@astargentia liked for a starter!
Ever since he was young he’d heard stories about the Blade of Mammora, about Earth as well. They had been childish fairy tails, cast off as false hope for those who had been under Zarkon’s thumb for as long as they could remember. His mother had been one of these people, doomed to spend her life as a consort of a man that was feared across the Universe. There was no planet safe from his greed, no one free of his interest.
She’d been from Earth, collected purely on accident. Humans were few and far between, but she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had therefor been taken. Beautiful, if his memory served him right. Her face haunted his dreams, blurred from the years but with the same pitch black hair he had and a touch so warm and gentle that his bones almost ached.
Her life had been taken long ago for treason, or so he was told. Not that this would be so hard to believe, considering what she’d told him. A group of Galra rebels, all unwilling to be controlled over an overzealous dictator. They’d been fighting for thousands and thousands of years, hoping that one day it would be enough.
It hadn’t been, not yet at least, but people held hope for an ancient defender. Voltron, a force stronger than any other and once led by his own father. These stories Keith had known to be fact, had seen the red lion with his own eyes and had heard stories of the black lion and it’s overwhelming power. It was his dream to part of these selective individuals, but not as Zarkon had. He’d witnessed the man’s brutality first hand, had been on the receiving side of it quite a bit until he’d been legitimatized as a heir of the Galra throne. Despite his title he was met with distaste from his people, and even his own brother.
He was a hybrid, a disgrace. So, why had Zarkon not sent him away?
It was hard to be sure, but it did not soften Keith’s feelings. There was nothing he would have loved more than to see his father’s downfall, held only distaste for what he saw from the throne room to the fighting arena.
That’s where he’d first seen him though. The champion, the only fighter that had lasted so long in their trails. A prisoner with an arm gifted upon him by the Galra empire in an attempt to continue the enjoyment they got from watching him defeat each and every new competitor.
This isn’t what had particularly interested him, rather what caught his attention was the species of this man. He was a human, from Earth, just as Keith’s mother had been. They were one in the same and to him the champion symbolized something forbidden.
While it wasn’t his best idea he had to meet the man face to face, demanding he be led to the prisoner’s cell. It had been not long after a fight and Keith had been debating offering something of a trade.
He wanted to hear about Earth, he wanted to know what his mother’s people. What was it like there? How many were there? It was his own chance to learn.
When they reached the destination he waved away his guards, clearly his throat to gather the other man’s attention.
“I’ve come to speak to you, Champion. Will you comply?”
