I’m back at it again with the memes. If I didn’t take this AU seriously this is exactly how Lance finding Red and grabbing his friends to abandon the Galra Empire would have played out. Unfortunately this scene is... much more angsty.
I think Red’s claws are about the right size? They seem to be like a good 20 feet tall at least (if not more), still super big next to galra!Lance’s crazy height. I did not fully color their outfits for this one because I was feeling lazy wasn’t going to color it at all but you know how it goes
What Lance is doing in the final panel is up to your imagination, but he’s freakishly flexible so anything is possible lol.
Can you write a shiro x pidge and one-sided Pidge x loter were there on opposite sides of the war Pidge is Gaara and betrothed to Prince lotor shiro is a pilot of Voltron
1
Huff. Huff.
Shiro doubled over the moment he rounded the corner. Inhaling as deeply and quietly as he could, he attempted to catch his breath. He couldn’t relax, though. They were still on his trail. The dark alleyway was a temporary sanctuary from the alien police force, but stopping also meant losing his momentum.
All too aware of the sweat pooling beneath his armor—of the painful tension in every muscle of his body—he waited in silence. The footsteps grew louder. Closer. In one hand, he clenched his bayard, ready to strike. In the other-
The sphere was gone.
Suddenly, everything melted away. The pain, the sounds, the worry of being caught—all gone. After all, none of it mattered if he had lost the one thing it was all for. Frantically, he searched the small satchel looped around his torso, and then the ground. The sphere was nowhere to be found.
And then there were footsteps.
On instinct alone, he spun around, but he was unprepared for what he saw.
At the end of his bayard was a single, cloaked figure. No police. No guns aimed for his head. Just an entity shrouded in darkness.
“I think you dropped this,” the mysterious stranger said.
Shiro paused before he looked down to their extended hand. A reflection caught his eye. Barely visible, beneath the shadow of a hood, he saw a yellow visor. Behind the visor, two piercing eyes.
And in the outstretched hand was the sphere.
Realization, followed by relief, swept into his body as the air did in his lungs. Without hesitation, he snatched the sphere and tucked it safely into his satchel. His eyes were only off the figure for a moment, but when he looked up, his strange ally was gone.
When Shiro peered out of the alleyway in hopes of spotting them, he saw nothing but the bodies of unconscious, bruised police littering the ground.
2
Music filled the grand room and, although he was certain it sounded like a fanciful masterpiece to the planet’s resident aliens, it was utter torture for Shiro’s human ears and acoustical tastes. Still, he forced a smile on his lips and waited, eyes glancing around the ball.
The wine, or whatever deep purple liquid it was that swirled about in his glass, wasn’t half bad, and he did recognize a few of the attendees. But Shiro was still bitter. This wasn’t supposed to be his mission.
Lance was the one that suggested they make a covert exchange with their informant. Lance was the one that insisted it had to be at a diplomatic ball. LANCE was the one that emphasized how much he wanted to go.
And yet...
Shiro tried to push away the bitter thoughts that attempted to take over his mind. He knew Coran had his best interests in mind. He also knew that he and Coran had very different ideas of what a “much needed relaxing break of a mission” looked like.
With a sigh, Shiro abandoned that train of thought and focused on finding his contact. Unfortunately, being a super secret matter of intergalactic importance, team Voltron got very little information on what their ally looked like. There was but one clue: the contact would wear a flower pin. They’d at least been given a photo. If they hadn’t, Shiro was certain that Matt would’ve gone on a full out rant about how disappointed Colleen would be that a group of intelligent aliens didn’t recognize not only how common flowers could be in decorative attire but what variety of flowers there are across inhabitable planets. Fortunately, the green lion’s paladin had only done a mini-rant.
Two hours into the ball, Shiro had seen no flower pin. Awkward conversations were plentiful, as were suspiciously jiggly finger foods. But no pin. With a sigh, Shiro pressed his back into the column behind him. He was about to contact Allura to see if the plan was a bust when something caught his eye.
Across the ballroom floor, in a perfectly tailored Galra-equivalent to a suit, stood a handsome gentleman with a gold flower pin on his chest. Wolfs-bane, Shiro recalled Matt saying. That’s what the flower resembled. He stared for but a moment, and startled when brilliant yellow eyes stared back.
A genuine smile on his lips, he moved swiftly across the dance floor. On the other side, his companion awaited with an extended hand. Warmth bloomed in his chest, as did a different feeling. Familiarity. He felt as though this was not the first time they’d met.
“May I have this dance,” Shiro asked as he delicately took the other man’s hand into his own, pressing a soft kiss to the back.
“That’s what we’re here for,” the Galra replied.
“Oh is it?” Shiro asked.
He would never tell his friends, but he was enjoying the opportunity to flirt with a pretty stranger. The Galra had a short, slim body, but was clearly in good shape. His mess of deep purple, puffy hair reminded Shiro of Matt, although Matt didn’t have two soft cat-like ears hidden beneath his cut.
“I thought a gentleman like you would be here for something else,” Shiro continued.
“Perhaps I’m here to meet a friend,” his dance partner replied.
“That makes more sense. For some reason, you don’t strike me as the kind of person to voluntarily attend these events.”
A delightful laugh spilled from the Galra’s mouth, forcing Shiro to turn his head away. It was hard to hide a growing blush when in close proximity with another person. So he switched tactics. The conversation changed, ebbing and flowing with the melody that surrounded them. Until, at last, the song ended.
“I think you dropped this,” his partner remarked with a grin.
Eyebrows furrowed, Shiro tried to decipher the words, but was answered by warm hands wrapping around his own. His heart skipped a beat and then his mind took over. The Galra drew away, but left something behind. Grasping the small device firmly, Shiro moved toward the edge of the crowd. He had to let Allura know that the data had been delivered.
3
Please be safe.
Shiro’s heart pounded heavily in his chest. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought the beat alone was shaking the cockpit of the black lion. They hadn’t been able to respond. The distress signal came just after Haggar’s forces launched a surprise attack. There was no way for them to respond.
Shiro prayed to whatever gods would help him that the city was safe. The Rodlians had been one of the first members of the Voltron Coalition. They didn’t deserve to be punished for that.
The black lion entered Rodlia’s atmosphere. As they descended, smoke obscured the lion’s screen, and Shiro’s heart raced faster. Prepared to launch straight into battle, he was overcome with dread when the city became visible and no enemy was spotted. The worst, it seemed, had already come to pass.
Landing roughly, Shiro sprung from his lion-ship, ready to do everything in his power to find survivors. But the streets were not littered with victims of war. Here and there, buildings suffered damage, but the citizens seemed to be in good health, if not tired. Spotting him, the city leader came forward.
“What happened? We were attacked and couldn’t get here in time. Did you defeat them yourselves?” Shiro launched into inquiry.
“It’s alright, son,” the older alien patted his leg.
Her head only went as high as his thigh, and yet her voice commanded respect. Instantly, he felt a little better.
“We’re alright. Lady Pidge came to our aid.”
A bony finger pointed in the direction of a cloaked figure, several yards away. Shiro thanked the leader and apologized once more (to which he got a gentle head shake in response) before heading over to greet the one called “Pidge.”
“Excuse me,” he called out.
The figure turned at the sound of his voice, revealing a familiar face.
“Lady Pidge?” Shiro sputtered, “Oh shit I’m so sorry, I called you a man before, I-“
Pidge, the handsome contact he had danced with at the ball, waved off his words with a smile.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t care.”
“Ah, alright. Well, what are you doing here?”
“The Coalition sent me. I’ll tell you more, but it’s going to cost you.”
Once again, the Galra had thrown Shiro for a loop.
“What?”
Pidge pointed and Shiro followed the direction of her finger...all the way to his metal arm.
“Let me take a look at it?” she asked, an intense sparkle in her eyes.
“Oh, okay,” he responded with a laugh.
Warmth filled his chest as he trailed after her towards a laptop (of sorts) situated at the base of a statue.
4
“No fair! How come Shiro gets a secret admirer?!” Lance whined.
“Yeah! How come Coran lets Shiro have two girlfriends and I get none?” Hunk joined in, a huge smile on his face.
“Hunk,” Keith shot him a glare, “That’s biphobic.”
“Oh, you’re right Keith, my bad. How come Coran lets Shiro have a girlfriend and a boyfriend and I get none?”
Keith collapsed onto the couch with laughter at Hunk’s response and even Shiro couldn’t keep himself from grinning. He scooped up the package Coran had deposited on the table and turned to make his escape, sparing Allura a brief glance before he went. She looked...done, to put a word to it.
In his quarters, alone and away from prying eyes, Shiro gingerly opened the heavy metal box. Of course he knew it wasn’t a present from a secret admirer. That whole bit of drama was entirely a product of Matt’s desire to stir up trouble. But he still didn’t know what it was or who it was from. All Coran said was that someone from the Coalition had sent it.
With bated breath, and a quick prayer that there was not, in fact, a bomb inside, Shiro pressed the buttons on either side of the box and watched as it clicked open. Inside, delicately wrapped, was a thin holopad. He activated and it glowed with life, displaying the message:
Thought you could use an upgrade.
(PS: I’ve included installation instructions.)
And below the message was a little icon of some cute gremlin face with swirly glasses.
Shiro set the device to the side and opened the compartment below the first one. He almost cried when he saw the gift.
Inside was a brand new, clearly custom-made, prosthetic arm.
5
“I’m still not comfortable going into the heart of the Galra empire, invited or not,” Shiro stated as they approached the massive space station.
“I’ve gotta agree,” Matt said, although his voice lacked its usual carefree tone.
“Relax,” Allura assured, “now that Lotor’s emperor, we don’t need to worry about the Galra attacking us. At least, not the ones under his command.”
“Oh yeah and what about the other 40% of Galra that aren’t?” he heard Lance mutter.
Apparently Allura heard him too, as was indicated by the thump and yelp that followed.
“Lotor is gaining more and more of the Galra’s allegiance each day,” Allura reassured them. “I’ve heard a large part of it is due to the support for his fiancé. Many of the Galra feel more comfortable about his rule knowing they’ll be married.”
“Must be some lady. Or dude. Or, ya know,” Hunk added.
“Quite right,” Coran chipped in. “Maybe you’ll get to meet them.”
Further conversation was cut off by their arrival. Boarding the station was tense, but otherwise uneventful. As they walked through halls radiating with purple light, Shiro couldn’t help but make a pattern of clenching and unclenching his fist. It was an uncomfortable situation for all of them, but Shiro would be lying if he said it wasn’t worse for him and Matt. In truth, there were several thoughts on repeat in his mind keeping him sane.
First was the knowledge that they’d receive valuable access to Galra tactical data and technological schematics. He’d be able to study it and come up with better plans to free the universe. Second was the thought of getting to punch Lotor in the face, should the emperor step out of line. It was an unlikely situation, but the fantasy brought him joy. And like that fantasy, his third thought, of potentially running into Pidge again, kept him going.
Lotor greeted them outside of the throne room and Shiro focused on taking deep breaths while his friends questioned the new Galra ruler. He could barely process what everyone was saying. It was just another mission, he told himself. It would be over soon. Hunk asked about culture and Lance exclaimed something that sounded like “a nanny,” but the full conversation didn’t register in Shiro’s mind. They were being swept into the throne room, Lotor monologuing some nonsense, and light flooded through the opening of the heavy doors as they stepped in.
Shiro blinked once, twice, and then his gaze locked onto a pair of familiar yellow eyes. Warmth flooded his chest. A smile danced on his lips. The tension melted away and suddenly he found himself able to focus. It was just in time for him to hear Lotor say:
“And I’d like to introduce you to my fiancé, Lady Pidge.”
The yellow eyes that had met his quickly looked away.
It’s been a while since I last drew these two like this. So! I decided to draw Altean Prince Lance and Galran BoM Pidge. Lance decided to pet Pidge’s too-fluffy-to-resist ears and she doesn’t seem to mind at all. She probably tries to remind Lance that she’s a skilled agent who could fight enemies twice her size or bigger, but he just points out how soft she is, figuratively and literally, and just goes on to pet her fluffiness.
Well! Enjoy!
Feel free to tag as Plance or not; depends on how you see it.
hmmmmmm faux-affectionate villain sounds right up this AU's alley!
S H A T T E R a n d T E S S E L L A T E
CH 03:: Resolutions and Ultimatums
Trope: Faux-Affectionate Villain
Rating: Mature
Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender
Whumpee: whole team, emphasis on Katie Holt
Summary: Voltron has always been an elusive, inevitable threat to the Galra Empire, scattered across the universe and hiding for centuries for its fated paladins to rise to their destined calling. They found and captured the Red Lion but it was not enough to thwart the future. Honerva foresees years ahead, catching a glimpse of the five future paladins. She knows enough. She knows where their homeplanet lies (and all of them conveniently come from one place), she knows their names and faces, and she knows their respective Voltron Lions.
In a desperate attempt to alter the future, Honerva sets out to capture the future paladins at a young age and ensure they will never pilot the Lions. By conditioning their minds and transforming their bodies, she trains and raises a team of perfect Galran soldiers. She strips them of everything they once were to ensure they can never rise up as the defenders of the universe they were meant to become.
Despite the horrors of Honerva’s cunning plan, the Lions are adaptable to the dire circumstances and Lance still has a wild streak of luck in determining their roles in the universe.
Galra AU Shidge... Not sure if that counts as a prompt but I can't think of anything to add to it
Hi! Let me say that I am so sorry that this took so, so long - but I really hope you enjoy this!
*
Ask to be Unbroken
The day Pidge met Takashi Shirogane was easily one of the worst days of her life.
It was the day after her entire family — the entire town — had been killed. She was the last, hidden away in the blood and carnage and wreckage, waiting for death to come on swift wings and take her like it had taken everything else. Ash and soot clung to her bloodied, matted fur. The smell of smoke and death was heavy on her tongue, in her nose. Whatever wounds she had were caked with blood and dirt and she could feel infection and fever seeping into her body with each hour that passed.
The Galra Empire had arisen. Her town was not the first town in opposition, though they might have been the last. The people Pidge had grown up with, the people who she had loved — they had stood up when the Emperor had begun killing innocent outsiders and turning a blind eye to the wicked magic his wife had grown fond of. She had watched her father and the other men in the town gather around her kitchen table, pouring over notes and maps and hastily thrown together battle plans.
She had sat in the hallway with her older brother, huge ears trembling as she listened as intently as she could. She had been there, constructing weapons and helping enhance ships when her father had finally given in to her insistent pleas to help their revolution. She had watched families lose sons, daughters, brothers, mothers, and fathers. She had watched bond-mates get ripped away from their beloved as the war raged and the Emperor’s wiles grew and his humanity dwindled and then evaporated.
And just hours ago, she had watches troops of the Galra horde kill families in cold blood and set the town alight in flame. She had watched her family get murdered, narrowly avoiding death herself. She had only survived because her older brother, Matthew, had pushed her into a cupboard and told her to be silent for once, Katie, and she had listened. Matthew had been dead at her feet when she’d pushed the door open.
Now it was only her in the ash and soot and blood that was left of what had been her home. Only her and countless piles of bone and fur that had once been her family and her friends.
Pidge didn’t know how long she sat there among the death and rubble. After her tears had run out and exhaustion had set in, she had sat down in the middle of what had once been the main road, staring into the horizon and wishing for death.
What came, however, was not death. Instead, a beat up ship with a worn looking Rebellion insignia painted on the side kicked up a dust storm in the near distance, disturbing the morbid silence. Four figures stepped out after the engines had cut, and Pidge watched with distant interest as they surveyed the area around them.
There wasn’t much left for them here. Just blood and dust and bones and… and Pidge. But she wasn’t much more, either. She closed her eyes, hoping maybe this was all a terrible, terrible dream and she would wake with Matt pulling her ears and laughing in her face, and her mother at the stove, and her father tinkering away in the yard.
When she did open her eyes, it wasn’t to Matt. It was to an unfamiliar voice, accompanied by grey eyes and fluffy ears poking out a tuft of white fur. She realized distantly that it was a male Galra, and that he was speaking to her. She blinked dust from hazy green eyes, reaching up to adjust the broken spectacles that she’d taken from her brother’s body.
“There’s nothing for you here.” She found herself speaking, her voice unrecognizable even to her own ears.
Those grey eyes she was looking into brighten a bit into something hopeful, and she has to close her eyes. There was no hope here, not anymore. Hope had died with the rest of her family.
“You’re here, aren’t you?” The Galra asked, his voice a soothing timbre.
An ugly smile twisted her face, her eyes opening to narrow slits. “Leave me to die with the rest of them.” She hissed, her ears pinned back. Her body was trembling.
“I think that would be a terrible way to die,” he said, his voice low and soothing and conversational, like they weren’t sitting in the prime example of the genocide the Emperor was capable of. She hated it. She wanted him to feel her pain. She wanted him to hurt, to feel the fire burning in her lungs and the stiff knots in her belly and the trembling exhaustion in her body.
“Besides,” the Galra continues, oblivious to her anguish. “I think your friends would want you to continue their fight, don’t you think?”
Something in Pidge wanted to snap back, wanted to spit poison at his feet, rake her claws against his face. But the exhaustion won out the grief and she sagged forward, pressing her fingers to her face and letting out an ugly sob, one that made some part of her want to lean into this man and beg for comfort.
“Come with me.” His voice gave way to something pleading, and she doesn’t stop him when he cups her elbows. “Let’s make them pay for their deaths.”
Pidge looked up at him, her vision blurry, and took a breath. “What’s your name?”
He smiled, standing up and guiding her with him. “My name is Shiro.”
*
Pidge was taken to some sort of rebellion base after the Galra — Shiro — had coaxed her to join him and his crew.
She had heard her father talk of this place, once or twice, when she had snuck out of her room after bedtime to listen to the meetings. Somehow, it was nothing and also everything she had imagined. For one thing, there were many more people than she dreamed. Along with that, there were no maps and strategies planned by the light of the lamp — instead there were entire meeting rooms and holoscreens dedicated to that.There were differences, though. Many of the people looked to be close to her age. They functioned less like a military and more like a city, including the apartments and different shops.
Pidge didn’t get to see much of it at first. She was whisked away to the medical bay almost immediately after they had set foot in the hangar. Everything was so bright and clean, and she realized just how filthy she was when they pushed her into a private shower and gave her some sort of thin hospital gown.
Getting her brother’s blood out of her fur was easily one of the hardest things Pidge had ever made herself do. In some odd way, it felt like betrayal.
After she’d been scrubbed and poked and prodded, she was given a room close to the med bay, where they could monitor her. The room itself was lonelier than the dying city had been.
When Pidge was finally left alone to her own thoughts and devices, one thought took precedence over every other, and it was unwanted in the worst sort of way.
I am alive and my family is not.
What a cruel fate — outliving your parents and your older brother. Afraid of what was to come, Pidge bowed her head and cried for every lost life she had left behind.
*
Shiro was persistent in the worst way possible.
Every day, he showed up to accompany Pidge places; to the cafeteria, to the library, to the med bay, to her own room. At first, she’d done her damndest to ignore him. It was humiliating enough to have been found in the state she had been, but it was even worse to have to look at him and remember that he was also the one who had taken her away from the death she had wanted to die.
Nonetheless, he was adamant on staying around her. It became difficult to ignore the person who held doors for you or introduced you to people or put you in social situations where not talking was considered rude instead of necessary. Pidge was pushed from cold silence to grudging conversation in a matter of days.
(She tried to convince herself it wasn’t because when he smiled as she picked up the conversation to take it somewhere, he looked a little like her brother when he had found a flaw in a textbook. Gleeful and excited.)
But it didn’t stop there! Oh, no. He’d gone and introduced her to his crew, too, which meant now they came around more often. Tiptoe though they might around her, because she was still ticking like a bomb waiting to go off. Pidge became unwilling acquaintances with three more people.
Keith was Shiro’s younger brother, a hotheaded young Galra who shot off at the mouth and had a temper that often got him in trouble and in dangerous situations. He was the opposite of Shiro in so many ways, right down to his constant frown, that Pidge wondered if they could really be siblings at all. She and Matt had often been mistaken for twins, despite their three year age difference.
His mate, and partner in crime, was an Altean named Lance. He was just as mouthy, although his snark was more sass and often more playful in nature. He and his mate, Keith, often bickered, but Pidge deduced that it was how they showed their affection.
Her favorite by far was the Balmeran named Hunk. He was brilliant, whip-smart and one of the kindest people she had ever met. Although it was hard to get close to him, because they ran on the same wavelength that she and her brother had — and that was just too painful for now.
Pidge often found herself hanging with variations of the group — but Shiro was the only constant, like her solid shadow, a calming force beside her. It was overwhelming to be near such an easy version of family.
She tried to tough it out and be with them. She did. But after the second time they were all together, it became too much.
The trigger was sudden and unbidden. Lance and Keith had paused in their bickering to gaze lovingly at each other, caught up in some silly argument over what they wanted to eat for dinner. Hunk was talking, or trying to talk, mechanics with Pidge, and Shiro was sitting at her side, watching like an approving parent.
It was all too much. Too familiar. She could hear the screams echoing in her ears, could taste the blood and ash on her tongue. Her brother had let her borrow his book on Altean mechanics the night before it all happened. That same book had crumbled away to dust at her feet when she’d stumbled to crouch at her mother’s side.
Pidge stood with an audible, wet sort of gasp. Everyone stopped, but not her mind. No, her mind was filled with death and decay and the sickening sort of guilt that came with being the only one out of hundreds to survive.
“Pidge?” Hunk asked, trailing off. Lance and Keith look away from one another and over to her.
It’s all so much.
The overwhelming urge to flee hits her, and she stumbles in the direction where her room was, where she could hide and scream and beat her fists on the wall until her claws broke and she could bleed. Just like all of them had.
She presses her hands to her ears. They’re all up on their feet before she can make them stop, make them stay, make them leave her alone. All of them are speaking, all of them are asking things of her — all of them, except for Shiro.
A hand comes up to rest on her shoulder, and it’s like all of the rest of the world goes quiet.
“Pidge,” Shiro said, and she can feel herself fracturing.
“I can’t.” She gasped.
She expects to be asked to explain herself. She expects there to be more words, but she can’t put words to the feeling of ash and blood and flame clogging her throat. She can’t make them understand the guilt that she wears like a second skin.
But then she’s being lifted up into strong arms. For a moment, she struggles, but then Shiro is nuzzling her ears and it’s so familiar that she relaxes with a wet sob into his chest. After that, the tears that have become plentiful in these few days return in full force.
Pidge is carried back to her room, but Shiro doesn’t put her down. Instead, he climbed his way into her bed, nestling her smaller body close to his and holding her the way a lover might. Her ugly sobbing turned to weeping, giving way to weak exhaustion.
“You will not feel this way forever.” His voice was close to her ear, making it flick back to brush against his cheek.
Good, she thought, because I am broken and if I break anymore I will turn to dust.
“You aren’t alone, Pidge. You will never be alone.”
“How aren’t I alone?” She argued, her gaze clouded with liquid anguish. “I have lost everything. Everything. I have no family, no home. I’d say I’m pretty alone.”
The male Galra was quiet for a time, rubbing his cheek against her ear. His silence was not malicious; simply thoughtful.
“I am here.” He offered after she had settled back into the horrible spiral of death and dead and dying and guilt.
“What?” Pidge was bewildered.
“I am here,” Shiro said again. She could feel his smile, soft and timid, against her head. “I will not leave you.”
“You cannot stop death, Shiro.” She said, resigned.
“No,” he agreed, pulling back a bit. His fingers caught just under her chin and she found herself looking up into the same grey eyes that had pulled her from her stupor the first time. “But I can promise to be here for as long as I can.”
Let me in, his gaze screamed, stealing the breath from her lungs. Let me show you how I will stay.
She didn’t want to. All of her instincts warned her to push him away, to turn him to the door and order him out. It was logic now. Get too close to people and it would kill you to watch them die. She had already died a hundred times over — one more would fracture her beyond repair.
But another part of her was drawn to his soft reassurance and his willingness to help her heal.
Put me back together, that part of her begged. Put me back together and ask me to be unbroken.
“You promise?” Her words are whispered, afraid to be loud in case someone heard and came to rip them away again.
Shiro’s smile is the soft sheets of her childhood bed. His eyes are the grey of the dusk in the summer in her village. His closeness is the balm to every ache that had seeped into her bones and weighed her down. “I promise.”
Pidge had never believed anything more in her life.
