Chapter Text
This was bad. This was very, very bad. Shiro had flown Black in as a distraction while the rest of them took a cloaked shuttle through a hacked cargo bay, and now Zarkon had the Black Lion and Lance had no fucking clue where he was. And even if he did know, they couldn’t leave until they somehow got Shiro’s Lion back or they’d still be unable to form Voltron.
Footsteps approached from around the corner, a unified march loud enough to be audible over the alarm, and Lance looked quickly at the nearest doors. He slammed his hand against the operation panel of the one on his right, and a little red light flashed above it. Damn, that was right! Back on the balmera he’d had to use the hand of the robot guard to shut the hangar bay doors because galran technology didn’t work for humans! Lance planted his feet, took a shaky breath, and reached for his bayard. At the very least, he’d go down fighting.
Something wrapped around his wrist, and a hand fastened over his mouth to muffle the yelp he made as he was dragged roughly sideways. The door slid shut, and Lance’s heart leapt into his throat. Those were claws pressing against his cheek. Blunted enough they wouldn’t pierce his skin, but still, he was being held by a galra soldier. Held, but not restrained he realized belatedly. The figure behind him wasn’t wearing armour, either, and it felt shorter than him. The footsteps passed by, and Lance pulled free. He had his bayard in hand and formed into a shotgun in heartbeats, and it was levelled at the galra in front of him in under a second.
The skinny galran boy lifted his hands, looking supremely unthreatened. “You’re really going to shoot the guy who just saved you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Lance lowered his bayard, but didn’t let the weapon dissolve into light.
“Your face.” Lance lifted a hand and tapped under his eye. “You’ve got-”
“From my mom.” the galran boy nodded, touching one of the yellow markings which were identical to Coran and Allura’s in every way but colour. “The patrol’s gone now, you can go.”
“No.” Lance let the shotgun dissolve, and hung his bayard on his hip. “What’s a half-altean kid doing on Zarkon’s command ship?”
The kid scowled, hand falling to rest against his leg, claws catching the light. “My name’s Keith, and I’m not a kid.” he sneered, displaying sharp teeth.
“Whatever, kid.” Lance waved a hand dismissively. “What are you doing here?” he waved the same hand at the surprisingly opulent room. Was this an officer’s quarters of something? He seriously doubted the common grunts got anything better than barracks.
“Waiting for the Emperor to come back.”
Lance almost wished he hadn’t holstered his weapon. Was this guy Zarkon’s son? “Why did you save me?” he asked, keeping a hand on his bayard.
Keith looked away and crossed his arms. Lance noticed for the first time that the boy was wearing only a pair of pajama pants tied loosely with a drawstring, a sheer shirt, and a choker necklace. “I saw Champion fight once. The Emperor took me to a match. He’s human, like you.”
“You mean Shiro?” Lance frowned. “What, you got a crush on him or something?” something about this didn’t seem right. Zarkon’s son wouldn’t be calling him Emperor, which meant Keith wasn’t a prince, but Lance couldn’t think of any other reason for the half-galran boy to be here.
“No.” Keith shook his head, claws digging into his arms briefly then relocating and digging in somewhere else. “I may belong to Zarkon, but you don’t. Your people shouldn’t.” Keith looked back at him, arms falling to his sides.
Belong... to? Lance clenched his free hand into a fist as the pieces fell into place. When he met Zarkon, he was going to punch the bastard straight in the face. He might have to punch Coran and Allura too, if Altea had allowed slavery before its destruction. Owning another person was just- just wrong. “You shouldn’t either.” Lance grabbed Keith by the wrist, and the boy pulled away with a pained shout. Oh, fuck punching the bastard’s lights out, Lance was going to shoot Zarkon’s dick off.
“Just go.” Keith hissed, cradling his wrist to his chest. “I belong here, you and your friends don’t. Get as far away from Zarkon as you can, and never look back.”
“No.” Lance drew his bayard, and it took the form of a decent caliber one-handed laser gun. Shiro and Allura would both tell him this was a terrible plan, but Shiro had ordered radio silence until they found Allura so neither of them was going to tell him shit. “I can’t operate anything on this goddamn ship, so you’re going to do it for me.”
Keith’s yellow eyes widened, and Lance noticed a darker spot in the middle where an iris should be. “I thought-”
“You said you watched Shiro fight.” Lance said, interrupting Keith and flicking his bayard to indicate the boy should open the door. “Then you know that humans do what we have to to survive.”
Keith glared at him, brushing a lock of long hair out of his eyes. “And if I refuse to betray my Emperor?”
“Then I stay here until he comes back, and I shoot him.” Lance said, standing as tall as he could and praying internally that Keith wouldn’t call his bluff.
Keith’s eyes went wide again, and he reached up to grab at his necklace. No, his collar. “I’ll do it.” the half-galra said quietly, and Lance was grateful of his hand’s steadiness as Keith opened the door. He’d drag the asshole along if he had to, but he wasn’t going to just leave a boy no older than his Garrison classmates to be Zarkon’s slave. Paladins saved people, right? It was kinda Voltron's whole deal, saving and helping people who needed it. Allura and Shiro couldn’t argue with that.