Chapter Text
It was supposed to be a diplomatic mission. There wasn't supposed to be any Zarkon, Galra, or any forming of Voltron whatsoever. The Paladins were prepared to visit whatever lived here and add them to the small, but growing Voltron Alliance. No one was wearing any armor; they didn't even take their lions down to the planet. But now here was Lance, in the midst of an ambush by Galra soldiers. Zarkon must have known that they were headed here. He must've set this whole thing up. He had no clue how the Galra could've known, maybe they had intercepted something on the communicators. That must be it. There was no one here who wanted to join the alliance. Lance couldn't help but think that the people they were set up to meet were all dead or captured, and his stomach filled with dread. He was shaken out of these thoughts by a laser blast just missing the side of his head. He dodged and avoided attacks left and right, trying to find the others. Pidge and Keith were the only ones that brought their bayards, saying that they had to be prepared for anything. He had to push away the slight annoyance that Keith was actually right about something, because there were three more blasts of purple lasers hurtling towards him, radiating heat. He rolled away, frantically looking for anyone that could help him.
“Pidge!” He cried out, getting a glimpse of exactly how badass the young paladin could be in battle. They had shot their weird grappling hook-dagger thingy (Lance had no fucking clue how to describe it) through one of the Galra and was using them as a sort of wrecking ball, knocking them into the other soldiers. They'd then use the grappling hook to launch themself at several enemies at once, then start repeatedly stabbing them them. Pidge could probably take down Shiro if they really wanted to. Their agility far surpassed that of the black paladin. All they'd have to do is avoid his arm, last until he was winded, then go in the offense. Not to mention Pidge probably was the smartest paladin, excelling at programming and engineering. Lance was just now realizing how terrifying they could be, if they really wanted to.
When Pidge heard Lance, they whipped their head around and sprinted towards him, dodging lasers like it was nothing.
“We have to get back to the ship, Lance! Allura and Coran are ready to leave!” Pidge gasped, reaming a Galra straight through their stomach.
“What about Hunk and Shiro?!” Lance replied, struggling to catch his breath.
“They're already there! Let's go!” Pidge grabbed his hand and easily fought through the hordes of soldiers. They'd quickly disable any Galra that caused a commotion. It wasn't very hard since most of the soldiers seemed more occupied with the orders coming through their helmets. Lance strained to listen to them, but couldn't hear anything. It was only when he got to the loading bay of the pod that the sudden realization hit him like an asteroid.
“Keith,” He couldn't believe himself. “Keith! Pidge what happened to Keith!?”
Pidge processed what Lance had said, then turned to look at the scene unfolding before them.
Keith was a beast in combat. During training, he always moved with precision. Every move he made, every step he took was carefully planned. He was an impeccable swordsman, and moved with such fluidity and grace that Lance couldn't help but stare when he sparred against the Gladiator. He could take out three Galra in one move. He had even beat Shiro a few times. Shiro. Lance had found himself watching Keith training a few times, his attention captured by the sweat dripping down his face, how he'd occasionally sweep his soft black hair out of his field of view. He'd let Keith take over his mind, then shake him out when he would catch Lance staring. His face would be engulfed with red, and he'd briskly exit the room. Then Keith would go back to his pushing what had just happened out of his thoughts and focusing on the Gladiator.
Lance had never seen Keith fight like he was during the ambush. He was obviously overwhelmed, and he was swinging his sword at practically anything that was in his field of view. He was reckless and wasn't looking to disable his enemies, but just looking to hit something. When Lance had seen him fight other times, he was mostly calm and collected. Now, he fought like a savage beast. He was fighting for his life.
And he was losing.
Keith was barely managing to keep the soldiers from landing any fatal blows, swinging his sword in wide arcs around him. But, they kept advancing, kept creeping nearer and nearer. Lance could see that he was tired, and running out of stamina. He was getting sluggish, sloppy. Out of nowhere, a soldier came up from behind and kicked him in the back of the knee, sending Keith crumbling to the ground. Several others pinned him and put their guns to his head. Lance felt tears well up in his eyes, his feet frozen to the cold steel of the loading bay.
“Keith,” he whimpered, the tears starting to tumble down his face.
The last thing Lance saw of him was a soldier slamming his head into the ground.
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It took Allura, Hunk, and Shiro to keep Lance from running back into the fight. They grabbed for him as he started towards Keith, his screams so mournful that Pidge had to cover their ears. At first it was just Shiro, but Lance was so full of rage, sadness, and adrenaline that it took the two other strongest members of team Voltron to keep him from throwing himself back into the frenzy of Galra. He wailed at them all to let him go, to let him go after Keith. Instead, Coran just closed the bay doors and piloted the ship off of the planet.
Lance was still in disbelief. To him, Keith was an impossibly great soldier, both aggressive and beautiful. To see him be defeated like that made his heart shatter. “How could you let this happen?!” Lance cried, “How could you let him get taken?!” His mind was a jumbled mess, memories flooding his thoughts. He remembered when he and Keith had been rivals at Garrison, how they'd bicker and fight non stop. He remembered seeing Keith blush when he had first put on his Voltron armor. He even remembered when Pidge had taken back the castle, when Keith had gripped his hand and cradled him in his arms. He remembered the smile on his face when he had realized that he was okay. He remembered Keith's hands running through his his singed brown hair. He remembered the fuzzy feeling that had enveloped him, how he unconsciously pressed himself closer to Keith, feeling his heartbeat so close to him. He remembered all of it, and he would never admit it.
And now he could be gone. Forever. Lance had somehow managed to collect himself and was huddled in a corner, letting all these thoughts settle in. He felt a hand gently shake him. He looked up and saw Hunk, eyes puffy from crying.
“C’mon Lance, we're back now, let's get something to eat.” He let Hunk help him to his feet and guide him to the dining room. Coran quickly set out plates of the green food blobs they ate every night, avoiding Lance’s eyes. They all ate in dead silence, tears still rolling down his cheeks. Pidge was nowhere to be found, probably immersing themself in their computer. Everyone in Voltron had a different way of dealing with grief. For Pidge, it was consecutive days without sleep working on something. For Coran and Allura, it used to be talking to King Alfor, but that wasn't possible anymore after the crystal had taken over the castle. All they have is each other, and they tended to keep to themselves, speaking in hushed whispers whenever necessary. Shiro would train, pushing himself to limits he didn't know were possible to reach. Hunk was a crier, and could spend days just sobbing. Lance would try and lighten things up for everyone else; he needed to be there for them. But now, he couldn't even cheer himself up. He was alone with his thoughts, which could be dangerous. It was then he remembered how Keith dealt with grief.
Keith would spend hours training with the Gladiator, but not with the same intent as Shiro. He would release all his stress and anger, not worrying about his form or what moved he needed to work on. His cute (cute?) brown eyes would suddenly become dark. His thin black v-neck would stick to his chest from being drenched with sweat. He would yell and curse with every cut, every slice, and by the time he was done, Coran and Pidge had to reprogram the Gladiator software. Lance had witnessed this flurry of anger twice before. He just barely had time to slip away from the training deck before Keith caught him staring. He pondered how someone who could be so adorable (adorable?!) at times could also fight with such ferocity. The thought of seeing him broken and battered sitting in a Galra prison made Lance’s stomach churn.
He couldn't take any more of this. He stood up from the table and announced with a shaking voice, “I have to go after him.”
The room went silent, looks of shock and surprise crossing his teammates faces. Allura slowly rose, shaking, and took a while thinking about how to respond. “O-okay Lance. Coran and I just need to figure out how to find his coordinates and-”
“I can't wait that long!” Lance raised his voice in frustration. “By then he could be dead! Don't you guys care about him?!”
Shiro stood up next. “Lance, we're all upset too, and we all want to get Keith back alive, but we have to approach this rationally. We have no clue where he is, or where he could be. We're all trying.”
Lance’s brain was getting crowded again, and he didn't really know how to respond. He knew that Allura and Shiro wanted to help, but he couldn't help but think that they could be doing more. Then the thought of what Zarkon and his men could be doing to Keith crossed his mind. Keith has always been hard to break, but he knew that the Galra could make him snap. The tears came again, and Lance briskly left the table, for fear of letting any of them coddle him again. He only knew one thing was for certain.
He was going to get Keith back, and he was going to slaughter anyone that got in his way.