There’s dust on the battlefield, floating quiet and calm. Aitus hides with Lance, his body larger and shielding, his armor dusty purple, yellow eyes calculating and pupil less as he squints out from behind their cover.
“Everything should be clear.” Aitus hums at him and Lance feels his stomach unclench with relief.
Then it clenches again, his heart trapped in his chest, his cheeks dotted with blood. He flinches at the sinking impact, eyes squeezed shut. When he opens again his mouth hangs open.
They shouldn’t have been caught, yet Aitus is staring at him, a harpoon through his chest and the moment Lance tries to scream- make his body do something there’s a flicker of sternness in Aitus’ eyes. Stay quiet- Lance reads on his lips like a whisper- then gone, yanked up and away- out of sight into a Galra cruiser. Lance’s hands are on his lips, pressing tight and his chest is a storm. He can’t wait- he can’t let them-
Lance finds himself leaping from cover despite the shouts of protest from all around, finds himself stumbling and running, straight into the hail of fire and blasters. The ship is getting away, and Lance forces himself to run faster, hates how his limbs burn when blasters pierce through. He swings his bayard at the first assailant with a gun finding that the bot is slashed in half.
He swings again, harder this time- demanding Red’s presence, demanding he be here, another bot is down for the count. Lance puts all of his force into the next sword slash, a rush of feeling white hot and blind in his head. Lance demands Red’s presence a third time, clenching his teeth when he sinks his blade into another enemy, not reacting to the squelch his blade makes when he pulls it out.
Red is here, behind him and roaring with the equal fury of his paladin. Lance begs, no-- orders him to destroy the ship that’s getting away, bring it down so he can find Aitus again.
Lance keeps going, the shouts of his teammates blending into white noise as he guides red to the ship, its memory flickering in his mind’s eye, just before it slips. Lance makes a strangled gasp as the connection cuts from him and Red loses control, falling to Earth-- the ship never saw him.
Just like that, the battle is over and his armor is pierced with holes, cracked and burned, falling away to ash with every heave Lance takes. The panicked voices of his friends and teammates fade back into his hearing, piercing him like his heart does when it beats. Lance sits on the other side of the battlefield, the Galran stragglers have retreated.
Keith is the first to find him, laying cheek first in the dust of the trenches. Every movement he makes slices through him like a knife, but overall his body aches.
Keith forces him to stay awake, forces him to breathe and Lance can only stare at the sky past Keith’s face.
Only until he’s back in the Garrison hospital when he’s put under. Even then, Lance wants to beg to stay awake.
Lance wakes again flexing his fingers. Aitus’ eyes meet his, there’s a stern hardness to how they crinkle despite the fur- despite the blood. When Lance blinks again, he’s alone. He flexes his fingers again, unsettled by the mechanical way he moves them, and he glances over at his forearm, staring at the branching scars from the stub to his elbow, staring at the smooth white and blue hand that flexes and whirrs gently with every movement.
Yo! Some Good ol fashioned Langst!
This contains Detailed Gore and Darkness! Please be wary!
When Shiro wakes up, his vision is hazy and blurry and there’s a painful pulse in his temples. He inhales shakily, feeling sweat bead at his forehead as his head pounds harder. He presses his fingers against his temples, clenching his teeth when pain spirals along his jaw. He blinks and his vision goes hazy again. He tries to focus, grunting when there’s a sharp pain behind his eyes. The Black Lion is down, silent with the crash and Shiro reaches to the dashboard with a shaking hand, pressing his fingers against the still glowing dashboard.
“Hello?” He calls out, he hates how his voice wavers, “Paladins? Anybody?”
There’s a crackle over his comms, a stream of white noise that makes Shiro’s throat go dry, then there’s a voice.
“Hello?”
“Hello?” Shiro calls again, clenching his teeth harder when there’s another wave of agony digging into his temple, “Lance?”
“Shiro?” Lance’s voice is small and quiet, “What happened?”
Flashes of the event come to memory and it only makes Shiro wince when his headache grows. They were shot down somehow, the battle managed to incapacitate the Lions, well-- only two.
“I think we were shot down.” Shiro says, he presses the palm of his hand hard against his eyes, sighing when the pain wanes just a little.
“How are you holding up?” Lance asks him and Shiro sits up even though his ears are ringing and his arms are weak.
“Okay.” Shiro says, “I think I have a concussion.”
“Oh,” Lance sounds pretty worried on the other side, “not good.”
Shiro wants to agree. He also wants Lance to stop talking.
“Are you okay?” Shiro decides to reciprocate and there’s a pause on the other line, then,
“Yeah, I’m not injured. Bruised maybe, but not injured.”
That’s good, that’s good.
“I’m gonna go to you.” Lance says, “I think you’re not too far.”
“How do you figure?” Shiro asks faintly.
“Sensors pick up the Black Lion about a mile and a half or less from where I am.” Lance says.
“Your Lion is working?” Shiro asks and Lance makes an affirmative noise.
“Yeah, but she can’t fly. I think she needs to recuperate before she can fly. I’m gonna have to make the trip on foot.”
“I’ll be outside.” Shiro says and he flexes his jaw, groans when the headache sharpens to a point in his head.
“Copy that.”
Shiro stumbles out of the cockpit, his head feeling like a weight on his shoulders, the comms shut off.
He was vaguely aware that the planet had a sprawling jungle, but when the entrance to the Black Lion hisses open he doesn’t expect to inhale the wave of thick hot air. The Jungle is ringing with the sounds of the life, so loud that Shiro’s headache only increases and he only walks a few paces away from the downed lion before his sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead.
The comms in his helmet crackle to life again and Lance is at the other end again.
“Shiro, I’m halfway there-- damn, this place is hot!”
Shiro agrees. The heat wasn’t dry, but suffocating and humid and still to the point that Shiro can feel sweat clinging to his flight suit.
He leans against the paw of the lion, trying to blink away the headache, only to let his eyes falls closed.
A few minutes pass and suddenly someone is gently shaking his shoulder. When Shiro wakes up again, Lance is facing him, helmet in hand, confusion furrowed on his face.
“Are you sure you okay?”
Shiro straightens up, pulling off his helmet and stretching his jaw, wincing when a hot knife of pain pierces through his temples.
“I’m fine I think, bad concussion.” Shiro mutters.
Lance sighs, looks back at the rest of the jungle.
“Do you think the Castle of Lions is trying to re-establish a connection with us?”
“I’m sure they are.” Shiro says, “The Lions just aren’t back up and running yet. There’s not much else we can do but wait.”
The days on this planet are completely unlike Earth, the beaming super giant of a sun fading away into a starry night in just a few minutes of silence.
Shiro lays his head back against the metal of the Black Lion’s giant paw.
“You do that.” He says, grateful that the nighttime eased the suffocating heat of the air. A sharp blue beam of light cuts into the darkness of the jungle, the sounds still chirping and alive with its unknowns. Lance trudges into the darkness, his beam of light easy to spot between the trees. Either way, Shiro closes his eyes, sighing with relief.
There’s a sharp scream in the air and Shiro jerks awake, adrenaline overpowering the pounding in his head. He whips his head around in the darkness, looks for the blue beam of light. It flails and flickers between the trees, the screams growing more panicked. Shiro stuffs his helmet on his head, turns on the comms.
“Lance?!” He shouts urgently into the comms, “Lance!”
The screams grow louder and Shiro’s now on his feet, flashlight on, he looks around and tries to walk forward, stumbling on a smooth object. Shiro points the flashlight at the object. Lance’s helmet.
There’s another scream and this time, it’s rawer and it only raises Shiro’s hackles.
“I’m coming!” Shiro yells into the darkness of the jungle and he charges through the trees, his chest tightening when the screams drop off and start again, even more hoarse and raw.
He follows the sound, feet sinking into squelchy mud and eliciting shrieks from the forest around him. The screams stop again and Shiro feels panic spiking his blood as he continues running towards the noise.
The blue beam then shuts off-- and Shiro forces himself to run faster, terror trapped in his throat. He then trips, hands squelching into mud again.
He rolls over, the sits up, pointing his flashlight at the object and Lance is on his side, white armor smeared in dirt.
Shiro crawls over to him, pulls at his arm, tries to roll him over.
“Lance,” Shiro says, “Lance-- what happened, wake up!”
Lance is limp and he groans, opening his eyes. Shiro flashes the light in his eyes and Lance groans again. His face seems fine, save for the glazed expression over his face. Shiro pulls him up, hoists him over his shoulder like he’s done before and and starts to march through the mud, back towards the Black Lion. The sky is glowing purple with dawn as Shiro places Lance against the Black Lion’s paw.
“S-Shiro?” Lance hums, his voice slurring and faint and as the red sun filters through the trees of the jungle Shiro notices that his face is pale and his breathing is shallow.
“Yeah I’m here.” Shiro says, “What happened?”
“‘S Dangerous.” Lance says, “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Shiro says, a sharp pang of fear slicing through his stomach and Shiro notices the bruising along his jaw, see more of the bruising peeking from his flight suit.
“Okay.” Lance says, voice mellow and drained, “Sorry.”
“What happened back there?” Shiro asks and Lance’s eyes are bloodshot now, even more glazed over, he’s soaked in sweat, breathing in short gasps.
“Got stung-- it’s poison. I think.”
Poison.
Shiro surveys over the rest of Lance’s body, the armor of his leg is cracked, the calf ballooned and swollen to twice its size. Shiro looks over at Lance, sees how his head tilts when he’s nodding off.
“Hey-- hey!” Shiro’s voice becomes loud and sharp with panic and Lance lifts his head up, sclera now scarlet.
Shiro looks back at the leg, back up at Lance, panic rolling within him in waves.
“Keep your eyes open.” Shiro says, voice shaky.
“Can’t see--” Lance raises a hand as if trying to reach out to touch Shiro and he suddenly seizes.
Lance’s body locks up, seizes-- his face screws up with agony and he lets out a raw scream.
Lance shakes, arches his back with agony, and he coughs and retches. Then there’s a squelching sound as he coughs again. Lance’s armor is smeared in blood now, Lance shaking and vomiting, chin a bright crimson. His eyes are bugged out and wide and Shiro feels his breath catch in his throat as a thick stream of blood rolls down Lance’s cheeks, out of Lance’s nostrils.
“Quiznack.” Shiro curses, he looks over at the leg now-- there’s no way he can save it and keep Lance alive. Shiro cups Lance’s face pokes his cheek to keep him awake, his stomach recoiling when his gloves come away bloody.
“Lance,” Shiro says, “Lance I need you to listen to me.”
Lance looks over at him; his heart clenches when he sees the small smile.
“I-- I can’t save the leg, I’m gonna--” He pauses, trying not to retch when a sharp familiar smell reaches his nose, “I’m gonna have to--” He can’t finish the sentence, stomach wound so tight and smell so strong his eyes water.
Shiro’s hands are shaking when he reaches to Lance’s armored shoe, pulling gently and Lance squirms suddenly, letting out a wet gurgling scream.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Shiro decides to let the shoe be, “I have to, I’m sorry.”
Lance blinks and more thickened blood spurts over his cheeks.
Shiro unclips his chest plate, unzips the top half of his flight suit, hating how his skin prickles in the heat. He slices a strip of cloth from the flight suit with his bayard, glad that the bayard turned into a small dagger not too unlike Pidge’s bayard for this purpose.
He ties the strip just above Lance’s knee, unclipping the armored plating around Lance’s thigh and calf, apologies like a mantra when he whimpers and struggles.
“I’m sorry--” Shiro’s voice breaks, “I’m sorry--” He unclips his belt, glad to find that the material isn’t unlike leather and he wedges it between Lance’s teeth.
“I have to break the leg.” Shiro says, breathless now, his skin jumping and jittery. Lance nods weakly at him, staring way past him.
Shiro places his cybernetic hand on Lance’s calf, stomach rolling over and over again, he then pushes hard, eyes squeezed shut, throat jumping when he feels the give of Lance’s leg against his palm, hears the audible crack and the muffled shriek of pain.
“I’m Sorry.” Shiro says louder, heaving and swallowing, biting his lip hard to keep from crying, “I’m sorry, Lance I’m so sorry.”
“S-stop apologizing.” Lance slurs at him, belt falling from his lips. He’s still smiling, his breath rattling hard and shallow.
Shiro places the belt back into Lance’s mouth, encouraging him to bite down. He presses the tip of the bayard into the soft space of Lance’s kneecap, his stomach tighter than ever; then he starts sawing.
Lance is screaming, arms flailing. Shiro holds him down, surprised for a moment at how strong Lance is. He apologizes, wincing when he presses hard into the twitching flesh, feels the give and scrape against his palm with his bayard. Suddenly the bayard hits soft earth and he pulls the blade out. It’s off-- he’s done-- it’s messy, but he’s done. Shiro hiccups, bile rising in his throat again, his now exposed hand smeared in blood.
Lance is silent now, and Shiro looks over at him, his eyes still open and glossy.
“Shit.” Shiro curses openly, “Shit-- Fuck.” He presses his fingers against Lance’s pulse, finds it absent.
“Shit!” Shiro pulls Lance’s body flat on the ground, then starts CPR, desperation crawling on his skin, the leg is partially removed, but not completely and Shiro hands are slick as he starts on chest compressions, his desperation growing and spiraling.
Focus! Stay calm!
But his head is spinning anyway, even as he blows air into Lance’s mouth, his stomach whirling when he tastes blood, ear pressed against Lance’s chest again.
More chest compressions, more rescue breathing. Fuck fuck fuck-- Shiro’s gonna lose him-- he’s got two minutes left--
He tries again and suddenly Lance jerks and seizes, breath rattling violently. He’s coughing hard, groaning and hacking.
“Oh fuck.” Shiro feels a flood of relief, as Lance sits up, shaking, he wraps Lance in an embrace, threading his fingers through Lance’s sweaty hair.
“Did we win?” Lance asks, voice hoarse and faint and Shiro chuckles shakily, swallowing over and over again to keep from vomiting.
Shiro doesn’t answer and Lance is breathing against him, now unconscious and Shiro lays him back down, turns to the amputated leg. He ties the jagged remains of the flight suit against the raw edge of Lance’s knee, stoppering the blood the best he could. Lance’s face is ashen, cheeks dried with blood, his skin is cool and sweaty. Shiro finds Lance’s helmet, places his remaining ankle on the top of it.
He puts his helmet back on, heart hammering a thousand miles a minute, hears a short crackle.
“--Shiro! Lance!” It’s Pidge.
“Pidge?” Shiro asks, “Where are you? What happened?”
“We found your lions, how are you?”
“Pidge ask Coran to get a pod ready.” Shiro pants, “And get here quick I don’t think Lance has much time.”
The green lion lands in front of the Black Lion, Green’s eyes glowing with the comfort of her element. Pidge and Hunk run out of the Lion. Pidge’s face goes pale at the sight of Lance and Hunk makes a retching noise.
“Can you fly Black?” Pidge asks him and Shiro nods mutely, going back inside of his Lion, worry flip flopping in his stomach. His lion finally flares to life, warmth rushing through his fingertips with the controls.
He’ll be okay. Shiro tries to reassure himself-- Lance will live, he’ll be okay.
Part human part Altean Prince Lance being led through the Galra castle halls by his druid companion. ~ an AU where Lance and Lotor are half brothers. Lance, being part human, was kept secret from the Galra empire as a child, and was often experimented on with quintessence. He became close to the druids, and stays close by them when he’s scared.
Today’s dark!Paladin introduction is Lance, a hedonist party boy -- and also one of, if not the deadliest sniper the universe has ever seen.
Under a cut for violence and drug mentions!
“Blue, though.” Lotor shuddered. “If there’s a Paladin who can be said to have good PR, it’s him. He’s a partier, a charmer, an absolute hedonist, always chasing the next high — drugs, sex, whatever he can get his hands on. People like him. Which is the worst part of it, because he’s just as dangerous as the others. There’s nothing quite so terrifying as a sniper, especially a good one. And he’s better than good. He’s...the things he does with a gun should be impossible. I’ve seen him hit moving targets at impossible distances. There’s no warning, no way to track him, nothing at all, just….suddenly the person next to you is dropping, and you’re left wondering why it wasn't you. If you live long enough to wonder, for course.”
an au where voltron is actually the bad guy and when they find out keith is part galra (the good guys trying to stop voltron) they try and kill him/kick him out in a pod with no radio connections to anything or supplies and voltron getting planets to join them in the coalition is actually them persuading the planets to move to the bad side and its real fucked up
