Ok but Lotor and Keith meet, but instead of Lotor turning Keith to his side Keith drags Lotor into a Zuko-esque redemption arc...Shiro is Shook by the sudden competition, Lotor is determined to win Keith’s heart, Keith is oblivious...
“What’s this?” Keith asked as Lotor placed a small knife in his palm. Even with the sheath, it was as thin as a data pad and barely longer than Keith’s hand.
“Something you might find useful,” Lotor said, trying to restrain his eagerness. “Look at the blade.”
Keith unsheathed the knife and froze, gaze catching on its surface. The blade was a smooth cream color with bands like tree rings. When he tilted it, the light refracted in a rainbow sheen that flashed across the surface.
“What’s it made from?” Keith asked, eyes locked on the blade. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s a K’toh blade,” Lotor said, preening, “made from the horn of a beetle native to the Trellig Star System. Quite a resilient material. It holds an edge better than any known organic substance.”
“I insist. Because of its unusual properties, most weapon scanners won’t detect it, and its size and profile allow it to be carried discretely. You never know when you’ll need a weapon somewhere weapons aren’t permitted.”
Keith grasped the blade’s thin hilt as he would his Marmoran blade and tried a few slashes, brow knitting.
“The proper grip is different from most knives,” Lotor explained, anticipating the problem. Holding such a narrow hilt in a closed fist would be uncomfortable. “Allow me.”
Lotor took Keith’s hand in his, adjusting his grip with careful fingers until Keith held the knife in his palm like a hand of cards with the blade protruding past his fingertips.
“It’s a weapon meant for self-defense more than open combat,” Lotor explained. “It will penetrate most clothing and some armor. Of course, it’s best to aim for vulnerable areas: the eyes… the throat… the heart…”
As he named each target, Lotor guided the razor-sharp blade to point at each one on his own body. When he got to the heart, he paused.
He lingered in that moment, his hands covering Keith’s, pointing the blade at his chest in what any properly raised galra would have recognized as a gesture of devotion. Keith watched intently, and Lotor could enjoy being the object of his focus even if he seemed not to understand his overtures.
At least he liked the knife.
“Am I interrupting something?” Shiro called from the training room door, brow furrowed. “I thought you two were going to be sparring.”
“Lotor gave me a new knife,” Keith explained. “He’s showing me how to use it.”
“Did you… need a new knife?” Shiro asked, like a man wondering if he’d missed his cue. As if he should have been the first to know if Keith was lacking something. It made Lotor feel faintly victorious.
“I found it in a market at that last space station,” Lotor answered in Keith’s stead. “K’toh blades are beautiful, deadly, and quite rare. It seemed fitting Keith should have one.”
It was a brazen flirtation, but again, Keith seemed not to notice. He smiled, but it was the smile of someone pleased to have received a well-chosen gift, not the flush of a future lover.
Shiro, however, was not so oblivious.
“That’s… very thoughtful,” he said, voice tense. He had an expression like he’d smelled something unpleasant and was trying not to let on. “Keith, could you come with me for a moment? I have some questions about the latest Marmora report.”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
Really, the black paladin was in no position to be jealous. However fond he might be of Keith or Keith of him, he’d never bothered to lay claim to the fair hybrid warrior. As far as Lotor could tell, he was restrained only by his sense of propriety as Keith’s leader.
Lotor could not decide if it was admirable or foolish.
Keith turned to Lotor apologetically. “Sorry to run off on you. Try again tomorrow?”
“Of course. You should stop by my quarters when you’re free this evening. I’m afraid I forgot to bring the thigh holster. Marvelous craftsmanship. It’s practically invisible under clothing.” Lotor smiled wickedly and glanced at Shiro. “I’ll show you how to put it on.”
Shiro gaped at him like a landed fish.
“What?” Keith glanced up at Shiro, startled by the vehemence of his response. Shiro fumbled for his words.
“That’s not- I don’t think he means-”
Lotor smirked and walked toward the door. As he passed Shiro, he spared a moment’s pause.
“Don’t worry, Black Paladin. I’ll be gentle with him.”
Shiro’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment Lotor half expected his right arm to activate. He wondered how far he’d have to go to earn such a response. Idly, of course. He may have been bored lately, but not enough to goad his few allies to violence for mere amusement.
(Not yet, anyway. Playing nice was dull.)
Keith stared at them both, puzzled. He could perceive the tension, but not its source. The boy was brilliant in battle and quite clever at most things he turned his hand to, but he had no grasp whatsoever of innuendo. Lotor could practically see his thoughts chasing each other, trying to make the connection between knife holsters and gentleness.
Finally, he asked Shiro, “Are you worried it’ll be too tight?”
Lotor walked off to the delightful sound of the black paladin choking on air.
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