Chapter Text
This is the second craziest thing Lance has found himself agreeing to. After saying yes to flying a sentient mechanical lion in space, of course.
The Paladins had stopped at Mythraxia about a day and a half ago, answering the distress call sent out. Galra had infiltrated one of the outer cites, trying to take the valuable crystals that grew in the underground caves, buried deep in tones of rock.
Luckily for them, the Galra that attacked did so out of command, and so taking down four ships wasn’t that much of a sweat, especially now that they’ve got the whole forming Voltron thing under control.
The planet's Queen, Vyranti, had been eternally grateful, claiming that the planet must repay them in some way.
And, okay, Lance won’t be the last to admit that maybe the whole idea of being highly praised and repaid for their efforts is pretty sweet, so he alongside the other Paladins all agreed to meet with the Queen after they recuperated.
Allura didn’t want to leave the Queen waiting, and so the second the battle was over and the Paladins climbed out of their lions uninjured, she whisked them down to the throne room in the Queen's castle.
Lance had stood there, sweating in his armour as Queen Vyantari sat in front of them, every bit as regal and proper as you would expect of royalty.
“Paladins. Thank you. For not only saving our planet, but for coming to our aid so quickly, and being so willing to meet with me after what I presume must have been a tough fight,”
The Queens voice is soft but commanding, s’s and r’s rolling slightly as Lance’s translator picks up the foreign language.
“It was no trouble. Truly. Any planet in need of saving we will protect,” Shiro speaks, his voice sounding tiny in the enormous room.
The Queen nods her head slightly, a small gesture of acknowledgment towards Voltron’s leader. “Yes. Which is why I feel the need to repay your kindness. Now, I understand that Voltron is very busy, but, I would like to extend an invitation to our cultural ritual, held once an annum.”
A ritual?? Lance perks up at this. Seeing alien cultures has always been cool, and with them constantly saving the universe, having a break from all that to watch some cultural ritual thing sounds great.
Lance can get his chill on, kick back, and relax knowing he saved the planet. Hey, maybe they’ll even have to wear all them fancy Paladin outfits that he’s seen in their wardrobes.
The others though, do not seem to be on the same page.
“A ritual?” Keith’s voice cuts through the chamber, louder than Shiros, bouncing off of the walls.
He’s got his face set in that familiar frown, eyebrows pinched together. Shiro puts his arm out, stopping Keith from stepping forward and saying something else.
“What would this ritual entail?” Shiro rephrases, his cool tone soothing. over Keith’s brash words.
The Queen smiles, skipping over Keith’s bluntness. “The ritual is a tradition here on Mythraxia, held for thousands of decaphoebs. The trials are a series of set challenges, all to be completed by a pair of Mythraxians, chosen from a pool of those who wish to complete the trails.
“The pair is chosen by our sacred Tgnaghla crystal. It selects the pair with the strongest bond, and together they must work through the trails in order to emerge on the other side. It is a display of true understanding between the pair, relying on the two to have excellent communication skills and compatibility to complete the tasks.”
And-wow. These trials sound a lot more intense then what Lance originally imagined. He wonders how it will be, to see two people in perfect sync with each other forced to work through tasks together.
Do they have to fight together? Take down the enemy in a matter of seconds? Lance's thoughts fall down a rabbit hole of curiosity, and wondering what will happen and how public these trails are. Does the fated pair compete in front of everyone? Do they have to-
Hunk jabs Lance in the shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Huh?” Lance questions, glaring at his best friend. Hunk nods to the front of the room, and Lance shakes his head, yanking himself out of his thoughts as he tunes back into the Queen.
“…and with your efforts to saving this planet, the Voltron bond must be stronger than all. Which is why I would like to extend out the invitation to you. I wish for you all to volunteer for the trials, and for the fated pair to be two of the Paladins.”
Wait, what?
Lance blinks. There’s no way the Queen can actually want them to compete in this sacred trial. Lance looks around at the Paladins, who all seem to be as shocked as him. Yep, he definitely heard right then.
“That is…a generous offer,” Allura begins, and Lance can tell she’s trying to be polite. “But, these trials seem very important to Mythraxian culture. We wouldn’t want to get in the way of those.”
“Doing the trials sounds better than sitting around and watching them,” Keith mutters from the right of Lance, only just loud enough for him to pick up on it.
“Yes. The trials have been a tradition with Mythraxians. But, you are the Paladins of Voltron. Your bonds will be like no other. It is more than our pleasure to invite you all to partake, and have two of you complete them. After all, the Tgnaghla crystal only bonds one pair an annum. That opportunity is to be found nowhere else, hm??” Queen Vyantari smiles slightly form up on her throne, tilting her head forward to look down at the Paladins.
Well, when you phrased it like that, the offer seemed pretty hard to deny. Allura paused for a second, as if unsure, not wanting to accept something on the Paladins behalf. She looks at them with a questioning gaze.
“I would like to do the trials,” Lance finds himself saying, sounding all too confident. Because honestly, what harm can the trials do?? He and Hunk are the closest Paladins, aside from whatever weird thing Shiro and Keith have got going on. Completing the trials with his best friend will be a breeze.
And, also, a quieter part of him admits, this is a chance to prove himself. If he does get chosen, he can show the team that he has something to offer. He’s not just the seventh wheel.
Hunk looks shocked. “Should we really be agreeing to this that quickly??” he splutters. “I mean-“
“I’m down,” Keith says, shooting a glare over at Lance, corners of his mouth curling up into a smirk.
Ah. So this is a competition then.
And Lance will beat Keith. He will get chosen for the trials, and Keith will have to sit back and watch.
Lance smirks back at Keith, crossing his arms. “Oh it is so on mullet,” he whispers, just loud enough for Keith to hear.
After hearing two of them readily agree, Allura seems much more confident in her answer. “Your majesty. We would,,,be honoured to accept this offer,” she bows his head slightly at the end, which Lance can’t help but muffle a laugh at. Seeing the princess bow to someone is strange, especially another member of royalty.
Queen Vyantari’s face lights up, seeming delighted. She claps her hands together. “Wonderful! Wonderful! I’ll let the rest of Mythraxia know that you noble Paladins have volunteered!”
Lance smiles, letting himself zone out again as the Queen continues to gush her thank-you’s and offer them accommodation for the night. As it turns out, the trials are being held on the following quintant.
Oh fuck. The trials are being held tomorrow. Lances quick acceptance of competing hits him, and he relishes that this is probably one of the craziest things he’s agreed to. They don’t even know what the trials will entail, or how the fated pair works, or where it will all be held, how long it will go for, what will happen, who will be competing…
The questions carry on and on, rattling through Lances brain as all the Paladins are led away by a young looking Mythraxian. They lead the Paladins into a small hallway, doors opening on either side of them.
Their rooms for the night, Lance thinks.
He steps inside of his, shoving all the thoughts about the trials from his mind best he can. He can worry about this tomorrow. Heck, he might not even be selected.
There’s a knock on his door as Lance is pulling off his armour. Walking over, Lance opens the door to a very nervous looking Hunk.
“Hey buddy. What's up?” Lance asks, casually ushering Hunk inside his room and shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t question Hunks reasons for being there, knowing he probably is over-stressing about the trials and can’t do anything (like stress bake) while in a foreign castle.
Hunk sits on Lances bed. “So, uh- about the whole trials thing- the pair with the strongest bond-“
Lance grins, continuing to take off his armour.
What? They’re best bros. It’s not like Hunk hasn’t seen Lance in his underwear before.
“Yeah man, I know. I bet it’ll be us. We’ve been like, buddies since forever so it obviously makes sense,” Lance smiles, pulling on the long, silky robe-like garment the Mythraxians supplied them with.
Hunk sighs. “Yeah , that’s the point. We will have to compete in some crazy sounding trails. That we have literally been told nothing about other than the fact that two of us are going to be selected!”
Lance comes over to the bed, sitting beside Hunk. Hand on the boys back in order to soothe him. “Hey. There’s no need to get so worked up over it.”
Hypocrite. Lances stupid brain thinks.
“Look, we might not even be chosen. Not with that weird brother-mentor-friendship Keith and Shiro have going on. And, even if we do get picked, I’m sure it’ll be fine. The trials are literally designed to be made for a fated pair. And were excellent at working together. We’ll be awesome,” Lance grins, grateful when Hunk seems to perk up too.
“Yeah. Yeah, alright.” The yellow Paladins smiles slightly, nodding. “We’ll be like, the best team these trials have ever seen .”
“That’s the spirit buddy,” Lance claps Hunk on the back, falling back onto the bed. Hunk lies down too, and neither of them say anything, not having a problem with sleeping in the same bed.
Lance settles down, shutting his eyes.
“I wonder if we’ll have to bake something,” Hunk suggests, and Lance opens his eyes again, his own worries about the trial fading away.
“Ooh, or what if we had to like, take down a bunch of enemy bots, like kill them with our-“
Lance rambles on, unloading his worries about the trail with his stupid ideas, eliciting laughs from Hunk at his own expense. Hunk listens, occasionally butting in with his own comment. Lance firmly ignores the building pressure in his chest.
He must get chosen for this trial. He has to. He needs to prove that he’s worthy of being a Paladin. He knows he has much more to offer, surely his only role on the team isn’t just ‘sharpshooter’. Right?
Lance bites his lip, letting himself chatter on into the late hours of the night, even long after he hears Hunk’s snores beside him even out.
————-——————///////\\\\\\\——————————
Keith paces his assigned room the the Mythraxian castle. His knife spins in his hands, twirling, dizzying circles.
This is stupid. This is all so unbelievably stupid.
Keith runs his thumb over his left knuckles, spinning around on the spot, brows pinched in frustration. He isn’t worried about the trials. It’ll probably just be the Blade of Marmora all over again. Except this time he’ll be with Shiro.
Well, potentially. Keith knows it to be true that he and Shiro have the strongest bond, but, after Kerberos, he really isn’t sure where they stand anymore. Everything isn’t flowing as well as it used to. Jokes and conversations not clicking into place.
Keith knows it’s his own fault for not being apt enough at conversation.
Keith groans in frustration. That’s not what he’s supposed to be focussing on right now.
The trials.
Agian, Keith’s confident enough that if he does get chosen as the ‘fated pair’ (whatever the fuck that means) he’ll be fine in completing the trials.
But that’s just it. He’s got no idea what the hell this ‘fated pair’ means, or what actually goes down in the trials. It’s all suspicious, the way the Mythraxians seemed to skirt around the topic and bramble on a bunch of shit like how grateful they were.
And why Voltron?? It’s one thing to invite them all to the trials, but another to have them actually compete.
The whole ordeal seems majority wrong. There had to be some sort of trap. There must be. Keith stops pacing, forcing himself to stand still and properly think about this.
If the other Paladins agreed to go through with this, it must be safe. Or, safe enough. Maybe.
Fuck, Keith has to make sure that he’s one of the two people selected. He knows he can push through the trials, whatever they may be.
The problem of Shiro comes back. Keith takes his hands through his hair, pushing the thick locks back.
Keith isn’t…close to anyone on the team. Not like he is with Shiro. They’re brothers, have been with each other for so many years now.
But he can’t stop the tug in his chest, the small voice taunting him in the back of his mind.
Shiro’s grown closer to the others now. They laugh and joke about things you don’t understand.
And the other Paladins are already buddies with each other. You’ve seen them. If only you hadn’t ruined your reputation and dropped out of the Garrison to find the one person who isn’t even that close to you anymore, maybe you could’ve been buddies with them too.
“Shut up,” Keith grumbles under his breath.
He clenches his fists. The trials aren’t until tomorrow. He doesn’t have to think about it yet. Tomorrow isn’t now.
Hastily ripping his armour off, Keith lies on top of the bedsheet in his bodysuit, firmly shutting his eyes. Whatever the Mythraxians are planning, Keith will stop it. He will get picked for these trials, he’ll find out the Queens true intentions.
The reassurances mean nothing, but Keith doesn’t let himself think about anything else as he rolls onto his stomach, leaving his plotting to rest for the night.
The following morning comes with a sharp pounding on Keith’s door. Instantly alert (the perks of fighting in a war) Keith jolts up and rolls out of bed fluidly, grabbing his armour from where it was strewn all over the floor, clicking the pieces into place with only a slight hesitation as he fumbles with the chest plate.
Pulling his shoulder-length hair back with the elastic band he stole from fuck-knows-where Keith rams on his helmet, marching over to the door and pulling it open, bayard materialising in his hand.
A small Mythraxian blinks up at him, three black eyes blinking up at him, the gold irises widening. Keith pauses.
The Mythraxian takes another moment, and then snaps out of their haze when they come to the conclusion that the red paladin isn’t going to harm them.
“Er-“ Keith feels slightly awkward now. Lowering his bayard.
Not an attack then. Just a wake up call.
“You-You are needed in the Grand Hall in 9 doboshes,” the little Mythraxian speaks, a seconds delay between their lips and the words as Keith’s helmet translates their soft, rolling voice.
Keith nods his affirmative, still embarrassed about the whole-barging out of his room thing. Probably not the best look for a Paladin, Shiro would say. But, hey, there’s a fucking war going on, and Keith’s already on edge, so he can’t really blame himself for his actions.
Unsure if the young (or maybe their old, who knows) Mythraxian can understand him Keith says, in the most neutral tone he can muster, “Got it.”
The Mythraxian cocks their head. No translator then. All the same, they seem to grasp what Keith is saying. “Do not be late,” they say, before turning away and down the opposite corridor, small gold tail flicking behind them.
Keith sighs. That went better than it could’ve, all things considered. Maybe he is really getting the hang of this whole, interacting with alien species in-a-way-that-doesn’t-come-off-as-rude -thing.
Having no idea where this Grand Hall is, and already being dressed, Keith heads down the same corridor as the Mythraxian, hoping it takes him out at the right place.
Luckily enough, when the Mythraxian said ‘Grand Hall’, they meant Grand. At the end of the corridor, there are a set of towering stone statues, glowering down at Keith from either side of an archway that lead into the biggest hall Keith had ever seen.
It was packed. Turns out this cultural event was really public, as almost every corner of the grandiose room is stuffed full of Mythraxians.
Their glowing skin emits a soft blue light, some darker than others. Antennas spring up as Keith steps into the room, eyes turning to him as he stands there, stock still.
There’s a raised platform at the front of the room, suspended in the air by long, thick chains of brightly glowing chunks of crystal.
Queen Vyantari stands on the platform, looking as regal as ever, body draped in a thick vibrant cloth, a colour that Keith can’t quite make out, for it is ever changing, iridescent under the lights of the room.
Beside her, are four things. Three of them are Shiro, Allura, and Coran, all looking out of place in comparison to the glamour and beauty of the room around them. Keith can’t quite make out what the fourth thing is.
It appears to just be a golden pillar, erected in the center of the platform, about waist-high.
But as Keith moves closer, pushing through the crowds of Mythraxians, he sees the golden basin resting atop the pillar, intricate designs carved around the sides.
Is this how the fated pair is picked?
Climbing up the steps leading onto the platform, Keith moves quickly to stand beside Shiro, who gives him a small smile.
Keith can hear Coran blabber endlessly behind him, his hushed voice not at all that quiet.
“I’ve never seen a Mythraxian trial before! Of course, back when Altea was still around, they weren’t as popular as they are now, highly sacred, it’s a real shame only two of our Paladins will get the experience. You know, back in my day..”
And Keith tunes him out again, letting his eyes search the hall for any sign of the other Paladins.
The Queen clears her throat beside them, eyes running over Keith and Shiro, clearly noticing the missing three Paladins.
As she opens her mouth to say something however, there's a shout from the crowd below.
“Sorry, sorry, coming through! Ah, if you could just-thank you-thank you! Sorry again!”
And Lance is popping out from the crowd, sauntering up the steps like he owns the place. Pidge and Hunk follow not to close behind.
There’s a bit more shuffling as all the Paladins attempt to fit on one side of the rather small platform (seriously, in a room this big, why is the platform so small?) but they manage it.
“Where were you?” Allura hisses, face looking murderous. For a princess, she can be really commanding when she wants. She’s lectured them many times on keeping up appearances, especially in front of other leaders.
“Sorry, Princess. Lance overslept. Pidge and I had to drag him out of the room.” Hunk says, trying to placate her anger.
Lance squawks, elbow pressing into Hunks ribs. “Uh, way to sell me out man! If I remember correctly, you were the one who had trouble putting all your armour back on and then freaked out when that Mythraxian pounded the door down!” he protests, trying to save his own face.
“Yeah, and then I had to get you two morons,” Pidge butts in. “Seriously, you guys can save the universe but you can’t get out of bed in the morning? Hopeless,” she shakes her head condescendingly.
Lance glares at her. “Like you can talk-”
Allura sighs. “Look. We don’t have time for this. We’ll discuss your tardiness after this is over. Now, let’s all smile and face the front. We don’t want the Mythraxians thinking they made a mistake choosing Voltron to partake in their annual cultural tradition that has happened exclusively with the Mythraxians for deca-phoebs.”
That seems to get everyone to snap back into it.
Queen Vyantari steps closer to the front of the platform, clearing her throat to address the public.
“Citizens of Mythraxia. Welcome. Today, we hold our annual ceremony. The Tgnaghla. Our Tgnaghla crystal lies at the bottom of the fated basin, awaiting our soon-to-be bonded pair.”
Soon-to-be bonded? What the hell did that mean?
The Queen continues on. “This annum is unlike any other. For thousands of deca-phoebs, our planet has had a fated pair from our lands. But this time, we have extended an invitation to the Paladins of Voltron.”
This elicits a gasp from within the crowd. Those who did not know of the Paladins competing now did, and it is clear that the Mythraxians hold no qualms against not being able to compete in the trails. Keith vaguely wonders why.
“I know. After their valiant, and successful efforts at saving our planet from the enemy forces, Voltton is like no other. They are more than worthy of partaking in the Tgnaghla. Their bond with each other is inseparable. Closer than most of us Mytraxians. Which is why, the crystal will be selecting two of them to complete the fated trials. This will not only be the first trials of its kind, but also a wonderful opportunity and experience for all those competing and watching.”
Great. So they were being watched by a planet-full of randoms.
The crowd claps politely, smiling faces of Mythraxians beaming up at them. Queen Vyantari steps back, turning to the Paladins.
“In a moment, we will awaken the crystal. The fated pair will be selected, and transported to the trials not long after. If I could have you all stand around the basin, please,” the Queens voice is much softer now, addressing the Paladins alone.
Allura and Coran step back, the latter flashing them all a bright smile and a double-thumbs up.
Keith steps into place around the basin, about a foot away. He’s on Shiro’s right side. From this angle, Keith can see the liquid in the basin. Like the Queens robes, it is iridescent, colour ever changing.
The Queen places both her hands on the edge of the basin, her back to the crowd. She mumbles something under her breath, incomprehensible. Is she cursing the basin?
The crowd below them all start chanting, repeating the same phrase over and over. It throws Keith back a bit, not expecting the people to start yelling in harmony.
“senip grayb mayorali baskishwananda co iin senip”
“senip grayb mayorali baskishwananda co iin senip”
“senip grayb mayorali baskishwananda co iin senip”
Again and again they repeat the chant, voices growing steadily louder. Keith’s helmet doesn’t translate the phrase, but he supposes he’s probably not supposed to know.
As the voices grow louder, the pillar starts to shake. The liquid in the basin starts to shift, slopping up the sides. Not a single drop spills.
The liquid forms ripples in the centre, and Keith is drawn closer, tilting himself forward to peer in. Through the liquid emerges a clear, smooth rock. The Tgnaghla, Keith supposes. His thoughts feel disconnected, wrapped in a thick layer of cloth. All that matters is the crystal. It’s his sole purpose, his destiny.
The Tgnaghla crystal hovers a few centimetres above the swirling liquid. It was roughly the size of a tennis ball, but the width of a coin, edges nonexistent, just planes of smooth, transparent crystal.
Keith has this insatiable urge to reach out for the crystal, touch it. It catches the light filtering through the room, rays of colour reflecting in mesmerising patterns.
A kaleidoscope.
Distantly, Keith can still hear the crowd chanting. But their voices are nothing but a soft murmur, a gentle lullaby playing on loop in the back of his mind.
Unassuming of the consequences, Keith’s fingers stretch out towards the crystal. His fingertips edge closer to the surface. He’s never felt any more certain than he does now.
As the tip of his fingernail scrapes the Tgnaghla crystal, the world stutters, everything freezing for a solid second. Then it jumps back, and Keith’s vision is overwhelmed with blue. He’s floating, drifting up into the sky. Clouds drift by, wrapping him in a soft embrace. It tickles.
Then, he’s being dragged down, down, down, water crashing in around him. He’s not drowning. Bubbles surround him, sea foam frothing and bubbling, pushing him over the edge. Before he can hit the bottom, he stops.
Suspended in the glittering expanse of blue, flames lick their way into his vision. Dancing red sparks fly in front of him, burning bright. The sparks collide with his cool, flowing water, merging into one another with the force of a thousand black holes. There's a gentleness to it, in a way. The way the colours melt and bleed into one another.
Out the corner of his eye, movement. Something drifts past his peripheral, a snatch of white, too fuzzy and soft to decipher.
Keith comes back to himself as the world screams purple, forcing him down. Its everywhere, gushing out of him, ripping itself out from behind his lungs.
Keith can’t breathe, he cries out, thrashes, but his body remains still.
The world cuts to black as Keith bleeds purple, eyes rolling into his head.
————-——————///////\\\\\\\——————————
He is surrounded by fire, wrapped in its encasing heat. It does not burn him, the flames licking at his skin in a way a mother lion would clean her cub. He is not dying. He is being reborn. The fire ignites his very soul, soothing him and driving him onward.
Onward, through the flames he emerges, spat out in an expanse of red. But blue waves curls their way into the red, water flowing, consuming the flames. The colours fall into each other, combining with a force that should make him terrified.
But he is only at peace, content to watch the destruction in front of him. For it is not pain, it is joy. Why should it be bad if it fills him up so nicely, makes him feel like he could move onward for eternity, as long as the comforting fire was here to push him?
A flash of white moves past him, too quick and blurry to properly catch what it was. It doesn’t matter anyhow, because the world is filling with purple, Thrusting him down, seeping out of him.
Lance’s limbs are being ripped from their sockets, wrenched apart by the blinding force of colour.
He screams, but the words never leave his lips as everything goes black.
When his mind hits consciousness, Lance realises he’s probably not dead. Actually, revamp that, he may be. His body feels fine, pain free, and limbs all perfectly attached.
Everything is still dark, and Lance knows his body is here, it has to be, so why can’t he see, why is it all still black—
Oh. Right.
Lance opens his eyes, squinting horribly as harsh lights hit him. He covers them with his hand, using his other arm to prop himself upright. He’s on the floor, and looking around he’s…in the Castle of Lions?
Lance blinks to clear the spots from his vision, lowering his hand as he adjusts to the room. And yep, he’s definitely in one of the Castle’s living rooms. Long curved couch in the centre, teal lights flickering along the walls.
Scrunching his face, Lance forces his brain into action. He stands, world spinning for a second before it straightens out again.
The trials.
Memories flood back to him. Heading to Mythraxia. Defeating the Galra. The cultural annual Tgnaghla ceremony. The fated pair. Lance feeling an indescribable urge to reach out, touch the crystal. Red. Blue. Purple leaking out of him. Everything cutting to black. Waking up here.
Lance wonders if the crystal transported them here, or if they blacked out and were moved. When did the trails start? What must they do?
Lance looks around the room, searching for any sign of someone else. Did they have to find one another? Was that the trial?
“Hunk? Buddy? I told you we’d make it!” Lance calls, pumping his voice full of enthusiasm.
Look, sure he was all big game about going to the trials with Hunk, but in all honesty he believed that the crystal would pick Keith and Shiro over anyone else. They’re practically brothers.
Lance hears an annoyed groan from the couch and shrugs his thoughts off. Suck that Keith, he thinks, pride filling his chest. Hunk and I are locked in for life. We’re gonna ace these trials. I’ll prove to you all that I’m worthy of being a Paladin.
The person on the couch groans again and Lance falters. That’s not Hunk. He knows what his best friend sounds like. “Er, Pidge? Is that you?” he tries again. Maybe he’s closer to the Green Paladin than he thought.
Stepping over to the back of the couch, Lance peers over top, stumbling backwards as his helmet knocks onto another as the person on the couch sits up.
“Gah-ow!” Lance complains, lifting his head to meet the eyes of-
Oh no.
Oh hell no.