Lancelot Week 2017

by Anonymous

Summary:

Seven Works for Lancelot Week 2017

Day 1 Hero/Villain: Police officer!Lotor and thief!Lance
Day 2 Love/Hate: Love bug au with a twist
Day 3 Earth/Space: Psych ward au
Day 4 Free Day: Lance/Lotor with Empress!Allura
Day 5 Past/Future: Quintessence au
Day 6 Strengths/Insecurities: Mythology au
Day 7 Promises/Comittment: Power Couple Lancelot with a bad ending

Notes:

My first creation for @lancelotweek ! I’m honestly not sure if I’m going to be able to keep up with the whole week, but I couldn’t walk away without any contribution so here we are! A short drabble I wrote in about thirty minutes featuring police officer Lotor and cute thief with tragic anime backstory Lance. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Hero/Villain

Lotor had a problem. A problem dressed in a skin tight bodysuit that only served to further solidify Lotor’s already pretty clear sexuality. The thing was, being the only gay policeman on the local force did not bother Lotor, because about the first time someone got the idea to comment about it Lotor could suckerpunch them with a perfectly manicured hand hard enough to make the room spin. Abuse of power? Perhaps, but Shiro never reported it to Allura so it probably didn’t matter. What did matter, was the robber that kept popping up with a very cute smirk that made Lotor’s heart beat a little faster than what could possibly be healthy. A problem indeed.

It was with infuriating repetitiveness that the boy kept showing up, waiting for the police to arrive before he slipped out of the freaking window or something and took off to god knows where. If Lotor had a thing for seeing that spandex clad ass turn tail and disappear from sight, nobody needed to know.

The first night had been unexpected.

A break in at the most notorious jeweler in town, a string of diamonds stolen, and a flash of the smirk that would serve to haunt Lotor’s dreams for months to come.

The second marked the start of a trend.

The thief, dubbed Blue for his outfit of choice and mask that only left his eyes of the same color revealed, hit hard and got out fast. He snatched up only the most valuable items, stuffing his pockets for as long as possible and giving the police ample time to come to secure him. Then he, that fast little shit, always managed to sneak out without so much as a shifting of the air to indicate which way he’d gone. Lotor was a pining mess.

It was on the third or fourth meeting that he finally got the start of a conversation.

“Blue!” Lotor had growled, vaulting a counter blocking the way to the safe Blue had just robbed. He was lagging tonight, appeared to be maintaining a limp that dogged him badly in a way that wasn’t normal. Lotor capitalized on that, and cornered him into the very safe he’d just stolen from.

“Officer,” the thief replied easily, yelping as he dodged a punch. Blue had managed to swipe his gun back in the lobby, but had yet to pull it. Lotor dropped, swinging his leg around in a move he’d learned from Ezor to make the thief trip. He went down, but rolled to avoid Lotor’s larger form coming down to pin him. “So good to meet you again!” Lotor lurched to the side in an effort to spare himself a kick coming from the man.

“Goddamnit, you’re making me life difficult, Blue.” The thief had the gall to laugh, and Lotor lunged forward. Neither could land a hit, and it was more like an intricate dance between the two of them. Somehow in the scuffle the thief had gotten his back to the door, and slipped out while Lotor gave chase. He followed him up the stairs and to the roof, where they both paused for a split second, out of breath. Unfortunately, the thief recovered first and Lotor found himself pushed to the ground while the thief straddled his waist.

“Sorry about that, officer. Have to do what you have to do.” He was a lot stronger than he looked from his slight figure, and as Lotor looked up into his sweaty face, a devious smirk carving through the night in a flash of white, he found himself enamored. Blue appeared to be able to tell he was dazed and lurched away quickly, going to the roof’s edge. Lotor chased after, only to see the boy tense like a toy ready to spring, and jump to the nearby building. Ah, so that was how he did it. He could tell the boy was ready to bolt, but that wasn’t happening just yet, not after the fantastic chase he’d given Lotor.

“Wait!” he called, and Blue paused, his head turning towards Lotor.

“What is it, officer?” His tone was teasing, turning the title into more of an endearment. Lotor would think about that later with a flush on his face, but for now he had more pressing thoughts.

“Why? Why do you do it? Don’t you care about the people who need the money you have?” Blue’s expression darkened, the ensuing laughter humorless and with a bite to it.
“What do those people care about me?” he replied harshly. “Listen, officer. I know the police tend to think the world is black and white, and people like me are the scum of it, but when the world turns its back on you, at some point you have to do the same if you want to get by. If you want those you care about to get by.” His expression softened, but the sudden anger had been replaced with a tender ache, the kind that came from a lifetime of steady disappointment. That same sad face was suddenly transformed with a sultry curl of Blue’s lips, and Lotor felt his heart seize in his chest.

“Keep that in mind, yeah? Until next time, officer.” And with a wink of one striking blue eye, Lotor’s thief disappeared from sight, taking the officer’s heart as an addition to his loot.

Chapter 2: Love/Hate

Summary:

Presenting an angsty twist on the love bug au, here we go with Lancelot Week Day 2!

Just a week ago, Lotor was fine. Not exactly at ease, but fine. He had something that was almost trust with the Voltron alliance, but not quite. There was too much edge, too much hate and bitterness in the eyes of his hosts. That was, except for the blue, er, red paladin. It was all very confusing.

Oh of course he remembered to be careful, was not nearly as touchy and open as he was with his real teammates, but he was at least at ease around him. It was his caring that got him assigned to work with Lotor for a mission. Lance, the paladin in question, had convinced his teammates that it would be good bonding to take Lotor on a mission. Nothing life threatening, naturally. Just a simple excursion to see how each other worked in the field without being in danger of getting murdered. That was fine with Lotor.

That stupid insect had been the downfall of it all.

Lotor had heard tales of the little beast, more affectionately dubbed a love bug. A single bite would have whoever the victim was following after the first person they looked at, absolutely enraptured, for several days.

Lotor never wanted that, but when Lance flung himself into his arms with a grin and held his face in his hands to plant a kiss on his lips, Lotor was far too stunned to react. The paladin, the red paladin of Voltron, was looking at him like he was his entire world. This was bad, and Lotor felt his stomach knot viciously within him. He’d never been stared at like that, with such simple love and devotion. He desperately found himself wanting more, but there was a hitch.
Even if Lance had not been under the influence of the bite, he was former red paladin’s boyfriend. Lotor did not miss the way his fellow halfbreed cringed and walked out of the room as Lance draped himself over him, eyes shining with fervor and adoration.

“Did you know you are the most beautiful creature in the entire universe?” He’d asked him, while his teammates glared. Lotor had smiled, more patronizing than anything, as Lance stared at him expectantly, with childish enthusiasm.

“You are not horrible yourself, paladin.” Lance had gone pink in his cheeks, his breathing coming faster.

“Oh my god you think I’m pretty!” he squealed. Lotor did not deny it, or the kisses that followed. He couldn’t possibly bring himself to tell the poor boy to stop, not when that would mean losing the warm, lithe way his body pressed against his when he insisted on embracing him, or the soft weight on Lotor’s chest in the morning as he woke up to find the boy he had most pointedly locked out of his room for the night. Lance was persistent, and Lotor eventually caved. He did not rub it in, not during meals that were eaten in tense silence while Lance sat on Lotor’s lap and tried to feed him food goo while his real lover watched, but he did not deny his advances when they were alone. He craved the way Lance’s long, tanned fingers felt gently combing through his hair, or the incessant grip on Lotor’s clawed hand, entirely ignoring the danger there. Lotor did not let it show, but oh how he adored it, and deep within him a sort of tender want formed, pulsing in a way Lotor could not possibly ignore. He cared for this boy, this paladin who doted on him so willingly.

The bite lasted a week, and Lotor could not remember a time he had been happier.

That last beautiful night, they had fallen asleep on the couch after watching a movie picked up from a store the earthlings had found. Lance had been leaning against Lotor, who had eventually succumbed to sleep with the steady rhythm of Lance’s breath on the skin of his neck as his lullaby.

When Lotor woke, Lance was gone.

He had been warned, of course. Lance would not remember anything that had happened while he’d still been feeling the affects of the bite. Still, when he saw his paladin with his sparkling eyes and smile brighter than any sun Lotor had seen that morning back with his true lover, it stung. Lotor walked away from the dining hall after lingering a few precious moments in the doorway. He did not miss the easy, natural flow of conversation and cheer that taunted him as he fled. No, of that he was acutely aware. It just went to show that Lotor did not get love, and never would. He was a fool for offering his heart, but and oh so quickly it’s new owner had forgotten about such a possession. Lotor had found his love, but just as soon it had deserted him.

Chapter 3: Earth/Space

Notes:

Here for day three of Lancelot Week and I’m pretty proud, not gonna lie. I come at you today with Lancelot that comfort each other as long-term patients in a mental ward. I did my best to portray what I admittedly have never experienced, so I hope I did an alright job. If I've done anything offensive in my writing for today, PLEASE let me know. In the meantime, enjoy!
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tw: mention of mental illness and implied abuse

Lance and Lotor were companions. In their world of bland walls and cheer than left a bad aftertaste on the tongue, that was certain. Companions of what sort was unclear, but as long as Lance had Lotor to push his bruising grip onto in an attempt to cope with the migraines his medication brought, or Lotor could feel gentle, scarred hands working through his long tresses while he rambled nonsensically about his fears, that did not matter.

They’d seen each other in countless different ways during their time in the ward, but no matter what happened there was always a simple, comfort found in each other’s arms. They had other coping methods, naturally. They both enjoyed the methodical, superfluous work done to care for their appearances. The doctors allowed it to offer them a sense of control, and they did not argue. But more than that, they learned to take themselves light years away from their problems. Someday, they’d go far away from the place that always smelled like chemicals and unrest, to where nobody could follow.

The stars, Lance had suggested breathlessly one day as they laid side by side with his hand gripping Lotor’s so tightly his knuckles shone white through the band-aids slapped over them. Lance had liked the stars, and he told Lotor that before his parents had finally broken down and told him he had to go away for awhile he had wanted to go to the Galaxy Garrison. Lotor didn’t know what he’d wanted to do. His mother and father had given him a handful of very carefully selected options to choose from and he’d never had the mind to stray from the path they forced him along. Honerva, the world acclaimed scientist. She would have been fine to see him do anything to do with science, but she had no problem giving him a harsh shove towards biology and genetics. Zarkon, the general. He wanted him to go military, rise to honor the family and carry on his legacy.

When Lance’s family was able to scrounge up the money to visit, he was on his best behavior and his smile lit up the room. He saved his tears for later, sobbing into Lotor’s shirt because it all hurt so much. When his parents visited, Lotor felt brittle inside, like he could snap into a million sharp little pieces at the slightest provocation. Their eyes, hard and loveless made him nervous, made him think of the hundreds of thousands things that could go wrong, of what he might’ve done to earn their disregard for his wellbeing.

Lotor’s visits never lasted very long.

They both needed a place to escape to, and so they chose space.

Lance could talk for hours about how they’d go see moons and planets and stars and absolutely anything and everything the universe had to offer, while Lotor listened and was able to in those rare moments banish his paranoia from his mind. Only when the pain got too great and Lance began to slip into his mother tongue did the soothing tandem of conversation lull, but even then Lotor was able to relax with soft bits and pieces he could understand, of las estrellas.

Lance was almost always in pain, but it was the only meds that worked, and he refused to be without them. He was desperate for them, and wouldn’t take any sort of pain killer offered to him because he was terrified that it might dilute the medicine’s strength. His illness scared him more than anything, and he was terrified that he might hurt someone. He did his best to contain himself, and only smiled at Lotor when he raised his concerns.

“You’re my painkiller, babe,” he’d tease, and then throw in a wink like he was perfectly fine with the drugs that tore him up from the inside out. Lotor didn’t tell him the worries than ran through his mind constantly, of all the horrible things that could happen to Lance.

Lance and Lotor stayed together for better or for worse, through screaming and blood and tears. They were always there to patch the other up. That was just how it worked, because even if they were wrecks, they were still the boys who reached for the stars. That, if nothing else, kept them safely grounded.

Chapter 4: Free Day

Notes:

Sorry for not getting this out yesterday! I have family in town and I’m trying to write around the time I spend with them. Still, here we go for day four of Lancelot Week with my free day selection, Lance and Lotor’s places in the au presented in season three. As a disclaimer, I am very aware Allura does not act like this canonically. This is also not her canon self I am portraying, and it is her from an alternate universe. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!
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tw: domestic abuse and non-consensual body modification

Lotor had known Allura for a long, long time. Their fathers were incredibly close, and as such they were raised together, attached at the hip. Lotor loved Allura. He loved her a lot less after she killed his father and his mother and the rest of his race in the name of the war his deceased father had tried to start.

Allura’s reign was initially received jubilantly, despite Lotor’s deep rooted feelings of unease. This was not his childhood best friend. This was an empress he was meant to bow down to and serve, who only spared him because of their history. He was the last of his kind, and Allura never let him forget.

Allura took a noble Altean as her husband. His name was Lance, and for a short while Lotor thought that perhaps he would be able to help her. He was all bright eyes and blinding smiles, a man who could light up a room with his laugh and made Allura blush like a schoolgirl.

Allura destroyed him.

They were married and Allura was like before, smiling and happy as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him breathless. Lotor watched from a distance, ostracized by everyone else present because of his heritage, obvious in the lavender of his skin.

Lance, however, never treated him any differently.

He stayed with unwavering loyalty at Allura’s side, even as her marks sharpened and elongated, as her cheeks thinned and she was not so kind to her adoring husband. Lance was faithful, despite how he begged with her to stop, that she was going too far in her actions. He pleaded with her because,

“This isn’t peace, ‘Lura.” She dismissed him, time and time again. Lotor observed, saw the way his face fell and he cringed when she wasn’t watching and her skin brushed his. Eventually, they found comfort in one another. They walked the gardens and talked, and Lotor pretended not to notice the tears slipping down Lance’s cheeks as he spoke of Allura’s newest inventions and plans. The three of them stayed young, due to Allura’s insistence on consuming quintessence. Lotor and Lance remained largely the same, bar the unnatural but understated glow to their bodies. Only Allura was changed, like Lotor saw from his mother. When he found Lance in tears because she’d lashed out at him again for no reason he could discern, Lotor allowed him his shoulder to cry on. He didn’t realize he was falling for him, until the time he’d pressed a soft kiss to his lips under the shadow of an overhang. Lance’s tears had made the kiss salty, but he kissed back tentatively and for a moment Lotor was happy. Then he pulled back, and smiled weakly despite the hot tears still running thick down his cheeks.

“Lotor, I can’t. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m-” Lance dissolved into his sobs, and Lotor pressed him against his chest. He understood. It eventually become Lotor’s job, to make sure Lance was okay. He had no idea about the true thing he needed saving from, and that was his own recklessness.

The day Lotor found out, was a day Lance had fallen asleep on him, perched on a seat built into the wall so that they could look out the window. They’d long abandoned the homeland of Altea, and though they visited, Allura claimed it was better if she was in space. Harder to track. Though both Lance and Lotor missed the ground dearly, Lance more so, they’d dutifully followed her as was expected of them. Lotor was always on thin ice. Allura had never forgiven him for his parents’ transgressions. Lotor ran his fingers through Lance’s hair, while his warm breath hit his skin through parted lips. Allura had been in a mood, as she increasingly was, looking upon them.

“Go away, Lotor,” she’d snapped, staring at her husband on his arm. Lotor turned a nonplussed gaze on her, only leaning back further in his position.

“He’s sleeping, Allura. Let the man have his rest, won’t you?” That did not appear to help things. Her eyes narrowed, and though she did not raise a hand to either of them, Lotor could tell she wanted to.

“Leave, Lotor,” she demanded, her tone fierce and unyielding. The man sighed, and could’ve said something in return had it not been for the fact that Lance sat up, rubbing his eyes. He smiled, simple and pleased just because he loved Allura and he saw her so why shouldn’t he be happy? That was the kind of affection he held for her, but as he stood to go press a kiss to her cheek she gripped the hand rising to cup her face. Lance froze.

“Lance,” she began slowly, a finger with nails sharpened like claws tracing a line from his brow to his lips, “What have you been up to lately?” He faltered, staring at her for a long moment. Too long.

“Nothing. Why?” Her nail dug in a bit, but Lance showed no sign of discomfort.

“You’re lying,” she told him flatly. Lotor watched, and with a sinking in the pit of his stomach realized he had to stop his friend, before something went terribly wrong.

“Allura-” her head snapped towards him.

“No, you shut up,” she snarled viciously. “You don’t know anything. Did you help him?” She pulled away from Lance, stalking towards Lotor. Her voice was rising in pitch, though Lotor didn’t know why.

“Guns of Gamara?” A hysterical laugh, harsh and grating as she turned back to Lance. “You’re helping the biggest threat to my empire, our empire.” Lance spread his hands in a placating motion but Allura was far, far beyond that. Lotor watched in a sort of horrified fascination. What had Lance done? Tears rose in Allura’s eyes, as she stared up at Lance desperately.
“Why? Don’t you care about everything we’ve worked so hard for? Why must you tear it down?” Lance reached for her, but she pulled away, back to being angry again. “No. Don’t touch me, you traitor.” She was seething, absolutely livid. Lance winced.

“Allura please-” Allura raised a hand and the sound it made as it connected with Lance’s cheek echoed throughout the room.

Lotor watched Lance fall apart.

When she finally left, Lance sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, while Lotor held him and waited for his tears to stop.

“I love her, I do. I just want her to stop. She doesn’t understand-doesn’t understand that it’s bad Lotor and I don’t know what to do-” Guards came for him eventually, and Lance did not put up a fight as they led him out of the room, head held high despite the wetness to his cheeks.

Lotor did not see Lance for three weeks.

He could not find Allura to ask where he’d went.

The days passed at an excruciatingly slow pace, making Lotor all at once nervous and desperate to see Lance, to know he was okay. Eventually, of course, he returned. Wasn’t that Allura’s motto? She just wanted to save lives. So, when she strolled into breakfast the three of them used to eat every morning and had Lance at her side, Lotor was on high alert. It was not until Lance sat that Lotor saw the two white plugs set into the back of his neck, and his vision narrowed to focus in on that beastly addition to the boy he’d endured everything with for thousands of years. As Allura gave him the okay to eat, it took every ounce of his control to not fling himself at her and tear her to pieces then and there. She might have had her ideal husband, but Lotor had lost the man he loved.

Chapter 5: Past/Future

Summary:

Yo for Lancelot Week day 5 I did an au I’ve had an idea for awhile about, based off Lotor as a quintessence baby in that one theory and Lance being his source of good quintessence. Enjoy!
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tw: minor emotional abuse

Lotor had been in a quite literally dark place for a very, very long time. As long as he could remember, he’d been in somewhere cold and wet, in a way that clung to him in a way he didn’t like but had become resigned to. There was never light, but sometimes he could make out sound coming from what might’ve been Outside.

“Sickly-”

“Quintessence-”

“Paladin-”

It never made a lot of sense to Lotor. There were visions too, that came to him in flashes. Fields of pink flowers and a loving, caramel skinned face with russet markings.

Lotor was alone in the dark for longer than he could remember, until there was a sudden brightness. That frightened him. His limbs felt heavy, always heavy, but slowly his world went from black to grey to blue, staring up at a cloudless sky while a warm zephyr caressed his cheek. His breaths came and went as they did, raspy in the hollow of his chest. Beneath him felt soft, and warm. What was going on? It took him a few times to get the energy to do it, but slowly he managed to turn his head one way, looking for the cause of the change of scenery. He only saw sand and surf as far as his eyes could see. He was trying to process what that was called, what that meant, when a freckled face bearing a gap toothed smile appeared above him.

“Hey! Who’re you?” Lotor stared, and the face stared back. He couldn’t muster the energy to reply. He was always tired, and the darkness didn’t make him speak or move. How was he supposed to? The face frowned, and moved so that Lotor could see all of him. He was pretty sure it was a him, at least. The newcomer poked his cheek.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” The boy sighed, sitting next to him. “Oh well. My mama says I can talk good enough for the whole family, so I’ll just do that here too. I’m Lance, by the way.” He stuck out his hand. Lotor knew he should shake, but all he was able to do was twitch his fingers a little. Lance sighed, dropping his hand.

“Fine. Whatever. At least we’re at the beach, yeah?” He flopped down next to Lotor, who was beginning to notice a soft glow the boy next to him emitted. It was an electric blue, but dulled so that its shine wasn’t overpowering. “When all those weird creatures showed up I was afraid they’d hurt me, but I guess I’m okay now. The last thing I remember is that scary lady, but she said I could help.” Lance looked to Lotor, smiling again. “I want to help if I can.” He rambled on and on, while Lotor listened. He liked the chatter, as a distraction from the normal. Despite the fact that hours must have passed, the sky didn’t dim or change, and the tide did not roll in or out. The waves lapped at the shore and salty breezes ruffled their hair, but it was an oddly stagnant place. Unnatural. Lance’s glow grew stronger as well, and in one of his exaggerated gestures he happened to hit Lotor’s hand.

The sickly boy gasped, his back arching while Lance fretted.

“Ah! Are you okay? I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” His hand came down to press against his forehead as Lance checked his temperature, and Lotor felt energy explode from the touch. He gasped, white sparks exploding in his line of vision. What was Lance doing to him? He didn’t respond to the boy’s increasingly concerned pleas, trying to fight his way through the overwhelming feeling of energy running through his veins. By the time he came to again, Lance was crying and shaking him, which felt like a shock every time he touched him. Lotor panted, his breath being ripped from him harshly.

“You-” he began, trying to figure out what to say. “What did you do?” Lotor felt electrified, like every single nerve in his body was a livewire. Lance sniffed, tears still rolling steadily down his cheeks.

“I-I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whimpered. Lotor reached up. He didn’t know where the energy had come from, but as he touched Lance’s cheek he felt that same current of life that touched him in a vibrant and explosive way he couldn’t ignore. Lance let him, his blue seeping into Lotor’s fingertips.

“Lance.” He said his name softly, reverently. The dark had never provided anything like what he gave him. Lotor had been so motionless and stuck for so long, he didn’t know what to do. Lance gripped his hand tightly. “What are you?” Lance blinked at him curiously, helping Lotor with a hand placed on his back as he sat up.

“I’m human. You know, from Earth?” Lotor stared at him, at the blue of his eyes that were now much easier to see. “Who’re you?” Lance was his size, small and brown where his skin was a soft purple and his hair a shock of white. He was perfect.

“I’m Lotor.” Lance smiled, and took his hand.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Lotor.”

 

Lotor stayed with Lance for a long time. Not as long as he stayed in the dark, but long enough. They were always on the same beach, somehow alive and dead at the same time while remaining perfectly isolated. Lance claimed it was his home, but anything except beach had been erased. Lotor still listened when he told him about it, though. He loved how fiercely affectionate he was with it. The day Lance suddenly fell short in his descriptions of his home was not good. He was forgetting, and that realization sent into him a panic. How could he forget?

Lotor had nothing of substance to forget.

He told Lance of the dark, but he knew nothing about it. He always said the last thing he remembered was the woman who had frightened him, and then he was on the beach with Lotor. They grew to be friends, the best of friends. There was nothing Lance did not know of Lotor and nothing Lotor did not know of Lance. They grew together where Lotor had not grown before in the dark, shaped one another like no other. Where there was Lance and his electric touch, there was Lotor. It was just how they worked. They speculated about Outside sometimes, but they were largely content with one another. It was simple that way, until it wasn’t.

Lance had always lit something in Lotor aflame, helping him to blossom as he couldn’t otherwise. His gentle hands with their soft glow kept him safe and healthy. They’d noticed sometimes that when Lance touched him too much he felt ill, felt like Lotor had that first day they’d met, so they had to be careful. Still, they were both happy and healthy the day Lotor left. They’d been lying together as they often did, Lance with his head on Lotor’s legs that had grown long and muscular from runs on the beach and swimming in the ocean that held no life within its depths. Lance had laughed, and Lotor remembered the way he smiled. He loved Lance’s smile, and the crackle of energy from where their skin touched. He had reached to card his fingers through his hair, when he found his had passing through the silky chestnut strands he knew as well as everything else about Lance. That made both of them pause.

“Lotor?” Lance had asked, a trace of fear on the outskirts of his tone. The taller of the two reached again, and again he could not touch him. Lance sat up, his brow knitting together in confusion. He reached to touch his companion, but he could not get it to work either. Lotor found the world around them growing dark, which scared him. What was going on? The dark had never returned, not with Lance present. The sand turned ashy beneath their feet.
“Lance, what’s going on?” he asked, but when he looked to him he found only air. Lotor felt fear, absolute and primal seize his heart. Where was Lance?

“Lance!” he shouted, whirling violently. Where had he gone? They could not hide from each other, not here. He always knew where he was. Why would they want to hide from one another, and be separated? Nothing. He was gone, and Lotor felt himself descending back into the darkness he’d faced years ago.

It was with a gasp that he sat up on a cool table he’d been placed on, with a cry of his companion’s name. The beach was gone, and it had been replaced with something completely foreign to Lotor. A dark room, dimly lit with magenta light. His eyes scanned it desperately, until they landed on a robed figure with long, white hair standing near.

“Who are you? Where is Lance?” he demanded to know, only to find the figure coming closer, and then he was being pressed into their chest.

“My son, you have returned to us,” a raspy voice exclaimed. No, something within Lotor screamed. This was wrong. Still, the figure did not let go, and Lotor felt nothing but horror as a clawed hand pulled him close.

 

That voice was not truly his mother, as he was quick to learn. His mother had been Honerva. This was Haggar, who decided she hated him just as quickly as she declared her love. She would not tell him anything, why he knew nothing and why so many tutors and lessons were shoved down his throat. He could not ask her about Lance, his companion that was his only saving grace in the terror that consumed him in his new environment. Nothing made sense, not without a tanned hand gripping his with volts of affection arcing across his skin and the steady rhythm of waves at their front. It was entirely an accident when he found the one he so desperately sought. He’d been exploring in his increasingly scarce free time, and had stumbled across a dark room, only lit by a familiar blue glow with a source Lotor couldn’t discern easily. He took several steps forward, only to be brought up short as he stared at the figure surrounded in luminescent liquid that shone blue. Lance’s blue, and within the concoction was his companion. He placed a hand upon the glass, staring at the lithe lines of the one person Lotor knew and loved with all of his heart.

“Lance,” he whispered, just as in awe as he had been that first day they’d met. He felt sick. Why was he trapped in there? Why was he hidden away from the world when he had so much to give? He had to get him out, he had to save him-

A hand on his shoulder had him drawing back to meet his mother’s eyes.

“Haggar,” he whispered. “Why is Lance here? What are you doing to him? You have to let him go and-” her grip tightened, and she pulled Lotor away from the case.

“No. The blue paladin will stay as he is,” she declared, her voice ringing with a hateful finality. Lotor stared, his eyes narrowing.

“He will not. You will let him go,” he demanded, a hand going to the sword he had at his side. Haggar’s lip curled into a sneer.

“You know nothing, son,” she spat, like the title was an insult. “It is because of me and what I’ve done with him that you are even as you are. You do not usurp my command.” Lotor gave pause at that, staring at the woman he might’ve once called mother.

“What?” he asked, his breath leaving him as though he’d been punched.

“Oh yes,” she crowed. “You were a sickly child Lotor. It is only because of my research that you are alive, by keeping you exposed to quintessence. It still wasn’t enough. Wild, unrefined, it wasn’t sufficient. That’s why I hunted down the paladin.” Lotor’s lessons flashed through his head, of the legend of Voltron and the paladins. The world spun, but Haggar pressed ruthlessly on.

“I put you both in the same state, made it so you could leech off of him and his blue quintessence and survive. It went better than I ever could’ve hoped for. You flourished, Lotor, and now the Galra have their prince. Now the paladin will remain, safely locked away where he cannot be used against us. You owe everything to me.” She stared at him, expecting him to fall apart under the weight of the information. However, Lotor did not falter. Instead his eyes hardened, sharpened with focus, and he strode away. So be it. What used to be a mother had set their paths in stone, but Lotor would change the future. He would save Lance, and keep him from ever being used again.

Chapter 6: Strengths/Insecurities

Notes:

Here for day 6 of Lancelot Week I have a mythology au with the story of Atlas, mingled with some of the story of the Apples of Immortality starring Lotor as Atlas and Lance as a hesperide. Shiro and Allura serve as Zeus/Hera, the other paladins are the other Hesperides, the Galra are the titans, and the lions are Ladon. As a slightly uncomfortable side note, I am aware that in some versions of the myth the Hesperides are the daughters of Atlas. Since I’m not really in the habit of writing incest I’m not going with that version. That put aside, I rather like the idea and hope you do too. Enjoy!

Lotor was ancient, as was any creature like him. Not as ancient as the sky he held, but ancient nonetheless. It was punishment for siding for his parents, but as Shiro stared at him with his grey eyes hard and his wife at his side to cast judgement, Lotor could not help but think that it could not be helped. His brethren, all his kind had risen up against the new gods. He had to rise with them, or be destroyed altogether. Lotor was weak and of that he was aware, contrary to the burden he held. He could not claim to hold no bitterness within him, that was something that came with age, but it was with resignation that he allowed himself to be cowed and put to work.

Lotor spent eons atop his mountain, his arms cramping and sweat beading on his brow while he bit back a thousand curses and told himself to bear it just a little longer. Another second, and he could put it down. He pushed the nagging thought away that he could never do such a thing, that the weight of the sky would crush him without someone else to take it, but he pushed that aside. He could not continue if he thought that way. The stress had already turned his hair into a shock of white, if he could not mentally cope the rest of him would fall as well. It was always when he thought he would finally give out, that his hesperide arrived.

Lance could not come as much as he’d like, not with the others keeping him back in fear that Lotor would somehow hurt him. It was often when Lance fought with them that he ran away from the orchard he guarded, coming to Lotor’s feet with his own burdens and something to ease his in return. A drink of water, some laughter he allowed Lotor to share in as respite from his solitude. Lance often fell asleep as they talked, milking every opportunity to speak with him that he could. That was the only time the other hesperides could wrest him back home, his three siblings that though varied in looks loved him fiercely. Only once had they had to bring the dragon and it’s many colored heads, one for each of the hesperides, away from it’s post guarding the tree and its apples for their brother. They did not do it again, but Lance kept coming back.

Lotor cherished every visit he gave him like nothing else. Lance presented the only relief he had under the excruciating crush of the sky. His hesperide believed himself to be inferior, told him a hundred times that he didn’t know why the dragon, even if it was only one of its heads, bowed to him. He told him how his siblings, though they loved him, looked to him with frosty eyes when something reminded them of how he continually ran back to Lotor. They disapproved, and that cut Lance more deeply than he ever cared to let show. Lotor knew that and that was why, through what time they could steal for their love, he knew Lance was strong for coming back and Lotor was weak for allowing himself to be forced to stay.

Chapter 7: Promises/Comittment

Notes:

Here for day 7 and my final work for Lancelot Week I have a fic set in the canon universe, with power couple!lancelot and their final promise to each other. It’s been a pleasure writing for this event! Enjoy!
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tw: major character death and torture

Lance had fallen for Lotor slowly. It had been a soft, creeping kind of love that came upon him with such finesse and concealment he didn’t realize anything at all was happening until they were left alone and suddenly Lotor’s hand was on his cheek and Lance was pressing himself close, impossibly close and their lips were crashing together in a manner both tender and abrasive all at once. Lotor was the sky gently ghosting across a calm sea in a benevolent embrace, while elsewhere blasting the surf with relentless gusts that shook the glassy surface in tremendous waves that crashed down in a sight both beautiful and cataclysmic. Lance was drowning, Lotor dying of thirst, but he fed sweet air into Lance’s lungs while Lance finally wet his lips. Lance had never felt anything more right.

The coalition was stronger with Lotor, nobody able to deny his unorthodox strategy the losses it had cut for their side. Lance was proud, and was always sure to show Lotor just how much as he showered him in affection, never missing a single chance to sing his praises and love. They fought like demons together, inseparable both on and off the battlefield. Two beautiful gems of amethyst and lapis that though shone beautifully, were fatal in the way the light glinted off of Lotor’s blade and the blasts of Lance’s bayard that severed his enemies from one world and to another. They were each other’s best friends and closest confidants, seemingly unstoppable in the hurricane of their union. Nobody was expecting the two shining stars to be snuffed out.

The battle had been vicious, each side losing more and more soldiers than they had the resources to replenish. Lotor saw someone from the coalition struggling, and had turned to Lance.

“I’ll be back, promise. Just wait, and don’t leave without me.” It was the same promise they made every time something or another forced them to separate. The second part was hardly even serious, but without fail it grew much more grim as they fought desperately to keep their lives. Lance had nodded, managing to give his lover a last kiss before he turned away, with steely eyes that had narrowed dangerously like the sea before a storm. His bayard shifted forms, turning instead into a set of pistols that Lance twirled and spun on his fingers in a deadly dance that decimated his opponents mercilessly. He followed, doing his best to reach the man he loved more deeply than anything else. Still, not even Zarkon himself could’ve staved off the hordes of opponents coming at him that forced Lance to still, and then to fall. All Lance could see were leering enemy faces, grinning triumphantly as Lance was brought to his knees. That was okay though, because Lance knew Lotor would return. He would return to save him, and with that in mind he let himself fall over the precipice of consciousness he clung to, falling down down down into darkness.

 

When Lance woke, it was not to the relieved faces of his teammates, after he stumbled out of a healing pod and hopefully into Lotor’s waiting arms. Instead, all he saw was bleeding magenta light, casting a sickeningly generous glow over unfamiliar surroundings. Lance tensed, instinctively tensing and going to escape his bonds. However, his struggles were futile against the metal clasps keeping him in place. It was not long after he woke that several masked figures walked, though Lance thought that it could not truly be called walking. They moved, but they might as well have been still for all the upset that caused. They were too still, too fluid and it formed a hard knot of fear in the hollow of Lance’s chest.

Lance found he did truly know fear until those monsters finally moved seriously.

Lance eventually lost the ability to feel, anything but terror and pain. He was not a paladin, not a boy, not even human. He was a creature of pain. He was nothing but screams rent from a throat tired of giving them, nothing but tears that choked him they coursed in such abundance down his face. How many times had he screamed for Lotor to save him? He said he would return, he was just late. He had to come, he wouldn’t just let him suffer and be in such electric agony without relief.

Lance did not know the blade that had gone through Lotor’s neck a few short minutes after he’d last seen him, equally overwhelmed as soldiers of his former empire held him down and red spattered his opalescent locks.

As they ripped Lance apart from the inside out, tortured his mind with visions of rescue only to have his saviors turn on him, he kept himself going with only one thing, whispered and screamed and shouted constantly until it was the only thing Lance could even remember to say.

“He’ll come back to me if I wait. I have to wait. I have to wait. I have to wait!”

Lance was so, so tired of waiting. He’d been ripped apart and put back together again with quintessence, until he could swear his blood ran violet instead of crimson. He just wanted Lotor to come and save him, and the day Lance’s vision exploded in white as a hand shoved its way through his chest, clenching the heart that didn’t belong to it, he smiled despite the red at the corners of his lips. Lotor was there, in the white. Lance did not hesitate for a moment to run to him, to be greeted in the arms that cradled him with such adoration it brought tears to his eyes. Lotor had come back, just like he promised. Lance only had to wait.