An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Oh heyyyy there, guess who still writes?? xD
Anyway this was for a zine that fell through, but i still had fun with making this piece. There is art that goes with from my awesome friend @clockworkgalaxies and you can find the art here!
Title: The Fae Ring
WC: 2470
Summary: You know those places where time doesn't flow right? Or the random pebble circles out in the middle of the forest? Allura had been told her whole life to stay away from the faerie ring, but when her father went missing, something had to change.
For decades, maybe even centuries, the village of Valley Ring lived by the rules. Live within your means, don't go seeking out trouble, don't get involved in trouble, don't go to the faery circle. Ever. Don't even think of it. Those who went to the faery circle were cursed, never able to find their way home.
Or so they said.
Allura didn't quite believe it all, she knew that the faery circle couldn't be trusted, never to take it for granted or to think that it was just a circle of pebbles. No, it was something to be respected, but not to be feared.
Her father told her that once. Before he never came back from it. Abandoning her to the rules of the town. For a time, she hated him for it, swearing to let that fiery anger lead her to him and bring him home. They all called her the "Cursed Daughter", the one destined to follow in his footsteps. They stared at her, kept their distance, even going as far as to blatantly ignore her--as if she didn't exist, that she wasn't there, the entire sense of the word. For years, she dealt with this, years . From the time she was ten years old to the time she was sixteen and of marriageable age. And it was only then that they started to interact with her again.
During that time she came to the realization that her father hadn't meant to leave her behind. Father Zarkon and Mother Honerva had told her multiple times that he loved her, Alfor wouldn't abandon her when she was the only person left in their family. The Oriande name had been smeared since her birth mother died in childbirth, and when her father, Alfor, had been touched by the faery ring and then again when he disappeared into the woods one day. It was only to go mushroom hunting for his alchemy. Mushrooms, of all things! He had been missing for six, almost seven years, and it was then that her anger faded to a dull ache in her heart, locked away into the deepest parts of her being. Best to keep it there where she wouldn't let it get to her.
She sighed, scrubbing a hand down her face before returning to the laundry. Allura always did her best with what she was tasked, but more often than not, she was catching herself daydreaming and thinking back on her father. Their home was still on the outskirts of the village, standing alone and collecting dust and ivy.
Pinning the last sheet onto the wire as she came to a decision, Allura knew that she needed to go to her old home before Mother Honerva called her in to make dinner. Father Zarkon would often tell her about Alfor's alchemy, the different theories that he had before he vanished. And if often piqued her interest, just enough that she was certain that she might find Alfor if she had some of his journals. And her instincts were telling her that she needed to have those books, something about them was important.
Allura quickly packed up the basket and the leftover clothespins, dropping them off at the back of the house, right on the stoop where Mother Honerva expected them to be. With the sun out and the breeze wafting through the valley town, Allura was certain that the clothes would be dry before Mother Honerva even came back to the house. At that point, Allura had plans that she would already be at her old home.
She wanted to know... to know what happened, to know where her father went, who took him, why they did. His notes had to have something that could help, right? They had to.
Allura dropped her smock into the basket and headed out for her old home -- her only true home if she was being honest with herself. Her hair stuck to the back of her neck in the stubborn heat, the breeze hardly being anything worth noting. It'll help the clothes dry, but other than that? Not much else. She gathered her hair into a sloppy tie, locks of hair falling out and framing her face as she walked out of the town.
Her previous home was on the outskirts of town, ivy climbing up the walls and nearly covering the windows at this point--it has been six years since anyone has gone near it. Allura tugged on a lock near her ear as she steadily got closer to the structure.
Just as she thought, the building was starting to show its age; ivy covered nearly all of the russet brick, dust fogged over the windows, the frame of the doorway sagged and matched the roof as it pitched inward. The building had certainly seen better days, but Allura knew that she wouldn't have any time restoring it between the chores Mother Honerva tasks her with and evading the various marriage offers that came her way. Allura wrinkled her nose at the thought. No, marriage was definitely not something that she wanted to entertain at this point in her life. Lotor had the same opinion on the matter, but she didn't see Mother Honerva going out of her way to point out the various girls in the village. Regardless, neither of them wanted to marry and the two of them had balked at the idea of marrying each other when Father Zarkon mentioned it. There were no romantic feelings between her and Lotor, it would only end up in an empty marriage.
Allura shook her head and narrowed her eyes at the front door of her childhood home. It was now or never. The structure was falling apart and if she didn't collect what she could today or tomorrow, there was no telling when the house would topple in on itself. She straightened her shoulders and took a step forward.
So, the princess wants to find her father, eh?
Wind curled around her, almost as if there was a hand trailing from her cheek down to her collarbone.
Such a pretty little thing you are, Princess... why would you come to visit little ol' me out in the woods?
Forest spirits? Did it have something to do with the faery ring not more than five-minute walk from her home?
Oh no, dear Princess, that ring was claimed long, long, long ago. The one claimed it has long since left. He followed after your example, you know.
Allura didn't know how to respond. The wind brushed her arms and teased her hair as she stood there, frozen with fear. This wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't something that she had planned for... what was happening?
The air tightened its grip on her, causing her to suck in a final breath as it held her in place, still whispering in her ear.
He won't be here to save you now, sweet little princess... not when you abandoned him and your father trespassed in our domain... what a tragedy.
She could almost see a figure circling her, the leaves and various sticks and twigs from the forest floor whipping around in the wind. Fear gripped at her. No one said that there was a spirit at her childhood home! Not even a mention of a malicious one that haunted the grounds and the forest.
Her chest was beginning to tighten, her lungs burning as she strained to expand them. She needed air--desperately! Was this what drowning felt like? Was this going to be the end of her?
“I am beginning to think that you are envious of the people I pick, beautiful,” an ethereal voice wafted in, cutting through the suffocating air and suddenly she could breathe.
Allura gasped and stumbled away from her childhood home, nearly falling on her knees as she coughed and sucked in air. She was bent over her knees, eyes watering. As she blinked away the tears, a pair of boots appeared in front of her and a hand rested on the back of her head.
...what was going on?
Looking upward, her eyes were met with a set of crystalline blue eyes, the corners crinkled in a gentle smile. They were unimaginably bright, so clear that they looked like the sky on a mid summer's day.
"W-who... who are you?" she whispered, fighting her buckling knees to keep herself on her feet.
The eyes flashed and slowly she was able to focus on the rest of the person that they came with. Tan skin, warm -- almost as if they were the embodiment of the warmth of a fireplace. Beyond the eyes, she could see a face that was made for smiling, perfect cheekbones that accentuated every quirk of the full lips that pulled her attention to them whenever they moved. Their eyes pulled her attention back to them with an easy wink. She could feel the complete alluring air about this person that made her want to be with them.
But all that disappeared as the eyes moved away from her, focusing on something that was behind her briefly, and once again, that captivating feeling overwhelmed her and this time her knees did collapse, and she fell to the ground.
His shoes were the simplest part of his whole outfit, only covering the soles of his feet, but a light fabric that enclosed his feet. His pants only came down to his calves, something about the fabric was otherworldly--it shifted colors in ways that weren’t possible, not unless they were--
Allura raised her head and just as her mind came to its conclusion… her eyes saw what she never thought she would ever see.
Wings .
What she saw were wings. Shimmering and sparkling lightly as the faery spoke with the wind spirit.
“Now that we aren’t trying to kill anyone anymore, how about we talk this over peacefully, yes?” The fae said, lips curling into a coy smile.
The wind spirit glowered at the fae, wind whipping around and creating the image of a disgruntled person as they crossed their arms and gave the fae an unamused look. Why deny me this fun? As soon as she stopped breathing, I would have let her go.
Wings fluttered in front of her and Allura blinked, looking up at the fae and spirit in disbelief. “You wanted me to die?”
This is my home, you entered it without permission.
A hand entered her vision, splayed out as the wings quivered. “From what I understand,” the fae began, his voice melodious and its timbre resonating around them, “This is not, and was not, a place for you to inhabit. My circle is essentially in this home’s backyard.”
Allura watched as the wind spirit hissed and vanished from view, the leaves swirling to the ground in its wake. Her mouth was agape as she watched the spirit disappear and the fae turn to her. He stood in front of her and held out his hand.
“So, princess,” he purred, lips still curled coquettishly, “shall we?”
Her mouth flopped around like a fish, words tumbling out as she unsteadily found her feet. “S-shall-shall we w-what?”
The fae laughed, grasping her elbow as she wavered upright. “Shall we go find what you were searching for, yes? You are the owner of this building, no?”
Allura blinked owlishly at the fae. “H-how…?” she asked, shocked and unnerved that this... creature knew that this was her old home.
“Come now, princess, there are not many people who have shock white hair naturally. You are the daughter of the alchemist, the family resemblance is uncanny.” He gestured to the home. “Go, the path is clear and this is your point of origin, claim it.”
Allura glanced back and forth between the house and the fae, cautiously stepping away from him. “Will you stay to make sure of that?” She didn’t know why she asked that, but her near-death experience from the wind spirit left her shaken and nervous -- the forest wasn’t as safe as it seemed from her childhood and the change was unsettling.
The fae shrugged, smile never leaving his face. “Depends, every gift requires something in return.”
Her instincts immediately told her to run, to leave the house and ever return, but he knew something about her and she knew nothing about him. That wasn’t fair, was it? Allura chewed her lip and looked back and forth between the fae and her old home, struggling to make a decision.
“...what if--what if I ask that of you next time,” she proposed, voicing her thoughts deliberately.
The creature hummed, tilting his head and peering at her with open curiosity. “Go on.”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she continued, “And you know where I come from, it would be a fair assumption that I get to know where you come from.”
The fae blinked once, twice before his smiled crawled across his face, teeth blindingly white and his canines slightly pointed. “I can show you right now if you would like?” he asked, offering her a hand.
Allura stared at his hand, not quite sure what to do. Her instincts were telling her to run and to stay at the same time, the conflicting emotions roiled within her to the point where she felt that she would bubble over with indecisiveness. Hesitantly, she reached out, only to pause at the last second.
“What may I call you?” she blurted, eyes wide and uncertain.
The creature’s smile glinted -- glinted in such a way that Allura couldn’t tell which was what anymore.
“You can call me Lance, for the time being, princess. And what shall I call you?”
Allura knew better than to give her true name, but what other name was she used to? At this point, it was best to just go with what he was calling her.
“...Princess is fine.”
The smile shined brighter than it ever had during this whole interaction. “Well, then, Princess, shall I show you where I come from?” His hand was still outstretched to her, and hers to his.
After a few more seconds, she gently touched her fingers to the palm of his hand, and from that moment on, Allura Oriande of Valley Ring vanished from existence.
The books that wasted away in the Oriande home faded away to dust, and the home crumbled in on itself before the village knew of her disappearance. Almost as if the house was waiting for her to return to meet this fae, Lance, as he calls himself. Taking after her father Alfor, Allura was never to be seen again, and the village’s story of the faery ring began anew, telling the tale of the Alchemist and the Princess that disappeared when they took the hand of a fae.
That’s right my guys! Posting will start TUESDAY!!!
There will not be a schedule, school has once again kicked my ass and I ran out of time to draft it up. That being said, you all will have from 27th till March 6th! Yes, that includes the weekend of the Season 5 drop, but we have extended this as far out as we could, all the Valentines events are done and we are pretty much good to go.
Tonight and Tomorrow, I would like for everyone to submit READ ONLY versions of their work.
Writers; submit at a Google Doc as READ ONLY with your original fic identifier (GN #01 and so on). This is to check that the word requirement has been met.
Artists; submit a JPEG or PNG for your work with your original fic identifier (GN #01 and so on).
I ask this of everyone because all of this will be dumped into two folders that will be open for all participants, but I don’t want them to be tampered with.
Writers
Artists
These folders are open for everyone, but it simply meant for everyone to submit their work.
Posting
On Tuesday, all of you are allowed to post your work as you see fit. Multichapters may be continued to be posted outside of the posting window.
Please tag us when you post on tumblr and add your fic to the AO3 collection when posting on AO3.
Thank you so much for working with us for so many months. We appreciate all the hard work and effort you put into this bang in order to provide content for the people who love Shklance. We may be nearing the end but out journey isn’t over yet! One last push and we’ll reach the light at the end of the tunnel.
Hey yall, so I’ve been getting into D&D (thanks to my bro dragging me into his campaign) so here’s my lovely Aasimar ^_^
Backstory is under the cut~
Present...
The Fel Wolves were a massive crime syndicate that had vast reach across all of Faerune. Anyone trying to escape their influence was forced to live in exile -- hardly interacting with anyone.
Each member of the guild would receive a mark; four slashes inked anywhere in their body. Many members placed it on the inside of their wrist, but those that who involved themselves with spying and blending in, it would be placed discreetly behind the ear, nearly into the hairline.
Each spy initiate would undergo a rigorous training and testing program to showcase their skills to Jaden, the Fel Wolves founder, and Meion, his second. Many dropped out, not cut out for the infinite demands required for the Wolves’ spy network.
Shyrze, a fallen Aamisar, doomed to follow dark paths and cursed with untold amounts of bad luck found her luck changing when she passed the examination period of the Fel Wolves initiation. Inducted into the spy circle within the guild, it wasn't long before she was given her first mission:
Find the leader of Crowsreach, and infiltrate their circle advisors.
Easier said than done. Finding the leader was the easy part, but becoming part of the circle? Another matter entirely. Shyrze believed that she had a way in, knowing the leader of Crowsreach was lawful and aimed to end all crime, offering the information she knew about the Fel Wolves seemed like the best option. All she had to do was feed them a few lies to get them off the Wolves' trail and she’d be in.
Unbeknownst to her, the Duke of Crowsreach had his own spies and knew of her arrival. As soon as she arrived, Shyrze was captured and tortured for the few secrets she had. A cleric forced her to speak the truth and before she could comprehend what was happening, she was banned from Crowsreach and sent back to the Wolves.
With the knowledge of her loose lips, Jaden and Meion banished her and locked her up, cutting off her ties to the Wolves and left her to rot in her tiny cell, far beneath the surface, amongst the rest of Faerune’s vilest.
Her bad luck having found a way once again to make her life miserable, Shyrze was content to live the rest of her life in prison.
That is… until the prison rioted.
The Beginning…
Shyrze used to live in the Celestial Realm, wings grey and white, marking her as mixed blood. The other angels accepted her, loved her, and raised her as their own. She never knew her parents but she was born within the Celestial Realm -- although of mixed heritage.
Shyrze learned their ways, but had a streak of stubbornness in her that made her hard to teach some of the finer subjects. Music was never her talent, nor was painting or weaving or pottery, anything that required making something. She was a fighter, and sneaky. Shyrze was always caught sneaking around, eavesdropping, putting her nose in places where she didn't belong. The usual. She was constantly reprimanded for doing as such.
Hundreds of years pass, and she grows into a young woman, still mischievous, smiling constantly and pulling jokes on her friends as they continue about their days. Their lands were gorgeous, the buildings extravagant. Luxury was abundant here and there was no such as thing as immediate need, no necessity unmet. It was an easy life. Nothing ever came at cost, everything was freely given. Of course, Shyrze was suspicious of such freebies, but she never questioned it.
She practiced her stealth, diving and winding through the trees, spinning and flipping. Being smaller than the rest of the angels in her realm made it easy to slip away, to disappear into the shadows. It wasn’t that she was hiding something, or trying to be secretive, it was just her nature. She theorized that there was more to who her parents were, but there was no one here who would tell her who they were. It as if the angels were keeping that particular secret from her. She wanted to ask, but she knew better, that lesson being driven home when she was far younger.
She grew restless for the next few years. The angels were growing more and more unsure of their future, whispers echoing around the grove in which they lived about the turbulent waters known as the prime material plane. The elders wouldn’t speak of it outside of their counsels, making progress on what they should do in case the trouble made its way to their realm.
It was one of those meetings that Shyrze managed to find herself eavesdropping on their conversation. Sins, demons from the deepest parts of hell, the darkest pits of nightmares could ever possibly dredge up. Gluttony, Lust, Envy, Greed, Wrath, and Sloth… all have made their claim to different corners of the prime material plane, harassing and capturing the peoples living there.
But there was one… one that would prove to be the most difficult, the most powerful of them all hadn’t been sensed yet. Some believed that it hadn’t escaped yet, still locked up. Yet, there were some that thought differently. Pride, as that sin was called, the most powerful and the King of these so-called Sins. Pride was on its way here, to the Celestial Realm, to quell the angels. Shyrze felt a hot streak of anger pierce her chest, her feathers rustling slightly -- but not enough to give away her position in her dark corner.
The meeting closed and the elders left the room. Shyrze waited before leaving and wandering out to the nearby forest to sift through her thoughts.
And then black.
When her wits returned about her, she was falling. Falling. Why was she falling? What happened? She couldn’t move or fight to keep stable as she plummeted. A realization came to her. Her wings were gone. Broken, destroyed, ripped from her back. Pain filled her being, blinding and encompassing. She continued to fall, and fall, and fall.
She slammed into the ground of the prime material plane, streaking across the night sky before crashing to the ground. A trench and a crater lying in her wake. She felt every bone in her body break, and where she should have perished, her body mended itself and she was denied the sweet embrace of death.
Why was she banished? What happened? Her wings were taken and she couldn’t remember why. Heartbroken, mind addled, she crawled her way out of the crater and stumbled to the nearest town. No money, clothes in ruin, she dragged herself into the nearest stables and sagged into a pile of hay before passing out.
And once again, the next time her memory returns to her, she being indebted to the Fel Wolves, the personal pupil of Jaden, their leader.
Like desperate enough that im appealing to the masses to help me make rent again.
its to the point where my mom wants me to take my cats off my lease and have them live with her. then theres my dad who is basically telling me i have to give him this money back whenever i get it. and really, all it’s doing is making me stressed as fuck because its forcing me to live paycheck to paycheck and i dont really have the extra money to take care of myself or my cats.
my Paypal is here if you can donate or I’m still doing commissions here and im totally willing to write whatever yall want, just please.
I have to make up $150 in the next week in order to make rent. Its due on the first and I dont get paid till the fourth of july.
just please... i could really use the help guys...
Hey everyone, I’ve been going through the process of rewriting Ruins into an original work and as of right now, I have 5 chapters up. I’d appreciate that you check it out and give it a vote!!! Chapters are much smaller so I can update more frequently. :D
From the Ruins - Chapter 5:
This is a tale of two countries finding peace; a tale of an emperor blinded by desperation, of how a team was put together to save these two countries from their doom.
The Queendom of Oshara seeks peace with its Athalian neighbor, but the tyrannic Emperor Sewale refuses to let Oshara flourish while his turns to sand. It will take more than usurping the emperor of a nation to return these countries to peace.
Goodness me, I took so long on this one...
Banner creds: @girlskylark cuz shes a bro
Summary: Solo missions are never a good idea. Lance knew this, argued it, but does anyone listen to him? Nope. And now he was captured and probably going to be tortured. Awesome, this was just the best thing ever! (Someone please just come rescue him, cuffs are awful.)
WC: 5627
AO3
Lance’s last words were probably going to be “Oh, quiznak”. There was no getting around that. That was him: summed up in two words. He was pretty sure they translated to “oh, fuck” but he could never really be sure (Alteans, right?). He yanked on Red’s levers and circled back around to face the Galra fighter in front of him.
Just like every time they try to run a routine mission, it never exactly goes to plan.
Never.
Not once have things gone to plan.
They should know this by now, but do they? Nope.
Red thrummed with energy and Lance slammed the levers forward, causing Red to dive into the fray. She spun and wove through all the fighters, each of Lance’s shots hitting their mark. His Lion purred proudly as they raced through open space, trying to get out of the swarm of fighters.
“There has to be a way to take down that freaking cruiser!” Lance muttered, glaring at it through one of his screens. Red thrummed in agreement. The ion cannon fired, and he slammed his controls forward, putting Red into a nosedive.
They barely dodged out of the way, but as soon as Lance brought Red out of the dive, another shot went off, nailing them. He grunted as Red’s whole frame shook. Everything went dark after a few seconds and he couldn’t hear Red in the back of his mind anymore.
“No no no no—”
Lance tried to run diagnostics, check the damage manually—anything to get Red moving again. He looked out and saw the cruiser coming toward them, the tractor beam beginning to light up.
He pulled at the controls frantically. “C’mon Red, I know you’re still there!”
Bright purple light filled Red’s cabin and Lance squinted against it. Well, this shit day just got worse. With Red down for the count, Lance’s mind kicked into overdrive. He punched in the sequence to turn on his emergency beacon and activated the tracker in his armor. It would probably be taken, but as long as it was going, Pidge would find it. He had to believe it. The team would find him.
The Galra cruiser’s bay opened and swallowed Lance and the Red Lion; the violet light disappeared, and Lance was left in the dark. He materialized his bayard and held it at the ready. He was safe here for the time being, he could hold them off until the rest of Voltron got to him. He could do this. He could do this.
Red couldn’t power up enough to get her shield up, and Lance knew that as soon as the Galra figured out how to open the hatch, he was a goner.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Lance flinched and raised his bayard. He was scared—oh god was he terrified—but he would fight until he was done.
“Com log 38, some star-date nonsense and blah blah blah… But I’m Lance, the Blue—no, the Red Paladin of Voltron. And it would be nice if someone could go back to Earth and tell my ma that I love her. Thanks.”
There was no reply as the door was pried open and the shootout began.
Keith adjusted his frequency as he began to pick up a distress signal from the Arloqiuan system. He was only a few clicks away.
The transmission was cutting in and out. Keith fiddled with the readouts as he prepared to fly in and help but he froze at the mention of Earth. Barely thinking about it, he slammed forward on the thrusters and sped through open space to reach the Arloqiuan system in record time. He heard Kolivan call out to him through the coms, but Keith wasn’t paying attention. He couldn’t afford to let the universe lose a paladin of Voltron. Not when they had a chance.
Keith flipped off his communications and focused on flying in to intercept the battlecruiser; it was gliding through the outer reaches of the largest gas giant in the Arloqiuan system. A few sparse moons were orbiting the planet as well, looking to be moderately populated. Keith grit his teeth, a low growl escaping him as he flew in closer, eyes searching the of debris the cruiser was leaving behind.
Various Galra ships drifted in the wake of broken Rebel ships that trailed behind the cruiser. Some of them still sizzling from a Lion’s laser beam. Keith circled the cruiser in his own Galra fighter and tried to find the best place to get started. The bay doors at the rear of the ship were caught in the middle of their closing sequence; flashes of light and giant red force-shield kept it from closing.
Lance.
There was a small gap at the top of the bay doors, just enough for his fighter to squeeze through. “Here goes nothin’,” he muttered to himself as he careened his fighter through the opening and crash landed it on the other side of the hangar, lasers already firing.
Causing as much damage as he could before his ship lost its integrity, Keith kept firing until it slid into a pillar and the sudden stop threw him forward into his dashboard. Grunting, he righted himself, grabbed his knife and willed his mask into place.
But he didn’t even have a chance.
Just as he opened his ship’s doors, there were lasers blasting and he was pinned down in the cockpit. Keith cursed. The Blade of Marmora agents almost never carried firearms, all he had was his knife. Damn, he really wished he had his paladin armor, at least that had a shield.
The firing stopped, and Keith could hear a heavy-footed Galra walk up to the base of his ship. “Step out of the ship, filth! Your comrade has already been seized.”
He gripped his knife’s handle tighter; so tight the gloves he was wearing creaked with the pressure. They had Lance. They had a paladin of Voltron and the Red Lion. And now they were about to get their hands on a Blade, the information held between the two of them could turn the tides of this millennium-long war.
“Fuck,” he bit out. His mind was racing, thinking through all of the possibilities he had. Stick it out and try to fight his way out or give up and break out. Instantly his mind went through how each option could possibly play out. Fighting obviously carried the risk of dying, if it weren’t for Lance, he would have already been looking for something within his ship to aid him. But he had no idea what Lance’s condition was. For all he knew, Lance could be unconscious and the risk of him—or even both of them dying would be an untold amount higher.
Keith sighed and ground out a couple more curses before sliding his knife down the ramp. A dark chuckle made its way up the ramp followed by, “Smart move, Blade. Knock him out and put him with the paladin.”
There was a rush and Keith struggled, taking out a few guards—a feat considering he was unarmed—before he was knocked unconscious and his vision went black.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
…
Bang! Bang! Bang!
…
When Lance came to, his head was throbbing and each time someone else slammed on the metal door locking them inside, pain made his vision white out around the edges. He winced, groaning as he forced himself back into the realm of the living to tell the jackwagon who was banging on the door to quit it.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Would you stop that? Some people are trying to keep their heads from pounding and they can’t do that when you’re banging on the quiznakking door like that!”
“Lance? You’re awake?”
Lance groaned and forced himself upright and scowled in the dark. “Yes, I’m awake, no thanks to the noise you’re—Wait, Keith? ”
Keith knelt in front of him, suddenly very close and still, Lance could barely make out his features, their cell was too dark to make out much of anything. One midnight eye was close to swelling shut and his hair was a mess of tangles, but from what Lance could see in the dark, Keith looked extremely relieved that he was awake.
“Keith? What the cheese? What are you doing here?” Lance tugged on his wrists, but they were handcuffed together in front of him. Looking at Keith, his were handcuffed as well, but the cuffs were scratched up from banging on the door.
“I caught your distress signal and the open comm link you had going,” Keith explained, reaching up to tilt Lance’s head side to side, checking for injuries. “I was only on the other side of the neighboring system when I picked it up. Came as fast as I could.”
Lance jerked his head out of Keith’s grasp (gentle as it was) and gaped at him. “Weren’t you supposed to be with Kolivan?”
Keith frowned and sat back on his haunches. “‘Supposed to be’ being the key phrase there.”
“Doesn’t explain why you’re even out here in the first place.”
“…it was nothing, I was just out here to be out here.”
Lance scoffed and rolled his eyes, wincing when his neck twinged. “Look here, dude, we are captives on a Galra battle cruiser despite both of our best efforts. Might as well be honest with each other now.”
The other boy growled and looked away. “Got bored.”
“See, was that so hard?”
“Don’t push it, Lance.”
“Fine, fine.”
The two of them sat in relative silence, the thrumming from the ship and the regular rhythm of their own breathing being the only things they heard. They couldn’t even hear what was going on outside of their cell.
“So…we really are stuck here, aren’t we?” Lance said after the uneasy silence got to be too much for him. He tugged on the handcuffs again, just to do something, anything really.
“Yeah…” Keith sighed. He shifted so he was leaning against the wall beside Lance, instead of kneeling in front of him. “Even if we got out, it would have to be with Red, my ship is wrecked.”
“Lemme guess, you rushed in like always, didn’t you?”
“I can turn back time and not do that and let the battlecruiser warp away with you on it. And the Red Lion.”
Lance pouted. “Alright fine, not a hairbrained idea, stupid, not completely stupid.”
“There aren’t degrees of stupidity, Lance.”
“What d’you know, drop-out.”
Keith sighed and knocked the back of his head on the wall behind them, sounding completely exasperated with Lance already and he hadn’t even been awake for five minutes yet. “I don’t want to be here any more than you do, so we are just going to have to get along until we can think of a way out of this.”
He had to begrudgingly agree to that. There was no way Lance was going to let himself stay on this ship and eventually be dropped off at Zarkon’s door.
“Do you think they’ll feed us?”
Keith raised an eyebrow at Lance, not sure what he was getting at with the random question. “Why?”
Lance shrugged. “Dunno, but like, obviously we are important, y’know? So, wouldn’t they feed us?”
“Did they hit your head too?”
“I woke up yelling at you for banging on the door because of my head, so what do you think?”
Keith sighed and stared at their cell door again. “Forget I asked.”
“Yeah yeah, act all cool and calmly collected or whatever,” the other boy huffed, looking away with his nose in the air.
“Calm, cool and collected is the phrase.”
“Whatever.”
The quiet thrumming of the ship filled the air, both of them sitting in awkward silence, toeing the line of awkward and comfortable at the same time. As much as Lance was a welcome face, Keith couldn’t bring himself to make conversation. What was there to tell? The Blade of Marmora were secretive by nature and Keith kept to that creed since he didn’t really care to talk about himself anyway.
This was how it was going to be he realized slowly. For the time being, at least. Keith ran through all the information he had. The Red Lion was in the hanger, fairly undamaged. He and Lance were unhurt, disregarding the minor head injuries. His fighter was destroyed. They were being held in an unknown location in the ship.
All in all, it wasn’t looking good for them.
Footsteps echoed outside of their cell, louder than the humming of the ship, and grew steadily louder until they stopped right outside the door. Either the guards stationed outside were silent or there weren’t any before.
“I want the Blade first.”
The door slid open and the Commander sneered down at them. One of the guards stepped in and raised their rifle. Keith remembered scrambling to get out of the way and hearing Lance shout just before the rifle knocked him in the temple and his world went dark again.
Lance waited for what seemed like hours and hours before Keith was dumped back in the cell. His body was limp and still cuffed, and from what he could hear over the low din of the ship, Keith’s breathing was ragged as well. As soon as the door was shut behind the guard, he scooted over to his comrade and gently rolled Keith over.
“Keith? Keith, buddy, c’mon wake up.” He patted Keith’s cheek, trying to wake him up as gently as he could. A cursory glance down his body was enough to tell Lance that Keith had endured some form of torture. There were more rips and tears in his suit, and a ring of bruises around his neck. Lance swallowed heavily and tried again. “C’mon, I know you’re still there.”
It took a while, but after patting and drumming his fingers on Keith’s chest plate, the former Red Paladin seemed to fight his way back to consciousness. Lance breathed a sigh of relief and sank back on his heels. Neither of them could afford to be off their game right now.
“Quiznak, you scared me,” Lance sighed dramatically. He was glad to see Keith awake—more so than he would like to admit to himself—but glad nonetheless.
“How long?” Keith rasped, coughing as he sat up and a hand to his throat. It burned, much like the rest of his body. His breathing was too loud, Lance was too close, and his skin felt hot and tacky.
Lance didn’t answer as he watched Keith cough and force himself to breathe. It was hard to see anyone like this, from the few aliens that Voltron had rescued on missions, the prisoners they found at testing facilities for the witch’s sick quintessence research, and now one of their own. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that this was happening, but some part of his mind always tucked it away in a dark corner, a place he rarely visited.
But he and Keith were those aliens, those prisoners, the new lab rats for the Galra on this ship.
It was a reality that he was reluctant to face and grimly forced to accept.
“Lance, how long?” Keith asked again, voice still rough from whatever they had done to his throat.
He shook himself and met Keith’s gaze. “I don’t know, a couple hours? It’s hard to tell when we don’t have any clocks or tickers here.”
Keith merely nodded and remained quiet after that. Eventually, they moved to the back of the cell, tucking themselves into a corner as far away from the door as possible. Lance couldn’t find words to say and Keith would rather sit in silence than force himself to talk at the moment. Neither of them had ever been in this situation before. Well, that was a lie, there was the whole episode between Lance and Nyma but he’d rather not count that since he was just chained to a tree rather than captured and dumped in a cell. Lance had no idea what Keith had done with the Blades; communication between Kolivan and the Voltron team was minimal at best and was only when they were cross-checking information before missions.
Lance chewed his lip as he watched Keith poke and prod at himself, wincing each time he hit an especially sore spot as he took stock of his injuries. Lance still had a headache but the rest of him was only sore from being thrown on the ground. His legs were tucked up close to his chest, his arms wrapped around them as he rested his chin on his knees. It was a stark contrast to how Keith was splayed out in the corner, legs tossed out straight and one arm flopped onto his lap while the other poked a different bruise every few seconds. Lance wanted to tell him to stop, but he knew that Keith wouldn’t listen. Sometimes he did, but most of the time he didn’t.
The ship hummed around them, and it was just underneath that constant thrum that Lance felt Red come back to him. She roared, a skulking presence in the back of his mind as he and Keith sat without saying a word. A gush of air escaped him in relief as she purred protectively in the back of his mind. She assessed him, rubbing against his psyche, reassuring and comforting him before turning her attention to her previous paladin. Lance could hear the mournful moan, the longing in her voice. He tried his best to comfort her in return, but there was only so much he could do without being in the pilot’s seat.
Red turned to him and forced him to look at Keith. The other boy had given up on cataloging his injuries and was focusing on resting now. His eyes had drifted shut and his breathing evened out. Even though Keith had left her, just like Alfor before him, Red always held her paladins in high regard. Lance smiled wistfully as she whipped her tail back and forth as she stared at Keith through him. A protective mother, that was what Red reminded him of. The kind of mother who would scold her children for doing something dangerous but turn around and show them how it was done seconds after.
“She’s still proud of you, you know.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, but Red whipped around to focus on him once more, encouraging him to say more, to convey her feelings—and by extension his own.
Keith cracked an eye open and raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Red, ya know, your first lion before the whole Lion Switcheroo and you going to train with the Blades of Marmora? Big Ol’ Red?” Lance nudged him with his elbow lightly. Red paced between them, growling and yowling at him to say more. Her antics cemented his idea of her being a mother (after all, she was forcing two of her children to communicate after a long period of radio silence.)
The eye slid closed and Keith tilted his head back against the wall. He looked exhausted; like he’d gotten used to surviving on the bare minimum of sleep, food, and water over the past few months.
Red pawed at Lance to keep going. “Just, you know how Red is. She’s like a protective mom, always growling at us to fix something.”
Keith sighed and barely opened his eyes, staring out at nothing. “I didn’t think she still remembered me.”
“What? No, of course she does!” Lance objected. He lowered his knees to sit cross-legged and leaned toward Keith. “What makes you think that? You were her first paladin after ten thousand years, of course she still remembers you. Black has memories of her paladins, and Allura told me that Blue misses me from time to time. Seriously, the lions remember most of everything.”
“So, she’s mad then?”
Lance sputtered and shook his head, ignoring how his headache flared again. “Dude, what? No!” Red growled, arguing with him. “Okay, maybe a little,” he acquiesced before moving on, “She was a little upset but, hey, we had to do what we had to do.”
A dark eyebrow disappeared in the mop of dark hair on Keith’s head. He nodded absently and closed his eyes once more. “Sounds like her.”
Her rumbling purr filled his head and Lance couldn’t fight her infectious attitude; smiling, he kept going. “She’s glad that you’re finding yourself. Like, you’re doing something for yourself. She gets why you left.”
“I didn’t really want to leave, but it was simple math. Six paladins, five lions. Someone had to go.” Keith shrugged, keeping his eyes closed. “I had an opportunity with the Blades so I took it. The rest of you had nothing else.”
“You know that’s—”
“Give me the Paladin.”
Footsteps stomped up to the door to their cell and both of them remained silent until—
The door slammed open and the guards poured in once more. Lance yelped and scrambled along the wall trying to evade them, but it didn’t take long for the Galra to grab him and drag him out of the room. Keith shouted, jumping to his feet to fight them off. Another guard stepped up and slammed him in the face with the butt of his rifle, knocking him unconscious again.
Keith struggled to wake up. Even in the low light of the ship, his vision whited-out when he opened his eyes. The floor was unforgiving. His side, shoulder and hip complained loudly from the way he had crumpled to the ground after being struck. Everything swam when he blinked his eyes open again. Another concussion, he thought through a daze. He squeezed his eyes shut then blinked them open rapidly, trying to clear his vision more, but it was useless.
He couldn’t hear anything else in the room and it put him on edge. What if they were still torturing Lance? What was happening to him? Was Lance alright? What if he—Keith stopped the line of thought before he fell too far down that rabbit hole. Wincing, he pushed himself up to a sitting position. He hated feeling trapped; he hated being trapped.
A growl escaped his lips as he forced himself to stand, all of his joints creaking as if he were an old man standing up from his rocking chair. One side of his face felt tight and swollen, from cheekbone to jaw. Right where the guard had slammed their gun into his face. He could taste the coppery flavor of blood in his mouth too. Touching his nose and cheekbone, he found no gash or wetness, just tight, tender skin. It throbbed painfully at the pressure from his fingers and he gave up inspecting it.
“Fucking assholes,” he muttered, mouth tight, as he leaned against the door, trying to hear anything from the other side.
Only the humming of the ship's engines met his ears. Keith slammed his cuffs against the door in frustration. He felt useless just sitting around here like this!
More footsteps answered his attack on the door and Keith backed away from the door again, glaring at it with all the angry fire within him. The door slid open and the guards dumped a body into the cell, laughing.
“I’ve never heard something cry so much, he sounded like a baby yupper!” The guard laughed, kicking Lance the rest of the way into the cell before shutting the door once again.
Keith jumped to Lance’s side and rolled him onto his back. He winced at what he saw.
Lance was beaten pretty badly. One eye was already swollen shut, and there were various other cuts and bruises all over from what Keith could see. The Paladin armor was scuffed and scratched, burn marks darkening it in different spots, and there were chips to the different edges all over. Voltron had seen its fair share of battles, sure, just like he had with the Blades of Marmora, but Keith hadn't expected to see something like this.
Lance coughed, causing Keith to flinch away from the noise. This was bad, he wasn't going to be able to fly like this.
"Lance? Lance, are you alright?" he whispered, barely trusting his own voice.
He received an answering groan, a screwed up face before one blue eye opened. Lance coughed again and rolled over to his side. "Quiznak, I almost wish I wasn't..."
Keith breathed a sigh of relief and sat back on his heels. "Honestly, same."
They let silence encapsulate them, wrapping around them in some form of new comfort. Keith was almost surprised that Lance was capable being silent for this long, but he wasn't going to point it out and disturb the quiet when his head was still pounding with every heartbeat. At least they were being left alone for the time being, Keith wasn't sure either of them could handle going through another round of torture again.
The ship creaked and groaned as it moved through space. Where they were going, neither knew nor did they have the motivation to wonder. The longer Keith sat still, the more his head began to clear. Whether it was a product of Kolivan's meditations — something that he insisted Keith do to curb his more emotional tendencies — or the possibility that the concussion wasn't as bad as he thought it was, he was thankful for it. Lance, however, remained completely silent; steadily breathing on the ground next to him. At this point the continued silence was becoming concerning but Keith couldn't figure out what to say.
After another long, indeterminate passage of time, Lance eventually sat up. He knew both of them were exhausted, having been knocked out and tortured for who knows how long before getting dumped back in a place where there was no sense of time. His whole body hurt, especially his eye which throbbed spectacularly.
It all felt hopeless. What were they supposed to do? There were guards stationed outside of their cell, they had no idea where they were inside of the ship, and Red had gone seemingly quiet. Lance tried to reach out to her, but she was a simmering pool of anger that merely told him to rest and focus on himself. Don't worry about her, she would be fine. Lance breathed slowly; in and out, in a nice slow rhythm. If he were still with Blue, she would have pressed her cool presence around him and helped him find his center again. He didn't blame Red for leaving him alone, but that didn't stop the ache in his chest from missing his first Lion.
Eventually, it got to be too much. Even with the groaning of the ship around them, it felt like they were trapped in a silent, timeless bubble. He had no idea if the team had picked up on his distress signal from his suit, had no idea if they were even trying to reach him. His helmet had been cracked and broken before he was even dragged out of Red. It made him realize that it was going to be now or never; there was so many things he wanted to say, wanted to do and he felt like his life was going to be cut short on this ship. The Galra in the torture room had seemed quite intent on it before their commander stopped them.
If this was going to be it, he was going to say it now before they were both too far gone in this hell hole.
"Hey, Keith?"
The other boy looked up from where he was sitting, eyes a little clearer than before. One side of his face was still swollen, but even that seemed to be getting better slowly.
"Yeah? What's up, Lance?"
"Look, there's been something I've been meaning to tell you and well, this seems like as good as time as any since you're here, I'm here, and we aren't off doing our own things with Voltron or the Blades. Which, is like, totally cool, by the way, that you're off doing that, seriously no hard feelings there—"
This ship groaned again, and they felt the ghost of a shudder from the entire structure.
Both of them looked up and around the cell. It couldn't be...
The battlecruiser shuddered again, and in the distance, they heard explosions and guards running and shouting at each other. Footsteps echoed outside their cell, urgently running down the hallway toward whatever was making the noise.
Red came to life through her bond to Lance, roaring out at the same time he heard whispers of the others through her.
"They're here, oh my god, they're here!" Lance scrambled to his feet and began to bang on the door. "Guys! We're in here! Guys!!"
Keith jumped to his feet and started to hammer away at the door too. Not today, he wasn't going to die on a Galra ship today.
Together they shouted and screamed through the door for what felt like forever before the door slid open in front of them and Hunk and Pidge were standing there, relieved grins spreading across their faces.
"Lance! Thank flipping god you're alright!" Hunk exclaimed.
"You guys found us!" Lance all but leapt at Hunk for a hug while Keith gave Pidge a fistbump before she cut his the cuffs off of his wrists.
"Of course we did! With your suit and the Red Lion both putting out distress signals, it would have been hard not to find you," Pidge explained, dragging Lance away from Hunk. "Now c'mere and let me get those off of you. Also, Hi Keith, nice to see you again."
More explosions resonated through the ship, causing the whole thing to vibrate. "What the heck did you guys plant on the ship?" Keith asked rubbing his wrists. He was itching to get going, the sounds of the cruiser's engines were alarming from how they were stuttering.
Hunk, laughed. "Oh that's not us. That's Shiro and Allura working out their anger issues with the ion cannons. But we gotta go, and get you guys to the hangar, Red was starting to tear the place apart from the inside when we showed up. I swear, she's scary-protective of her paladins. I’m glad Yellow isn’t so uptight."
He hefted his bayard and the four of them ran down the hallways to the hangar, dodging laser fire here and there as they got closer and closer. They entered the hangar under heavy fire, Hunk taking down most of the sentries as they raced toward the Red Lion.
She stomped on a ship as they ran toward her, knocking out whatever Galra she could before they got too close. Keith and Lance continued to run towards her as Pidge and Hunk split off, heading for the holes they made in the hull of the ship where their own lions waited. Lance brought up his shield to block incoming laser fire as Keith ran up the ramp to Red's cockpit, jumping into her mouth as she started to pick up her head.
Keith was already in the seat, pressing buttons and bringing up screens.
"Lessgo lessgo lessgo!" Lance yelled, bracing himself on the cabin bulwark and the back of the pilot's chair. (He'd get on Keith about taking his place some other time, his vision was still messed up from his black eye.)
"I am, hold on!"
Red blasted a molten gash in the side of the hangar and plowed her way through into open space. Keith brought her around, firing off another bright beam at the battlecruiser before peeling off toward the castle in the distance. Any Galra ships that might have pursued them were already blown to pieces from Shiro and Allura's teamwork.
In the back of Lance's head, he felt Red purr with contentment, two of her paladins back with her once more — however temporary that may be.
Keith breathed out a sigh of relief, sagging against the back of the pilot's chair and closing his eyes. "That... that was close."
"Yeah, no kidding," Lance agreed, propping his chin up on his hand as he leaned more against the back of the chair. "I seriously thought we weren't going to make it for a second there."
Keith cracked open his eyes and studied Lance. "About that... what were you going to say before the others came and broke us out?"
He looked away, fighting back the blush that threatened to expose him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Lance."
"Nope, I don't remember, I was in a haze—"
"Just answer the damn question, I know you remember."
"—and I'm pretty sure that it had nothing to do with my feelings for you —"
"You're what?"
"—and not to mention all those times I thought you were cool and stuff fighting with your sword-blade-thing —"
"Lance, slow down—"
"—or any of the other cool stunts you managed to pull when you were on the team, nope, definitely wasn't any of that."
Okay, now they were both blushing and avoiding looking at each other.
Lance took a quick peek out of the corner of his eye to look at Keith, waving a hand in the air. "It was probably the head injury I have that was making me think all those things."
Keith rolled his eyes and looked back at all the displays he had up. "Yeah, well, maybe I was thinking those same things during that moment. Two concussions in a row make it hard to think straight."
@fanficzine has been an awesome zine to work with and pre-orders happen on May 21st!!! All proceeds go to TPAN, which is an amazing organization!
Credits
Artwork: hiro_theartist on instagram
Preview: A Shot in the Dark
Lance looked at her over the file. "You want us to work the Naxzela case?"
"Precisely," she confirmed. "Naxzela has been the hub of multiple crime rings. I'm sure you both remember the Galra Drug ring. It seems that another individual has taken residence there within the past few years and has set up shop. I want the two of you to find out what it is, find my missing agents, and take down this ringleader. Without killing each other."
He snapped the case file closed and stood up. "Well, if that was everything, I guess it's time to go then. C'mon, lackey," he said, heading for the door, not really caring if the other agent was following him or not.
Keith watched him leave the room before whirling around to glare at Allura. "You cannot be serious about this."
The FBI Director raised an immaculate eyebrow. "What are you going to do if I say that I am? Remember Keith, you're still on thin ice with me and the rest of the Bureau, tread carefully. Dismissed."
Growling, he stood up from his chair and clomped out the door and past Coran's desk. This was going to put him through hell and back, he knew it.
Agent Diaz was waiting at the elevator, tapping his fingers in an uneven staccato rhythm on the case file. Keith stepped up next to him and waited.
"Okay, I'm going to make this as painless as possible for both of us, so listen up, don't ask questions, and everything will be peachy, capisce?"
Keith curbed the urge to snap back. That was behind him, he wouldn't let his temper get the best of him. "Capisce."
"Good. You leave the point to me, and you can do—" Lance looked him over again before turning back to the elevator, "—whatever it is you do. Find some cyber trail or something."
The other agent huffed and shook his head, keeping his temper at bay for the moment. "Right then. Can I read the case?"
The elevator doors opened, and Lance stepped in, turning to face Kogane.
"No." And he pushed the button to close the doors while Kogane gaped at him, shocked and outraged.
"Diaz, you—!"
The doors shut and began its trek downward to the parking garage underneath the building.
Keith seethed at the door, clenching and unclenching his fists as he vibrated with a rage he didn't think he was capable of anymore. "That fucker," he hissed as he jammed his thumb on the button for the elevator again, just as his phone went off.
Pulling it out, there was a message waiting to be read.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: this is diaz. meet at this address tomorrow at 0800
UNKNOWN NUMBER: 5784 Rebel Drive, Naxzela 61958
Keith clenched his phone so hard that the plastic casing he had on it creaked. Mother fu—
I’m like seriously broke and in need of dire help yall, so please, if you can, please commission me. If you can’t afford my rates, here’s my paypal link and I’ll take what little I can get.
The situation is that May was a really rough month for me since I was out of work for two weeks and since then I have been working two jobs and nearly twelve hour days for 2-3 weeks now. I don’t get paid for a while yet and my dad just had to loan me money, money that I have to pay him back eventually when I get paid.
Which is basically all of my paychecks. Both of them. Cuz I was short on rent and was sorta banking on the fact that I would get paid before the end of the month.
So please, if you can guys, a few dollars will go a long way for me. Commission info is below.
Commissions
Writing
—Tier One: $10 for 1000-1250 words
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Every bracket after 3k words is an additional $10 per 1k; but nothing over 5k, please!
Beta'ing
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Original Characters
—Since OCs are handled differently than characters from actual shows, here’s how I will treat your OCs: I will ask for an email about your OCs (a general personality profile) and the prompt you wish for me to use when writing for them.
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—I mostly write Voltron these days, but I am open to other fandoms such as Fairy Tail, BNHA, and NNT.
—I am open to most ships. My NOTPs will not affect what I will write for you when you commission me.
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