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The Paladins of Voltron were legendary heroes. They’d been heroes for generations, a famous mantle passed down from warrior to warrior. Each hero’s ability was stored and transferred into a changeable item, morphing itself to each paladin. The spirit of the lion and the spirit of the person would mix, creating something new and unique. That was how it was supposed to be. But, of course, there would be no story if everything was how it was supposed to be.
Haggar was one of the most dangerous villains they had the misfortune of facing. Fast, strong, with a really annoying habit of magical tricks. Someone Shiro had faced before—and the first villain he ever lost against. Long story short, she was bad news. None of them realised how bad until she attacked.
It was an ambush in the plaza, an ordinary patrol gone rogue. Keith and Lance were a few feet away from the group, surrounded by fans and various hero worshippers. It meant they were isolated from the smoke. Creeping across the cobblestone like sour tobacco, it took seconds to cover everyone. Amongst the shouts, the cries of confusion, and the pain of smoke in their lungs, the fighting duo were too busy helping civilians to realise they had literally become a duo. The smoke cleared, the panic settled, and the Paladins of Voltron were gone.
Most of that day was spent running. Running from petty villains, running from the giant broadcast moments later informing the city that if the Red and Blue paladins didn’t surrender, Haggar would kill the rest. All in all, a slightly abnormal Tuesday. But it led them to where they were now. Walking along an abandoned alleyway and trying to understand what the terrifying smoke did to them.
“I can’t use my powers,” Lance said, scuffing his foot against the ground.
“Yup.”
“And you can’t use yours.”
“Nope.”
“But I can use yours?”
Keith rolled his eyes. ‘Use’ was a severe overstatement. Lance had stolen the Red Lion mask, thrown his hands into the air, yelled ‘fiyah!’ and made waggling motions at the sky. It was only when they got into another fight that his hair burst into flames and he narrowly avoided burning Keith’s eyebrows off.
“So,” Keith began, scrunching his nose. Lance raised an eyebrow and looked over at him.
“So?”
“How do your powers work?”
For a moment, Lance made a face. Then he straightened up again and stretched his arms over his head. “You’re gonna totally hate me for this, dude, but it’s all about staying chill.”
Keith rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious! You need confidence, calm, and clarity. The triple C’s of Blue Paladin-ing. And justice, but that doesn’t fit the cool alliteration thing I’ve got going on. Anyway,”—he bounced on his feet, spinning to walk backwards and smile at Keith’s grumpy face—“you really have to stay calm. Think about the reasons why you’re doing this, and relax. It’s all gonna work out because you’ve got a kickass team right next to you and they’ll never let you down. And you won’t give them up, either. You can help them become even cooler. So have confidence! Stay focused on why you fight.”
Red boots scuffed and stopped next to an overflowing bin. “You’ll have to scrap all of that,” Keith said, taking his mask off again. When he held it out, he could peer through the eyehole and have a pinpoint view of Lance’s confused expression.
“You can’t relax. You can’t think.” He offered his mask out for Lance to take, turning his back to watch where they’d come.
“The Red Lion needs anger. They feed off it. Every single day, you’ve got to look your enemy in the eyes and you need rage. Instinct and fury are the only things that will push you forwards, fan the flames. I know you get mad at me, sometimes, when I run ahead and I don’t think.” He looked over his shoulder to meet his teammates eyes. “But I have to. I can’t afford to think of you guys, or else my powers won’t work and I’ll be useless.”
“I guess…I always thought you didn’t care.” Keith was already stalking past him before Lance rushed to follow and explain.
“Look, you’ve got to admit that Shiro likes you more. He always has, dude. You’re his favourite. No matter how many rules you broke or stupid decisions you made, it was always Keith this and Keith that!” Lance threw his hands up, keeping a tight grip on the red mask. “You never spend any time with us. I thought you were too stuck in your own head to think we were on equal grounds to you. Is that really so selfish to want your acknowledgement?”
Keith paused again.
Lance had stopped, gripping the mask with a scowl on his face. “Is it bad to want you to see me too?”
A harsh gust of air whistled through the alley, blowing Keith’s hair in the wind. Keith wasn’t good with people. He never had been. But Lance had a knack for being the most annoying and the most captivating person in the world within one sentence. It was probably a skill to be such a conflicting person.
Keith pressed the heel of his palm into his forehead. “You’ve got my attention now, don’t you?”
“Huh?”
Keith ignored Lance’s dumbfounded look, striding forwards to grab his wrist and shove him against the brick wall. “You’ve got my attention. Right now you’re the only one with a chance of using your abilities because I am not in the mood to calm down. So get angry again.” Crossing his arms, Keith made a little ‘go on’ gesture, ignoring Lance’s disbelief. “Think about something that makes you angry. Like Haggar.” Lance tossed his head and cooperated with a huff, squeezing his eyes shut.
After thirty seconds of watching him make a face like he was in pain, Keith decided it was just as underwhelming as the campfire. Maybe all he needed was a little prompting.
“Haggar, Zarkon, Sendak.” He listed off their enemies, watching Lance’s face screw up with every word. “All of our friends are getting tortured right now because we aren’t fast enough.” Lance’s hair started to smoke. “The city falling to ruins and Haggar taking control of everything. Your family is being found.” The smoke increased. “You—”
“Do you think we could get addicted to smoking by that weird cloud? It smelt like actual tobacco. My mama is fine with the fighting crime thing, but smoking—she’d kill me. It’s like a bad joke.”
“You’re a bad joke,” Keith growled, threading his grip into his hair. “Are you insane? We’re about to go fight a psychopath holding our team captive, and you can’t stay serious for five seconds?!” Keith reached out to grab Lance’s collar, dragging him forwards to bare his teeth right in his face.
“Look, Keith, I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”
“You’re supposed to be getting angry, Lance, that’s the whole point.” Keith shoved him back and marched down the alley, shaking his hands to dispel some of the built up frustration. “You just can’t take this seriously. I can’t believe I trusted you! You prattle on about teamwork and confidence, but you’re just using the others as an excuse to be lazy. Why actually learn how to fight, right, when you can just use Voltron as an excuse and keep your head up your ass with your ego!”
Lance had recovered from the push and was starting to smoke again.
“Okay, jerk, I’ll show you lazy.”
He would never get the chance. There was one tiny crack, dust scattering down one of the brick walls. Then the entire wall exploded outwards into the alley between the two.
Keith was immediately thrown backwards, cracking his back against a bin. Dust and debris billowed out over them and blinded his eyes. With a muffled curse, Keith yanked his costume up, trying to cover his mouth and blink away the grit. But something was moving in the dust—a giant, bulking figure. A figure with one glowing eye, sharp teeth glinting in the shadows, with a dangerous shine darting down a huge metallic arm with giant claws. The disproportionate sizing only added to the monstrous effect, prompting Keith to pull his emergency knife out. He knew exactly who that arm belonged to.
“Sendak.”
Sendak smiled wider, lifting his cyborg arm and flexing his claws.
“Hello, little kitty. Lost without a mask?” Oh no. Keith patted around a moment too late. Lance had his mask, trying it on and chirping about becoming the new Red Paladin. Lance who had been blasted back too, who could be in any condition beyond that dust. Now Keith was trapped with his identity exposed, with one of the only villains that could take pictures with their cyborg eye.
“You picked a bad time to show, Sendak. I’m in a bad mood.” Keith tried to threaten anyway, forcing himself up. His feet slid into position with his blade at the ready, firmly ignoring Sendak’s bark of laughter.
“Oh no, kitty. This is the perfect time. Two powerless kitties ready to be snatched. You know, I’m being paid quite a bit to bring you in, so just stay still and don’t scratch too much.” With a manic, twisted grin, Sendak lurched forwards, sending his clawed arm launching down against Keith. He rolled out of the way with gritted teeth. Unable to spare a glance to the deep gouges shredded into the heavy bin and spilling rubbish everywhere, he bolted forwards, swerving under that dangerous arm and trying to drive his knife up. It was a furious tussle between the two, Sendak swiping and stomping to try and catch the tiny Keith under him. But he couldn’t rely on superspeed anymore, and within seconds, he had been crushed against the unbroken wall. That giant metal hand trapped his arms, two claws pressing against both sides of his throat.
“Oh stray kitten, lost and powerless. How unsurprising.” He cackled and pressed a little harder, smirking when Keith coughed. “Almost as easy as the Black Paladin.” Keith’s eyes widened.
“Oh yes, lost kitty. Who do you think stole away your little friends in that mist? And it was so easy, I would almost believe they were impersonators. And the Black Paladin—he fights just like how I remember. Just as weak as he always was. They’re alone, you know.” Sendak leaned in, hot breath against Keith’s cheek. “Waiting for you to save them. But you won’t, will you, pathetic kitten? They will die. Alone.” It didn’t matter how much Keith struggled. Didn’t matter how much he kicked or gasped when his blade was tossed to the side. Without the Red Lion, without a way to fuel his anger…Keith was powerless. He couldn’t fight.
Sendak’s grip tightened and he wheezed, straining against the impossible metal claws crushing his windpipe. His head swam with the lack of oxygen. Just as his eyes rolled up and his last breath fizzled out, Sendak twitched his head to the side.
With a bubbling squelch, the metal arm was sliced in half.
Sendak roared and twisted around, letting Keith drop to the ground and stare in time for a bright flash of explosion. Lance was surrounded by these explosions as he stepped out of the burning dust. Flames were flickering up his hand, a white hot metal wire clutched in his hand that he’d clearly ripped from the broken building. The same wire that was dripping with molten metal, the same one that must have sliced Sendak’s arm in two.
There was no battle cry. No triumphant roar. Just fire. Fire burning in the air, fire spreading along the ground and the walls, fire flashing in Lance’s eyes. Sendak didn’t stand a chance. The moment his fur started to singe and set alight, he snarled with anger, disconnecting the rest of the prosthetic so no metal would drip onto him. It scorched into the floor instead, inches away from Keith’s feet next to the other half.
Keith scooted himself a little further against the wall while Sendak tried to make his escape. But the dust hadn’t settled, another explosion blasting the beast across the alley. Lance stalked forwards as Sendak scrambled back, meeting him glare for glare. Every time the villain attempted to open his mouth or move, Lance snapped the makeshift whip, lightning-fast fire burning it’s way across Sendak and blocking his exits.
“Tell the Witch that she hasn’t won” he said, voice scraped rough from the heat. “Tell her that magic tricks will never stop Voltron. Can you do that, guard dog?” The flames parted for Sendak, who took the chance and bolted away with his ears still smoking.
Keith squinted through the burning mess of the alley, pulling himself up and firmly avoiding the melted bins. It only took a moment for Lance to reach through the smoke and grab Keith’s wrist—within the next second, they were running in the opposite direction, until Lance just scooped him up and bolted. They reached the red-light district in seconds with Keith being held bridal style.
His face was only red because of the heat. That was the only reason. Nothing to do with Lance holding him so easily after crippling one of their biggest enemies. Bathed in the red glow of the streets, Keith stared up at him when he finally spoke again.
“You were wrong.” He sounded breathless, shifting from one foot to another before he began to pace down the street with Keith still in his arms. “It’s not anger—and I really thought it was, dude, ‘cause you’re always so angry and it worked when I was mad before, you know? But, you know, it's not. It’s not that, because I was looking at Sendak, you know, and it just wasn’t—it just wasn't working. But other stuff did.”
Confused, Keith gripped one hand into Lance’s costume to maintain his balance. “Then what did?”
“Love. Just love, Red. The strongest love you can feel, any kind. When I was angry before, I couldn’t stop thinking of the team. Which means you love us. Is that why you’re able to run ahead? Because you want to keep us safe?” Keith’s flush went significantly deeper, but he couldn’t blame it on Lance’s heat anymore. When he spoke next, it was quiet. Muffled under the bustle around them and the weight of his own hesitance.
“Does…” Keith began, his face blooming under the mask and staining his ears with cherry red. “Does this mean you love me too?”
It was so quiet, so shy, but Lance heard it and stiffened up. His warm grip tightened as his own face blossomed to match his partner, wishing that this would be the kind of story with a simple ending. But love was never simple, never easy. Love was a spark. It was what the pair did next that would stoke that little spark into a bonfire.
“I don’t know,” Lance admitted. “But I know I love the team and I know they need our help. So…my new firepower, and your insanely attractive knife skills?” Snorting with laughter, Keith leaned his head against Lance’s warm chest, the flames burning in them both.
“We’ll get them back. Together.”