

The bracelets lit up. For a moment, Lance admired the glow. Then, a “clack”; they joined together in front of him.

“Is this supposed to-?”

Lance pulled his arms apart to no avail. His heart rate sped up as he realized he could not separate his wrists.

“Something tells me you’ll be in the Galra empire earlier than anticipated.” She smiled.

A realization came to Lance. They were partners alright—partners in crime. Of course. That was just his luck.

“I think there has been some misunderstanding. Maybe I should just go-” Lance started, trying to take a step back.

Rolo grasped his upper arm.

"Wait! Wait- you don't want to do this!" Lance struggled against the hold.

He hauled him to the back of the room, only letting go after pushing him into a crate.

What had he done? He was an idiot. Why did he think he could just get a job like Pidge and Hunk had?

Lance attempted to cross his arms to no avail. He settled on shoving his face into his knees.

"This is officially the worst field trip ever.”

~

Their goal was to find other humans, not lose the ones they already had. The mortification of losing Lance demoralized the group worse than ever before. He hadn’t worn a suit, so there was no way to locate him in the depths of space.

The other two had no choice but to keep working, checking in with security and searching the hub for Lance in their spare time.

While Lance adjusted to his new life of servitude, Pidge, and Hunk experienced alien culture, snuck food from the kitchen, and slept on the ship.

Nearly a week passed before they heard from–no, of-- Lance.

A transmission played on every screen in the empire: The Emporer, Lotor, son of the late Emporer Zarkon, at long last had chosen a companion.

Beside the emperor, sat the creature in question, a Terran from Earth, alike their very own champion; Lance, the once rambunctious troublemaking teenager, kneeled beside the Galra obediently.

Both humans stared at the screen as the recording panned out. They continued to do so as the transmission replayed once more.

“Hunk, that was definitely Lance, wasn’t it?” Pidge asked, unwilling to believe it.

“Well… at least we found him.” Hunk’s optimism was wavering.

“Ah! So he’s one of you! That’s no Altean all right.”

They jolted at the voice.

Behind them stood a man, formally dressed beneath mismatching raggedy articles. He was almost human, aside from the pointed ears and cheekbone markings.

“Nice to meet you, Terrans! I am Coran, the royal advisor of Empress Allura of the Altean empire! Rumor around is that you are looking for other Terrans.”

Pidge started cautiously, “That’s right. You know some?”

“Well of course! A Terran lives by our Empress’ side after all. Of his own volition of course.” Coran continued, quieter, “We are against the institution of slavery. If you wish to free your companion, then accompany me to the Altean empire for council with our Empress.”

They didn’t have a choice. They quickly discovered that alien fuel was incompatible with their vessel. According to Pidge’s calculations, the price to purchase synthesizers to create their own fuel would rival the price of a new vessel. Both purchases were far out of their price range.

Coran’s vibes were acceptable.

If it happened to be a trap, perhaps they’d both be able to incapacitate Coran and steal his vessel.

It was the only choice they had.

Chapter Text

“If you do not wish to return to the planet, I understand.”

It was the quintant after when Lotor addressed the subject of Lance’s reward.

Lance’s heart dropped in his chest at the idea of losing his opportunity.

“Are you saying we can’t live there anymore?” Lance asked, brow furrowing in disappointment.

He had finally gotten a planet again–a place outside of the sterile militant interior of Lotor’s ship–and yet his home was stripped from him yet again.

He wouldn’t let Lotor take back his word; If he rescinded his planetary offer, Lance wouldn’t let him live it down. He might not be stronger than Lotor, but he could be annoying enough to make him regret the betrayal.

Lotor tilted his head at Lance as if surprised by the idea that Lance would desire such a thing.

Lotor started tentatively, “You should not have to feel unsafe in your home. Nor should you have to tolerate any reminder of that traitor.”

Lotor’s concern was valiant but misplaced.

“Well, If I remember correctly, we made a better memory first.” When Lotor tilted his head in confusion, Lance elucidated, “Besides, nothing is better for coping than desensitization.”

“You… wish to return?” Lotor confirmed.

Lance nodded fervently.

“I suppose it can not be helped then- it is only fair that you reap your reward.” Lotor smiled, running a hand through Lance’s hair affectionately.

Lance practically vibrated in excitement.
“I’m no architect, but I can picture it all now! Do your people know how to construct anything that isn’t large, intimidating, or glowing purple? No offense to your culture, but that’s not the vision I’m aiming for.”

Lotor chuckled, “That is perfectly acceptable. I have immersed you in enough Galra culture to warrant some reciprocation.”

Lance explained his home to Lotor in excruciating detail. It soon became more than what Lotor could record. Lotor summoned a scribe to document Lance’s requests.

As construction commenced, they fell back into their routine.

Things between him and Lotor were different, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

While Lotor withdrew for a period, he couldn’t maintain the self-inflicted distance for long; Eventually, the Emporer grew weary from lack of affection. Lotor concluded that nothing was gained from neglecting their mutual need for connection.

Lance, equally touch-starved, didn’t mind it as much as he once did.

He didn’t dare tell Lotor, but he had grown to respect him to a certain extent. Lotor had killed a traitor for his empire, but he had also slain a threat to his pet- to Lance.

The duality between duty and care was difficult to process; He fought to come to terms with the fact that he didn’t need to be Lotor’s only priority to be important to him.

Lotor had made it clear that Lance was important many times over. He had never been so wanted on Earth, even if this new role was embarrassing at best. If Lotor was willing to kill to keep Lance -who was he to be so adamantly against his situation?

He wasn’t giving up–and he hadn’t forgotten about his friends–he just needed to take it slow- maybe appreciate the alien culture that they had worked so hard to discover.

Lance grew complacent with Lotor’s commands; He had faith in Lotor’s intentions.

Whenever Lotor told him to climb onto his lap, he’d obey.

When he told him to strafe and dodge a strike from the training bot, he didn’t hesitate.

When he presented Lance with a new collar, he accepted it gratefully.

Well, maybe not exactly gratefully.

Lotor presented him with the article the day their home on Newterra was completed.

It was nearing the end of the quintant when Lotor received word of its completion; the notice taking the form of an alert spawning on his holographic monitor.

Lotor finished up light work on the projected screen while Lance lay on him, lazily tapping through his tablet

Lance tilted his head at the foreign words, curiosity blooming as Lotor let out a hum of acknowledgment to himself. He could only make out certain words, namely, “quintant” and “emperor”- the latter of which was too commonly written not to recognize.

Lotor summarized the notification for Lance, “It seems they completed construction ahead of schedule.”

He mentioned this casually, as if not comprehending the significance of his words.

“The house is really ready?” Lance asked, perking up at the idea.

He sat up in Lotor’s lap, scooting further down his legs, as to allow eye contact.

“Of course,” Lotor assured. He ran his fingers through Lance’s hair to calm him, sensing the impending enthusiasm.

“Seriously? Like how I described too?” Lance continued, his increasing excitement mainly unwavering.

“Have I ever lied to you, Pet?”

“Can we go there, now? Please?”

“Now? You will be asleep before we make our descent.”

“I won’t- I swear!” Lance insisted.

“And you will not misbehave due to inadequate sleep?” Lotor cocked an eyebrow at him, playfully.

“Nope! I’ll be good!” Lance added, “Master,” certain it would sway him.

“Then I see no reason to refuse.” Lotor grinned, ruffling Lance’s hair playfully.

Lance reciprocated the smile, leaning into the touch.

Lotor slid his hand down to Lance’s neck, stroking the empty expanse of skin with a thumb.

Lotor's countenance changed to one of thoughtfulness as he let out a hum.

Lotor started, “There is, however, one thing to be addressed before we set off.”

Lotor didn’t bother to let Lance get off his lap, instead simply scooping him into his arms and carrying him bridal style to their bedroom.

He set Lance gently on the bed.

Lotor opened a drawer, retrieved a box, and set it beside him before sitting next to Lance.

“This may be a bit… unceremonious, but I believe it is the most logical time to give you this.”

Lotor opened the box, presenting the contents to Lance.

“You couldn’t find my old collar?” Lance asked, tilting his head at the ornate collar and accompanying display.

“I planned to present you with this the day I first took you there. It is custom; one of a kind for a creature of your status- a collar befitting the royal companion.”

The collar was nothing less than extravagant; the band was much more ornate than it’s previous incarnation. A polished blue band seemed to glow where it sat between metal edging.

Engravings decorated the collar; some lines were simply aesthetic while others formed Galra symbols. He recognized the symbols of his name. Another symbol sat atop his name, this one only vaguely familiar.

He tilted his head at it as he scrutinized the engraving.

“That is the royal family’s crest.”

Of course. It was a classier way of saying “If lost, return to Lotor.”

“Is something the matter?”

He didn’t realize he’d been staring.

Lance muttered, “I’ve seen it around, I didn’t realize it was your crest.”

“Our crest,” he corrected, “It is on my armor as well as embroidered into my formal wear.”

Lance simply hummed in response, scrutinizing the article as he turned it around in his hands. He was putting off Lotor’s obvious intention with the collar. If he wanted Lance to put it on, he’d have to give the command or put it on Lance himself.

“Still hesitant despite how far you have come?” Lotor asked, placing a reassuring hand on Lance’s neck.

His thumb drifted to Lance’s hairline, playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“It’s still demeaning, despite how fancy or expensive it is.”

He was tempted to act the same as when he first arrived–wanting to avoid the humiliation like the plague–but his better judgment disagreed with him. What good would it do if he threw the object against the wall? Sure, he might damage it, but ultimately, he’d still have to wear it. Lotor was tolerable, kind even, when he behaved.

It wasn’t like the entire universe hadn’t already seen him in a collar; there wasn’t a being in the Galra empire that didn’t know his status.

“It is a mark of honor and pride,” Lotor continued, lowering his voice, “More importantly, It will keep you safe.” Lotor leaned in, pressing his forehead against Lance’s at the thought.

Lance clenched his jaw.

Lotor saved him- he didn’t need backlash.

The last one didn’t seem to help.

He fought the urge to speak his mind.

He couldn’t help it, Lance responded under his breath, “The last one didn’t seem to help.”

Lance’s stomach squirmed at Lotor’s hurt countenance, brows furrowing against his own, though he did not retract his words. He maintained contact with Lance, unwilling to pull away, to abandon Lance in his stress.

“It cannot be unlocked by any others. None shall remove it as that traitor had.” Lotor assured.

Despite the positive intention, Lotor’s words only make him feel worse. His old collar could be removed, even by him, but his new collar apparently locked on.

He would ask Lotor to disable the lock or give him the code later when he was in a good mood.

Lotor pulled away a moment later, allowing them to make eye contact again.

Lotor asked, “Would you like to don it, or would you rather I affix it for you?”

“You can do it.” Lance passed the collar over.

“Very well.” Lotor accepted it with his free hand. His other hand slid up to Lance’s jaw, tilting it up to allow neck access.

He affixed the collar with one hand, letting it click into place.

“Much better. As much as I adore your exposed skin, you do look gorgeous properly adorned with my mark.”

Lotor cleared his throat, realizing the intimacy with which he spoke.

Lotor redirected to the previous subject, “I have positioned additional protection on the surface of Newterra.”

Lance tilted his head at him.“Protection? I appreciate the concern, but I’d rather not be babysat by an eight-foot armored wall of anger and fluff.”

He wouldn’t mind having one of Lotor’s generals supervise him, but he doubted that watching a pet was in their paygrade.

Lotor chuckled at Lance’s antic, “I promise that you will find the arrangement favorable. Now, shall we go on our way?”

Lance perked up, remembering the goal at hand, “Yes! Let’s go!”

This time, Lotor drove while Lance recited the list of what he wanted to do on the new planet.

He probably missed a few holidays–Lance couldn’t be certain on the date having converted to the imperial time system– so at the top of his list was to locate the nearest organic lifeforms to a pumpkin, pine tree, and rabbit.

Obviously, this all came second to settling into their home.

Lance eagerly watched through the viewport as the planet came within render distance.

Lance tilted his head at an orb that surrounded his planet. It was mostly translucent,

Lotor explained, “Fear not, the barrier is permeable. It is here for your protection; Only authorized vehicles may traverse.”

Which meant no rescue missions for Lance. He was certain his collar would notify Lotor if he managed to leave the atmosphere.

Lance acknowledged him with a hum, watching eagerly as they approached the planet.

Lance’s bones turned gelatinous for the moment he touched the barrier. He couldn’t decipher if it was placebic or rather a property of the alien technology.

Lance vibrated with excitement as the ship lowered.

Lance couldn’t inspect the building too closely from their elevation, but it certainly resembled an Earth home. Lance hoped that he conveyed Earth architecture accurately enough.

Lotor was parking far too slowly. He was tempted to push Lotor’s hand–forcing him to crash the ship(that was how he always landed the flight simulator)–but decided against the idea when considering any of the consequences.

Soon, Lotor parked the ship, wheels touching down on a more solid surface than that of their previous excursion.

Lance attempted to open the door, huffing when the Galra technology failed to yield.

“Relax, Pet, It is not going anywhere,” Lotor assured with a chuckle, taking far too long to leave his seat.

He walked around the vehicle to open Lance’s door, catching Lance when he scrambled down the stairs and lost his footing.

When Lotor released him, he hurried to the door, standing beside it as Lotor caught up.

“Go ahead.” Lotor insisted.

Lance tilted his head at Lotor curiously. Why wouldn’t he hurry up and let them inside?

“Open the door then.” Lance fought the urge to whine.

“Lance, Pet, the door is wooden, as per your design. Most other technological or mechanical integrations are not of Galra origin either.”

“Wait- you’re not serious?” Lance lunged for the door, pushing the knobless door until it swung open.

Lotor chuckled at the enthusiasm, following Lance inside. “Have I ever lied to you, Pet?”

Lance had never been so excited to open a door. If he could open this door, then he could open every door! He had free run of the house! He’d be lying if he said he missed the stupid hand scanner beside every door.

Lance stood in the vestibule, scanning over the home as Lotor caught up. He didn’t want to ruin his reward by bolting away from Lotor, so he waited an agonizing few seconds for him to follow him.

He vibrated with excitement, “Can I look around?”

“Of course, go have fun, pet.” He rustled Lance’s hair playfully before nudging him forward.

The floors were made of wood, carpet, and ceramic, instead of the cold unfeeling metal of Galra ships. He padded along them as he made his way through every room of the house. When designing it, he had thought he had been asking for far too much. Now, seeing it all built-in person, it was definitely a lot.

It was surprisingly accurate to a human house, aside from Galra modifications and misconceptions.

Everything was a bit bigger than usual, no doubt to accommodate Lotor’s size. Despite being on the shorter side for a Galra, Lotor still stood around seven feet tall, resulting in generally sized-up furniture, appliances, and ceilings.

Overall, it was a little bare, but that was the fun of getting a home- the ability to decorate it.

It was all he had been craving for ages. The house was far from the echoing empty metal of Galra ships.

Eventually, he returned to Lotor, breathing fast with hair somehow further mussed.

“So, how do you like-?” Lotor stopped short when Lance bodyslammed him with a hug.

Lotor immediately reciprocated the hug, pulling Lance closer.

Lance murmured into Lotor’s shirt, “Thank you. It’s perfect, I love it.”

Lance hid his wet eyes in Lotor’s shirt, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“I am pleased to hear that. You deserve it, my good boy.”

Eventually, Lance pulled away.

“It is a quaint little house. You did well to design it, though, you could have gone much bigger.”

“This house is gigantic! It has five bedrooms!”

Lotor smiled at his enthusiasm, “So long as you are happy.”

“Perhaps, we should sleep here tonight. Would you like that, or would you prefer to to head back and take a bit more time to adjust, Pet?”

“Yes! Let’s stay here tonight!” He grabbed Lotor’s hand, leading him to the bedroom- having the layout memorised already.

The house came stocked with essentials, allowing the two to complete a nightly routine before settling in for the night.

When Lotor dimmed the lights, no purple ambient glow remained. Instead, pricks of light shone through the windows.

As much as he desired to stare at the view, he had plenty of time for that later.

Lance lay beside his master on their bed, settling into the new sheets and mattress, one slightly softer than the utilitarian mattress of Lotor’s ship.

The bed was comfortable, but generically scented, missing the familiarity of the one on the ship.

So, when Lotor patted his chest invitingly, Lance crawled onto him.

He listened to Lotor’s heartbeat, how it so naturally fit with the rhythm of the planet.

It all felt so natural to Lance; This planet just seemed right, and this home was correct, not the harsh militant interior of Galra ships. This is what Lance grew up with, what he was most comfortable in, but that wasn’t to say it was the same for Lotor.

He shouldn’t care what Lotor felt about the situation. After all, he was entirely responsible for this result. He shouldn’t pay Lotor any mind.

Lance swallowed.

“L- Master?” Lance spoke in a hesitant whisper.

“Yes, Pet?” Lotor threaded his fingers through Lance’s hair,

“Are you going to miss living on the ship? Did you grow up there?”

“I grew up in a segregated room in the barracks. When I was of age, I left and lived in my personal cruiser until I was strong enough to claim the throne.”

He didn’t answer his first question.

Lance had only lived there for a few movements and he was going stir-crazy, it was odd that one could grow so used to living like that.

Lance thought back to Lotor’s initial statement about the home, “Then how is this considered small?”

“As ruler, I have much more at my disposal. Though, I supposed you are used to a house, not a palace.”

Sure, they could have lived in a palace, but Lance wanted somewhere to call home. A palace would be as equally unfeeling as the ship. Besides, they’d need to staff a palace. Lance didn’t want to be waited on, he could keep the place clean himself- or Lotor could order a cleaning crew when they were to leave for diplomatic missions.

“I designed this after my parents’ house on Earth. There’s a lot of differences, but it still- it’s a lot better than the ship .” He added, “The room we’re in is my parents’ room.”

“Your parents’ room? Why not your own?” Lotor asked.

He let out a thoughtful hum. “Because I always liked theirs better. Whenever I had a nightmare, I’d run in here and hop in bed to snuggle with my mom.”

“How bold. You had free run of the house?” Lotor asked.

“I’d leave them alone when they wanted their privacy, but they didn’t mind me popping in or exploring,” Lance recalled fondly.

Lotor’s chest rumbled as he chuckled softly.

“I could not imagine touching my governess or parents without permission, nonetheless be caught prying into rooms I did not belong.”

A lump threatened to form in his throat. Lotor petted his hair, soothing the tension away.

“You’ve said that before, a governess, like a nanny?”

“Correct. My governess reared me. She would teach me, discipline me, and direct me through my daily schedule. I spent my formative years in those halls, then I returned when It was time to claim the throne and right my father’s wrongs.”

Direct supervision 24/7–Or rather 20/5, considering the imperial system of time–with a preplanned life?

Didn’t Lotor offer that to him when he first arrived? He couldn’t have imagined living with a trainer instead, someone paid to discipline and train, rather than the person responsible for his existence in the empire.

Living with a hired hand, instead of his parents.

Lance recalled his first question internally, “Are you going to miss living on the ship?”

It doesn’t sound like he liked living there in the first place.

Lance put it bluntly,“That doesn’t sound like a very good childhood…Why did you keep living there if you have to remember that every day?”

“What?” Lotor asked simply, baffled at Lance’s question.

“You don’t like living there, do you?” Lance clarified his question.

“Well, I suppose I have never considered that perspective. My life is to serve my empire. Comfort items hold little value in gaining skill or advancement.”

“You can’t mean that.”

Had he ever seen Lotor engage in a hobby? He only ever seemed to use the holoscreen for work. Sure, Lotor claimed to enjoy swordsmanship, but wasn’t that a contribution to his image of unrelenting strength?

Lance caught himself holding his breath in anticipation.

“I derive pleasure from the success of my empire. Though, I will admit, that I have been… indulging, as of lately.

“You are a necessity, and yet I feel such pleasure in your presence- far more than anticipated when I sought out a pet in the first place. Now that I have my empire back in my grasp, I should be more alert than ever. Leisure is out of the question… and yet I allow my composure to lapse with you.”

“This home is delightful; I adore it, and I adore you. Never have I given attention to such experiences. I have been long due for a change.”

He kissed Lance on the head.

What could he say to that? His brain was fried.

Lotor continued, “I did not intend to disturb your rest. Perhaps we should continue this conversation another time.”

Lance nodded into his chest.

Lance spoke softly, “I’m glad you like it. It’s your home too, now.”

Lotor let out a comforted sigh.

“Well, thank you very much, Lance.”

Lance could hear the smile on his voice, his voice rumbled soothingly in his chest, the sound akin to a pur.

And Lotor was welcome.

He couldn't imagine living there alone after all.

Chapter Text

For the first time in ages, Lance awoke to sunlight streaming through the windows.

For the briefest moment, he was certain that the past movements had all been a dream. He glanced around in a frenzy as he regained consciousness, shaking off his disorientation.

It took him a tick to reorient himself.

As much as this resembled his home on Earth, he wasn’t so foolish as to allow himself to live in the delusion.

Lance noticed another first: Lotor lay still and stiff beside him in bed- deep in sleep.

He couldn’t tell how long it had been since they had fallen asleep. There was no way to interpret the time differences without a device; perhaps Lotor was ship-lagged.

He might not be in his original home, but this was as close as he was going to get. He wouldn’t waste this opportunity moping about his situation for the millionth time.

Lance had only had a varga to explore previously- now was his chance to look around alone..

Lance carefully detangled himself from the sheets, scooting off the bed silently.

The bathroom had been stocked with necessities- who was to say it wasn’t the same for the rest of the house? Hopefully, that included the kitchen.

He tiptoed down the hall, making his way through the familiar route to the kitchen.

Sure, he’d never used galra ingredients or foreign equipment before, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him.

He’d have to have Lotor teach him the words written on the packages in the cupboard later. For now, he’d make do.

Lance tasted and combined ingredients on a whim, hoping to conjure some semblance of edible food.

Eventually, he managed to whip up something resembling pancakes.

He’d nearly finished cooking the last of the batter when Lotor strode through the door- a concerned countenance upon his face.

“Oh, there you are.” Lotor let out a sigh of relief.

“Morning!” Lance greeted.

Where else would he be?

Oh.

Lance hadn’t bothered looking for an escape route. He’d been unattended, and yet he still behaved. What was the point of misbehaving when he had just received his reward? He was going to make the most of the opportunity.

“I made breakfast!” Lance picked up a plate and held it out to Lotor.

Lotor tilted his head at Lance in a strange combination of emotions- mainly concern.

“Oh, you needn’t have done that. I could have had a meal delivered.”

“It’s not a big deal, I used to cook for my family all the time.” Lance shrugged.

“For just your family? It seems like you prepared enough to feed a small army.” Lotor chuckled.

He received the plate from Lance, placing it down on the nearby countertop immediately. He took Lance’s hands in his, scrutinizing them.

“I guess I went overboard.” Lance laughed before addressing Lotor’s behavior, “Whatcha doing?”

“Have you sustained any injuries?” Lotor asked.

“No, why would I have?”

“Perhaps it would be best not to use such technology unsupervised.” Lotor disguised the command as a suggestion.

“I probably have more experience in the kitchen than you do.” Lance huffed.

“Please, Pet, do not spoil the quintant. There is much to do today; We have big plans.” He rubbed Lance’s palm, easing him into compliance.

It was rare that Lance was left alone anyway; It didn’t matter if he required supervision since he was usually by Lotor’s side.

“Alright.” Lance vaguely accepted.

Lotor’s grip tightened, though not painfully; He didn’t necessarily believe Lance’s noncommittal dismissal of the topic.

Lance added, “Master.”

A smile drew across the emperor’s face.

“Good boy.” Lotor pressed his forehead against Lance’s for a moment.

“Thank you for the meal, Pet. It looks delicious.”

Lotor sat at the kitchen island as Lance finished cooking the rest of the batter.

When Lance pressed about the day’s coming events, Lotor politely declined, shoving pancake into his mouth to evade his pet’s questions.

Lance’s stomach growled as he watched Lotor eat. He’d been so distracted cooking that he hadn’t eaten anything- aside from the batter he’d dipped his fingers into.

Lotor’s ear twitched at the sound.

“If you are finished, come here. Sit.” Lotor urged.

When Lance pulled out a chair beside him, Lotor opted to wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him onto his lap.

He fed him bites of pancake off his plate.

“Not too bad if I do say so myself,” Lance spoke through a mouthful of pancake.

“They are delightful, Lance. Good job.” Lotor praised.

Lotor’s ear twitched.

Lotor spoke immediately after, “Perhaps it is fortunate that you prepared enough for an army.”

Then, a knock on the door. It rumbled through the house.

Lance perked up.

The last time they got an unexpected visitor, it had bitten him in the ass- literally.

Lotor seemed completely at ease as he stood, set Lance down on his feet, and approached the door; Whoever it was, was there intentionally.

Lance hurried behind him to greet the guest.

Lotor opened the door.

Guests. Plural.

A small animal slipped between Lotor’s legs, rubbing up against one before doing the same for Lance.

Before them stood Lotor’s generals, Acxa leading the way, basket in hand.

“Welcome! Do come in!” Lotor urged them inside.

The four Galra entered, each bearing food or gifts.

Zethrid ducked through the doorway last, ruffling Lance’s hair as she joined the others.

“You threw me a housewarming party?” Lance asked, smiling wide.

“Did you expect anything less of me, Pet?”

“You’re the best, Master.” Lance gave him a hug.

Lotor thanked, him petting his head affectionately before nudging him toward the others.

One by one, they scooped him into hugs, nudging him to the next general with praise and pets. Nostalgia warmed his body as he recalled the same treatment from his sisters- though they had not been nearly as large.

His body left an imprint in the exposed fur of Zethrid’s chest. He laughed as she combed it back into place with her claws.

He was certain that the grin was branded on his face by now.

First came first. Lance opened each of the gifts. It was mainly food for the occasion, with a few new electronics scattered about. Lance was certain that Lotor paid for everything, but he didn’t dare spoil the occasion with questions.

Inside one of the gifts sat bags of various Galra and foreign candy- which Lance only figured out due to the others’ translations.

Sure, their species was carnivorous, but they weren’t fully galra- maybe they’d like it if they gave it a chance. With this logic, he coerced the others into trying some with him.

Lotor was smart enough to avoid tasting a citrus candy, though the others were less fortunate.

Lance was just thankful they didn’t hack up hairballs.

All–aside from Ezor–preferred savory flavors. Lance, on the other hand, wasn’t fond of eating Galra candy- or bullion cubes as they tasted to him.

If he ever got back to Earth, he would make sure to introduce them to ramen seasoning packets.

The clear next course of action was to decide upon an activity. While Lance knew plenty of party games, he was eager to see what the Galra had to offer.

He quickly deduced that Galra party games were unsuitable for a home environment. As delusional as he was, he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could physically compete with five highly trained alien soldiers.

They attempted a few Galra wordplay games, only to discover that they rarely translated equivalently to common language.

At that point, Lance took it upon himself to decide the activities of the night.

Truth or dare grew far too sad too quickly, and two truths and a lie were far too depressing, so they resigned to playing charades.

Lance had just failed to guess that Ezor was pretending to be a “Yalmor”, –whatever that was– when every ear in the room perked up.

He looked around in bewilderment until a knock emitted from the door.

Another person? Who else would be allowed through the barrier?

Lotor failed to hold back a smirk as Lance made eye contact.

Lance had already received all he could ask for, what other surprises could Lotor have in store?

Lotor stood to receive the visitor, Lance closely in tow. The generals remained seated, unwilling to bombard the guest.

Lance gasped at the man behind the door. The man behind the door. The human.

Shiro stood stiffly at the threshold, head prematurely bowed in salute.

“Takashi Shirogane!”

The human glanced up at Lance before his eyes darted back downward, resuming the proper stance.

“Vrepit Sa, Emperor. I was informed that my presence was required at these coordinates.”

“How respectful you are. Perhaps you could teach my pet a thing or two.” Lotor laughed at the human’s proper display of formality. After Lance’s general disrespect for Lotor’s authority, it must seem comedic to see a similar creature displaying the rightful amount of respect.

When Lance huffed at the statement, Lotor pet his hair affectionately.

“You have permission to speak freely, Champion. After all, today is a joyous occasion.”

Lance pitched in, “Glad you could make it, Shiro!”

“The pleasure is mine.”

The formality of his words was a bit odd–especially since Shiro outranked him on Earth–but Lance brushed it off, he’d likely relax once he was more comfortable.

Lance moved to allow Shiro entry.

It was only once Lotor backed away from the entry that Lance noticed what was missing.

Lance tilted his head at Shiro, “Where’s your arm? The metal one, I mean.”

“I was told to come unarmed,” Shiro answered plainly.

“You took that a bit literally, didn’t you?” Lance asked.

“My artificial limb is Galra technology; it doubles as a weapon,” Shiro explained.

Lotor spoke, “You may retrieve your arm if you would like. I am not so cruel as to deny one their prosthetic.”

“Thank you, Emperor.” Shiro nodded, leaving to fetch his arm.

As soon as Shiro was out of earshot, Lance spoke to his master, “Thank you for inviting him! How many surprises did you have planned for the quintant?”

“The quintant is still young, pet.”He smiled.

Shiro returned a moment later, still missing a limb. His head hung yet again, though this time out of shame rather than respect.

“Apologies Emporer, but I left my prosthesis in my vehicle. I am unable to retrieve it without Galra assistance.”

Galra assistance? Galra technology must be able to interact with similar tech. Hadn’t he mentioned something similar the first time they’d met?

If his arm was inside the ship, did that mean Shiro essentially locked his keys in the car?

“You have a ship?” He turned to Lotor, “I want to see! Can I come to check it out?”

Lotor nodded, gesturing for Shiro to direct them to the vessel.

It was larger than a simple transport vessel. Unlike Lotor’s cruiser, which sat above ground on its landing gear, Shiro’s vessel lay flat upon the soil.

Lotor placed his palm beside the door, resulting in it opening. Shiro quickly entered the vehicle, retrieving his arm.

He replaced the arm as he exited his vessel, the arm illuminating a familiar shade of purple as it reattached.

“You didn’t tell me you had a ship.”Lance inquired, looking at the vessel in awe.

Shiro claimed to have spent his paychecks on information- he didn’t mention anything of this size.

“I have been lent an imperial habitation vessel temporarily.”

Lotor thought of everything, didn’t he?

“You were taking too long!” Ezor called, voice sing-songy, the rest of the generals in tow.

“Another human? How many of them do you need?” Axca asked.

Lance tilted his head at Lotor, harboring the same question.

“You know very well that I did not purchase him.” Lotor dismissed, running a hand over Lance’s shoulders in reassurance.

Lotor cleared his throat. “Champion, these are my most trusted generals: Acxa, Narti, Zethrid, and Ezor. Generals, this is the Champion. I am sure you are all already familiar with him.”

“His name is Shiro.” Lance clarified.

Ezor noted, “He looks bigger onscreen.”

Axca spoke, “I was under the impression your pet was simply a small human; This one is not much taller.”

“Much more muscular though; perhaps his strain is more suited to labor," Zethrid added.

“Hey- what’s that supposed to mean?” Lance asked, only mildly offended.

Lance received the most deadpan looks he had ever seen before.

He was just lean! It wasn’t fair that his physique could only be compared to militant aliens or a Mad Max astronaut.

“His skin and fur are so different to Lance’s. Can I pet him?” Ezor asked.

“It is up to him.”

Lance could see the gears turning in Shiro’s head at the question. He doubted that Shiro had often been given choices, having lived under Lotor’s father’s rule.

“Sure?” Shiro answered tentatively. Lance didn’t doubt that he agreed only to maintain the peace.

Each general took a turn to pet his hair. As much as Acxa pretended not to care, she still stroked once, as not to miss out.

Kova jumped upon Shiro’s shoulder to nuzzle him in Narti’s place.

“Perhaps we should return inside- I am certain Lance is eager to show him around.”

Zethrid spoke, “Wait, it’s not every day we get to see him outside the arena; How about a private show, Champion?”

Shiro looked to the Emperor, inquiring on whether it was an order or not.

“I did intend to reveal this later, though I suppose it cannot be helped. I summoned Shiro with the intention to hire him as a personal guard.” Lotor started.

“Hire him? You need a guard?” Lance asked.

“No, Pet. You do.”

Lance gasped. He was serious. He’d get to talk to Shiro whenever! He could share this amazing planet with someone who would appreciate it just as much!

The air tensed in anticipation.

Lotor took a step closer to Shiro, standing straight across him to make eye contact.

“Takashi Shirogane, are you loyal to the Galra Empire?”

“Yes, my emperor.”

“Are you willing to protect Lance at any cost, even your life?”

“Yes, my emperor.”

“Then, Champion, Shiro, demonstrate your skills for me so I may deem whether you are worthy.”

Shiro gave a sharp nod. “As you wish. Vrepit Sa, Emperor Lotor.”

Lance butted in, “Wait wait wait- you’re fighting? Is that necessary?”

Lotor assured him, “Not to the death, Pet. It is a display of dedication as well as a celebration of one’s commitment to the empire.”

This was important to Lotor. He wouldn’t petition.

He smiled and nodded.

Lotor gestured for them to move to an open expanse of grass.

Lance followed the generals to the sidelines. He went to sit on the grass when Zethrid pulled him onto her lap instead.

Lance cheered from the sideline as they strode to opposite sides of the field, “Kick his ass, Shiro!”

Shiro gave him a smile before settling into a preparatory stance.

Lotor shot him a sour look without much heat behind it.

Lance cheered again, “Try not to break his bones, Lotor- Master!”

Lotor smirked, quickly assuming the same stance.

Lotor allowed Shiro to strike first, easily dodging the first few.

Lance had seen Lotor fight for honor and vengeance, this was nothing like the brutal battle he had once seen. It seemed like Lotor was messing with him; he was doing as he claimed, testing him.

Without the haze of pain nor the adrenaline of rage, the fight seemed almost fun. However, he doubted that Shiro was having much fun having to challenge child-soldier militant Emporer Lotor.

The battle grew more intense as it went on.

Then, Shiro struck, hand glowing in anticipation. It was the closest he had gotten to hitting Lotor, the emperor only dodging at the last minute.

He hadn’t managed to touch any limbs, though he did catch the ends of Lotor’s hair- the ends burned off at the glance. Lance could smell the burnt hair, even at the distance he sat.

Even Shiro seemed surprised at what he’d managed.

“Quiznack!” Lotor muttered something in Galra.

Lotor acted quickly, using Shiro’s shock to catch him off guard; He used the weakness in his stance to disrupt his balance. He slammed Shiro into the ground, pinning his flesh arm to the small of his back while the metal arm lay trapped beneath him.

It was over.

Shiro spoke in seemingly perfect galra.

Lotor stood, offering a hand to the human.

“No apology necessary. You have acquired the ways of our combat satisfactorily.

“When I am unable to monitor Lance’s wellbeing, you will be responsible for protecting him.”

“Thank you, Sire. It was an honor to spar with you. He will be safe with me.”

Lotor spoke more sternly as he continued, “He is your superior, so treat him with the utmost respect- follow his commands. You are not to touch him unless he is in immediate danger.”

“Understood, Sire.”

Lance found his face warming at Lotor’s words. Sure, Lotor was simply providing instructions, but it felt like someone was being scolded. At the same time, he couldn’t help but be warmed by Lotor’s careful instruction and protectiveness.

A cocktail of mixed emotions swirled within him.

It was odd the way things turned out. The man he had looked up to, cheered for, and risked his life to save now served under him; How could it be that his childhood hero was now his bodyguard?

One of the people Lance had left his home to save now served him in the empire that took both of them, to begin with.

Though, that wasn’t to say this was the same Shiro he had learned of on Earth.

He used to be an exploration pilot. One who took ice samples and measured atmosphere constituents. Sure, he had every high score slot in the flight simulators, but that was badass in a completely different way.

This Shiro was cautious and constantly calculating. He had scars and panic responses.

Lance didn’t doubt the same thing would have happened to him–had he survived the first movement–if he had shown up a deca-pheobe earlier.

Once Lotor was finished grilling Shiro on the basics, Lance approached him.

“So, what do you think of the planet? It seems like you got pretty acquainted with it.” Lance gestured to the dirt and plant stains spattering Shiro’s clothes.

“It is wonderful. I have been felled on metal Galra floors- plush plant and dirt is much more comfortable.” Shiro smiled.

“You can take a shower here if you want.” Lance offered.

“That sounds nice, but I don’t have any clothes. I’ll just wash up later-”

Lotor stepped between them, pitching in, “Good idea, Lance. His appearance is not proper. Lance has some looser articles that will fit you. You may borrow his clothes.”

Shiro didn’t hesitate to follow the command. Lance led him to the bathroom and allowed him to cleanse himself alone.

He approached Lotor the moment Shiro shut the door,“Why were you so insistent that he change?”

“Such a pristine home should not be dirtied so quickly.” Lance raised an eyebrow at him, urging him to divulge further, “Besides, such gladiatorial attire is less than flattering. It’s a party, he should dress like it.”

It was true that his outfit wasn’t anything special, being simply a black bodysuit, but that didn't necessitate having him wear one of Lance’s bedlah outfits. Lance had long adjusted to the airy nature–it was comfortable after all–so Shiro would simply have to adapt in a moment’s notice.

While Shiro’s attire was made to provide full coverage for battle, Lance’s outfits were the complete opposite- intended to show off his “exotic” human body. .

“What, it’s not enough seeing me dress like this?” Lance asked, crossing his arms for no reason in particular.

“The girls wish to see more of him, what kind of emperor would I be if I denied such a simple request?”

“Just the girls?” Lance tilted his head at him.

“I am curious about the muscular structure of your kind, but nothing more.”

“Whatever.” Lance didn’t care. Why did he even ask? It didn’t matter to him if Lotor wanted more eye candy.

Lance turned to rejoin the others in the living room.

He bristled at the contact on his waist as Lotor snaked his arms around him. Lotor leaned down to place his chin on Lance’s shoulder.

He spoke warmly and certainly into Lance’s ear, “I assure you.”

Lance let out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding.

Lance’s tone shifted, “Well, alright.”

He pressed his forehead against Lotor’s at the odd angle they stood.

Satisfied, Lotor released one arm, the other remaining wrapped around Lance as they joined the rest of the group. When they sat, Lotor pulled him onto his lap.

Shiro was as comfortable as anticipated when he exited the bathroom; He walked stiffly and slowly, as if attempting to keep as much skin covered as possible.

Lance resisted the urge to laugh. Usually, Lance was the only one out of his element, it was nice to have someone to relate to, even if it had to be at his expense.

The generals muttered to each other as he entered the room, commenting on his coat complexion and lack of a tail.

Lotor spoke,“Very nice, Champion. I see your time in the arena paid off in your physique.” Shiro nodded rigidly at the compliment. Lotor continued, smiling at Shiro’s discomfort, “My pet took to the change so naturally, I was led to believe other humans shared the sentiment.”

When Lance had initially received his clothing, he had been so relieved that he wasn’t to wear formal dress constantly, that he’d hardly complained about his daily wear. His biggest concern had been to escape anyway; the clothes he’d been provided had hardly been an issue- as he hadn’t intended to wear them for very long anyway.

“On Earth, only a girl would wear something like this.”

Lotor continued, “This attire is to indicate status. Many will honor it and leave the wearer unharmed. Usually, it is a display of weakness/inferiority -though in my pet’s case it shows that he is above all but I. Do you view women as lower on your planet?”

“It’s an antiquated idea, but some humans do.”

A universal scoff resonated around the room.

“Odd.”

At least Galra remained consistent with their species' superiority. He supposed this group had the most say in the topic, having surpassed “pure” Galra that put them down for their heritage.

Something clicked.

Oh.

Lotor was boasting about Lance, claiming his superiority to others.

The favoritism made his intention evident:

He wasn’t attracted to Shiro, he was getting revenge for his singed hair.

Lance couldn’t help but laugh to himself.

Eventually, Lotor dismissed their guests, the quintant drawing to a close.

Lance wasn’t upset, the excitement of the day having adequately drained his energy.

Despite Lotor’s insistence that they order a subject to clean, Lance took the task himself. Lotor pitched in clumsily, clearly unused to the task.

“The party was amazing. Thank you for everything.” Lance spoke as he scrubbed the batter off a pan.

“It is nothing undeserved,” Lotor assured.

“I mean it, really. Even though Shiro was out of his element, it was nice to have him here. I’m sure he’ll be happier when he’s adjusted. I haven’t seen him so thrown off since the press conference about Laika.” Lance laughed.

Lotor tilted his head at Lance, “Press conference?”

Lance froze for a moment. He’d never told Lotor that he’d known of Shiro, had he? He’d never even mentioned why he’d been in the depths of space in the first place. He supposed this was as good of a time as ever.

“Back on Earth, Shiro was famous. He was the greatest pilot of his generation. I really looked up to him- he’d the reason I went to the Garrison in the first place to become a pilot.”

“He inspired you? That is lovely, Pet. I am glad to have united you with one you hold dear.” Lotor smiled.

Should he tell him? It was only right, wasn’t it? Lotor had shared his history with Lance, it would only be fair to do the same.

Lance put down the dish, instead facing Lotor.

“He went missing one day. I didn’t know until I met him, but he was captured on Kerberos by-”

By the Galra.

His eyes widened.

Lance corrected himself, by people like Sendak, those under the old emperor’s rule. However, there was no other way to put it.

“By Galra soldiers.”

The realization hit Lance like a ton of bricks. Sure he had glanced upon the topic before, but never had he acknowledged the truth so blatantly.

“He’s the reason I left home. My bunkmate was looking for her family, and him. If it weren’t for them, I’d still be on Earth. If I hadn’t followed him to the edge of our system, I wouldn’t be here.”

“It seems like you achieved what you set out for. You found him.”

“I guess I did.”

Pidge, Hunk, and her family were safe with Allura. Shiro had his own ship and could go as he pleased. The only one still trapped was Lance. Trapped as an inferior, on a lovely planet, in a new home, as a pet.

All he had to do was tell Shiro to leave and he’d be fine.

To leave without him. He wasn’t used to being looked at and dressed up like Lance was. He wasn’t obligated to stay. He could be free.

The empire could live on with Lance as their icon. Shiro and his friends could live a normal life.

All Lance had to do was sit pretty.

Lance froze, his thoughts disabling. He couldn’t handle this, not after everything that had happened that quintant.

He leaned his head against Lotor’s chest, allowing him to comfort him. He pet Lance, not pressuring him to speak.

“C-can we go to bed, Master?”

“Of course, Pet.”

Chapter Text

While Lance remained in their home permanently, one couldn’t say the same for Lotor.

Lance settled into his position; Lotor assumed more responsibilities as emperor. The Galra Empire required more attention than Lance did, leaving him home with Shiro more often than not.

As much as he hated to admit it, he found himself falling into his role; he couldn’t help but find himself waiting and listening for the daily telltale hum of Lotor’s ship.

Distance only fostered his fondness for the emperor. As Shiro wasn’t permitted to touch him, the only contact he received was from Lotor.

Lotor adhered to his promise of treating Lance as a pet, rather than a person(or lover); Lotor was nothing if not a man of his word–not once had he attempted to make advances on Lance–which fostered his trust, as well as his displeasure, with the alien.

Their relationship was intimate in all except name. Despite his resistance to their relationship, the boundary irritated him to no end. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

He’d rather disintegrate than tell Lotor how he felt.

This left him with one other option, the only person who could understand what it felt like to be under the control of the Galra empire.

When Lotor finally left them alone together, he vented his frustration to Shiro. It was the first time that they’ve had a chance to speak in private since Lance intruded into his room at the arena.

Lotor had left for business to an inhospitable planet. With a ruffled of Lance’s hair, he left Shiro to babysit and set off. Lance waited, listening as the hum of his ship dissipated into the atmosphere.

Only once he was certain Lotor was gone did he speak, “After all this time, he still treats me like his dog!”

Lance huffed, mulling over the sentiment as he plopped on the couch.

Shiro sat stiffly on the furniture across from him, as confused as ever.

Shiro furrowed his brow, speaking curiously,“Well, you are his property-” Shiro cleared his throat, continuing with a different train of thought, “Galra rarely change, they live by tradition, rules, and regulations. Once I had my freedom, they exchanged physical assaults for verbal ones.”

Maybe their pasts differed more than anticipated.

Lance shifted the topic, asking of Shiro’s experiences instead; Before he complained about his life, he needed to gauge how Shiro had lived.

His sudden request received an eyebrow raise, yet he obliged regardless.

As Shiro spoke of his life within the Galra empire–past and present– Lance began to doubt himself.

Shiro fought for his life quintant after quintant; Lance complained when the outfits weren’t to his liking.

Shiro survived on wit and instinct alone; Lance was hand fed on a lap.

Shiro had his arm taken; Lance had his dignity taken.

He bit the inside of his cheek. He looked away, unwilling to meet Shiro’s eye.

“You lived through all that?” It was a rhetorical question, yet Lance sought confirmation regardless.

Shiro nodded before continuing, “When the emperor freed innocent captives like myself, I didn’t know what else to do. I needed the wage to search for Sam and Matt, so I stayed.”

Lance picked at his nails as he digested Shiro’s words.

How could he have forgotten? Shiro was only there for Samuel and Matthew Holt, the other two explorers that were on the mission to Kerberos with him. They were already free in the Altean empire. He’d never told Shiro that they met -that he knew they were safe.

If he told Shiro, how long would it be until he left him? Shiro had longed for home for many more quintants than Lance. Why would he bother to stay for Lance once he had everyone he had been working to save? Even having just met Shiro in person a few movements ago, he cared for him. He had craved his attention and praise for ages, and yet Shiro hadn’t known him as a person. Now, as some glorified lapdog -how could he mean anything to Shiro? Lance was just some kid who’d strayed too far.

Lance took a deep breath, putting the thought aside.

Shiro continued, tentatively, “I survived Galra rule…but you are still enslaved.” He noted, drawing the conversation back to Lance’s present, “How does he treat you?”

Lance looked up to Shiro, making eye contact.

He hesitated to respond.

Shiro knew he was a pet- everyone did for that matter. But how could he possibly reveal that he wasn’t beaten or abused? Shiro suffered in a cell somewhere while Lance slept at the foot of the bed (until recently).

“He’s… fine. It’s like I said: he treats me like a pet.” Lance sighed.

“Yeah?” Shiro asked. He sat silently, looking calming into Lance’s eyes, his countenance nothing short of thinly veiled concern.

His silence probed Lance, urging him to continue.

“He doesn’t hurt me.” Lance admitted.

Shiro probed, “He seemed a bit… hands-on with you. Was that just for the event or…?”

Lance flushed at the question. Shiro might as well have a doll for him to point at.

Lance’s stomach tossed; He shouldn’t have brought up the subject. Shiro had so much on his plate already- he didn’t need to be concerned for Lance.

Though, he supposed it was only fair that Shiro was curious of their relationship. Lance’s guest appearance in the arena (after Sendak’s slaughter) didn’t do their relationship justice; Limping and bleeding into the sand doesn’t exactly portray any variant of a healthy relationship.

He’d be the first to admit that Lotor was a bit more protective around others. Though, that wasn't to say the usual amount was negligible by any standard.

“Well no, but it’s platonic. He doesn’t see me as anything more than his dog. In the arena, that was our first–and last–kiss.”

Shiro let out a sign of relief.

What could Shiro have experienced to lead him to think that way?

Lance shuddered.

Lance expounded, “Lotor isn’t mean per se. It’s just… being him with is degrading, especially in front of other people.”

He should anticipate that behavior from the emperor of all people, right?

He could call Lotor many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. He treated Lance exactly like the show dog he bought him to be. He claimed to own Lance solely to show him off, and his actions supported that in public. Lotor was far too inconsistent- he’d rather have a rude master than one who changed depending on the audience; how could he hate the man who imprisoned him and belittled him when that same person would lavish him with gifts and praise?

Lance huffed, “He’d still tie me to his chair if I didn’t start sucking it up and listening to him.”

Lotor didn’t manhandle him when he obeyed him. Though, that wasn’t to say he was above it after all this time.

If Lance refused to join him on ambassadorial missions, he couldn’t be sure what Lotor would do. How could he be certain that Lotor harbored any respect for him?

Nothing except compliance kept Lotor from coercing Lance the same as he’d done the first day.

Lance swallowed, guilt thick in his throat. How could he whine about playing dress up when Shiro sat across from him, scarred and mutilated?

Lance spoke anxiously, “But I’m not one to complain after what you’ve been through.”

Shiro furrowed his brow at Lance's words.

“Lance, there is no better or worse trauma. Please, don’t compare yourself to me.”

Lance gritted his teeth, noting the obvious, “You lost your arm, I lost my favorite jacket.”

Shiro gave him a soft smile, relenting, “We lost our home. We lost our freedom. We lost autonomy. Our situations are hardly different in the big picture.” he gave in, drawing a broader comparison.

His voice was gentle and low.

Lance couldn’t help but squirm in his insecurity.

Shiro was only saying this because he thought he was stuck with Lance. When he found out that he can simply leave–return home accomplished having met and survived aliens–he’ll pack up without looking back.

It was oddly reassuring. He could say anything to Shiro- if Lance’s feelings disgusted him, it didn’t matter; Lance wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of seeing Shiro everyday. Before the quintant came to a close, he’d tell Shiro the truth. He couldn’t let Shiro worry about his companions any longer- even if it meant letting him leave so soon after reuniting with him. For now, he’d stand by his statement.

“You fought for your life.” Lance argued.

“As did you. I’m certain you defended yourself with the same ferocity.” Shiro insisted.

Shiro was right. Lance had defended himself from the start- regardless of the consequences, he had attempted to leave.

Lance’s eyes grew damp.

Shiro moved to sit beside Lance on the couch.

“I- Thank you. You didn’t need to say all that.” Lance scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. He’d never been good at accepting praise.

“I did. You deserve to know.”

If he accidentally convinced Shiro that Lotor was a poor owner then he’d feel a moral obligation to stay. Lance began assuring him, silencing his sniffles.

“But, you don't have to worry about me, alright? Lotor's a lot more tolerable than when he first bought me. I've been trying to keep my distance.” He hummed to himself in thought, “Though, It’s like every time he holds me, I forget everything he’s ever done wrong. He’s prissy and regal and full of himself and- determined and striking.” Lance huffed, far less reassuring than intended.

Shiro pressed his lips into a line, considering Lance’s words.

“Lance? Don’t take this the wrong way, but- are you in love with him?”

“What? No! Of course not! I don’t like being his dog.”

Shiro’s eyes widened, “That's fine! I shouldn't have asked!”

He supposed it wouldn't hurt to speak his mind. He couldn't be honest with himself, but maybe he could speak his mind with Shiro, someone who he didn't have to face everyday.

Lance spoke tentatively, “I don't like being dressed up and paraded around but… It's nice to feel wanted. He's not a bad guy, he's just misguided.”

Lance could fix him. Right?

“How did you…?” Lance asked, tilting his head at Shiro.

“You just don't seem to hate him. I want to look out for you; We have to stick together, Lance.”

His stomach turned inside him.

Lance rushed to respond, “No- well. I-”

He couldn't withhold the information any longer. After revealing as much as he had, Lance didn't feel so bad about letting Shiro go. It was just another story to unload to his government assigned therapist one he got back to Earth.

Lance mulled over what he was to say, biting his tongue when he couldn't quite find the words.

“Is something wrong?”

“Shiro. You don’t have to stick with me. Samuel and Matthew Holt are free. They’re on Earth and Altea respectively. My friends, the ones who came with me to find you, are with Matt. There’s no reason for you to stay here.”

Shiro froze for a moment, processing Lance’s words.

“They’re alright? Lance, this is amazing news!”

His body language opened for a tick before he hesitated.

When he didn’t follow through, Lance spoke, “You can touch me, I won’t tell Lotor.”

Shiro scooped him into an embrace.

“I can’t believe it! That means you’re the only one left! That makes it all so much easier!”

“Shiro don’t- don’t you get it? You can leave! If I leave, there will be people after me. The empire will hunt me down. You can be free.”

Despite urging Shiro to leave, he held on tighter.

Shiro didn't let him go.

“What are you saying, Lance? You want me to leave you behind?”

“No- no… I just. I know how long you’ve waited for this. It’s not fair for me to keep you here.” Lance explained, voice shaking.

“No man left behind. You’re coming with me. You don’t deserve to be here more than anyone else. I’m not leaving a teenager alone in space. I lost my team once, I won’t let it happen again.” Shiro spoke with utmost determination.

He wasn’t going to leave him? He was staying? He had nothing to stay for but Lance- that couldn’t possibly be enough for him. Yet, he insisted it was.

Lance trembled, mind overflowing with sentiment.

The floodgates broke; tears streamed down Lance’s cheeks fervently. He swallowed hiccups as he pushed his face into Shiro’s shirt.

His flesh hand ran up and down Lance’s back.

“You're alright. I’m not gonna leave you. I swore to protect you, didn’t I?”

Lance nodded into his shirt.

His breathing evened out as he matched Shiro’s pace.

“You feel any better? I bet that’s been on your mind for a while, huh?” Shiro asked.

Lance nodded again.

Then, something niggled at him. Something was off.

Lance perked an ear up.

That hum. Lotor was back already? Lotor was back!

“He’s back already! Shit! If he sees that I’ve been crying, he might think you’ve done something wrong!”

Lance squirmed out of the embrace. He stood and glanced side to side, looking for something that could fix their situation.

“Do you want a cold spoon or something?” Shiro offered

There wasn’t any human sized silverware, nonetheless anything to cool them quick enough.

“That wouldn’t work. I need to hide my face until it goes back to normal.” Lance paced the floor.

Then, he stopped in his tracks, “I’ll fake a nap. You can stand guard from outside!”

All he had to do was hide under the blankets-

Lotor’s ship hummed near. He didn’t have any longer to think his plan through.

Lance darted up the stairs on all fours.

He slammed the bedroom door shut as quietly as possible.

His heart pounded as he slid beneath the covers. Not another moment passed before the front door opened.

Lance couldn’t quite make out the conversation between them. A pang of guilt hit him for having left Shiro alone with Lotor. Shiro was awkward enough with Lance there to emotionally support him.

He perked up an ear, listening intently until solid footsteps drew near -thudding steadily up the stairs.

He stuffed his face into the pillow.

Lotor opened the door slowly, footsteps now silent.

He let out a content sigh. He could barely make out the sound of the blinds shutting one by one.

Then, Lance could feel his presence beside him.

He ran his hand over Lance’s hair a few times before leaving the room. The door shut without a click, the mechanism sliding into place silently.

Just outside the bedroom door Lotor spoke, “I see he is still intact. Very good.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

“Have you partaken of a Galra fermentation in your time here?”

“No, Sire.”

“Then, stay, celebrate the end of your first official day on the job.”

Shiro responded with a hair of hesitance, “No, thank you. I would not want to impose.”

“Stay a dobash, speak with me. Come, I insist.” He urged Shiro, his order thinly veiled behind the guise of an attentive host.

“Of course, thank you, Sire.”

Their voices dithered out as they scaled the stairs.

He wanted him to stay and chat?

His better judgement whispered, compelling him to follow the plan–play possum and wait for his face to clear the blotchiness of his skin– but his curiosity screamed at him to find out.

He slipped out of bed. He opened the door gently, peaking through the crack. The coast was clear.

He snuck to the fence at the top of the stairs, angling himself so he could catch a glimpse of where they sat.

Shiro served the drinks, pouring himself a sample size before turning to the emperor’s glass.

Lance huffed silently, wondering why he’d never been offered a drink. Aside from the sip at the Gala, he hadn’t sat beside Lotor for the same formality.

Shiro poorly restrained a cough at the flavor.

Lotor chuckled as Shiro composed himself.

“Not a fan?”

The poor flavor lingered on Shiro’s words, “A savory iron flavor, interesting. It is not one usually found in Earth beverages.”

Lotor hummed in acknowledgement before speaking, “I would have to agree with you. I prefer a dilution of a saccharine Altean spirit.”

Lotor gestured for him to dilute both glasses. He did so without hesitation. He took a sip of his glass contentedly, pleased with the current contents.

Lotor began, intention heavy in his voice, “Lance informed me that you had quite a reputation on Earth. It is commendable, to be one who can establish themselves wherever they so choose.” He complimented, swirling his glass and gazing at Shiro through the legs.

Shiro accepted the compliment, drinking his refreshment at a rate that was not socially acceptable.

“He adores you- far more than anticipated. Do keep in mind that his safety and happiness is your utmost priority. I will not have him shedding tears over trivial matters. See to it that you maintain his comfort.”

Lotor was referring to the night before, wasn’t he? It wasn’t Shiro’s fault that Lance was torn. As much as he wanted to butt in, to defend Shiro, he was far more curious. He could always clear up the confusion afterwards -Lotor wouldn’t do anything rash in the meantime.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Very well. It seems I have made the correct choice in you; You seem to have quite a way with him; Tell me, Champion, have you any spouse or kits where you come from? You have permission to speak freely.”

“I mentored a kid back on Earth. He was about the same age as Lance, now that I think about it.”

“Does my Lance remind you of him?”

Shiro chuckled, “Almost. Lance is better at finding humor in unlikely places- Keith is much broodier when he doesn’t get what he wants. Though, they’re certainly both headstrong.”

“I would have to agree.” Lotor nodded at his observations of Lance.

Shiro proceeded tentatively, “Keith would… act out if I kept him on a short leash -figuratively speaking, I mean. When I trusted his judgement, his behavior improved.”

Lotor raised an eyebrow.

“Are you implying something?”

“I’ve learnt your ways from those who kept me. Galra show affection with tough love; They force you to face the worst for fear that others may do the same. For humans, when someone is overprotective, they don’t see care, they believe you deem them incompetent.”

“Lance has adapted quite well since his first day. He has no such resentment.”

“He’s confused- getting mixed signals. Reasonably so, too -People don’t exactly kiss their pets like that where I come from.”

Lance’s breath hitched. He slapped his hands on his mouth to silence himself.

“He will come to terms with his role as my pet, nothing more. He is the happiest he has ever been with me.”

“He’s pacified, for now. If you want to own him then act like an owner; If you’d rather love him, then don’t treat him like he’s your dog-”

Lotor interjected, voice brisk, “You know not of what you speak, Human.”

Shiro’s eyes widened as if realizing with whom he conversed. His gaze turned downcast, contrite.

“I apologize if I’ve overstepped, Sire. My job is to protect Lance and I indent to do so to the best of my abilities.”

Then Lotor’s hard expression dissolved. It was difficult to make out in the distance, but Lotor seemed almost impressed.

“Perhaps I underestimated your knowledge of my culture. You stand your ground with honor.”

Shiro relaxed at Lotor’s pleased reaction.

“It seems our goals align. However, do keep in mind who his keeper is.”

“Yes Sire.”

“How well mannered you are. My pet is much less polite.” He chuckled at the comparison, “Now, do go on- what else have you learned from your time here? It is not every quintant that I get a new perspective on my culture.”

He felt like he should be offended, though it was true. Lance was the minimum amount of respectful that he could get away with.

“I was trained in mainly hand to hand combat. With my prosthetic, they found little use for swordsmanship.”

“That is a pity -your form is excellent. I do not doubt that you would take to the art naturally. Perhaps you should join Lance for sparring. He could certainly use a partner of his caliber.”

“You let him fight?”

“He defends himself valiantly without prior training. One can only imagine his feats if all that energy was directed into something more… constructive.”

“Of course. He does seem…” Shiro lowered his voice.

He seemed what? Lance couldn’t just let them gossip -in his own house too!

Lance drew closer, curious for more.

He still couldn’t quite make it out.

He took another step.

Creak.

He froze.

Shit. This was a new house -why would there be a creak?

“Lance.” Lotor called, “You’re awake? Come here.”

The jig was up. Lance was going to fire every single construction worker that made this house.

He held in the biggest sigh he had ever felt.

Lance descended the stairs, pretending he hadn’t been caught.

“I just woke up- I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Nonsense. Come, sit. We were discussing Shiro’s first quintant on the job.”

Shiro scooted over on the couch, an unspoken invitation.

Lotor’s eyes flicked to other human. As much as Shiro learned of Galra culture, human etiquette still reigned. He hoped Lotor didn’t take offense.

He opted to sit with Lotor. It was the obvious choice.

“There’s plenty of room on the couch, maybe I should just-” Lance motioned to the empty spot beside Lotor.

There was a difference between sitting pretty at a party and doing so at home with few others.

Lotor tilted his head at Lance’s suggestion.

“You know better than to disobey, Pet. Sit.” Lotor reiterated, tone light despite his words.

Lance did as he was told.

“Good boy. Here, have a sip.”

He accepted the offer, drinking eagerly. Maybe the beverage would dull his embarrassment.

Lance never received his own glass, rather, instead, Lotor shared his.

Each time Lance so much as glanced at the beverage with desire, Lotor would offer a sip.

Lotor either didn’t notice Lance’s still slightly puffy eyes, or didn’t acknowledge them.

Lance counted that as a win in his book.

At the end of the night, Lotor dismissed Shiro, allowing him to take both bottles back to his ship on the promise that he would not consume them on the job.

“After the way my people have treated you, you could certainly use it more than me.” Lotor semi-jested.

That night, he slept the best he had in a while.

He could not decide what lulled him to sleep the best.

Perhaps it was the effects of the beverage, Lotor having given him plenty of water to counteract it. It might have been the contentment of Shiro’s reliability; the fact that Shiro swore against abandoning him. Maybe it was the heat of Lotor’s body, and the admittance that it was as comfortable as he had denied until now.

Whatever it was, he’d deal with in the morning.

Chapter Text

“When you mentioned a daily uniform, this is not exactly what came to mind.” Lance mumbled.

Lance peered into the box, tilting his head at the contents.

A Galra soldier had knocked on their door moments ago, carrying a parcel. Lance, still not permitted to answer the door, waited on baited breath as Lotor received it and sent the bearer away.

“What’s in it?” Lance had asked, unable to read the large Galra characters on the side.

“For once, it is not for you, Lance.” Lotor tutted.

Shiro, usually sentenced to his own home while Lotor was present, received Lotor’s summon, arriving at their home in moments.

“Your uniform has arrived, do test the fit. It is not too late to make alterations.” Lotor shoved a small neat black bundle into his hands, sending him to the bathroom.

Now, Lance rooted through the contents while Shiro changed into his new under-suit.

The alien leaned against the kitchen island while his human sat cross legged on the floor.

“How else do you suppose he is to protect you without proper protective equipment?” Lotor asked rhetorically.

Lance picked up a piece of Shiro’s armor, admiring his reflection in the breastplate.

“I don’t know, maybe with the magic glowing arm.” Lance barely restrained the bite in his voice.

He angled the plate toward Lotor, quickly tilting away when he caught the reflection of Lotor’s raised eyebrow.

He couldn’t bring himself to care if he displeased Lotor with his tone- Lance had a right to be irritated.

“Is something the matter, Pet?” He asked, voice firm.

Lotor wasn’t in the mood for Lance’s remarks, but when had that ever stopped him?

“Why don’t I get a set of armor too? My ‘uniform’ is a glorified brothel outfit.” Lance complained.

“Your friend has higher priority, Pet. This is necessary for him to fulfill his duties as your guard.” Lotor paused. It seemed as if he had more to say.

Lance didn’t dignify it with a response.

Lotor spoke again after a moment of hesitation, “You look charming in your formal wear. Do not feel dismayed by it.”

Lance clenched his jaw. Lotor was hiding something.

“You and Shiro get to look like warriors, and I’m a fragile little flower sitting at your side. It’s not fair.” Lance huffed.

Lotor had promised him a set of armor first, after all. It was only right that he received one as well.

He worried he had gone too far when Lotor took a step closer to him.

Lotor threaded his fingers through Lance’s hair as he spoke, “You are correct. It is not fair that my citizens must work to provide for their families, while you get to live a life of leisure.”

Lance couldn’t tell if the contact was an appeasement, or a show of authority.

“I just- I’m just tired of being treated like I’m some lesser being.” Lance huffed, certainly not pouting.

Lotor sighed, relenting, “I do not want you to put yourself in harm's way. You are far too bold to be trusted with a suit of armor.”

He couldn’t be trusted? That’s what this was about? Lance was trustworthy! If he had protection, he’d be unstoppable. Shiro shouldn’t be the only one who got to fight and defend himself; What if some creep like Sendak came again? He couldn’t just sit by and watch as Shiro put his life on the line-

Oh.

He supposed that was Lotor’s reasoning, wasn’t it?

Just as Lance began to conjure a retort, Shiro exited the bathroom.

“I can’t tuck this under my prosthetic with one hand.” Shiro fretted, face slightly blush with exertion.

The bodysuit fit perfectly, aside from the cut sleeve that dangled around his removed arm.

“Perhaps it would be best to modify the design; You may not always have others around when you are to dress.” Lotor noted.

Before Lotor could assist Shiro, Lance stood and rushed to him, assisting to attach his arm without loose fabric dangling around it.

“That looks much better than your old one!” Lance complimented, “Now all you need is the plates.”

He turned back to the box, grabbing the piece that sat at the top.

“How does this attach?” Lance asked, holding up the breastplate. It lacked straps or any visible way to equip it.

Lotor took the piece from Lance's hand to point at the markings on the reverse side.

“Shiro can simply press it to suit and it will remain in place until one chooses to remove it.” Lotor instructed. He held the plate out to Shiro pointedly.

Lance didn’t hesitate to take the plate instead and push it into Shiro’s chest.

“Oh cool!” Lance poked at the conjunction of metal and suit, testing the strength of the binding agent.

Lotor cleared his throat. His eyes bore into the spot where Lance’s hand rested on Shiro’s chest.

“That is not necessary. Allow him to dress himself, Pet.”

“Fine.” Lance snapped, removing his hand as if the metal burned him, “We’ll be right back, Shiro!” Lance said.

Lance didn't gesture for Lotor to follow, gesturing for Lotor to come with him.

Once they were alone, Lance posed the question that had been niggling at him all quintant.

“What is up with you this quintant?” Lance asked. “I thought you liked Shiro -what’s with the hostility?”

“He is not to touch you. I have made that clear on multiple occasions.”

“I touched him, not the other way around.”

Of course, leave it to Lotor to get pissy with the only other person on the planet that could understand his situation.

So what if he touched him? He’s touched Lotor’s generals before- there was no difference.

Maybe this could work to his advantage; Sure, Lance didn’t see Shiro in that way-but Lotor didn’t know that.

Lance restrained his smug countenance; Lotor would admit that he saw Lance as a lover, not just as some stupid pet- Then he’d demand the respect he deserved as an equal being. Of course, it wasn’t like they could start a real relationship at that point–Lance still had reservations about the entire “holding him captive” thing–but who knew, maybe he’d get a bit more sway in making choices.

If Lance had any money, he’d be getting Lotor some therapy sessions for… Whenever his birthday was- then maybe he’d start to work on those issues with being in control-

“I do not want you catching any ailment from him. He lived among the swill for many pheobs, one does not know what illnesses he may have acquired.” Lotor interrupted his train of thought, speaking abruptly.

That was a bold face lie! Wasn’t Galra technology “superior” enough to eliminate any transmittable human diseases?

“We have an important quintant tomorrow and I will not have you be at anything less than the pinnacle of human condition. Next quintant is the three thousandth anniversary of the founding of the Galra Empire.” Lotor changed the subject.

He threw up his arms in bafflement, “That’s complete bogus! Shiro doesn’t have- Wait, what?”

“A celebration is to occur on the primary habitation vessel. I did not want to cause you any undue concern before the time arrived for us to attend.”

“I feel like this is definitely ‘due for concern’! Why didn’t you warn me ahead of time?” He crossed his arms.

Lotor’s voice grew stern, “As I said, you would have been fretting over the obligation had I informed you any sooner. I am simply attempting to keep you safe, as is my responsibility as your Master.”

Lance wasn’t winning this argument. He’d try again when Lotor was in a better mood.

“Geez, okay. Fine.” Lance huffed, dismissing the conversation.

“What was that?” Lotor spoke, voice firm.

“Yes, Master.” He restrained as much grit in his words as physically possible.

Lotor’s expression softened at the obedience.

“Good boy.” He pet Lance’s head.

“Is Shiro coming to the event with us?”

“No.” Lotor answered far too quickly for Lance’s liking.

Now was not the best time to ask for something, but he didn’t have time to waste.

“Can we take him with us? Please? What if you need to use the restroom or something and I’m left all alone?”

“You will be in a public area, no one would dare lay a finger on you, even if I looked away for a moment.” Lotor insisted.

Lance shuddered, the memory of the previous event coming to him.

He started tentatively, “Last time, when you left to dance with the Empress, Sendak laid many fingers on me. He poured his drink down my throat and told me what he wanted to do to me.”

Lotor’s pupils dilated.

“What? You tell me this now?” Lotor’s face went a deep purple.

He looked as if he wanted to resurrect Sendak for the sole purpose of killing him again.

Lance flinched, taking a step back.

Lotor’s eyes went wide, realizing his impression on his pet.

Lotor took a deep breath, a slight shudder in his exhale.

“I suppose it is of no harm to permit extra protection at the event.”

He cupped Lance’s face, his own returning to its usual shade of purple.

“So long as you do not hide anything from me again.”

Lance hummed an agreement.

Lotor pressed their foreheads together.

After a few moments, Lance spoke again.

“Can we go check on Shiro now?”

“Of course, Pet.” Lotor led the way back.

In the living room, Shiro stood inspecting his appearance in a mirror.

A lightbulb appeared over Lance’s head, so bright, that he was surprised it did not gleam in Shiro’s armor. He didn’t need to touch Shiro to prove his point. He had already gotten what he wanted, what was wrong with prodding Lotor a bit more?

“Wow! That looks good on you!”

It wasn't exactly a lie, the outfit was definitely an improvement from the shoddy undersuit that he wore before.

“You think so? I was worried I looked out of place in it.” Shiro scratched the back of his neck.

“Nah, you look gallant! Ready to kick alien butt!” He looked to Lotor for a moment, “No offense.”

Lotor seemed to ignore his final statement, instead, commenting on the first, “Previously, you claimed to find armor cold or intimidating.” Lotor spoke, less of a question than anticipated.

The energy in the room changed. Despite the lack of lighthearted vibes, Lance continued to speak as he was.

“Well, yeah, when it’s digging into my stomach or pinning me against the wall, I have a right to be afraid.” Lance laughed.

He paused for a minute before adding, “Shiro looks noble.”as opposed to you. The last part went unsaid. He didn’t have a death wish, after all.

He swore he could see sweat beading on Shiro’s skin. His countenance remained neutral, but his eyes pleaded with Lance to stop talking.

“Perhaps I should don mine more often if that is what it would take you to behave.” Lotor’s light tone did not match his words.

Maybe he went too far. He didn’t want to piss him off, just make him a bit more grateful for Lance’s usual attention.

“But then it wouldn’t be as comfortable to sit on your lap.” Lance attempted to appease him.

“That should not be an issue, since you seem so eager to sit on the floor from now on.”

Oh shit.

Lotor turned to Shiro, “This is the perfect opportunity to test out your armor. Come, we shall spar.”

Oh shit.

Sorry Shiro.

Lotor grabbed a bundle of something before ushering them outside.

He spread the blanket out on the ground, gesturing for Lance to sit before they assume positions.

Occasionally, in the movements since Shiro’s arrival, Lotor had sparred with him. While Shiro had other instructors, Lotor found it in his best interest to ensure that his techniques were up to his standards. Light, informative battles had taken place since then.

This was not one of them.

Lotor did not go easy on Shiro.

The grass-like plant tore beneath their feet. Clods of dirt unearthed as Shiro slammed into the ground time after time.

Lance cringed as watched on.

At one point, he rose, attempting to stop the training early. As soon as he made the movement to stand, Lotor shot him a look. He mouthed the word “stay” with such intensity that Lance dropped back onto the blanket without hesitation.

Eventually, Lotor finished, allowing him to stand before instructing him, “You may return to your quarters to clean up. Do tend to your armor as well. It should be cleaned and polished by the next quintant. You will receive instructions on how to proceed to the tomorrow’s event later this quintant.”

Shiro seemed confused at the last part, but dared not question it.

Shiro left with a salute, shooting Lance a pitying look.

Shouldn’t Lance be the one pitying him? He was the one who had to deal with Lotor’s frustration. Lance only had to… spend the rest of the night–or rather, his life–with him.

He sent Shiro a wave, unsure if he was released from the blanket.

Lotor approached him not a moment later, face marred with that stupid smug smirk of his.

He offered a hand to Lance. Lance was tempted to smack it away but resisted the urge.

“You didn’t need to beat him up so badly.”

Lotor gathered the blanket.

“His vessel has regenerative technology; he will be in proper form by morning.” Lotor dismissed his concern.

Lance didn’t say anything, instead, following Lotor back into their house.

When they had arrived back in the kitchen, he acknowledged Lance’s expression.

“Did I not win your favor?” He asked.

“No, you didn’t. On my planet, it’s rude to beat up other people’s friends.”

“He should be grateful that he received training from the foremost in the subject. Why do you still resist? I displayed I am of a greater strength than he- how many more must I fell until you are satisfied?”

Lance spoke with exasperation, “I would prefer if you didn’t hurt anyone! It’s not necessary!”

“You are an odd being. Can you not see that I am attempting to show-” Lotor paused, considering his words.

Shiro’s words echoed in his mind, “Galra show affection through tough love.”

Lotor continued, frustration evident in his voice, “You were admiring that human; I had to defend my claim on you! How else can I prove my intentions to you?”

“Maybe by using your words!”

Lotor spoke, “In my empire, actions speak louder than words.”

Lance huffed. If he wanted action, he’d get action.

He crawled onto the counter.

“Pet, what are you-?”

When he drew close enough, he butted his forehead against Lotor’s- it might have been slightly more of a headbutt than the usual tap, but it got his point across nonetheless.

“Shiro isn’t a threat, okay? I appreciate you mentoring him, but please don’t be so hard on him.

“I might not understand Galra customs, but I know you had good intentions… despite the execution of them.”

Lance wasn’t quite sure if “good” was the correct word, but the statement stood.

Lotor’s smile shone through his words, “I could not ask for a better pet, could I?”

He wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist, pulling him forward and scooting him until he settled on his hip.

“Nope!”

Chapter Text

As attentive as Lance was, it took him by surprise when he realized the event was of Galra origin. Sure, this was the anniversary of the Galra empire, but he didn’t connect the dots that Lotor would be the host.

Lance was not trained to provide emotional support.

Previously, he could keep his head down and hope not to be noticed; This time, he had no choice but to be the center of attention, seated obediently at the side of his “Master”.

At least the other events had diverse attendees; Lance couldn’t help but pay attention to the sheer amount of Galra at the event. He cringed at the thought of their leers; His few interactions with full-blooded Galra had been consistently unpleasant. In his raised position, they towered over him a bit less.

He didn’t anticipate being thankful for the raised dais they sat upon. It offered a layer of protection from the guests. Did Lotor arrange this position to give Lance some peace of mind?

Despite his protection, Lance couldn’t feel more exposed.

His veil added a much-needed level of anonymity. When attendees greeted Lotor, he simply kept his head down and tucked his mind elsewhere.

As uncomfortable as Lance felt, on display before hundreds of Galra (among few other species), Shiro appeared tenfold.

By his side, Lotor sat upon his throne, on his other side, Shiro stood stiffly.

He shouldn’t have insisted that Shiro join them. As nice as it was to have company, Shiro didn’t need any more white hairs.

Lance leaned to Shiro, tapping on his greaves and whispering to avoid attention, “If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay. I’m sure he’d let you take the ship back.”

Lotor owned the entirety of the empire, he could certainly get a space Uber back home. The concept of commandeering a ship had to exist in Galra society.

Shiro smiled fondly upon Lance. His hand reached forward instinctively, as if to touch the other, but retreated as fast as it descended.

“I’ll be alright. Judgemental glances are preferable to the usual bloodlust in their eyes.” Shiro insisted.

Despite his assurance, Lance’s unease only increased. His stomach flopped at the memory of the Galra’s eyes on him in the arena; Lance could recall their gazes all too well.

As much as he desired to ask Lotor to let them leave, the emperor could not simply abandon their empire’s anniversary event.

It was only when he spotted Empress Allura that he got Lotor’s attention. As much as he respected him, he would perish before he chose to call him “Master” before a crowd of hundreds. He chose a less embarrassing approach; Lance nudged his head into Lotor’s hand.

Lotor smiled, petting Lance’s hair before he addressed him, “Yet, Pet?”

“Can we go say ‘hi’?” Lance asked.

“No,” Lotor spoke without hesitation.

“No?” Lance asked, furrowing his brow. He mouthed the word the same as he would for a new Galran vocabulary term. It had been a while since Lotor blatantly denied him with such ease.

“You heard me.” Lotor continued with reassurance, “They will approach us in due time. It is socially acceptable to greet the host at an event of this magnitude.”

Lance restrained his huff. He only nodded in confirmation when Lotor looked to him for a response.

Then Lotor’s eyes fell past him, to the other human.

“Is he… Stable?” Lotor asked, gesturing to Shiro.

Lance followed his gaze.

Shiro’s countenance morphed from frustration to devastation to complete bafflement- as well as every emotion in between.

Oh, right, Shiro hadn’t seen other humans in ages.

Lance followed his line of sight, landing on not the princess, nor the soldiers, but the comparatively small human standing among them.

“Lance. Is that…?” Shiro dared not complete the sentence.

When he looked closer, he noticed a different countenance settling on his face.recognition.

Not just the recognition of the human species, but that human specifically.

Did he know Keith?

They were both at the Garrison at the same time.

Lotor cleared his throat. He had asked a question- the longer he waited, the more suspicious it seemed.

Any connection to Allura could incriminate her. He hoped Shiro had enough sense to think the same.

Lance was a horrible liar, so he stuck to the truth.

“I’m the only other person he’s seen in movements. He’s bound to be surprised.”

Shiro caught the eye of Keith, whose veiled face revealed little. The human tugged at Allura’s sleeve before nodding toward the dais.

As much as he desired to see them again, he’d prefer the circumstances to be more in his favor.

“Emperor Lotor! A pleasure to meet your acquaintance yet again.” Allura greeted.

Keith stood beside her, bowing appropriately.

Lance nodded at them, unwilling to speak through his humiliation.

Shiro glanced at Lotor, requesting dismissal without the disrespect of a verbal bid.

“My guard, Takashi Shirogane has met no other humans than my own. Perhaps we should allow them to meet an acquaintance.” Lotor suggested.

“Of course. I am nothing if not generous.” Allura assured, ushering them off, “Keith knows not to wander off. They can speak with one another if they desire”

Shiro stepped down from the dais with a salute, following Keith into the crowd.

Of course, Lance was left to do the civil work. A “lesser” human-like Shiro could leave, but not a “respected” pet such as Lance.

He sat pretty as his “Master” discussed current events with Allura.

Eventually, she was dismissed to interact with other members of the party.

As jealous as he was of Shiro, he didn’t complain.

After a while, Shiro broke from the group to return to his post. There was no doubt that Shiro desired to speak for longer–Lance felt the same way when he had first met Shiro–but Lotor didn’t pay him to stand around and chat.

Lance wasn’t getting paid to do the same–if not more, considering he tolerated playing dress up for Lotor–amount of work as Shiro.

Could Lance have been asking for an allowance this entire time? What would he even buy? This society was high-tech enough to have online shopping, he could-

“Are you listening to me?” Lotor broke his train of thought, looking down at Lance expectantly.

“Sorry?” Lance asked, quirking an apologetic smile.

Lotor cocked an eyebrow at Lance.

The familiar countenance irritated him.

“Sorry, what was that, Master?” he ameliorated.

“Your guard is returning. After standing at attention for this long; He deserves a seat, does he not?” Lotor reiterated.

“Yes, Master,” Lance asked, tilting his head in an attempt to discern his intention.

“Then he can have yours. Come, up.”

He patted his lap for emphasis. Lance wanted to bite the hand, but that would only prove Lotor’s point.

“Isn’t Shiro supposed to be keeping guard?”

“I can be lenient -this is a celebration after all. Besides, there is no place safer than my lap.”

Lance leaned in closer, lowering his voice.

“There’s a lot of people here… Do we really have to do that in public?”

“Do not argue with me- especially not in public, Pet. Allow me to comfort you.”

As much as he appreciated the sentiment, being on display for hundreds of Galra was not his idea of “comfort”

When Lance hesitated to obey, Lotor asked, “You are aware this is the reason I purchased you?” The question was rhetorical with a hint of genuine curiosity.

He already knew that- to a certain extent. That doesn’t mean he was fond of it.

As much as he wanted to save his remaining scraps of dignity, now was not the time.

He crawled onto Lotor’s lap.

Lotor pet his hair, praising him for his obedience.

“See, all is well, Pet. You are safe with me. Be at ease.” He assured.

As much as Lance appreciated the attention, he despised the public display greater.

When Shiro arrived at the front of the room, Lotor instructed him to sit on Lance’s cushion.

Lance flashed him a sad look before clearing realizing Shiro couldn’t see through the veil.

Shiro did not hesitate to follow orders.

Shiro somehow managed to appear stiff and uncomfortable on a pillow of the finest pillow GAC could buy.

His attention returned to Lotor when a hand stroked his hair. He scratched at Lance’s scalp, gently, making sure to graze the places he loved the most.

He leaned in to whisper to him, “You are behaving so well for me. I could not ask for a better pet, could I?”

As much as he despised the public’s attention, he appreciated Lotor’s attempts to alleviate his fears.

“You better not be asking for one,” Lance muttered, words lighthearted.

Lance purposefully relaxed his muscles, attempting to shake off his tense feelings.

This time, when guests approached the Emperor, he was at the forefront of the interaction.

No longer could he block out their words.

“Vrepit Sa, Emperor.” The guest began with a bow, “It is an honor to be in your presence, especially in the promising burgeoning of your reign.”

“Your adulation is appreciated. I thank you for attending.”

“How could I not? Therewithal, I could not possibly miss the chance to glance upon your trinket; it is a ravishing specimen. Its decadence certainly accommodates for such brief respites in a position such as yours.”

Lotor’s grip firmed in his hair.

The emperor agreed with his statement, flourishing with words of civility and appreciation before dismissing him.

Lotor’s emphasis on his importance had always seemed embellished.

But this was the truth, wasn’t it? Lotor was a workaholic.

“You are thinking too hard, Pet. Do attempt to relax.” He stroked down Lance’s back, attempting to soothe him.

“Sorry,” Lance muttered.

More attendees approached the emperor one by one to greet the host. One by one they commented on him.

“It is quite slim. Is it undeserving of a plump form?” A Galra asked, not disrespectfully.

“I assure you he is well fed.” Lotor returned.

More comments came, some met with Lotor’s own words of deprecation.

Shiro received fewer observations; They spoke of Lotor’s ability to “pacify the Champion”.

At a certain point, Lotor began to offer him treats. He couldn’t distinguish if it was Lotor’s idea, or rather if it originated in the remarks he received.

Lance had nearly fallen asleep on Lotor again by the time they were able to leave.

It was only when they returned home that Lance considered voicing his grievances. He awaited his opportunity, far too tired to initiate a conversation

Lotor assisted him with dismantling his outfit before cleansing them both.

They lay on the couch, Lotor playing with Lance’s hair as he savored his success.

“You behaved very well at the party.” Lotor praised, “I understand it was a lot of attention for you to handle, so consider me pleased with you.”

Lance mustered the words he’d been thinking all night, “I don’t like how they talk about me or look at me. It feels gross.”

Lotor cooed, “Oh, I know. It is the unfortunate reality of your position.”

But why did it have to be? Why wasn’t he deserving of respect?

He didn’t ask anything aloud, certain to already know the answer: Because he was a pet- an object to the Galra Empire- and to the Emperor himself. He was frustrated from a long day. It wasn’t worth starting a big discussion, not with how accomplished Lotor felt nor how fatigued he felt.

“Is there anything you desire as a reward?” Lotor offered.

Lance had anything he could ever want here–entertainment, outdoors, plenty of treats–and while he considered it home, it didn’t feel like it.

Aside from Lotor, it was empty; the world Lotor had given to him, was quiet.

“I want to see my family again,” Lance spoke before thinking.

“Oh, pet. You want them to see you like this? Is your planet ready to join the rest of the universe; Your planet has made no effort to make communication with any interplanetary authority.
“If we were to visit your plant, I could not simply pop in, I would have to meet your leader and establish connections with Earth.
“They may misinterpret you as a hostage, rather than purchased property. If they wage war or attempt to reclaim you, I will have to–for lack of a better phrase–put them in their place and claim your planet, as opposed to the preferred alliance.

As much as he hated to admit it, Lotor was right: they were officials; He couldn’t just drop in for lunch and head back to his planet after. He’d have to be exposed to the entire planet. The existence of aliens would be front-page news. The broadcast of Lotor would span nationwide, exposing the Emperor and his human pet, seated on his lap.

The color drained from his face.

Lotor continued, “Additionally, with how unsubstantial your planet is, likely the only thing they could contribute is bodies for sale- there is only so much I can control in my empire. You wouldn’t want that to happen to your people, would you?”

The idea of his people being sold off shook him. Lance clenched his jaw at the degradation. He thought so little of Lance’s species?

“We have resources and great minds! Just because we’re a little behind doesn’t mean we’re worthless!”

“Your species is weak.” Lotor could sense Lance growing irritated at his words. “I mean no harm, it is simply an observation. I have seen it occur in the Altean empire myself. Her people were auctioned off until her nation dwindled.”

“Maybe my people wouldn’t be if you didn’t lead by example.”

The silence was deafening as both processed Lance’s words.

Lotor’s face darkened above him.

Lotor took a breath, speaking calmly, “This conversation can continue when you decide to be respectful. After all this time, I believed you knew your place.”

Lance had opened the can of worms, he might as well lie in it, “What about the respect I deserve? You genuinely think ‘my place’ is to be humiliated and paraded around like some new toy?”

Lotor’s words had always been consistently kind, but actions spoke louder. Even after all this time, Lotor forced him onto his lap- the very same as the first day

Lotor could not restrain his words, “You are in a position of honor. Be grateful. You could have been purchased by someone like Sendak.”

Lance flinched at the reminder. His hands grew clammy at the memory. The toxic positivity stung. A lump grew in his throat. If there was any chance that Lance would back down from the argument, that comment eradicated it.

He should watch what he says, but his heart raced with a multitude of emotions -stored deep inside from more than just the party.

“At least he was clear about how he felt about me. He didn’t pretend that I had the chance to be anything more than a pet.”

Sure, the position was disgustingly degrading, but at least Sendak had obvious intentions. Lotor claimed not to love him, yet kissed him in the heat of the moment- staking his claim in front of a crowd of millions. Lance couldn’t live in this limbo of platonic care. He craved more and less simultaneously, yet could not stand to be with someone who held power over him.

“Then allow me to clarify my intentions with you, Pet. Maintaining my Empire is my greatest priority. You are my companion. A beautiful creature to fill the looming desire for connection that burdens my body. You are worth nothing more than the GAC I purchased you with.”

The lump in his throat grew so tight it condensed coal into a diamond. Lance’s eyes burned with restrained emotion. His heart threatened to burst from his chest.

“Now, is your position clear or must I go on?”

“Crystal.” Lance mustered despondently through the lump in his throat.

“Now, will you be obedient and go to your room, or must I deign to take you there myself?”

Lance stood wordlessly. He could feel his feet touch the stairs, but couldn’t identify them as his own.

Lotor did not follow him into the room.

He stood in the doorway, light casting his form as a silhouette.

“There is business I must attend to on the ship. Get some sleep, Pet.”
“Goodnight, Master.” For the first time, he meant the title entirely.

The door clicked with a lock Lance wasn’t aware of.

The dam burst. Tears fell freely down Lance’s face.

He waited until Lotor’s ship left to make his move.

He opened the window and crawled down the side of the house.

He ran the distance to Shiro’s dwelling, tears blurring his vision. He knocked on the door.

Shiro spoke as the door slid open, speaking hurriedly, voice light with excitement.

“Good, you’re here! I didn’t think we’d be able to talk alone so soon but-”

Shiro paused when he saw Lance’s face.

“Are you alright? What did he do to you?” Shiro asked, countenance marred with concern.

Despite the many times Lotor had beaten Shiro in battle, Shiro appeared ready to face him off again.

“I’m fine, we just had- had an argument. Can- Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Shiro let him inside and sat on his bed, patting the spot beside him.

Before Lance realized it was socially acceptable to sit beside him, as requested, he had already sat on his lap.

“Oh- sorry, I can move- it’s just a habit.” Lance apologized.

“No, it’s fine. Whatever is most comfortable for you.” Shiro assured, getting over his flusteredness.

He leaned into Shiro’s chest, listening to his heartbeat in an attempt to calm his own. He spent a long few moments accepting the comfort and attempting to slow the falling of tears.

“He treats me like some show dog and expects me to be grateful. I’m so tired of him pretending he gives more than a rat’s ass about me. I only asked to see my family again, and he degraded me and my species.”

He couldn’t distinguish every emotion he felt.

“I have news that will make you feel better, if you’re ready to hear it.” Shiro began tentatively.

Lance wasn’t sure anything could make him feel better.

“We can finally go home, thanks to you.”

Chapter Text

“We can finally go home, thanks to you.”

Lance’s heart thrummed, excitement rushing through his body.

Though, something else tainted what should have been a joyous moment.

His throat tightened once more. Why was he so nervous to take what he had longed for?

This was what he wanted. This was what he wanted. This was what he wanted.

His freedom was so close and yet he hesitated to take it.

Ache from Lotor’s words still stung him. He was thankful that Lotor left on a sour note; had Lance been filled with his honeyed words, he may have struggled to see the situation clearly.

He always forgot just how poorly he felt when Lotor was there to comfort him afterward. He concentrated on Lotor’s words, burning them into his mind as a reminder.

Lance huffed, making his decision. He wouldn’t be missed; Lotor could simply purchase a new pet. An obedient plump pet that bowed to his Master. He only hoped that Lotor would choose someone more grateful for the “honor” of that position.

Lotor was right, Lance didn’t know his place.

He had to leave before he changed his mind.

“Keith had a plan, right?” Lance asked, returning to the present, mind set on escaping.

Shiro nodded into his head. He explained what they’d discussed at the party.

Lance admired his restraint as he regailed him. From the way Shiro spoke of Keith, he could tell they were close. Had Lance met Pidge or Hunk in the same situation, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back an embrace after such a long separation.

Through formally veiled words and old code, to avoid prying ears, Keith relayed their plan to Shiro.

Keith had slid him a cloaking device, one that would leave a false display of Shiro’s ship while allowing them to slip through the shield undetected.

It wouldn’t trick Lotor for long, but it would give them enough time to get a headstart.

Shiro hummed thoughtfully, “The only issue is that collar. If we can’t find a way to get it off, they’ll know the moment we leave the planet.”

His collar, right. He’d had it on so long that he’d forgotten it was there.

“After Sendak took me, Lotor added a lock to it. He said, ‘It cannot be unlocked by any others’. A feature added to prevent me from getting taken again.”

A big help that was. Though, he supposed it was only added for Lance’s safety.

“Does that arm of yours double as a bolt cutter?” Lance asked, scooting further down his lap to allow access to the collar.

“I don’t have the precision to slice it off without taking your neck with it. First, let me see if I can override it.” He felt along the back to press the button. It pushed down without so much as a click.

Shiro made a sound of disappointment before moving on to his next plan. His arm lit up as he attempted to prey open the seam.

“Hot! Hot! Watch the skin!” Lance cried, feeling the energy pulse from his hand.

Shiro stopped immediately, inspecting the surface of the collar.

“Sorry, no luck. I couldn’t so much as scratch it.”

“You might have burnt off a couple of hairs in the process.”

Lance felt along the edge of the collar, attempting to gauge if he’d singed any hair.

When his finger ran over the button, on impulse, he pushed it.

The collar clicked, the pieces separating easily.

“You’ve never tried to take it off?” Shiro asked, puzzled.

“I’ve never wanted to.” It was his protection, after all.

It had never occurred to him that the “others” barred from removing it didn’t include himself.

Air cooled the exposed skin.

He almost missed the collar. His neck was barren without its usual adornment. He might as well have been naked. He traced the spot with a few fingers.

Shiro spoke tentatively, “We might have to get you a scarf for that tan line.”

Lance looked down, attempting to see the skin to no avail.

“Is that how you knew I was owned when we first met?” Lance asked.

“No, you just looked like a spoiled- I mean you seemed well taken care of. A prisoner would have been covered in scars and callouses- you were barefoot with a quality blanket around your shoulders.”

He supposed that made sense- especially since he hadn’t seen any sun until he’d received this planet.

He had to admit, he would miss Newterra. It had already felt like home to him- perhaps partially due to the fact that he designed it to look like his home on Earth. Despite it being one big enclosure for him, he was fond of it.

“If you want to leave tonight, we should head out as soon as possible. I can send a transmission to Allura once we are out of orbit.”

Lance nodded, “I need to grab a few things before we take off.” He clicked the collar back on before he ran back to the house. Lotor would know when he discarded it; that part should come last. He cursed the fact that Sendak had provided him with useful knowledge.

He couldn’t get back in the bedroom to change, so he had to make do with his training suit. He found it stored under the stairs alongside the other equipment. He changed into the suit, ditching his clothes in the box. It might be skin-tight, but at least it covered more than his usual outfits.

As much as he wanted to take his tablet, any technology could be traced. He’d miss his notes on the Galran language, but it wasn’t like there was much use for it on Earth

In the pantry he found two dozen boxes of his favorite treats. He grabbed two and headed back to Shiro’s ship. It was the only thing in the house he wasn’t supposed to take on his own. Screw Lotor. If he was going to be disobedient, he might as well go all out.

Finally, he removed his collar and buried it in the garden. He might as well give Lotor a heart attack as a farewell. He scurried back to Shiro’s ship with supplies in tow.

Shiro wasted no time activating Keith’s device. Lance watched out the window as the ship rose from the surface of the planet, leaving an identical copy firmly on the grass in its place.

Lance popped open the treats as they set off into the atmosphere. He munched as he walked laps around the vessel, attempting to soothe the anxious energy that flooded his body.

“Want one?” Lance offered Shiro.

“Thank you.” He popped it in his mouth before continuing, “That tastes familiar- what did you say they were?”

“I can’t read the box, but my m- Lotor had them made for me. Believe it or not, he was terrified that Galra ingredients would kill me.” Lance laughed, remembering the face Lotor made when he stole from his plate on the first day.

Shiro’s eyes lit up in recognition. Lance tilted his head at Shiro, encouraging him to speak.

“For a few movements, I received premium fresh meals ‘as a gift for my dedication to the empire’. Now I’m thinking they were testing the ingredients on me.” Shiro laughed.

Lance’s eyes widened, “Oh, you know, I do remember him mentioning that. Sorry about that.”

Lance scratched the back of his neck at the realization, jolting when his fingers met long untouched flesh.

“No need to apologize. It was one of the best movements I’d had in a while.”

Shiro piloted the ship to a desolate planet where a discreet vessel awaited.

It didn’t resemble Altean technology in the slightest, but he supposed that was the point.

They docked with the other vessel, allowing the two humans to cross over.

Aboard the ship was the Altean Empress and advisor, accompanied by royal guards, as well as the other humans.

Shiro rushed toward Keith, scooping him into a hug. His countenance flashed with equal frustration and joy.

Hunk nearly knocked Lance over in his haste to reunite. Pidge joined the hug with less force, but equal enthusiasm.

“You made it! It worked!” Hunk said, nearly crushing his ribs.

“Don’t I always make things work, Hunk?” He asked, tearing up in his attempt to play it cool.

He hugged back as tightly as he could, not letting him go again. He closed his eyes as he leaned in, savoring the moment. He hesitated to open his eyes again, terrified his friends would disappear when he opened them again.

Eventually the hug released. He did not mourn the loss, thankful to see his future, and the ones who paved it, before him.

“How does it feel to have a successful mission under your belt?” Pidge asked, nudging him.

“Now it’s exciting and glamorous. The last few pheobs, on the other hand, not so much.” Lance laughed, ignoring the bit of pain in the statement.

This was it. He made it! He choked back the second round of tears. They could have gone back without him. They should have gone without him. Yet they stayed to help Allura and Keith retrieve him.

His ear perked up to Shiro’s conversation with Keith.

“What do you think you’re doing all the way out here?” Shiro demanded, far too pleased to sound upset.

“Did you think I was going to leave you stranded in space to have all the fun?” Keith spoke, words muffled in Shiro’s chest. He restrained most of the shaking in his voice, “You said you wouldn’t abandon me- I’m just holding you to your word.”

Shiro’s arms tightened around Keith.

“I’m here now.” Shiro assured, attempting to lighten the mood, ”You know, I always thought you were going to be the one to make my hair go white. I put some of that sparring we did to use. Did you get a chance to see it?”

“I’ve seen every vod. You were really holding out on me, huh?” Then, the humor dropped from his voice, “Don’t ever leave me again.”

“I’m right here, you’re alright.” Shiro rubbed his back.

The faint sound of hiccups resonated through the room.

Lance took the opportunity to return to the ship, grabbing his and Shiro’s belongings before joining everyone for the ride.

“It’s a twelve varga trip, so settle in,” Coran announced, hopping behind the wheel.

Everyone else was already settled in a conversation pit. Lance dropped his stuff near the door and joined them. Keeping social norms in mind, he expressly sat beside Hunk. Keith sat far too close to Shiro, pretending to be unphased by their reunion.

He almost couldn’t believe that after all this time, he’d finally get his freedom back.

His chest thrummed with gratitude. He would be able to see his family again.

“Thank you for the rescue, everyone. Empress Allura, I’m sure the Altean empire played a big part in this, so, I appreciate it.”

“Well of course, you are quite welcome.” She assured, “My species has been worn thin due to the barbaric tradition; I simply could not watch as another species fell victim to trafficking. As dedicated as I am to my cause, it was Keith who insisted on orchestrating this.”

“I infiltrated for Shiro, but I stayed to keep their paws off another human like him- another person on display for the Galra Empire’s entertainment.” he spat before continuing, “It helped that your friends made a compelling case.”

As much as it seemed Keith couldn’t stand other people, he despised their victimization further. Hunk and Pidge gave a cheer for the appreciation.

“I’m sick of sitting pretty for those Galra snobs! I won’t miss those events! I’m done being his pet!” Lance smiled at his promising future.

Coran piped in,“Aside from what we’ve seen in broadcasts we know hardly anything about the Emperor. If you don’t mind saying, what is he like behind closed doors?”

Allura shot him a glare for insensitivity, but pried as well, “Any ulterior motives of his would be nice to mention. As well-intentioned as his actions may seem, one can never be certain with Galra.”

He couldn’t possibly summarize his emotions in anything resembling concise. He fumbled through every experience with the emperor.

“He spent a long time on paperwork, but I never learned enough Galra to quite understand what was on the screen. It didn’t seem like he had malicious intent- he only spoke of treaties and royal decrees. Nothing too helpful, sorry.”

Sure, Lotor would use him as his “rubber duck” to figure out complex solutions to ordinances, but it wasn’t like he absorbed much of the jargon.

“As for his personal life.” he thought for a moment. “He’s… pushy but he can also be thoughtful. Despite his appearance, he didn’t hurt me -not physically anyway.” When his audience furrowed their brows he elaborated, “The general, Sendak, stole me. Lotor hunted him down and saved me from him. The execution, that was for me- for my piece of mind. Between witnessing his death, and the…public display that followed- well I was out of sorts.”

A wave of tension flooded the room at the heavy topic.

“But it’s cool -I’m fine now. He popped me in a healing chamber and now I’m good as new!” Lance huffed, finishing his summary, “I wouldn’t mind being with him if he wasn’t such a quiznack about the whole ownership thing.”

“Being with him?” Pidge asked.

“Like in the same room- hanging out!” Lance explained, flustered, “Despite how the broadcasts seem, I’m nothing more than GAC to him- I am- was, just a pet. Some lap dog to fulfill his ‘looming desires’.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s upsetting, Lance,” Hunk assured, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright. It wasn’t all bad. He also gave me Shiro! Which is somehow worse when you say it aloud.”

Shiro turned red at the bluntness.

“He gave him to you?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow at the wording.

“He’s my bodyguard! Well, was my bodyguard. He hired him so he wouldn’t have to keep living at the arena and could keep me company instead. But, I suppose that’s outweighed by the fact that he did beat the crud out of him once in a while.”

Shiro clarified, “He taught me how to wield a sword. Not to be in his favor, but he was usually a bit more gentle that the other Galra mentors I’ve sparred with.” unless Lance pissed him off.

Lance was thankful that Shiro left out the other half of that thought.

For someone so strong, he was awfully intimidated by a ‘lowly’ human taking Lance’s attention.

“He mainly set me loose on training bots. He’s never struck at me.” Lance added his experience with training.

The cultural differences had been one of the most difficult obstacles to work with. He’d seen firsthand the value Galra placed upon combat.

“He personally trained you? The Emperor? The foremost expert in hand-to-hand combat and most profoundly strong Galra in the empire?” Allura asked.

Shiro answered, amused by her amazement, “Correct. Though, the closest I got to injuring him was a minor haircut.”

“Yeah, well you’ve injured his pride a few times.” Lance laughed.

“Yeah?” Shiro asked, skeptically.

“Yes, Master.” Lance corrected his words automatically.

Shiro’s eyes widened.

It took Lance a moment to process his mistake.

He glanced around at uncomfortable faces, giving his own awkward smile.

“Force of habit.” He attempted to laugh it off.

He could practically see the look of satisfaction on Lotor’s face at his obedience.

He’d need to pay more attention to social customs when they returned to Earth.

Their conversation rotated to lighter matters. Hunk and Pidge regaled him with what they’d been occupied with since he left.

Pidge was devastated to leave with only the small amount of technology she’d been allowed to tinker with. She’d likely have wanted to keep the castle if it was within the realm of possibility.

Eventually, the excitement of the quintant wore on him. He’d been through a lot in the past 20 vargas. Only when he caught himself drifting to sleep on Hunk’s shoulder did he resign to going to bed.

They showed him to his temporary room, allowing him to settle in for the night. He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

It was only once vargas had passed that he resurfaced, long before the cycle morning had occurred.

Lance tossed and turned in the bed, half asleep, reality one with dreams

His heart threatened to tear through his chest.

He struggled against the claws holding him in place. Teeth sunk into his flesh, tearing flesh from bone. It burned, fur too hot against his flesh.

Someone held him, unbothered by the dripping wounds. Despite the care in their touch, when he attempted to squirm, they only tightened their grip.

Lance’s eyes blinked open upon impact. He struggled, gasping for breath. He was alone. No one to save him. Where was he? His eyes were useless, sensing nothing except darkness. Darkness; No purple ambient lighting.

He put both hands on the floor, taking a few breaths as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

He was in the Altean vessel, with his friends and saviors. He slowly untangled the sheets from his legs.

Everything should be as it was. He should be happy, glad to be free. What was wrong with him? He’d gotten his first taste of freedom and yet it was soured by a loss that shouldn’t exist.

He never should have left.

Just like last time, Lotor would return. This time, he’d give him a collar that didn’t come off. Lance would hear the collar click for the last time. He’d done exactly what Lotor had warned of; Lance brought the fighting to his home. When they got to Earth, he’d get a taste of freedom before Lotor brought the leash out and dragged him home.

They finally had come to a comfortable point in their relationship and Lance had to run away. All he had to do was tolerate the sparse moments of humiliation. All he had to do was sit pretty and accept his spot below Lotor. He could have ignored the dread of being in a respectless relationship. Could he have ignored the dread of being in a respectless relationship? Was it worth it to put Lotor’s comfort above his own- to stick to what he’d always done?

Lance jolted as water splatted on his hand. A tear. He hadn’t noticed he’d been crying. He needed to stop thinking.

What was done was done.

He slung the blanket over his shoulder, peeking into the hallway before padding down it. He reached Hunk’s bedroom and tentatively knocked on the door.

Hunk answered the door after a moment, “Lance, are you alright?”

“It- it’s been a long time since I’ve slept alone. Can I sleep with you?”

“Sure. Come on in.”

His body relaxed with another person beside him. It helped that Hunk was a God-tier cuddler.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course.”

“I miss him,” Lance muttered. “Despite how he’d talk, he made me feel like I was everything to him. It was all for his empire, but I was the heart of it. I was the symbol of his power, despite how weak he was for me. There’s something wrong with me.

“I can’t love someone who treats me lesser- but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to.”

“Thank you for confiding in me. You’re still processing- It’s alright to have mixed feelings. There’s nothing wrong with the way you feel. Don’t hate your emotions for existing the way they are- there is no wrong way to feel.”

Lance blinked back the wetness gathering in his eyes.

“I’ve missed you Hunk. Thank you for coming back for me.”

“No man left behind, especially not the co-captain.” The smile shone in Hunk’s voice.

Chapter Text

After all this time, he never got sick of admiring the stars. His problems were small compared to the infinite space.

There was a chance that Lotor wouldn’t follow him. He had grown frustrated with Lance’s disobedience time after time -perhaps he would move on with his life and pick a more willing pet. Lance ignored the sting produced by that thought.

He'd never wanted to be his pet- that much was certain. He wasn't some designer Doodle to parade in public and change face at home.

His chest swelled with a cocktail of uncomfortable emotions as he recalled the last time Lotor had tracked him down. He'd been petrified, fighting for his life on Sendak's ship. Lotor had been his savior. His hero. His lesser of two evils.

“You alright Lance? You look like you’re thinking really hard over here.” Pidge asked, putting a grounding hand on his arm.

He blinked the image of Sendak away, returning to the present.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I’m just enjoying the view of space before it’s drowned out by Earth’s light pollution.” He joked, the bitterness still resting on his tongue.

There was no use dwelling on it.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get home?” Pidge asked, reading his mind.

“See my parents, definitely. Then eat my mom’s cooking. She’ll probably make too much food, so the invitation is open.” He laughed, “You?”

“My dad will want to see my notes. Oh, and I have to show him the Altean tech I've modified since we sent him back. My mom will be furious- I’ll never hear the end of it for leaving her alone.” Her words weighed heavy with remorse.

Pidge had more to say. Unsaid words hung in the air; Lance waited for her to gather the courage to say it.

She continued tentatively, “I don’t know if I ever apologized properly for dragging you with me-”

He interrupted her with a gentle wave.

“Forget about it, Pidge, I’m not mad. You did help save me, after all.”

“Then, let me thank you. For trusting me to take us into the depths of space. For keeping everyone’s spirits up all the time.” She didn’t struggle with her genuine words, clearly having put much thought into them.

“Of course, Pigeon.” He smiled, sticking an arm out for a hug.

The remaining vargas went by faster than ever; It wasn’t long until they arrived on Earth.

He thrummed with excitement as they approached the planet. Shiro directed Allura toward the Garrison, where the humans would need to report their findings. As much as Lance would have rather snuck away and gone home, he couldn’t refuse Shiro’s–gently yet insistent–urgency to report back.

He was right- the Garrison could use any information they could get on aliens.

Before their vessel met the surface, garrison officials had set the perimeter, having sensed their passing through the atmosphere. They allowed themselves to be directed into a landing zone. As much as the humans desired to kiss the ground and roll in the grass, they weren’t allowed such a frivolity- not without questioning and decontamination.

Allura and Coran opted to remain hidden on board until the Humans were ready to introduce them. If the Garrison was suspicious of the Humans, they’d be even more so toward the Alteans. They didn't need scientists attempting to probe the Empress and forever sour Human-Altean relations.

To ensure they had not contracted any foreign parasite, they were to wait in decontamination; A few rooms were hastily partitioned off for their “safety”.

He had to laugh at the irony- he was finally back on his planet, yet he remained a prisoner.

They temporarily confiscated every belonging they’d returned with- including Shiro’s arm. Pidge, who’d fixated on the prosthetic on the trip back, seemed more upset than Shiro.

The facility ran every medical test in the books, checking the humans for damage or disease. They’d dragged Shiro away for a longer duration than the rest, shocked to find that he’d arrived healthier than when he’d left (despite the numerous scars and missing limb).

Lance felt the same about himself- though he hadn’t left with a debilitating illness; a diet of formulated “human meals” left him in better shape than the diet of ramen and takeout (between the occasions Hunk cooked) he’d eaten during his time at the Garrison. He’d sighed at the uselessness of the diagnostics; There was no point in checking- Lotor would never have allowed him to fall ill.

The official’s interviews resembled interrogations more than anything. The bright lights, multiple microphones, and cameras did little to ease their nerves.

Lance leveraged information to get the chance to see their families. While a plexiglass-divided reunion was less than ideal, it was enough to tide them over until release.

For a brief moment, it was all worth it. He finally felt… like a person again. Not a toy, or a pet. Not someone to be played with and set aside when he had outlasted his usefulness. As much as he craved the tangible reminder of his humanity, the visit was enough to tide him over.

Despite giving his word, Lance refused questions; He hesitated to speak against Lotor- so he didn’t. Anything that needed to be said would go through Shiro or another human.

With a bit of begging, and a few traumatized looks, Lance managed to convince the others to keep his secret- at least for the meantime; How was he to tell the government that he was the emperor’s lap dog? The other humans obliged him, explaining their experiences with the hierarchy while conveniently skirting over the fact that Lance was directly involved. He didn't doubt that they'd discover the truth eventually. He'd be out of their custody by then.

It wasn’t as if he knew anything important; He could relay Lotor’s favorite foods or skincare routine, but he knew nothing of value to the government.

Nothing except Lotor’s final words to Lance.

He couldn’t take the chance to mess it up; he’d say something that would send them into a panic. He’d imply that the emperor wanted Earth as a personal supply of pets for their citizens. He'd say something foolish, like the only thing they could contribute to the Empire was bodies for sale.

If he told them that the emperor might be personally coming to retrieve him, they’d never let him leave. There was a good chance they’d launch Lance back into space to keep the peace.

So silence it was- that way his mouth couldn’t get him in trouble.

When they forced a psychiatrist upon him, he sat in silence for an hour until another human took their turn.

They were furious with his lack of contribution, but they had nothing to hold against him; Once they let him go, he couldn’t return to school- He’d have to stay in hiding for the rest of his life.

He constantly battled himself, certain he’d made the wrong choice, yet confident he couldn’t live in captivity.

On the first night of their decontamination stay, Lance roused Shiro; he nudged him awake, taking the offered seat beside him on the bed. They sat under a blanket, their words muffled from the camera’s prying ears.

“I shouldn’t have come back,” Lance muttered frantically under his breath.

“Why?” Shiro asked, non-judgmental despite how much Lance deserved it.

“If Lotor comes here, he’ll scour the entirety of Earth for me. He always gets what he wants. I’m crucial to the Empire, to his image.”

But he wouldn't- he wasn’t important to Lotor at all; he’d said it himself. How dare he treat him like trash, after all they’d been through? Maybe he could find some human better to replace him, someone prettier, less irritating, someone who wanted to be an alien’s pet? Who was he kidding- the most worth he’d ever had was as a lap dog. He shouldn’t kid himself -that was where he belonged now… Lance went through every stage of grief at once.

“I hate his stupid superiority and inferiority complex! How does that even work?! And his long silky white hair, that gets everywhere! And the way he gives me gifts all the time, like he can buy my love the way he bought my person! Most of all, I hate the way that he claims that I serve the empire as he always has- that I’m important to his people, his country, and not to… him.”

Lance fought his innermost thoughts for far too long; His emotions remained behind every restraint he could muster- so much so that he hadn’t dared to think them. Shiro would hate him once he admitted it; He’d hate himself once he admitted it. But that didn’t matter anymore- if Lotor came- when Lotor came, he wouldn’t have to see Shiro again.

“Shiro, is it to much to ask for him to admit to me that he wants me? Not for his image, or his empire, but for him. Lotor owns me. It isn’t about the GAC or the piece of paper that decides it. From the moment he tilted my chin up with that pretty prim finger of his, I was his.”

Shiro spoke tentatively, as if his words could shatter Lance’s fragile state, “Do you love him?”

Lance’s breathing hitched. His eyes burned as Lance blinked back the feeling welling inside him.

He spoke through the lump in his throat, “I- I do.

“He’s the first person who made me feel truly wanted, and yet he doesn’t want me.” He barked out a laugh, much louder than the whisper he’d maintained.

Lance pushed his palm into his eyes, forcing tears back.

“But what do I know? Maybe he won't come. Maybe he’ll take the hint and get a new pet and replace me just like that.”

His stomach tossed at the idea of Lotor owning anyone else. Of him feeding another by hand. Of him holding them close. Why was there no correct solution? Warm droplets plopped onto his legs; He hadn't noticed himself breaking the dam. He inhaled shuddering breaths.

Shiro swooped Lance into a hug. One hand threaded into Lance’s hair, grounding him and pulling him close.

“We want you, Lance. You’re important to us. You don’t need some possessive alien to give you worth. If he can’t appreciate you for who you are, then he doesn’t deserve you.” His words resonated from deep in his chest. Shiro had likely learned it from experience- he meant every word.

Lance couldn’t always believe himself, but Shiro? Shiro, he believed.

Lance sobbed into his shoulder, clutching his shirt like his life depended on it. He couldn't say anything more, voice wracked by sobs.

He fell asleep beside Shiro.

The Garrison kept their arrival under wraps to all except family members.

So, when Lance overheard Shiro watching the news that morning, he hadn’t expected to see his name crudely written on the screen.

The television blared the announcement obnoxiously, “A ship of extraterrestrials arrived on Earth late last night. The leader stepped forward in an attempt to communicate. Though it doesn’t speak any one Earth language, it managed to write a word in English. They are not entirely sure what the alien wants, as the ‘lances’ provided to it were immediately refused.”

The image changed to one of Lotor, face marred with thinly veiled irritation, many medieval lances piled around him.

“Well, it doesn’t look like he knows where I am at least,” Lance said, scratching the back of his neck anxiously.

A buzz rang through the holding rooms, the main door sliding open. Lance froze, paranoid to have jinxed himself.

A former professor made the announcement they’d all been waiting for.

“All tests came back negative- you may return home. The garrison has arranged discreet transport back to your homes. If you come with me, you will have your personal belongings returned.”

Lance let out a sigh of relief. Sure he’d spoken to Lotor about his home many times, but it wasn’t possible that he could locate the Garrison. At least not right away. He’d have enough time to hide at home for the rest of his life.

Lance sorted through his belongings, favoring the clothing provided by the garrison rather than the skin-tight training suit he arrived in.

His professor singled him out,“McClain, we believe we have one more personal item of yours. You'll have to confirm your ownership before we can give it to you."

They led him away from the others, to a room with another plexiglass divider. How many of these rooms did they have in the garrison? He didn’t see why couldn’t have just brought whatever it was to him.

The door sealed and locked behind him, leaving him and an old professor on one side and nothing on the other.

If the item was valuable enough to need this much protection, it likely didn’t belong to him.

He opened the trading drawer, seeing his jacket inside. His face lit up.

“Yup, this is mine!” He slipped it on top of his uniform, “Is that all? Can I leave now?”

The man firmly blocked the door.

“McClain, what is your relationship with the alien leader?” his former professor asked.

“I refused questioning. I will not be bribed with a jacket.” Lance huffed.

He'd rather perish than admit that. How could they try to use his belongings to force it from him? His favorite jacket. One that he distinctly forgot... in space.

“If you will not speak to us, at least speak with it.” He nodded behind Lance.

Lance’s blood froze.

“He’s behind me, isn’t he?” Lance asked.

He could hide under the dividing desk until they released him. He didn’t have any masculinity left to damage.

“Lance.” A familiar voice beckoned.

The most irritated dreaded relief flooded his body. He hated how happy he was to hear his voice. He didn’t want to talk to him right now, not while he was still torn- especially not in front of the people who had him running laps for pulling pranks.

He had no choice but to face him. Lotor stood on the opposite side of the glass, arms crossed.

“Pet. Come here. Talk to me.” Lotor called, thankfully in another language.

“Don’t call me that.” He hissed, matching his tongue.

“You can speak its language?” The professor asked, mouth falling agape.

“Uh, no.” He said in English, “You can’t hold me here, let me go home.” Lance demanded.

“McClain, it is of the utmost importance that you translate for him. This is the burgeoning of interspecies communication and you're refusing your duty?”

He cursed at himself for revealing the secret.

“Have Shiro do it! I want to leave!” Lance huffed.

“Lance, talk to me,” Lotor asked, his stern tone wavering.

The professor grew frustrated with Lance’s lack of compliance, “He wants you. You need to speak with him. What does he want with you?” He spoke more aggressively, “Are you going to follow orders for once, McClain?”

“Do not raise your voice at him!” Lotor barked, upon realizing that the other couldn’t understand him, he added, “No!”, a word that was the same in most languages.

The professor panicked at the raised tone, “You pissed off the alien. Hurry up and apologize.”

“He didn’t want you to speak to me like that.” Lance corrected in Common, before realizing and changing it to English.

“Pet, is this how you are treated on Earth? Come home with me.”

Lance ignored him.

“He wants me to come back to… work for him. I said ‘no’, end of story. If you could speak his language, would you let me go?”

“I suppose we could if you were no longer needed.”

“Can you give them the ability to speak common?” Lance asked Lotor.

“Of course. I can arrange my vessels around the planet and project the language. As is standard for planetary integration.”

“He can beam the language to everyone on the planet. That works, right?”

“I suppose if there are no consequences…” He hesitated, looking Lance up and down for supposed detriments.

“He’d never let me try anything experimental,” Lance assured him.

The professor narrowed his eyes at him, confused by his statement.

“I’ve had it done, and so have the rest of the humans. Hell, Mas- I mean Emperor Lotor has received the same thing.” Lance continued, “How’s that? Can I go now?”

“I suppose if he doesn’t need you any longer, then you may return home.”

His heart thudded in his chest.

“Yeah… He doesn’t need me.” Lance assured him.

He opened the door for Lance.

“Lance! Do not leave!” Lotor demanded.

“Shut your quiznack!” Lance huffed, storming out of the room.

He scurried to join the others, all having already started to move toward the awaiting escorts.

“Big, dumb, and purple is in there if you want to have a chat with him,” Lance muttered, grabbing his bag and tossing it over his shoulder.

“He’s here? Already? And he let you walk out of there?” Shiro asked, mouth agape.

“There’s a sheet of plexiglass.” Lance clarified, brushing past them before anyone could convince him that he made the incorrect choice.

All he wanted to do was see his family, eat his mom’s cooking, and sleep for the next 12 hours.

He ignored the impending doom that weighed on him as he rode home. He hadn't been stopped or restrained. No Galra commandeered the vehicle. It all went concerning well, considering he told the Galra Emperor to screw to his face and walked off scott-free.

He made it home easily.

When he arrived home, every member of his family swallowed him into a dogpile. The hug lasted several minutes, yet not nearly long enough to compensate for lost time.

He told them everything and nothing all at the same time, far from processing everything that had happened since he'd left. The moment was far too pure to be bogged down by his fears. If this was the last night he'd ever have with his family, he'd make it worth it.

That night, when he went to sleep, most of his family piled into bed alongside him; they chose the biggest bed, his mom’s.

Chapter Text

Lance awoke with a heavy sigh, resigned to another day on the same planet. He leaned into the warm bodies snuggling him.

Bodies. Plural.

He was home- right. After so long under an alien’s thumb, he almost couldn’t believe it.

He gently pried himself from his young cousin’s tiny grasps, making his way downstairs to what smelled magical in the kitchen. He was surprised it hadn’t woken most of his family yet- though, they had begged him to regale them in his tales of outer space (the less embarrassing ones), him obliging them late into the night.

He hopped down the stairs, ready to appreciate his first morning as a free man.

“Morning Mama, what’s cookin’?”

He gave her a side hug.

She listed out a few of his old favorites, most having already been made. Just as he was assuring her that she didn’t need to go through the trouble, she added, “Your friend seems to like it. If you told me you were inviting people over, I would have been more prepared.” She lightly scolded.

“Hunk?” Lance asked, spinning around excitedly.

His stomach dropped.

At the kitchen table sat a man with tan skin, round ears, and white hair. Undeniably human, yet undeniably foreign.

“Good morning, Lance. Did you sleep well?” Lotor asked.

He didn’t rush upstairs and drag him from the bed to his ship. Which was a good sign. He sat calmly at Lance’s dinner table, eating his mother’s cooking.

Lance hovered over the table, unwilling to sit at the same table as him.

“How do you know where I live?” He asked, attempting to be casual despite his spiked heart rate.

“You described it thoroughly on multiple occasions. Quite accurately, I might add.” He complimented.

Shit.

He’d led Lotor straight to him.

He’d designed his home on Newterra identical to his home on Earth. Of course, Lotor could identify the–slightly smaller– version of their home on another planet.

His mom placed an enormous plate on the table before him.

“Sit, eat.” She encouraged, turning around to continue cooking.

“I agree, go ahead. It is delicious.” Lotor agreed as if this wasn’t his first time-consuming Earth food. He supposed this was the best introduction to it. Or the worst, since most other food would pale in comparison to his mom’s cooking.

Lance stood stiffly across from him, debating his next move. He glanced at the stairs. Perhaps he should go back upstairs and go to bed. Lotor had respected human social customs thus far. Perhaps he wouldn’t chase him.

Lotor stood and put a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to sit. His body listened easily, all too familiar with his commands. He was surprised that he remembered to sit in the chair, rather than the floor- as his muscle memory wanted to.

Before Lance could recognize the movement, Lotor was already leaning over, rewarding him with a bite from his plate. He ate the bite automatically, nearly humming at the flavor, until he realized what he’d done. He pushed Lotor’s hand away from his face before anyone noticed.

Lance hissed through a mouth of food, “Whatever you think you’re doing, stop it.”

He glanced around to check the witnesses; His mom remained distracted in her cooking, and the doorway was- occupied; Veronica stood, half awake and blinking blearily at the scene.

She began, raising an eyebrow at their company, “Hi, uh…?”

Lotor hurried to give his–very human–name, “Keith.”

She spoke slowly, a skeptical air clouding her voice, “Ah, Keith. Nice to meet you. Well Keith if you excuse me, I need to talk to my baby brother real quick.”

She grabbed Lance by the arm, dragging him off his chair, out of the room, and into a nearby closet.

She whispered quickly, “Seriously, you’re dating-”

“That’s not Keith from the Garrison.” Lance rushed to explain, remembering all the times he’d vented about Keith before he disappeared. Lotor probably picked the first human name he could think of.

She slugged him on the arm.

“An alien! You leave for a few months and you come back with a boyfriend? I thought all the talk of ‘space babes’ was a joke!”

His face burned with the blush.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“So your not-boyfriend is hand-feeding you?”

“It’s complicated! Way too complicated!” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “You can’t tell anyone the truth, okay?”

She nodded with an intensity only she could muster.

He put it as bluntly as possible, “He bought me.”

The fury built in her words, “So what, you're his slave?”

“More like his dog. He needs a… pet, for his image. Someone to look pretty at his side while he attends gatherings and gives orders.”

“He didn’t look so tough- I could take him.” She rolled up her sleeves.

He doubted Lotor would obliterate his sister, but it wasn’t worth the humiliation to find out.

“He’s about a foot shorter than his normal height, right now. I’ve seen him fight beasts three times his size and win without a scratch.” He shook his head at the idea, though he knew his warnings would do little to dissuade her.

“Not to jinx anything, but if you’re just his possession, why hasn’t he just taken you back by now? Why bother sitting down for breakfast?”

“Common courtesy, I suppose. He might be letting me say goodbye.” Lance shrugged.

Veronica stormed out of the closet, Lance following behind.

“What are your intentions with my brother?” She asked, leaning over the table.

“I was hoping he would show me around today. He has spoken so highly of his home.” Lotor smiled politely.

It wouldn’t do him any good to talk with Lotor under this guise. They needed to be alone. Lotor was being patient and courteous–not collaring him on the spot–he could at least oblige him.

“Alright. I wanted to go to the farmer’s market anyway.” Lance agreed before his sister could say anything more.

“Bring him back safe.” She insisted.

They finished their breakfasts in relative silence, Lance avoiding as much eye contact as possible. He couldn’t stand how confidently Lotor sat in his home. He readied himself for the day. When he got dressed, he snagged an extra T-shirt(of the non-blue and white variety), and a pair of larger, hand-me-down pants.

Lotor’s human disguise was tragically alien; the clothes had clearly been fashioned in a hurry, lacking research on common human attire. Lance didn’t blame him, certain his outfit was the only human clothing he’d ever seen. They’d have no privacy to speak if Lotor was recognized as the alien he was.

Bundling everything into a backpack, he trudged downstairs.

He gave his mom and sister the biggest hug before he left.

His mom whispered into his ear, running a hand down his hair, “You know I accept you, no matter who you love.”

Lance’s eyes widened. He’d forgotten about Earth's prejudices.

“Oh, because I’m g-”

“Yes, even though he’s an alien. I’m happy as long as you’re happy.”

Of course, his mom noticed.

“Thanks, Mama.” His heart melted at her acceptance.

With that, he pushed past the front door, not waiting to see if Lotor followed behind.

Once they were out of sight of any windows, he spun on his heel to address Lotor.

“Took you long enough to get here. You almost gave me the chance to savor my taste of freedom.” He huffed.

“You wound me. Did you expect anything less?”

“No.”

Despite his nerves, he hadn’t. He knew–if he still wanted him–Lotor would be there before he let a single sigh of relief. Some deep part of him was relieved that he followed. Relieved that Lotor wanted him.

“I wasn’t certain you still wanted me after you swept me aside like trash.” Lance huffed, not giving Lotor a chance to respond before he continued, “I meant what I said. I won’t go back with you.”

“If you truly stand by your word, then… You are to show me to this ‘farmer’s market’.”

Lance–prepared to deny his attempt at persuasion–tilted his head at Lotor’s words.

“You want to go to the farmer’s market?” He asked, brows furrowing.

“Of course. I am curious about your world after all; You spent many nights regaling me in tales of its splendor, I simply must indulge while I am here.”

“Fine. Get changed then. We don’t need anyone thinking I’m the first to get probed.” He handed over the set of clothes while he continued, "I figured you would have put up a missing poster for me by now." He noted, wondering why the entire world wasn't aware of his status as a pet by now.

Lotor didn’t bother to look around as he stripped. He supposed there was nothing to fear on a planet of insignificant humans.

He spoke as he undressed, "I figured you would not want such excessive attention. I wanted your presence, not your excommunication."

"Thank you. For keeping that to yourself."

Lotor let out a hum of acknowledgment as if he hadn't saved Lance from the largest humiliation of his life.

Lance couldn’t help but check out Lotor’s human form. There was something uncanny about the expanse of tan skin. He couldn’t help but gaze at how Galra muscle flexed beneath human skin. He flushed and looked away when he caught himself tracing the V-line of his hips.

He nearly laughed at the absurdity; The Galra Emperor, in jeans. The shirt fit closely to his broad chest. The clothes fit well thankfully- though, when he considered it, Lotor chose his size. He could have looked Lance in the eye to speak with him, yet he chose to retain a larger stature. It truly would have wounded the emperor’s ego to seem equal to his pet.

When Lotor finished, they started on the path behind his house- It was the scenic path to the market, but it would give them privacy away from the roads. It didn’t matter if they were in public or not, Lotor could do as he wished- regardless of customs.

Lotor cleared his throat before he started, “I misspoke before.” It seemed tough for him to say, “I was frustrated that I could not bring you joy after you behaved so well for me. Consider this an apology for my words.”

He put a hand on Lance’s shoulder, stopping his movement. His other hand rose to Lance’s cheek.

He leaned in close, words dropping to a whisper, “I have never had anyone mean as much to me as you do. I care for you far too deeply and that weakness… frightens me; It made me push you away when I should have been holding you close.”

Lance gently removed the hand from his chin.

“You put me on display. You let them gawk and comment and tease! Not just the anniversary, but every other event too! I feel like some stupid toy! If I am that detrimental to you, making you weak, then you don’t need me.”

“You were the belle of the ball! You sat on a pedestal, a position of honor.”

“You’re not listening to me! You’re following your notions of Galra tradition! What I want and what I should want as your pet are completely different things!”

“If you’re going to keep telling me how I should feel, you can leave.” Lance ended the conversation, following the path again.

As ill as the statement made him, it also gave him a rush of power. Lotor made no move to continue the conversation. He didn’t command Lance to be silent as a punishment for insolence. He couldn’t put him in time-out.

They continued down the forest path in silence.

Lance was grateful to have the reprieve of a task as the stands came into view.

It was a relief to be surrounded by so many people of reasonable size, not the behemoth that was "average height" in the Galra empire. It was human to a novel degree- nothing like the "we have Earth at home" that Newterra was. His chest welled with joy and excitement. He began to inspect several vegetables for quality.

Lotor watched on as Lance turned the food over in his hands.

“You’re staring,” Lance muttered.

“What else am I to view?” Lotor asked as if the rest of the planet was beneath his attention.

Lance swept an arm out, gesturing to the entire general area. There were plenty of vendors to capture his attention- all filled with unique Earth products. All filled with unique people.

“Why don’t you find a better pet?” Lance huffed.

“No such thing.” Lotor nearly snorted.

“I’m serious. Why don’t you ask around? I’m sure you’d find someone with an alien fantasy.”

Lotor was much less amused with his insistence.

He scanned for fitting individuals.

A young woman watching the earlier broadcast on her phone. Perfect.

When Lance went to pay, he noticed Lotor reach for his bracer, the motion ceasing halfway as he realized he had no Earth currency. He finished paying for his goods before ambling to the jewelry booth where the lady sat.

“Are you watching the announcement with that alien guy?” Lance asked, keeping his voice high and nonsuggestive.

She nodded enthusiastically.

“I am! I can’t believe it! Aliens existed, this whole time!”

“And what do you think of that Emperor? That jawline could cut steel- it’s probably sharper than whatever’s in his scabbard.” Lance giggled, gauging her reaction.

“If I knew aliens looked like that, I wouldn’t mind getting abducted.” She agreed.

He waited until they were out of her sight to give Lotor a pointed look. To his surprise, his cheeks had an underlying blue color. His heart rate spiked.

“Hey! You’re losing your color!” Lance panicked, grabbing his shoulders to turn him from the crowd.

“I am not. My abilities are fully functional.” Lotor responded, turning his head away. He was avoiding eye contact.

Then it clicked.

His blood was blue.

“You’re blushing?” Lance asked, brows raising.

“Good. It’s about time that you’re the flustered one.” Lance needed that laugh.

They roamed the market, Lance easily answering Lotor’s questions about Earth.

Lotor had a nasty habit of taking food samples and simply hand-feeding them to Lance- much to the vendor’s amusement. One such vendor had spared a bag of maple candies after Lance’s near moan of delight when he unexpectedly received one in his mouth. Lance had offered to pay, but the person waved them off with jovial tears dotting their eyes.

When Lance insisted Lotor try one, he simply tapped the candy to his bracer. After waiting for the analysis to come back clear, he ate it, humming happily.

As the day progressed, the crowd grew thicker. His hand intertwined with Lotor’s easily, leading him through the crowd to the next stand.

Lance gasped when he spotted a familiar red and blue logo.

He hurried to purchase one of each flavor, presenting Lotor with a beverage of red. It was only fitting that Lotor received the red one- he did have a reputation for being bloodthirsty. Sure, Galra blood was blue, but Lance preferred the blue razzberry flavor.

“A slushie. Yours is cherry.” Lance said.

Lotor tested a sample on his bracer before taking a gulp.

“Good, right?” Lance smiled.

Lotor nodded enthusiastically.

Lance led them away from the event, satisfied with his purchases.

He led them back to the woods, taking a small turn to go up the hill. It led to a secluded area with an outlook. Light streamed in through gaps in the tree leaves. Trees circled a large flat boulder. He climbed the rock, hands, and feet falling into the holds as naturally as if he’d never left. When he’d reached the top, he tugged Lotor up after him.

He shed his jacket, desiring the warm breeze on his skin.

For the first time in months, everything felt right. He reveled in it. The sun warmed his skin, comfortable and familiar. The earthy scent of wood and dirt. The hyper-sugar beverage with enough food coloring to look alien in itself. Lotor’s hand in his.

What was he doing?

He’d let himself be lulled into a false sense of security. He’d always wanted to show Lotor his favorite foods, and favorite places, but this was wrong.

So why did it feel so right?

Today felt like a date, not like Master and Pet. It was the most normalcy Lance had had in pheobs and yet Lotor accompanied him.

“Your world is truly magnificent. I can see why you like it so much." He took a sip of his drink and hummed, "Oh, and the ‘slushie’ is delicious, thank you for sharing with me.” His hand held Lance’s more firmly.

“Is the blue flavor as delightful as the red?” Lotor asked.

“I’d say so.” Lance took a sip of his drink, admiring the flavor once again.

Lotor did the same, locking mouths with Lance and tasting his beverage. His hand was on the angle of Lance’s jaw, cradling that soft spot beneath his mandible; It sat comfortably in place, as if it was designed to fit there.

It flooded his mouth with cherry. His mind turned to a syrupy cherry haze.

His tongue warmed his mouth, ridding it of any ice granules.

His fingers wove through Lotor’s hair.

Lotor broke off with a pant as if air was the only thing stopping him from locking their lips together for eternity.

“Thank you for the taste. That is delectable.” Lotor wiped a bit of saliva from the edge of Lance’s mouth with a thumb.

Lance was tempted to go in for another taste before he realized what had happened.

“You kissed me!” Lance said, mouth gaping.

Lotor’s eyes shot to his mouth. Lance snapped it shut before he got any more ideas.

“This is a private location. It is much more to your liking, is it not?”

For a moment, he was back in the arena, sand between his toes as Lotor held him like a prize.

He supposed this kiss was in much better condition than the last. Instead of the taste of sweat and iron, it was that of sweets and home comforts.

“I- I don’t know how I feel about you right now.”

He had let himself get caught up in his Earth fantasy. He’d let himself forget who Lotor was - what Lotor was.

They weren’t just teenagers mucking about after school.

“See, I can change- I can do it for you. Come back with me and I will treat you well. You are my prized possession. Let me take care of you, Pet.”

Pet.

Lance’s mood darkened.

His voice cracked, “That’s it huh? That’s still all I am. That’s all I’ll ever be to you, just your pet. After all this time, I was foolish enough to think I meant more to you.”

“You do mean more! Come home, let me prove it.” He insisted.

“I can’t live like that. I don’t want to be your pet. If you take me back, I’ll be miserable for the rest of my pathetic life.”

To his surprise, Lotor didn’t throw him over his shoulder and haul him back to his ship. He let him don his coat and march back to his house, merely trailing behind.

He spoke before Lance could bother to slam the door in his face, “Have a good night. Sleep well, Pet. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lance didn’t dignify that with a response. He fumed, dumping the produce on the kitchen table and heading to his room.

His sister met him in the hallway.

“You’re home late. I was nervous we wouldn’t get you back. How’d it go? Did you convince him to leave you alone?”

“No. I’m not sure he’ll ever leave me alone…”

His sister tilted her head at him, staring at his mouth.

“Lance? Why is your tongue purple?”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Lance awoke.

He didn’t need to see Lotor to know he was already in his home again. Lance let him wait downstairs; He took his time cleaning up in the shower, not eager to speak with him again.

By the time he had mustered the courage to descend the stairs, he noticed a significant lack of sleeping family members. He found everyone in the living room; Adults seated on the couches and chairs, while the younger members were cross-legged on the carpet. At the center of the room–and everyone’s attention–was Lotor, eyes wide as he regaled them with a story.

Lotor stood, clearly unable to remain seated in the heat of the moment, gesticulating wildly. Even Veronica seemed impressed despite her clear reservations about him.

Lance leaned against the doorframe, unwilling to interrupt such passionate storytelling. He was drawn in immediately; Lotor’s enthusiasm flowed through every movement, and the fire in his eyes ignited as if the scene lay before him. He supposed it was part of the job as emperor to be a charismatic speaker.

“Then?” A younger family member asked eagerly.

“In the end, I liberated their society. Our alliance stands to this quintant!” Lance winced at the use of alien words, but let him continue.

“Wait! What about the bad guy?” One of his little cousins spoke up.

“He put up such a glorious challenge that I gave him the honor of slaughtering him!” Lotor grinned widely, cherishing the memory.

The room gasped.

“Lotor!” Lance scolded before he could catch the slip up- This was supposed to be “Keith” after all.

“I mean- that’s Lo-totally not cool! In front of the kids!” Lance corrected, morphing Lotor’s name into an unrealistic excuse of a phrase.

“I had already made my first kill before I was his age.” Lotor raised an eyebrow in shock, “Where I come from, that is perfectly normal-”

“And by that, he means Canada! Vicious place, don’t believe the rumors!” He began to usher Lotor out of the room, only to be stopped by the pointed looks of his family.

A family member spoke up, “We know he’s the alien from the news.”

He glared at his sister, who merely held her hands up in innocence.

“He’s got the same strand of hair sticking out from his head.” his little cousin pointed out, miming the trademark curved piece.

“Worry not- I have already clarified my pure intentions here.” Lotor smiled far too innocently, approaching Lance and petting his head. He commented on the texture, “You washed your hair- it looks nice. Perhaps we will have to import some products from Earth. The kits were showing me some of their favorite baubles earlier.”

No one batted an eye at the touch, likely assuming it was an alien greeting. Had Lotor petted some of his family members already? He almost wished he’d been present for the interrogation or rather… open welcome- considering the concerningly alien gift basket on the kitchen table.

Lotor wore yet another poor alien imitation of Earth attire; The foreign garb certainly didn’t contribute to him blending in.

“Where’s the clothes I gave you yesterday?” Lance asked, scrutinizing the outfit.

“I attempted to have them laundered. They were, unfortunately,” Lotor searched for the word, starting again tentatively, “disintegrated. I will purchase you another wardrobe.”

His offer was either a closet full of alien clothing like the ones Lotor had worn to Earth or the mortifying ordeal of an alien emperor navigating the shopping district.

“No! No- that’s fine. I’ll grab you something else.” Lance didn’t hesitate to scurry back to his room.

“Allow me to accompany you.”

He couldn’t decide if he’d rather take Lotor with him and endure his coercion, or leave him with his family to indoctrinate them.

He didn’t argue when Lotor followed him up the stairs, admiring the family photos adorning the walls. At one point he plucked a photo from the wall, pausing to hold his bracer up to it. A small beam scanned over it before he replaced it on the wall.

“You were a cute kit.” Lotor hummed, pleased with the discovery.

Lance didn’t dignify the intrusion with an acknowledgment.

Once Lance shut the door behind them, Lotor took the liberty of exploring his room.

“I’m assuming you left out the details of our relationship- since you’re allowed in the house and all.” Lance pointed out, rifling through his closet for anything else that fit large on him.

“I may have left out some details about your position,” Lotor admitted, scrutinizing the baubles on his shelf.

“What did you call me, then- if not pet?” Lance inquired, not without a note of sourness, “A peon? Your companion?”

“Were you hoping for consort?” Lotor joked with far too much levity for his own good.

“Here, see if this fits.” Lance chucked a T-shirt at him none too gently.

Lotor removed his shirt, inspecting the new article provided.

Lotor paused his scrutiny, his eyes tracing Lance’s gaze to his chest before he could hide his interest. His eyes widened before he returned to his task. Lance looked anywhere else, ignoring the half-naked alien in his room. He was an idiot—how could he let himself fall into this situation?

He should have just let him stick out like a sore thumb- maybe a new willing candidate for “alien pet” would approach them and save him some trouble.

The warm breath on his ear sent a shudder down his spine, “It is nothing you have not seen before.” Lotor chuckled.

Lance turned around–ready to kick him out while he found another article–when froze- Lotor was mere inches away from him. He had him kabedon-ed to the wall. Lance could feel the heat emanating off his bare skin.

“There are benefits to belonging to the Emperor. You know that better than anyone.”

Lance crossed his arms, holding what little ground he had.

He enunciated painfully slow, though his frustration begged him to scream, “You can’t do this to me. You can’t tempt me like a lover yet treat me like a pet.”

It was the same as he tried the day before. He wanted a pet with benefits, not the organic relationship that Lance craved.

Lotor spoke lowly, “This is what you want, is it not? You want me. You want my attention, my care. You have made that all too clear. Well, you can have it.” His voice sunk to a purr, “In all but name.”

His body heated, though this time with vehemence rather than lust. Despite his rage, his eyes fell to Lotor’s lips before darting back to his eyes with a challenging gaze.

“I want your respect. I want you to listen to me for once.” He insisted, holding his ground.

The door to his room burst open, his sister standing in the doorway.

“Luis wanted me to offer these to-” Veronica began, a stack of clothes in hand.

She froze, brain processing the scene before her.

Her eyes bounced from the very half-naked emperor pinning him to the wall, to Lance’s flushed face, back to the shirtless man. Her face flushed bright red.

The color drained from Lance’s face, “It’s not what it-”

“I’m interrupting! I’ll leave!” Before Lance could get out a word, she’d placed the pile on the floor and shut the door behind her.

He was tempted to yell through the door, but that would only draw more attention.

Lance slid to the ground and crawled between his legs to escape.

There was a rare hint of hesitation in Lotor’s words as if his belief was shaken, “I am unable to keep you safe as a lover. You are only fit to be a pet.”

Lotor changed subjects abruptly as if sensing his imminent ejection from Lance’s room, “It is lively, your room. I would not be opposed to doing the same with your room on Newterra.”

Yet another bribe.

“I could put the mall on holiday. We could obtain more belongings for you. It could be just the two of us.”

Lance had to remind himself that he wouldn’t beat Lotor in a fight. Never had he wanted to punch his stupid pretty face any more than this moment. Lance only grew further irritated the more he spoke.

“Why? To keep me from slipping away in the crowd? No, I prefer my room on Earth, Thank you very much.”

“Then why choose another room on Newterra?” Lotor asked before elaborating, “While this may be the same house, your bedroom is not the location of the room we sleep in.”

“We slept in my parent’s room.” He answered curtly.

“I suppose this one is a bit smaller. You could have extended it in the blueprints.” He hummed, sitting on the bed and tossing one leg over the other. He made a small sound of comprehension, “Of course. You felt…belittled by your position. It is no wonder you would replicate your familial dynamic with yourself in the highest position.”

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. Close but no cigar; As much as he wanted to give Lotor credit for considering his emotions for once, he wasn’t quite there.

“Is everything about hierarchy with you? Do you seriously not understand why I might be sentimental? You can’t grasp why I would feel comfortable sleeping where my mother and I used to?”

He could see the gears turning in Lotor’s head.

“Right. You enjoy your family.”

Oh. That would make a bit more sense. It wasn’t a cultural difference, but a domestic one. Overbearing father, disintegrated mother, and calloused governess did not exactly paint the picture of a happy childhood for Lotor. Lance couldn’t bring himself to feel bad for Lotor, not after the way this day was heading.

Lotor began again, “You know, It would be no trouble to import Earth amenities. We could relocate the contents of your room. Honestly, I would not mind relocating the entire building to Newterra- humans included.”

Lance rolled his eyes, “For being a genius, you sure have issues understanding social etiquette.”

“I have never made such a proclamation-”

“You will never convince me to come back and be your pet- and I better not see those pictures you scanned on the intergalactic news. Now, if you want me to continue to humor you and allow you in my home, you’ll knock it off.” Lance spoke firmly, pointing a finger at him.

Sure, he had no idea what Lotor would do if he simply refused to see him, but he had been relatively polite thus far. Lance was allowed to be irritated after all Lotor had put him through.

Lotor held his hands up in surrender.

“Oh, and put on some clothes,” Lance added, chucking the pile of clothes at him.

Lance wasn’t confident that any of his efforts were helping to break through that thick Galra skull of his. He seemed just as set in his opinions as the day Lance had left.

Lotor was far too tactical in his thinking. It was concerning hearing Lotor panic like that- Well, not a typical panic per se, but rather Lotor’s version of it; He was pulling out all the stops to convince Lance: Making, bribe after bribe for him to return, baiting Lance with the idea of an “equal relationship”.

He wouldn’t go back, he couldn’t- Not while Lotor’s benevolent specism remained.

They had started down a different forest path in silence.

Why did he bother humoring Lotor? Time after time, he proved that he only saw Lance as an object, as something to be bought with gifts or attention. Maybe if Lotor could see this world, see how Lance was treated in his old life, then he’d understand what he had done to him- what he had stripped from him.

Lotor was a good person (or rather, alien); He had warped his beliefs for him before, slaughtering Sendak–giving him the honorable death he didn’t deserve–instead of leaving him a threat. He just had to convince him to do so again.

They took a different path this time, exiting the woods to find a strip mall.

A bell chimed against the door as they entered the establishment.

Lotor glanced around curiously, furrowing his eyebrows upon scrutinization.

“Lance, what kind of store is this?” He asked tentatively.

“What do you think? You want a pet, so we’re at a pet store.”

Lotor let out a sigh of relief, “These stores appear much different on Earth. The chains give a much different impression.”

Lance traced his gaze to the rows of leashes, prong collars, and suspicious-shaped dog toys.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. We’re here to get you a better pet.”

All traces of amusement left Lotor’s face.

“No such creature. I am perfectly satisfied with you.” Lotor crossed his arms.

Great, now the alien overlord was pouting.

His eyes traced the rows of dog collars with distaste.

“I never would have let you wear one of these cheap things.” He said as if Lance should have been grateful.

“Gee, thanks.” He huffed, “I wouldn’t let you wear a collar at all- because we’re equals.”

“I suppose you did make your distaste for it rather clear.” Lotor’s countenance darkened, a wave of anguish washing over him, “I dug it up with my bare hands. I thought Shirogane had finally snapped, like his first day in the arena.”

He thought Lance had died?

“You had never taken it off without permission. Your vitals were gone. I did not know if I would be digging up the rest of you with it.”

Lotor’s hand shook where he traced the edge of a collar.

Lance took his hand, stilling his tremors.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to worry so much about me. I’m alright.”

Lotor took a deep breath.

“You are. And you will stay that way if I have anything to say about it.”Lotor assured.

This wasn’t the place to get into another argument about his lack of need to be protected. Lotor already knew how he felt about that.

He led Lotor by the hand to the live animals, determined to find a suitable replacement.

He skipped the rodents entirely, certain they were too fragile for Lotor’s taste. If a rabbit was allowed to roam on the ship, a crewmate would mistake it for a snack and eat it. Heck, Lance wasn’t sure how he’d survived the same fate.

Their first official stop was the cats.

“I’d suggest a cat, but on second thought, Kovu clearly didn’t cut it for you.”

Lotor tilted his head curiously at the cat.

“This one resembles a spar-mate from my youth.” Lotor continued with a reminiscent hum, “He thought less of me for my halved bloodline, so I halved his form.”

There was far too much joy on Lotor’s face at the memory.

“It’s hard to remember that you’re a cutthroat alien emperor when you’re wearing my brother’s slacks.”

They suited him. Maybe he’d convince Marco to let Lotor keep them.

“Touche, It is difficult to remember that you are supposed to be my pet when you keep staring at my rear in them.”

“You can literally shapeshift, I’m convinced you’re just trying to get my attention.” Lance laughed.

“Can you blame me if I am? You are more than worthy of it.”

He brushed off Lotor’s sugared words, turning his attention back to the cats; He wiggled a finger at a cat, ignoring the implications of their conversation.

He supposed he should consider himself lucky that Lotor was not full Galra. Sure, Zethrid’s fur was luxurious, but he didn’t have to live with her. Lotor was like the hypoallergenic version of a Galra. He didn’t even have scales like the other type of his species. Well, none that he knew of-

“What are you thinking?” Lotor interrupted his thought, concerned with Lance’s rare silence.

“I’m thinking about how much I save on lint rollers since you’ve got hair instead of fur. I guess that’s why your kind mainly wears armor- it saves you from having to clean up every thirty seconds.”

“We wear it to remain impervious to most forms of physical attack,” Lotor explained.

“You know what would keep you safe from the imperius curse? A guard dog!”

“Impervious, meaning immune to-” Lotor took a moment to process his words, clearly confused as to where a guard would be sold in this location.

“A guard-dog?” Lotor sounded the word out.

Lance led him to the dogs.

The puppies scratched against the doors of their kennels, eager to approach.

Lotor was unimpressed.

“Even the youngest Galra could eliminate any one of these animals.”

“Well they’re just babies- they are are cute though! They’d make such a good pet for you.”

“How many times must I reiterate that I will not settle for another creature? I only want you.”

“And I don’t want to be a pet. Good, now we’re both sick of repeating ourselves.” He ignored Lotor’s denial, waving over a worker. He requested a dog from the case, accepting it excitedly when the employee offered to let him hold it.

He smiled widely as it squirmed and lapped at anywhere it could reach.

“I’m sure she’d love to lay on your lap. Isn’t she cute?”

“You certainly are.”

When he looked up, his eyes met Lotor’s again- he doubted Lotor had spared the thing a glance yet.

“Here, hold her.” Before Lotor could refuse, Lance had thrust the puppy into his arms.

Lotor held it as if it exuded a toxic aura.

“Don’t be like that.” Lance realized he had an advantage, speaking again with faux disappointment, “You don’t like it at all, do you? So we can’t bring it back to Newterra then?”

He could practically see the information process in Lotor’s head. His body language morphed from stiff and rigid to soft and caring. He pulled the creature to his chest, finally holding it properly.

“I said nothing of the sort. I could adjust. If you want it, then it is welcome on your planet- I will retrieve every puppy on Earth if you so desire.”

“Exactly. You could adjust. You just need to be more open to it!”

Lotor scowled at the trick, turning to the employee, “This creature, could it survive on its own?”

She spoke monotonously as if having had to explain this numerous times, “It’s a puppy. It needs to be taken care of. We have pre-built starter kits if you’re interested-”

He interrupted, “Even fully grown?”

“He’s new to this country.” Lance butted in.

“No. Stray animals never live as long as the ones that are cared for with homes.” She explained.

Lotor gave Lance a knowing look as if that had somehow proved his point.

“She was bred that way, right?” He looked to the salesperson.

“As a corgi, she was bred to-”

Lotor interrupted,“Similar to how natural selection picks certain species to thrive and expand while others remain isolated on a rock.”

“At least some we still have our ‘rock’”

“Did you want the dog or not?” The minimum wage worker piped in.

Both snapped opposite answers at the employee.

“You want the dog now?” Lance asked.

“No, but you do.” Lotor huffed.

She looked as if she couldn’t decide whether to find popcorn or security.

“Sorry about that!” Lance handed the dog over and dragged Lotor from the store before he could try and barter his belongings for the dog.

He needed to clear his head and think.

Lotor wouldn’t follow him around forever, sooner or later, he would make a choice for both of them.

Pissing Lotor off was not the best idea; Lotor wouldn’t respect him any more if he thought Lance was just being rude to toy with him.

He dragged him down the strip mall, stopping at a cafe.

He’d skipped breakfast to get Lotor out of the house. Coffee was close enough- at least it would help him focus.

He ordered a coffee for himself and an herbal tea for Lotor, unwilling to caffeinate him.

They took a seat at a picnic table outside, their conversations far too alien to remain indoors.

“So, what’s your plan?” Lance began, ignoring the innocent look on Lotor’s face, “

“I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll keep humoring me forever- what happens when you get sick of following me around?”

“Perhaps I am enjoying this tour of your planet. After all, an Emperor needs to be versed in a range of cultures.”

Lotor didn’t answer the question; Lance didn’t buy his excuse.

Lotor pretended to be fascinated by the marking on his beverage cup. He swirled it a few times before bringing it to his lips.

“Can I not simply desire your company? It is not every day one gets to-” Lotor froze mid-sentence, nose scrunching up at the flavor of his drink.

“You don’t like it?” Lance asked, disappointed in his poor choice.

“It is awfully bitter.” Lotor choked out.

“How about mine?” Lance handed his drink over, watching Lotor make a more foul expression at the taste. He tried Lotor’s tea, finding it unsweetened like his own beverage.

“Hold that thought, I’ll grab you some sugar,” Lance said, leaving Lotor at the table.

Maybe water would help too. It was a far cry from the semi-meaty beverages of the Galra empire.

He strode back into the coffee shop, glancing back at the disgusted look still marring Lotor’s face before locating the sugar.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?” He glanced up, eyes meeting two strangers he’d never seen before.

“I told you it was him! That’s the guy the alien wanted.”

He supposed it was only natural that people connected the dots. He did arrive back on Earth a short time before Lotor did.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Lance brushed it off, attempting to scoot past them to the exit.

One of the men took a wide step, blocking his exit.

“I wonder what that alien Emperor would pay to get his little friend back.”

Chapter Text

“I wonder what that alien Emperor would pay to get his little friend back.”

“Lay a hand on me and you’ll regret it” Lance said, sizing the pair up.

Sure, it was two versus one, but they were so unremarkably human. No extra height or muscle, or limbs. No inhuman speed or child soldier training, or double-jointed shoulders.

Despite his warning, one of the men grabbed Lance’s wrist.

He warned them.

He shot a look at the barista; it was partially an emphasis on his innocence, partially a warning of what was to come.

“I warned you.”

Lance’s eyes focused on a spot behind them, going wide with concern. He gasped.

When his captor looked away, he wrenched his wrist back in one quick motion. As his head whipped back to Lance, he smashed his coffee cup into the side of his head. He screamed as the semi-cooled coffee crashed into his face.

“Order up!” Lance laughed.

He didn’t waste a moment to send him hurtling toward the ground; while he was discombobulated, he used the toe of his shoe to pull a chair into the back of his knees,

This was nothing compared to his previous norm- he’d had more intense fights for the holoscreen remote.

Just because Lotor went easy on him didn’t mean training was easy. He was half Galra, yet twice as lethal.

When the other launched at him, rage clouding his vision, he dodged, darting behind an empty table.

It was refreshing to deal with opponents that rose only a few inches above him, rather than a few feet.

He maintained his distance, keeping the table between them and circling it in the opposite direction each time the other drew near.

“I guess I can’t blame you for being ignorant. I’m sure those fluffy purple aliens look real forgiving,” he laughed.

His face flushed with rage as Lance taunted him. He slid to the side as his opponent flipped the table. He let the man back him to the wall, ducking when he aimed a fist at his head. It flew past him, hitting the tiled wall with a satisfying crunch.

While he clutched his knuckles, Lance landed a kick between his legs, leaving him down for the count. That move, he didn’t learn from the Galra- they were far too armored for that to work.

He couldn’t help but laugh at how easily they’d fallen.

“Don’t quiznack with the Galra empire!”

He dismounted his high horse just long enough to notice the stunned onlookers. Coffee splattered on multiple surfaces, including his clothes.

“Oh. Sorry about the mess.” He didn’t realize he had so many witnesses. But if they’d seen it, then- he looked to the side, glancing through the glass storefront to where he’d left Lotor.

His eyes went wide- for real this time. No wonder Lotor hadn’t intervened; Instead of looking proud or even concerned, he bore a melancholic, pained countenance- the subtle expression emphasised the way he was keeled over in obvious crisis.

Shit.

He leapt over the writhing bodies, rushing to Lotor’s side. His skin tone began to fade to its natural cyanotic complexion.

He knelt, cupping Lotor’s cheeks, fingers sliding just below his jaw to check his pulse. He was alive. Thank everything that he was alive.

“Lotor! Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He gently patted his slumped face, tilting it up to make eye contact.

Lotor blinked at him vaguely. He didn’t respond, merely leaning into the touch.

“Shit! What should I do? Usually I ask you about these kinds of things!” Lance panicked.

He took a breath. This could be life or death- he needed to focus. When he was injured, Lotor put him in some sort of healing pod. But he couldn’t drag him back to the Galra; If any of his species saw his weakened state, they might take the opportunity to seize the throne.

He chucked his jacket over Lotor’s head, poorly concealing his alien features.

Grabbing one of his arms, he hauled it over his shoulder, supporting Lotor’s weight to stand. He was so much heavier than he looked, especially since his alien form was reverting to its original size. His brother’s clothing ripped at the seams.

“C’mon, big guy, let’s get help.”

With his free hand, he dialed Shiro’s number on his phone.

“Lance! How are you-?” Shiro answered excitedly.

“Ask Allura to bring the castle ship shuttle to my place- it’s an emergency! I need you to meet me halfway into the woods at this location!”

While Allura didn’t have a cell phone, Shiro did. His current residence in the Castle ship was advantageous; Shiro had tasked himself with educating the Alteans with Earth culture before they made their formal introduction to Earth. They needed time before they could address the planet -Earth’s attention already centered on the Galra’s arrival.

It certainly helped that Shiro needed a place to stay until he made up with Adam.

Shiro met him more than halfway, helping him carry Lotor the rest of the way.

“Why are we bringing him back to Allura? Wouldn’t a Galran doctor know more about this?” Shiro asked after slinging Lotor’s other arm over his shoulder.

“They’d eat him alive like this- maybe literally, knowing their species. He’s also half Altean, so they’re equally as qualified.” Lance panted with exertion as he explained.

It would reveal the involvement of the Altean Empire in assisting his escape, but it would also save Lotor’s life. With Lotor’s investigative skills, he doubted that Lotor wasn’t already aware.

To his luck, the castle ship did contain healing chambers. He was thankful to have their trust already, as he hadn’t had time to explain why they were hauling the half-dead, half-naked, half-Altean emperor into their home. They maneuvered his body into a pod before giving the rundown—and his thanks—to Allura.

“The scan displays traces of trimethylxanthine and theobromine in his digestive tract,” Coran noted, scrolling through the report.

“I don’t think I fed him either of… those.”

“Theobromine- isn’t that the ingredient in chocolate that dogs can’t eat?” Shiro asked.

Chocolate? He hadn’t given Lotor any- his eyes widened at the realization: His coffee was mocha.

“Is the other chemical in, I don’t know, coffee?” Lance asked tentatively.

They checked it with the sample of coffee splattered on his clothes, finding it a match. Of course, he poisoned Lotor the first time he hadn’t scanned his food.

Lance began to pace nervously.

“Great! I killed the Emperor! I didn’t want to get rid of him! I just wanted him to treat me like a person!”

“He is not dead. He just needs a bit to recover.” Allura assured.

“I still poisoned him! I am supposed to be the only one he can trust, and I betrayed that.”

“You didn’t poison him. It was an accident.” Shiro assured, “Are you alright?” He put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine- I just need some time to think.”

He shouldn’t have had part of that coffee- he’d been without caffeine so long it was making him jittery. Usually, he couldn’t even feel its effects.

Everyone filed to the living area while Lance remained with the healing pod, promising he’d follow in a few minutes. He paced back and forth, waiting for it to indicate his assured health.

“I’m not going to forgive you if you die. You know that, right?” He asked through the glass, glaring at Lotor’s placid expression. Deep inside him, he knew something so small couldn’t kill Lotor; He was the strongest creature he had ever known, a few sips of caffeine wouldn’t body him. It didn’t keep him from worrying, though.

Eventually, Shiro dragged him away to eat something. He poked the goop around his plate pathetically, unwilling to leave the ship for real food.

Allura and Coran had slipped away at one point, content to leave the comforting to Shiro. He paid no mind to whatever royal duties they were tending to, too complacent with being miserable.

“I always thought my first assassination attempt would be a bit more… grand.”

”Really? I had assumed it would be a pillow over my head.”

He turned around so quickly his head spun.

Lotor looked good- great, even if you counted how those Altean clothes fit him. The weight on his chest lifted as he confirmed his condition. He was alright. Lance hadn’t killed him.

“You look worried. Did you honestly believe I was to be bested by a beverage?” He smirked, leaning against the wall.

“It was a formidable coffee. It did help me take down someone in the cafe.”

”Oh, I saw.”

Lance perked up. He had seen him fight.

“That was a bit of improv. The rest was muscle memory.” Lance mustered up chalance, despite the excitement thrumming within him.

“I only caught the beginning of it, but from what I saw, you handled yourself marvelously.”

Lance keened at the praise.

“Like a Galra?” Lance hinted, raising an eyebrow at him.

Shiro had earned their respect by fighting like them, by being brutal and cutthroat in his attempts to survive.

Lotor’s expression wavered.

“No. Not quite.” He spoke softly, as if it were more for himself than anything.

“If they were to accost a Galra with a threat to their leader, even the meekest soldier would have attempted dismemberment,” Lotor spoke, his contemplative tone contrasting his harsh words.

Lance’s heart sank. How many times did he have to prove himself to earn Lotor’s respect? The thrill of Lotor’s survival faded as his rejection smothered it down.

“Gee, thanks,” Lance said coldly, arms crossing.

”That is not what I-“ Lotor uncharacteristically fumbled for words, his confidence wavering, “You are not a Galra. It is unjust to draw such comparisons when you are so much more than your species.”

The heat of rage rekindled in his chest. Everything was always about his species. It limits him to being a pet- a lesser being. After everything they’ve been through, he can’t get it past his thick galra skull that Lance is a person.

Lotor shoved his head into his hand upon seeing Lance’s furrowed brow.

“Come back to the ship.” Lotor requested.

Lance was beginning to seriously doubt his intelligence.

”Uh… No?“ Lance denied, speaking delicately, as if trying not to shatter his mind, “Maybe you should get back in the pod- it seems like you’ve got a bit of brain damage.”

Shiro shot to his feet from where he had been silently observing. The gesture was sweet, especially when considering Shiro’s track record of dueling Lotor. Though, a niggling feeling told him the result would deviate from the norm.

“Stand down, Shirogane- I have no intention of betraying his trust.” Lotor held a hand out reassuringly, swaying a bit when his center of balance was thrown off.

He continued, “My mind is intact, I assure you.”

Lance grabbed him by the arm, keeping him upright. He guided Lotor to sit on the couch, taking a seat beside him.

”Now I’m actually concerned. Why did Coran even let you out like this?”

“Please, Lance. I am trying to be vulnerable with you.” Lotor pleaded.

“Like physically?! You are aware that’s an expression, right?”

“For Galra, it is more than that.”

“I guess… I understand the gesture, but you need to finish recovering.” Lance insisted, “C’mon back in the magic microwave with you, no stopping with one second left, no collecting $200 when you pass ‘Go’.”

“I will, Lance, when the time is right, I will.” He assured him.

What kind of game was he playing? He could comprehend a gesture of sincerity on a base level, but this was unnecessary.

The ship shuddered familiarly.

”Did you just dock with this ship?” Lance asked, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Would you prefer I return to my main vessel in Altean attire? Or should I simply strut about nude in broad daylight?” Lotor laughed.

Lance choked back a laugh at the idea, “I could go get more human clothes if you still need to take your emotions out on something.”

The doors slid open, Altean guards escorting Galra guests inside. Well, half Galra guests; Lotor’s generals entered, some bearing boxes.

Shiro stiffened.

“Lance! Good to see you!” Zethrid greeted. She shifted the container to one arm, reaching toward him before stopping herself.

Right, he was a free man; He didn’t need aliens to pet him. Well, free for now.

He returned the sentiment when the others mimicked her welcome.

He restrained his excitement at the boxes; They were presented like gift boxes, well the Galra version of gift boxes anyway (metal and utilitarian, yet insecurely closed).

Maybe Lotor had made up his mind and decided to return Lance’s belongings to him.

“What’s all this?” He asked.

“A peace offering.” Lotor smiled. Despite his confident posturing, Lance could sense a bit of sheepishness seeping through.

“I told you I can’t be bought.” Lance reminded.

“And I paid attention.”Lotor insisted, “Actions speak louder than words, and now is the time for action.”

Zethrid handed him the box when prompted.

Lotor spoke gently, nervously, “Lance, I hereby challenge you to a duel.”

Out of anything he could have said, he challenged him?

“What…?” Lance asked, unsure he heard him correctly.

His generals cooed over the gesture. Right, fighting. It was a Galra thing.

Lotor opened the box, displaying… his armor? Why was he acting like that clarified anything at all?

“Were you expecting something a bit more unique? I did not think you would mind matching with me.” Lotor hinted.

Wait.

WAIT

“That’s for me? You made me a set?” Lance thrummed with excitement.

Lotor’s words from before echoed in his mind,“You are far too bold to be trusted with a suit of armor.”

Shiro had been the only one Lotor respected as an adversary. He trusted him to hold his own and guard his possession.

Another box contained Lotor’s usual armor, distinct only in its size.

The others filed out as they dressed. Once Lance had donned his body suit, he’d helped Lotor do the same.

The room was quiet, yet no tension stirred the air.

“Are you sure you’re up for this? You don’t have to actually fight me, I get the gesture.” Lance asked.

“I have never been more certain of anything,” Lotor assured.