Chapter Text
“We are all on the same side. It doesn’t have to change our future together.”
Kylan would never dare consider doubting Lotor, but he was also no fool to leave loose ends hanging, so to speak. He worked along with their leader and his intentions, his goal, was always about keeping Alteans and the invaluable culture of said race alive. Against all odds, all naysayers and doubters, he kept to his goal. And he succeeded.
“You enslaved countless Alteans! How many innocent lives did you destroy?!”
Slaves? No. They were not slaves. They were not treated as such. If anything, they were flourishing and well on their way to becoming a better society than the one led by King Alfor. The progress was well on the way and the future looked bright. So, what happened? He needed to hear it, needed to have the physical evidence right in front of him.
“Surely, you can see the greatness we’ve already accomplished -”
The audio distorted then, signifying Sincline was most likely damaged from an unsuspecting attack.
“-llura, stop! You and I - zzt - Altean culture. We were meant - kkzzt -”
The black box was heavily damaged. Being exposed to the elements, especially quintessence, no doubt rendered it beyond repair. Except, Kylan knew how to save the proof and secure the device for future use. Plan B. Have a backup. Always have a back up.
“You’re more like Zarkon than I could have imagined.”
He closed his eyes slowly, releasing a solemn and heavy sigh of disappointment. He wasn’t going to say he knew everything, even if the hidden picture was revealed in front of him. No, what he has here ultimately didn’t matter in terms of putting Lotor back on the throne.
“Who are you to question my tactics - “
But it was enough to clear his name. It was enough to show that Voltron started a whole new, deadly, costly war by attacking the Emperor.
They had suggested putting him in a pod to stabilize his quintessence levels. Lotor’s soul may have returned, but that doesn’t mean his body was in a relatively safe state. Logically, it made sense to use the technology at hand to quicken the process, but you convinced them to keep him on a bed instead. Convinced was putting it lightly. You wouldn’t move on your decision, even if it meant using logic as a tool to get what was best for Lotor.
“I will siphon it from him, as I do with the other patients,” you explained, “It’s safer this way.”
It was your reasoning, what you used to convince yourself. Your hand was loosely holding his as the steady flow of quintessence slowly ebbed through the meager contact. When he had collapsed from exhaustion in your arms, you already knew that a confined space wouldn’t do well for his recovery. He needs to wake up naturally in a comforting environment, somewhere open, somewhere...safe. You promised him that at the very least.
But the longer you stayed with him, the more you came to the haunting realization at exactly how bad it was for the Galra Emperor. His skin was shriveled, no doubt either from over exposure or the action of his soul literally being sucked out of his body. Or even both. But the inside is what worries you the most. Starvation. His organs were scarily dehydrated. Lotor’s system was off for so long, you weren’t sure he could even eat anything nourishing.
And, oddly enough, there were times you couldn’t...see him as a patient. You saw him as something more, something beyond just Emperor. Allowing those buried thoughts to unfurl left your stomach stirring in uneasiness.
Lotor wasn’t talkative. Recovery was slow and, sometimes, he barely woke up long enough to sip water or open his mouth for ice chips. You weren’t even sure if he was coherent enough to answer the typical questions for patients who experienced such acute delirium. Do you know who you are? Where you are? What happened?
No. No, overflowing with too much would stunt his progress. Plus, you often found yourself...hesitating to even speak with him. Maybe it was wrong of you to take advantage of his illness to push your own discomfort away. If he didn't ask, you don't need to answer. But there were urgent questions lingering between you two and you know they will come around eventually. You’ll have to face them, whether you like it or not. You’ll have to hear what he has to say. What you’ll say. What you’ll feel.
But...
Lotor first. Your thumb ran over his knuckles softly, gaze longingly focused on your conjoined hands. Lotor first. That’s how it felt when trapped in Sincline’s…
The Black Paladin has seen many haunting horrors in his life, but nothing will be more traumatic than seeing his own body as a corpse. No, his alternate self was alive, he just looked shriveled and sickly. Sunken eye sockets, skin blemishes from what he knows as quintessence burn. The bite marks, oh, there were so many torn in his suit. Different sizes, different states of decay.
But he was safe and, more importantly, alive. Now, the matter of what state his mind will be in is something not even he can help with.
“I will pass the message on to the doctor once Emperor Lotor is in stable condition,” Kylan accepted the letter handed to him by the Black paladin then carefully slid it in his coat pocket, “Thank you, again. You have done us a great honor. Saved us all, actually.”
Yet, as much as he would like to accept such gratefulness, he couldn't help but keep his lips set in a firm line of momentary deep thought. Saved them? Or condemned them? This war in his reality wasn’t theirs to deal with, but would it be just as neglectful and dispassionate to allow the hoktril to be exposed to other realities? A double edged sword. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.
“I only hope that his return wasn’t too late. Unfortunately, time does not appear to be on our side as of late.”
Kylan nodded in agreement, “You have your duties, we have ours. And yours must be urgent if you need to leave so soon.”
Nebulous orbs stuck onto the letter in Kylan’s hand, easily remembering the scribble he quickly jotted down for your eyes only. A message, a dire one, explaining why his leave of absence was absolutely necessary, but not for the reason anyone would assume. The Black Paladin had received a distress call, one he had not heard from in a very, very long time, and he had every intention to answer it. Sven’s voice rang in his ears clearly, as if he was standing right behind him. His hushed whispers, as if hiding from something. Or rather, someone.
“I implore you to use the communication stone with utmost discretion. However, as soon as matters have settled here,” Paladin Lotor gave a wave, a vague gesture at all of this, “Let me know when your forces are ready to fight.”
He gave a noble bow, a sign of respect, and perhaps he had but a single regret. Chewing on his tongue, he wonders if it was his cowardice that told him it was better to leave without sending you a personal farewell face to face.
If there was one thing Emperor Lotor despised about hospitals, it was the smell. The acute, sanitized scent of alcohol and sterilization never brought him comfort when awake, but when asleep, when rousing from a deep comatose-like state, he absolutely found it much worse. The air was cold, chilling his nostrils, yet there was a warm blanket covering most of his body, all the way up to his shoulders. Warmth...something he cherishes now that he had the cold touch of death’s finger beckon him from his body.
It took days for him to realize he was alive, longer to know that the doctor had dutifully tended to his recovery. It wasn’t easy, regaining his senses and awareness. His thoughts were slow, as if relearning everything that which went dormant in his mind. Words, thoughts, feelings. Feelings...like your hand gently clutched in his. Not at all unlike that memory of falling in a pit of darkness, tethered by the mere simple contact of entwined fingers.
And damn, to remember that utopia-esque simulation. Was it a simulation? It all felt too real. Too perfect, too...happy, one he thinks he will never really get to experience ever again. That love, that peaceful life, that completion. At the time, he didn't question it. Who would? But now, now as you read the holographic screen and scan the details about his vitals in silence, he has so many questions to ask.
Was it a hedonistic crime to still feel that inkling of love from a fake memory as he stared at you?
Or maybe...that was just a lingering side-effect. A sort of after-high from being forced into an addictive drug-induced state of mind.
You knew he was awake. Lotor made it clear with his silent shifting, a gentle squeeze of his hand in yours, and a slight, almost quiet, groan of discontent when he felt his body ache in the worst possible ways. Part of him would've chuckled at the thought that maybe you were avoiding him, or rather, avoiding looking at him while awake. Then another part would caution that it was wise of you to do so, for both yours and his sake.
Maybe, just like him, neither of you were ready to ask questions about the intimate life you shared. Maybe, just like him, if he kept his mouth shut, both of you can pretend it didn’t happen. It was a trick. A ruse, a test. One conjured from deep within the heart’s desires and brought to the surface.
The light above was dimmed in a cool blue hue, offering him a sense of peace and tranquility, but what really helped calm his nerves was the smell of a warm cup of hot chocolate wafting through the air. A promised treat, a guarantee no doubt, if he wanted to drink or simply hold it in his hands. And yet, he didn't reach for it.
Lotor reached for your hand. You gave it willingly, almost instinctively, and he was quite aware of how his heart beat just a little louder at the gesture. Lotor wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. Well, he did, but he shouldn't. He really shouldn't because it was wrong to harbor such feelings for you considering the circumstances. But the heart wants. The heart yearns.
Lotor can control it. He swears he can.
So many unspoken words between you two, yet silence was clearly winning here. Then again, he can’t complain too much. Or at all, really. Your thumb slowly roving over his knuckles was nearly entrancing. The simple touch made his body compliant, whether because it was you or because the action itself was an unconscious move on its own, he would never find out.
You stopped suddenly then gave him a light squeeze, “How are you feeling?”
“I’ll be…” he paused, recalling how he felt when falling out of that cockpit, the panic, the pain, the cold, so, so cold, “Fine.”
And while normally, those few words would be firm confirmation that you’ve done your job flawlessly, you can't help but let your heart seed doubt in your mind.
“And you, good doctor?”
Was he asking about your health or how you felt coming out of that life-like experience?
You twisted your wrist, closing the holographic screen before giving him your full attention, “Coming back to life is not what I expected, but then again, neither was dying. It was different than-”
A twinge in your shoulder pulsed, reminding you of the last time you danced with death so romantically.
“I recovered faster than you. Kylan informed me I was gone for a mere few minutes. Clearly not long enough for all the heat to leave my body, but long enough to give him a fright.”
Lotor had a certain look behind his eyes, a certain longing for the truth. You turned away.
It’s been a week. The metaphorical wall was back up. But it wasn't just you that decided avoidance was the best course of action for now. He, too, opted to shove those unanswered questions in the back of his mind as far as he could. Lotor only wondered exactly how long he could let it fester. How long you could let it fester. Maybe the two of you were more alike than you would want to admit.
When the deepest, most intimate, most raw secrets and desires surface, that exposed vulnerability suddenly becomes dangerously choking. Becomes something to fear. Becomes tangible and no longer yours to hide. But to acknowledge such a thing now? What? Were you two going to sit and talk about it? Have a coffee date and reminisce of those fake nights of feeling safe in each other’s arms?
No. It was much easier, much smarter, to stay focused on the goal. It was more important.
Was it awkward? No, not at all. You dressed him in silence with careful fingers, wary that the lightest of touch could bruise his still-healing body, and he watched the concentration consume your task. Such a simple thing spoke volumes to the careful observer. Lotor was the patient. You were the doctor. Play the roles well and everything will be fine.
But just to be sure…
“We’re not going to talk about this, are we?” he asked his one question, voice just a tad lower than normal, meant only for you to hear.
Slipping the new bracelet around his wrist, you waited a few moments until the light glowed green, “No. Not now.”
Lotor’s hands went slack at his side, a sign of obedient understanding. He offered his hand to you, not as a gesture of intimacy. It was for his health, of course. His quintessence levels were still a little high. He was still sick, still a little out of sorts.
For his recovery, you told yourself as the two of you walked out of the room hand in hand.
“Dear Esteemed Doctor,
By the time you receive this letter, I will no longer be in your reality. I have been called back with urgent news and must return post haste. Please accept my humblest apologies for the sudden leave, but if I had the time, I would have stayed to offer you my aid at any cost. With your Emperor under your care, I have no doubt that the next step with our alliance will be needing as much resources and command as possible. Rallying the forces will be difficult, though if there is any advice I may impart with, it is this:
Galra are survivors, through and through.
When civil wars raged upon our brothers and sisters, history has repeatedly shown that it is not the toughest fighter who wins. Rather, it is the one who fights to protect the one at their side.
I look forward to seeing you once more in the near future. Please, stay safe.
Sincerely,
Lotor”
His handwriting was eloquent, not a curve or line extending awkwardly in the entire paragraph. At first glance, anyone would take in the script as romantic at face value, but the prose itself was completely opposite. He wasn’t here anymore and, as the Black Lion paladin, of course he had to tend to his duties. With Voltron, no doubt a shining beacon of hope for those suffering in his reality, he couldn't risk squandering his time.
You folded the letter then pocketed it in your coat, waiting for orders from Emperor Lotor, who was sitting at the helm of the ship and staring deeply off into space. Kylan had updated him about the current situation. Colonies displaced, warlords razing worlds for their own, Haggar’s search for him. That last one put him on edge. Yes, he’s well aware of you working for her, but he is also aware of your need for self-preservance.
Lotor isn't such a naive fool to believe you would never lie in the face of certain death. He caught on faster than expected, knowing full well that sometimes telling people what they want to hear is for your own benefit, not theirs. Manipulation was often a tactic swept under the rug and reserved for those who were labeled as cowardice rats. Weak. Not strong enough. Not smart enough.
No. Not you, though. In the short time he’s known you, words were your choice of weapon in a fight. And apparently, his mother was desperate enough to fall for your schemes. One day, he’d compliment you on such a ruse. One day, he’ll tell you that she was actually the one who gave birth to him. How would you take it, he wonders? Anger at leaving the minor details out? Distrust? Betrayal?
“-of Marmora have gone underground. There has been news of Voltron recently en route to Earth months ago in response to Sendak’s battalion overthrowing the planet. Olkarion has been devastated by unknown forces and survivors have been scattered. Currently, no one has claimed the throne at the main headquarters and the next crowning ceremony will begin in but a few short weeks. Many separated factions are - “
Lotor had options. Many paths he could take to begin repairing the split and broken empire. He could free planets that were overtaken by warlords, spreading hope and securing rogue armies. No, that was what Voltron did and they failed to protect those they promised. Perhaps return to headquarters then declare his status as alive? He will certainly have more resources at his hand then. But no, Haggar and her spies would discreetly sabotage his throne.
Recruit the scattered Alteans? No, he doesn't have the forces necessary to defend them all right now. They were safer with their captains, fortified with the necessary firepower and supplies. What of the Blades of Marmora? Should he spend valuable time searching for them? Their espionage skills will be most beneficial, especially with their network of spies spread out all over the universe. Then again, what about Voltron?
What about Voltron, indeed.
In truth, Voltron had more use as a gun than anything else. Perhaps there were still people faithful that it was their savior, their answer to all this despair and death in the galaxy. Yes, he could save them. That fight when he was piloting Sincline showed him where Voltron’s strength truly lies: as a false ray of hope. It was weak, in more ways than one.
However, the problem with saving Voltron would confuse many people. If he were to align with them again, that would leave many to doubt his role as a leader and the Emperor. He would lose support in the time of need and Voltron itself wasn't good enough to go around. He needed numbers and he would take a loyal military over a disillusioned vigilante any day.
A conundrum, indeed.
“Doctor, Kylan. A moment of your time, please.”
The Emperor ordered the rest of the crew around to give you three some much needed privacy. You stood at his left, Kylan at his right, both in silence. It was no surprise that just like Lotor, you were already calculating what the best course of action would be. Or at least, the best without risking potential deaths and destruction.
“Sir, rallying the Blades would greatly help connect our network with those still loyal to the throne. Although it may take some valuable time to search for their leader and the rest of their members,” Kylan took a deep breath before continuing, “We simply do not have the power alone to protect the Colony and the entirety of the universe, let alone the upcoming war with the other reality.”
Lotor glanced at you from the corner of his eye, awaiting your input. While Kylan’s plan was sound, he couldn't afford to make a hasty decision so soon.
“Sendak has taken over Earth, where Voltron currently resides. I don’t know the lore following the mech, whether the pilots need to be dead before the lions accept a new paladin, but leaving a nuclear cannon that can rip holes into other realities is not something we should leave to a power-hungry warlord. Find out if the paladins are alive. If they are, fight Sendak with both Voltron and Sincline on your side.”
“And if they are not?” the Emperor asked, partly curious about how you would react to your friends dying and partly curious as to why Earth, the one place you didn't want to return to, was even an option you’d consider.
“If not, then…” you trailed off, “If not, steal one of the lions. Voltron cannot be formed without all 5 pieces together. At the very least, it will prevent Sendak from using it to its full potential, regardless if he has located new paladins.”
“Stealing requires stealth. Something the Blades can provide,” Kylan interjected.
“A distraction works just as well. Drawing Sendak’s eyes off of Earth, even for a short time, will give us a small chance to enact our plan,” you countered, then placed a finger on your lips in thought, “If Sincline can attack his battalion, that's more than enough attention to keep Sendak on a trail.”
Lotor found both plans sound, but there was a small problem, “Sendak will not take the bait. He fights with the ferocity of a thousand suns, but he views a proper battle for the throne as an honor. To taunt him to fight me, use my status as alive, in order to claim rights over the empire is not how he views righteous combat.”
“Then convince him with words. You are the Emperor. If strength is not what determines loyalty, then perhaps it is better to show him with fealty and duty.”
You knew little to nothing about Galra culture, but that letter folded in our pocket did tell you one thing: Galra are not savages. Their history goes beyond blood and guts and gore. It's a mystery you hope to read about one day, discover how wizened veterans compare to the current warriors of the Empire. If what Lotor says is true, then maybe one of the strongest warlords in the galaxy will yield to the rightful emperor.
“Very well. Here is my thought: Kylan and I will send for a search party to locate the Blades of Marmora. They will need this ship and I will not risk the Alteans on board near Sendak’s sights. While we are carrying out our side of the plan, doctor, you will go to Earth and infiltrate the base. Give us the details of where the lions are and generally pass on the intel about what’s going on. Because you are human, I'd imagine it'd be quite a simple task for you to blend in,” Lotor bit the inside of his cheek, “Blend in carefully. You are going into the mouth of the beast, after all. From there, we go either two ways: take a lion or confront Sendak. I will leave that judgement up to you, doctor.”
“It’s risky. I don't suppose you know how long it would take for you two to find the Blades?” you questioned, though already knowing the answer.
Kylan pinched the bridge of his nose, “No. We are not even sure if the Blades still exist. If that be the case, then we should have a back up plan.”
“Regardless of how this turns out, doctor, we will need updates about Voltron and Sendak. Can you handle this on your own?” came Lotor’s final question, but there was a hint of...concern visible in his tone.
Earth, the place you were born in. Earth, the place you left behind for good. Earth, the place soon to be used as a slavery planet for Sendak’s needs. You’re not heartless. You don't like the idea of death and destruction on any planet. And that's what Earth was to you, after spending so many years away, it was just another planet. The attachments you had all died with your father.
For what reason did you have to keep any ties with the land? This was for the safety of the universe and much more.
“Yes. yes, I can. When do we start?”
There was a knock at your door, drawing you to pause from packing what little belongings you had into a rucksack.
“Come in.”
And so he did, all of his tall glory stepping into your meager room. Bland, plain, empty and void of sentimentality. Lotor wonders faintly if you lived your entire life like this, with little color and little personality. It looked remarkable like the room back on the Castle of Lions. The door behind him closed slowly, but he had no intention of leaving so soon anyway.
“Was there something important I missed?”
Lotor stayed silent, watching you and trying to think of how to exactly say his thoughts. He was a man of action when the time was right and right now? Part of him was choking at the very thought of you being alone on a planet ruled by Sendak. His heart screamed at him when he suggested the plan, calling him a fool, an idiot, a bastard that keeps risking those he loves -
No. No, it wasn't love. He had to remind himself of that. It was NOT love.
And yet, his inner voice asked, If it wasn't, then why did you come here?
Wordlessly, he bent over to unclasp his boots and pile them neatly by your door. Next came his gloves, followed by his waist cape, and then the rest of his armor until he was standing before you in nothing but his skin-tight body suit. The entire time, you watched in silence with only the beating of your heart getting louder and faster in your chest.
The heart wants. The heart yearns.
“May I stay here tonight?” he asked, but surely he already knew you would say yes. Surely he did. Surely you would.
With a soundless nod, you slipped off your coat then hung it up, just for tonight. Not a doctor, not a soldier, not fighting, not running. Just...being. Existing. Like when trapped inside Sincline’s simulation, except this will be real. Was it okay to do that one more time?
Lotor slipped under the sheets with you, trapping you between the wall and his solid frame. He was never to call himself a man who hesitates, but he did exactly that when he cautiously slid an arm over your waist to pull you closer. Closer, still, until his chest was flushed with your back and his nose nuzzled the top of your head. This let him take in your scent, as if trying to burn it in his memories.
That's when it clicked. As much as part of you wanted this, you needed it. You both did. The way he held you tight. The way you leaned into him. He was … scared, just like you. There was no certainty you would not be killed, nor him surviving the trek to find the Blades. You two just found each other again and, while your partnership before wasn't deemed as together, as someone to fight alongside the other, the idea of being separated so soon started to leave an uneasy tension in the air.
There were other ways. More safer, less isolating. He could come with you. Or you can stay with him. Strength in numbers, right?
Oh, where did the confidence go?
Gentle fingertips rove over his knuckles lightly, asking permission to hold, to thread together and seal an unspoken vow between you two. A promise that you can do this, that he will find the Blades, that everything so far is only the beginning and it will work out in the end. It was two simple words.
Trust me.