(From Ashes) Chapter 5

Pride: From Ashes

Chapter 5

Failure to Communicate

Keith had dispatched Sven and Hunk to retrieve the Falcon—even as much as Lance loved flying, a routine short relocation hop did not outweigh wandering an actual castle. Daniel had volunteered, but the commander wasn't really in the mood to give him what he wanted just now. So it was their navigator who found himself walking down a dark tunnel with Hunk, following a silver-haired Arusian woman who'd been introduced as Captain Sarial of the castle village militia. She seemed warm but no-nonsense, which was probably a useful combination for leading amateur soldiers against an unexpected alien conqueror… obviously she was doing something right, if she'd been the one assigned to keep an eye on them.

As she guided them from the tunnels, Hunk went dead still. The well-camouflaged exit had opened into a small house in the foothills, one long since abandoned and overgrown. One that had, despite all that, been disturbed a mere couple of days ago. "You gotta be… we knew this place seemed kinda freaky!"

Sven raised an eyebrow; it was a wonder one or both of them hadn't fallen off, as much as he'd been doing that lately. "You've been here before?"

"This is that house we checked out after landin' here." He looked around and shook his head. It was frustrating—they'd been this close?—but also kind of encouraging. At least they'd finally gotten an unequivocal answer to something around here.

"Ah." That did make sense, Sven decided, looking around. Once Sarial closed the tunnel exit, it was rendered all but invisible by the stonework and the shadows.

She was eyeing Hunk with a bit of concern as she sealed it up. "What is 'freaky' about it?"

Oh. He flushed, embarrassed. "Uh, just that it seemed super deserted and stuff, like—almost too deserted, yeah? Like, someone did a real good packing job before they bailed on it."

"Hmm." She mulled that over as they started for the ship. "If you noticed that, perhaps we should look into improving its camouflage."

"…Yeah, maybe?"

"Perhaps you should." Sven shrugged. It looked like a normal house to him, and even knowing something seemed off about it the team hadn't been able to find the tunnel entrance. But he could also appreciate an abundance of caution, given the situation.

The Falcon looked the same as they'd left it, untouched by Drules or lizards or anything in between. That was a good sign, at least. "Home sweet spaceship," Hunk muttered, chuckling.

Sven shook his head. "Are you driving, or me?"

"You ever seen me try to fly a ship, bro?"

"No. But it's not exactly my forte, either."

"You've at least got bridge trainin', I blow things up! And kinda-sorta understand engines."

The navigator nodded. "Point."

Sarial looked between them curiously, hefting her bow; she'd brought it and a scavenged Drule rifle, though she didn't really feel like she was going to need either one. They sounded much less sure of their positions than she'd have expected. "Didn't your leader choose you two to perform the retrieval?"

"Yeah, and he sent me cuz I kinda-sorta understand engines!" Hunk said with a bright grin. Almost immediately, he heard the rocky voice scoffing in his mind; his smile quickly faded, but fortunately, Sven had spoken up to draw the Arusian's attention.

"He likes to overestimate our capabilities."

Now that sounded familiar, and Sarial couldn't help a chuckle of her own. "I don't know how it is among starship crews, but among my soldiers I find people often live up to what they consider overly high expectations."

Hunk whispered something about landing without maps; Sven muttered, completely deadpan, "And that would be why he keeps doing it." Mercifully, they reached the ship before the engineer could give him any more grief about that, and he gave Sarial a polite nod as he opened the hatch. "Welcome to the Falcon."

Her eyes were sharp as she took in the mechanisms of the airlock, and her fascination as they reached the bridge was clear. "I've never been aboard a spacecraft before." She looked around and chose the seat that didn't have a large and intimidating bank of monitors in front of it—it seemed the least likely to be something important.

Sven sat at the helm reluctantly; he really did not care for takeoffs, and even less for landings. Really he didn't like gravity at all—give him hyperspace any day. At least unlike the last time he'd done a takeoff roll, they weren't fleeing Galra surveillance. Still, he'd have preferred Lance or Keith in this seat. Even Daniel would've been acceptable.

Looking back at Sarial with amusement—she looked very out of place in Keith's command chair—Hunk moved through the partition to the engine bay and tilted his head. What they'd seen of the planet so far seemed pretty medieval, but that may or may not mean anything. "You seem to know about 'em though, yeah? I mean, before bad guys dropped on your heads in the things."

"We did have space travel before the Drules," she confirmed as the engines sprang to life. "Mostly for trade. It wasn't something the average citizen thought about often."

Interesting. Sven pulled the Falcon around, taxiing back to the stretch of flat earth where they'd originally touched down. "Your Common English is very good, for a society that doesn't think often of the outside galaxy?"

The Arusian laughed. "The diplomatic languages are usually the domain of the nobility and the Court, but we do have knowledge of them. I'm the only soldier here aside from Lord Coran who speaks Common at all."

"Why did you learn it, then? Are you part of the Court?" It seemed unlikely, but this was an alien planet. The leader of the castle village's militia might have some social rank, he supposed…

But she shook her head. "It's only a hobby of mine. I was the village librarian, as a day job; plenty of access to the materials."

A librarian. For some reason, Sven found himself filing that information away, he would certainly want some books if they were here long… they weren't supposed to be here for long. They were supposed to… he shook his head slightly, half expecting to hear the amused growl in his mind. No, he didn't care to follow that train of thought at this moment.

"Handy hobby," Hunk commented from the engine panels. "All green back here, bro." Not that the Bataxi used green—or any specific color at all—to represent engine status, preferring the use of symbols. But 'all trapezoidal' would've only confused the issue.

Nodding, Sven pushed the Falcon forward, extending the wings and lifting them into the sky.

Sarial watched carefully. It wouldn't be a long flight at all to the castle; she'd been instructed to gather information if she could. Those instructions aside, she was genuinely curious. She'd never spoken to aliens before—or at least, not to aliens who weren't trying to kill her. "Is it a common thing where you come from? To be spacecraft crew."

Ain't that a loaded question. Hunk was pretty sure it wasn't uncommon, at least. It also wasn't exactly what the team really was, but if she wanted to make that assumption he wasn't going to stop her…

"It's not uncommon," Sven answered, and Hunk sighed with relief. Definitely better to let the Viking handle this. "We are a very curious people, which puts exploring right up our alley."

She nodded her understanding, then turned back towards the engines. "And you said you… 'blow things up'?"

Hunk's relief evaporated in an instant.

"Uh… heh, I did say that, didn't I?" he agreed as Sven shook his head in mild exasperation. "It ain't all like that, I'm an engineer, yeah? My main gig's bein' a bomb—uh, a demolitions tech," he was really trying not to sound like a walking spontaneous combustion risk, "turns out there's some overlap with spaceship stuff." He pointed at the engine panels. "We're kinda flyin' around on controlled explosions, so it works out."

That hadn't been a bad recovery at all, Sven thought. Though the truth actually didn't seem too dangerous here either. "While exploring, we also sometimes run into things that block our path. It's good to have someone aboard who knows explosives." As he banked the Xaela back over the foothills he muttered, "Granted Daniel claims to be good at blowing things up, but I'd much prefer the expertise Hunk brings."

"Always count on an expert to do the blowin' up, bro."

Sarial looked between them. They were confident and friendly; the big one seemed almost to be so friendly he was flustering himself. Rumor said the Princess herself believed they were important to the battle against the Drules for some reason. What a single ship and its crew, no matter how skilled, could do against the coming counterattack, Sarial couldn't imagine. But they certainly didn't seem like threats…

"Wish we had a little more of an expert on these things," Hunk grumbled as one of the trapezoids turned into a blinking oval. "Bro, you've got a throttle misaligned, might wanna check 'em."

A small patch of turbulence had preceded that report; Sven glanced over the levers and noted that one had indeed been jolted just slightly out of position. "Cleared."

Well, at least he'd actually read the warning correctly, the engineer decided. It was a routine one, sure, but he was still not at all comfortable with—

"Still hiding, I see."

Hunk's eyes narrowed. He didn't startle at the voice as much anymore, he just resented it. "Still annoyin', I see."

"Is something wrong?"

Now he did startle, and blushed bright as he turned to their Arusian overseer. "Uh, just yellin' at the engines. I do that sometimes, it's a thing."

That last part was true, so far as it went.

Sven was certain it wasn't the engine Hunk was yelling at. The voices were popping up at more and more inconvenient times… as if on cue, he heard a gentle chuckle in the back of his mind.

Oh no she didn't. He was busy with a spaceship. I am driving, do not distract me.

"Can you not multitask?"

He sputtered slightly and hissed, "You are ridiculous." Immediately he regretted saying it out loud—it hadn't been that loud, but Sarial was also a lot closer to him than to Hunk.

"I am in no way ridiculous."

I disagree, he retorted immediately, and was rewarded only with more chuckling.

Captain Sarial had a suspicion of what was really happening here: Sven was covering for his flustered companion by doing the same thing. It was a nice gesture, if so, and she decided to play along. "Do you argue with your piloting controls also? Is it common?" Perhaps it actually was common—she knew enough village merchants who had plenty to say to their misbehaving packbeasts. Maybe Earthlings had simply done the same thing, and kept doing it even after their vehicles stopped caring.

Had he known what the Arusian was thinking, Sven might've laughed himself. As it was, he was grateful for the excuse. "Yes," he said after a moment's hesitation. "It makes me feel better. I don't always enjoy piloting, I much prefer maps."

The damned growl was chuckling again. As if she knew something he didn't.

That did draw Sarial's interest. "Are you a mapmaker, the way… Hunk?… is a demolitions technician?"

"Navigator. Reading maps is more my job, though I've made one or two on our travels."

Nodding, Sarial fell silent. The ship was heading for the meadow and she could see the navigator's concentration deepening. Best not to distract him further. But she was thinking back to the things she'd scavenged from the Dolce Vita library after the attack. The classics, of course; the Drules couldn't be allowed to destroy the treasures of Arusian culture. Everything they'd had on wildlife identification and folk remedies, which had been invaluable for keeping the shelters supplied. And, equally important for reconnaissance, several mapbooks. Perhaps he'd find them interesting.

Or perhaps they would be useful. After all, if the aliens were here for long, they'd probably be caught up in the arrival of a vengeful Drule fleet. And then they would all need all the help they could get…

*****

Keith stood quietly, watching the clear sky for the Falcon. A slight breeze was making his hair flutter slightly. He could picture it; he'd caught sight of himself in one of the castle windows earlier. He was a mess. Wish I could get a haircut, but that's low priority. They weren't here to be attractive… but if the opportunity presented itself, he might at least ask for some scissors.

Footsteps sounded behind him and he turned, seeing the old royal advisor coming up behind him. He nodded to Coran, who leaned on his cane as he stopped beside him, and couldn't help but have his thoughts drift to what the cane hid. A small pang of envy washed over him.

The silence between them was comfortable, but questions were burning in Coran’s mind. There was more to these offworlders than what they were letting on. They'd escaped from Korrinoth, they said…

He was quiet for a few moments longer before speaking. "So, how did you and your companions come to be here?"

Keith pursed his lips for a moment. Admitting the true mission was still out of the question "We were travelling the stars, seeing what we could see. Tried to cross through somewhere we… apparently shouldn’t have been, and ended up conscripted by the Drules. Found ourselves fighting in their gladiator arena. I—we—lost three friends before we managed to escape."

The older gentleman’s eyebrow raised at the first part of Keith’s statement; that was still not an answer. But his next words drew sympathy instead. Loss is hard on us all. "I see. I’m sorry that not all of you were able to make it out."

Nod. "Thank you." Keith looked back up from the ground, to the surrounding area and the obvious damage. "So, what more can you tell me about this… war?"

"It's much as the Princess told you. The Ninth Kingdom of the Drules invaded, destroying our cities and villages. They captured and enslaved many of our people, killing far more, including our King." Coran said it quietly, dispassionately, simply listing the facts. It was… slightly easier that way. "The main invading forces left when they deemed the planet pacified, and a Drule governor was left in charge. We managed to overpower him and his personal forces, blackmailing him into sending regular reports. But he later escaped… and died."

Keith nodded slowly. "So, who is in charge now?"

"Princess Allura is in charge, at least in this region. There is no other central Drule authority figure on the planet… we are waiting for them to notice the lack of reports and come investigating." The advisor kept his tone muted. He was worried, but he knew they were doing all they could… which wasn’t much, admittedly.

"How long has it been since the last report?"

"A while. We received a transmission that someone would be coming to check on the planet if they hadn’t heard from the governor by the end of the lunar cycle." Coran paused, a weary edge taking hold in his tone. "Which ended a couple of days ago."

Keith shot him a worried look. The Princess had said they had reason to expect the Drules were returning, but it hadn't sounded that urgent. "Someone could be showing up very soon, then."

A worried sigh escaped Coran’s lips. "Yes."

"Do you have a plan?"

"Not a concrete one, I'm afraid. We are pretty much playing it by ear." Telling him that the real plan was reviving ancient magical robot lions wasn’t really an option. He wasn't qualified. That was a job for the princess… he sighed instead. "I’d hoped my days of worrying over war and violence were over when I retired." The naivete of that struck him as oddly amusing now. "But, apparently, that was not meant to be."

"Plans. They always seem to be forced to change when you least want them to be," Keith agreed, nodding sympathetically. "You’ve been lucky so far, as have we. If what the Princess said is true, if they come back in force, you’ll need everyone you can." He frowned. "I know my t—my friends—and I, we’re not going to go back willingly." How many Arusians had actually survived? They made it sound like the number was small. The team's stolen Xaela was not a large ship, but… "We could always try to evacuate you and the Princess, and as many others as possible."

"We will not leave our home." Coran's tone was probably a little sterner than it needed to be. The Earthling was only trying to offer assistance, but what he was offering was not an option. For many reasons.

Keith nodded, hearing the determination in the older man’s voice. He understood the sentiment. This was their home; all they’d ever known. "Understandable. I had to offer, though." He nodded towards Coran’s cane sword. "Nice weapon, by the way."

Smirk. "I find it very useful."

"Does it have good balance?"

Coran straightened; he hadn’t really needed to lean on the cane to begin with, but what was the point of a disguise if you didn’t embrace it? He unsheathed the slim sword, holding it out to the newcomer. He rarely, if ever allowed others the use of his sword, but his instincts told him this young man could be trusted with it. He rather liked the Earthling, he thought. And there was something familiar in the way he walked, and talked… Coran had a theory, and allowing him to test the sword out may just confirm it. "See for yourself."

Keith looked at the older man a moment, slightly taken aback by the level of trust he was showing him. With a nod, he took the sword, moving a few paces away and testing its weight in his hands. Then he held it out at arm’s length and gave it a few test swings. His eyes lit up; the balance was amazing. So much better than the stolen Drule sword he'd been using. He went through an abbreviated kata, then lowered the thin blade and returned it to Coran. "Very nice, sir."

That display had pretty much confirmed Coran's suspicions. He is some sort of soldier. Did that mean the others were? It would merit looking into further. For now, he slid the sword back into the cane. "Thank you. You seem to know what you’re doing with it."

Oh. He more or less hid a nervous flinch. "I’ve—had some training. Had to put it into practice in the arena."

"You’re alive. Seems your training has done its job."

That earned him a halfhearted smile, as Keith's thoughts were dragged back to their losses again. "Not as much as I wish it had."

Nod. "I understand. As much as we would like to, we can’t save everyone." Coran sighed heavily and leaned on the cane again. "But we can try, and so the important part is that we must try."

That sounded… correct, Keith thought. Wise, at least. Shaking the pain away, he met the older man's eyes and tried for a better smile. "We stole a couple of Drule swords during our escape, but they're more showpieces than made for real fighting. If you happen to have any more of those lying around…" Roaring engines brought both of their attention back to the sky, and he trailed off.

Coran turned, seeing the ship coming in, and gave a small chuckle. "I will see what I can do about acquiring you a proper sword. I would hate to leave a fellow soldier without his preferred weapon."

Fellow… what?!

"I should go see about arranging the meal the Princess offered. I'll see you in a bit, I trust."

Blinking in shock, Keith watched the royal advisor walk away.

*****

Daniel had settled into a room, but not comfortably. His arm hurt. He'd been too active, and it was angry at him for it… which made him think about Jace. Without him screaming at me I can't heal. Nope, he didn't want to go there, he needed a distraction now.

Vince was similarly unhappy with his thoughts. All he seemed able to do was dwell on all the weirdness around him, wondering if it was all related. The sparks, the visions, and now ghosts. It seemed impossible for them not to be related, but what the heck kind of superpower lottery draw was that? He just wanted to stop thinking about it, he wanted his life to be less weird. Preferably not at all weird. He tried to shove it aside, think about something else… and his mind wandered right to his mothers. He sighed. That wasn't at all a helpful thought either, he was too emotionally exhausted to add homesickness to the mix.

Then a shout from down the hall caught his attention.

"Lizards!"

Daniel had yelled it right as the idea struck him. Alien lizards were around and he definitely needed to see one. They were in a crumbling castle, there had to be some hiding around the ruins. Instinctively his first thought was to find Cam and—he swore at his traitorous brain, then left his room and looked up and down the corridor. Vince's door was open. That would do.

"Hey Vince?"

"Yeah?" he asked, already wary from the shout. It really couldn't lead anywhere good, could it? But it was probably better than letting his brain, well… brain.

"Wanna go exploring and maybe find some alien lizards?" Daniel sounded almost pleading.

Vince sighed and nodded. He preferred rodents to reptiles, generally, but… "Why not? Lizards are cool."

"Lizards are cool! Mammals are overrated," Daniel declared and immediately started down the hall.

"Do you have a plan?" Vince asked as he followed him, then rolled his eyes at himself. Who was he talking to?

"Yeah. Walk around, find something cool. Preferably a lizard. I'd be cool with a frog though."

That was about what he'd expected.

Unbeknownst to the two of them, they had an eavesdropper. Larmina had been camped out in an alcove, one she'd used in the past to hide from Nanny and sulk. As they passed by her, she glared. Outsiders, here! She hated it, hadn't they just gotten the castle back from offworlders? Trusting different ones was not on her agenda. She groaned but couldn't help listening. Her Common wasn't the best, but her ears perked up—she knew one word…

Exploring? Oh, hells no. Auntie may have invited them to stay, but explore? The castle didn't need that. She watched them walk away and realized she had no choice but to follow, so she jumped from the alcove, keeping a careful distance.

"So where do we go? Wonder if alien lizards are like earth lizards at all… not that I actually know what environments earth lizards like. Swampy or hot, right?"

Behind them, Larmina shook her head. They were looking for something specific? What the hells is a 'lizard'?

"I've been thinking on this. The others were able to tell that it was a lizard, so it's got to at least look Earth-lizard-like. And they prefer moderate to hot environments, at least on earth. If they were to prefer a swampy environment that probably means they're amphibians, like salamanders—which are cool too, don't get me wrong. But this isn't Earth, so who knows."

"You know your lizards," Vince said, impressed, as he poked his foot around one of the many piles of rocks that littered the castle. It was depressing, and made him wish he'd seen it before the Drules made it crumble.

Daniel shrugged. "I like them." He was walking slower than normal, telling himself it was to not scare off any theoretical lizards; the truth was, he was attempting not to jostle his arm too much. There was no reason to make it worse.

Despite what he was telling himself, Vince noticed the reality. "Is your arm bugging you?"

"Yeah…" The thought of lying came and went, why bother. "A little. Think I've been using it too much. Apparently healing a severe compound fracture takes a lot of time." Who knew?

Larmina, listening behind them, picked up enough to gather one of them was injured. Note to self, if it comes to that, punch that arm.

Much as Daniel tried to brush it off, Vince couldn't help but worry; it was what he did. Once again he was missing their medic. He tried to shake it off, and thought about suggesting he tell Lance, but… no, he knew that was pointless. "Maybe we should ask if they have a doctor here?" Arus had been holding out for a long time, they had to have someone.

Daniel hated that idea immediately. His doctor was Jace, and he hadn't even wanted to see him. Though as a practical matter—oh, screw that. "Probably." That didn't commit him to anything.

"Might help to ask that anyway," Vince muttered, his own thoughts drifting. He could guess at the source of Daniel's hesitation. "Not that I want to share with anyone new that I spark."

"Yeah… though in comparison to hearing voices in your head, sparking doesn't seem that bad. Or seeing ghosts, I'm not getting over that one. Glad I never had a ouija board."

Weegee? What the hells is a weegee board? Larmina narrowed her eyes, hating the strange outsiders more by the second. And Common.

"My moms were very anti ouija boards. They'd probably freak out about it if they knew…" Vince made a face, he hadn't meant to bring them up. That didn't help. He missed them too much, and maybe it was his inability to turn to them here that kept him dwelling on his other problems. "I just… GHOSTS! Like sparking and vis—" He shut his mouth with a clack, not ready yet to share anything about the visions with anyone else. He missed Flynn, too. Why was it the people he'd confided in who'd died?

Daniel hadn't missed the vis—, but since Vince wasn't pushing him about his arm, he wouldn't push him on whatever that meant. Plus he really didn't need anything else weird right now. So, he went with the easier response.

"My dad wouldn't have cared… about ouija boards or much of anything else." Oddly, it stung a bit to say; that hadn't happened in years. What is this, emotionally torture Daniel day? At least he wasn't seeing or hearing things that weren't there. "But ghosts are wiggy, I never wanted one."

"Definitely wiggy." Vince frowned as he looked around. "And now I keep wondering if one is gonna jump out in front of me."

"Yeah…" Daniel shivered. "Romelle didn't seem afraid, or even worried about them. So they probably can't actually do anything to you."

Larmina rolled her eyes as she followed them. That was cute, the offworlders missed their parents and were afraid of ghosts? They could fix that problem if they wanted to. By leaving.

"Hope not. Still don't believe she just chatted with one."

"Yeah, she's a little weird. Probably why we like her. Except Pidge…"

"Pidge doesn't like anyone."

"He likes you. And at least tolerates the rest of us."

"Maybe, but I'm fairly sure 'mechka' means 'idiot'… but he means it nicely, and maybe thinks I'm cute?"

Daniel paused and looked Vince up and down. "You are kind of cute."

Vince blushed at that but shook his head. "Not that kind of cute," he muttered, and thought about the animal Pidge had drawn him as an explanation. "More baby seal cute."

"You don't look like a baby seal," Daniel laughed.

"See, that's what I thought," Vince muttered, then looked around where they'd ended up. There was a broken door that opened up to what looked like a ramp. "That hall or whatever seems to go down, don't lizards like dark places?"

"Not really. They like the sun, and then shade when they get too hot, but what the hell. We're exploring right?"

Larmina frowned, her dislike deepening further. They surely weren't headed where she thought they were, were they?

"Oh, duh, that makes sense…" Vince felt a bit stupid, he knew how reptiles worked, he thought. "But yeah, exploring, Explorer Team right?" As usual when that was invoked, he regretted his decisions almost immediately. The sloping hallway led them down to a wide, dark corridor lined with doorways and deep alcoves, a few things that might have been burnt-out alien candles set into the walls. "I think we've stumbled onto creepy…" Why is it always creepy or weird?

"We always seem to be doing that," Daniel agreed, looking around too. Anything more he might have said was cut off by a shout.

They had, indeed, gone where Larmina had thought they were going, and she was not amused. "The tombs of the ancestors are not the place for offworlders to be goofing around!" Even she had more sense of propriety than that.

Of course, her indignation was slightly defused by the fact that she'd yelled in Arusian; as the two Earthlings startled and turned to her, she realized they hadn't understood a word she'd said, and glared to get the point across

Vince had jumped and whipped around in a mild panic, while Daniel pulled his gun. They didn't really even need to see the glare to catch the anger in the words… an Arusian girl with fiery red hair and turquoise eyes was standing behind them.

"Hi… uh, not a ghost… uh, should we not be here?" Vince stammered, caught between wanting to be polite and definitely being scared. He was really just relieved it was a living person, glare or not. Beside him, Daniel lowered his gun and winced; his arm was unhappy with his abrupt spinning.

"Should not…" Larmina paused puzzled as to how to say it. Why? Why couldn't they just speak Arusian like civilized people? Paying attention to language tutoring had not seemed important at the time! "Should not. Crypts."

"CRYPTS!" Vince shouted, going right to terrified, and he whirled around fully expecting a horde of ghosts to pop out at him. When they didn't he breathed a sigh of relief… then felt instantly stupid.

"I feel like there should be signs," Daniel said flatly. He wasn't exactly frightened, but he wasn't thrilled either. "Something like, I dunno: Dead Bodies. Turn Around."

Larmina snorted. "Weren't invited."

Vince sighed, realizing they'd managed to piss off one of their hosts. Already. "Um, we'll gladly leave the crypts, Miss…?"

"Good. Leave."

"Hey, wait a damn minute. We were invited into the castle. How were we supposed to know this wasn't just a regular part of the castle?" Daniel snapped.

Again Vince sighed, wishing he was with Lance instead of Daniel. Lance was pretty good with angry strangers. For instance, he didn't try to just piss them off more.

Larmina was struggling with what Loud One had said. Was he asking if the crypts were part of the castle? Stupid language. Stupid offworlders. She covered her confusion by intensifying her glare; Scared One had said they would leave, but they weren't leaving.

"Honestly, we didn't mean to do something wrong, we were just looking for lizards?"

"Lizards?" Curiosity overrode her irritation for a second. She didn't know that word, and she did kind of wonder what these two thought they were trying to find. In the crypts.

"Uh, yeah, you know, lizards…" And now Vince found himself wishing Cam was here, or at least that the Academy had offered Arusian. He liked obscure planets, he might've taken it himself. "Um, mini dragons?" Oh yeah, that was gonna help.

"Reptiles. Like snakes with legs." Daniel ignored his own pang for Cam; if he pretended it hadn't happened, he could keep telling himself he didn't miss him.

Larmina shook her head, that wasn't working. Looking around, she had a flash of inspiration and pointed at a dusty shelf. "Picture."

Vince looked at Daniel; he was the artist. The gunner frowned slightly. "I don't have a picture," he muttered, pulling a pencil from one of his pockets. "But I could draw it."

"Really, you have a pencil?" Vince stared at it. "Just with you?"

"Of course I do?"

Larmina gave them her best are-you-idiots glare, then used her finger to draw an angry face in the dust. How had that not been clear? Offworlders!

Vince sighed at that. "We're not making a good impression here. Hasn't Lance taught you any charm?"

Now it was Daniel's turn to glare. "He says it can't be taught. Only learned. Or something stupid like that." He went to the shelf and drew a lizard in the dust, then pointed between himself and Angry Redhead. "I can already tell that you and me are going to be the best of friends."

Larmina rolled her eyes at that, but brightened as she recognized his drawing. "Nyraha!" They had successful communication! Sort of.

Vince was shaking his head at Daniel—nothing new there—but turned at her shout. "Nyraha?" he repeated. "That sounds nicer than lizard." It got him another indignant look from his fellow explorer, who was certain lizards didn't need that slander.

There were plenty of nyraha in the forest. Larmina knew that, she'd seen them. But no way she was taking them there… unless it was to get them eaten by banewolves, which Auntie definitely wouldn't be okay with. "Not lizards here," she informed them coolly, waving around the crypt. "Dead ancestors."

"And we're back to glaring…"

Vince looked warily around, afraid the dead ancestors might make an appearance, but tried to appease her anyway. "We really meant no harm."

"Yeah, we didn't come here looking for dead ancestors, believe me." Daniel could practically feel Lance giving him that trademark behave nudge, and made a face as he realized he should maybe try being polite. "So anyway, I'm Daniel. What's your name?"

"…Yes, what is your name?" Sudden politeness was suspicious, but also probably a good idea. "I'm Vince."

Inwardly, Larmina sighed. But if she had to put up with them, actual names were more convenient than just calling them Loud One and Scared One. "I… my? I?" She hated Common. And she hated these offworlders even more, because after this she was for damn sure going to turn around and go attempt to study it. "Am Larmina."

"Hi, Larmina."

"Nice to meet you, Larmina," Daniel somehow managed to say after a deep breath. It was not nice to meet her, and really fuck Lance for making him be nice.

"Anenyo… Hello. Still leave crypts."

Not that Vince thought Daniel had meant his nice to meet you, and Larmina hadn't even tried. He decided to just try to solve the immediate problem. "Lead the way and we'll leave the crypts."

Larmina turned at that, but spitefully threw out, "Should careful. Lizards bite." She'd never actually heard of the local lizards biting anything, but surely these annoying explorers would want to be very careful.

"Apparently so do you," Daniel shot back.

"We were in her crypts—"

"Usually break arms," Larmina said with a smirk.

"—Orrr she's the Arusian Pidge." Vince grimaced. That was just their luck.

Larmina wondered if this Pidge they kept mentioning might be okay, if he really didn't like the other offworlders. No, probably not.

In any case, Daniel definitely did not need a broken arm; he waved his existing injury at her. "Already got one of those."

"Dude, don't hurt yourself."

"Break again for you," Larmina offered, though she knew Auntie wouldn't approve of that either.

Daniel flipped her off and smirked at Vince. "You worried about me?" All it got him was a groan.

Larmina was insufficiently offended by the gesture, having no idea what it meant, so she just moved on. She was pointedly leading them to a door that did not lead to the forest. "Might lizards out there."

"Thank you, Larmina." Vince was still desperately trying to get along.

"Enjoy breaking peoples' arms, and have fun in the cavern of dead people," Daniel added cheerfully, destroying Vince's hope.

"Good lucking! Hope you bit by many cool lizards," Larmina said with equal cheer.

Know what, Vince decided, I can't hear them.

Daniel gave her a big smile until she was well out of earshot and then muttered, "I hope we find Voltron and get the fuck out of here fast."

"Me too," Vince said, missing home and a bit angry at himself for thinking he'd find answers here. All he'd gotten was something new to add to all the weird, and he was pretty well over it.

Maybe lizards would help.

*****

Despite the Drule conquest, the Meadows of Raimon were as lush and beautiful as the ancient tales had always claimed. Romelle found herself standing at the window—just slightly cracked—staring out at the fields with mixed awe and discomfort.

"I still can't believe I'm here," she murmured to her reflection. "And in their castle. The first in centuries." Previous attempts at diplomacy had almost always been held on neutral ground. In other circumstances, she might have felt far more honored.

Not that she was exactly here as an attempt at diplomacy… she'd barely had that thought when a knock at the door startled her, and she whirled to see the Arusian princess standing in the doorway.

"Is this room to your liking?" She'd started to ask it halfway through knocking; by the time the question was complete, Romelle was staring at her wide-eyed with a hand on her weapon's hilt. Allura winced slightly. "Sorry if I startled you." She didn't think the anger in the other woman's eyes was only from being startled, truthfully. But there was no reason to bring that to the surface. Not yet. In her time.

Slowly, Romelle moved her hand away from the gaive'llar and nodded curtly. "It's fine."

That sounded less than convincing, but Allura gave a small sigh of relief nonetheless. "That's good." Before any other concerns, she did want her guests to be as comfortable as she could make them. That was only polite. As for the rest, well… okay, so it wasn't going to be comfortable for either of them. "If I may," she said quietly, "I notice that you seem to be from Pollux?"

Her voice didn't hold the scorn Romelle might have expected; her own made up for it. "There is no 'seem to be' about it. I am from Pollux." She switched from Common to Arusian as she said it. No sense doing otherwise now.

"Ah, that's good." It was a fine balancing act. The people of Pollux were known to be prickly, though it probably didn't help that most Arusians knew them as 'the abandoners', or worse, 'the betrayers'. Allura wasn't here to relitigate the old conflicts. She only wanted to save her planet now. "There was something I've been wondering, if I might ask you a question? Though I can understand if you aren't able to answer it."

Of course she had questions. Romelle leaned back against the windowsill and studied the other princess coolly. She was not here to represent her people, nor to answer for them in anything. "What is it?"

Allura took a deep breath. "Is it possible you've come here with something from ancient times? Something of importance?"

…What? Romelle's expression darkened. It wasn't the question she'd expected; it was somehow almost worse. "No." She fought to keep her tone even. "I was on Korrinoth. I left there with nothing but a blade and what little I was wearing."

For months? "Wh… what were you doing there?" she gasped softly, then retreated a step at the look of blistering hatred Romelle turned on her. "Maybe it's best I not know…"

"It's not your business," the Polluxian hissed.

"Forgive my rudeness," she covered quickly, falling back to try to defuse the situation. "I just had thought that…" An icy trickle of doubt accompanied the words. She'd been so hopeful, but it seemed the answers would still be denied to her. "…perhaps something I've been searching for might be with you."

Romelle had been trying to be polite—she was a guest—hell, she was pretty much a refugee at this point—but her resolve only went so far. And with that it went right to hell.

"Why would I have anything for you?" she scoffed, dropping her hand to her gaive'llar again. "I've given enough for you! I was on Korrinoth to be unwillingly wed to their Crown Prince, because your planet got conquered and my father feared we would be next!"

What? Allura stared at her in shock, trying to fumble through all the implications of that at once. Who was this woman, exactly? Pollux had joined the Drules? Because of what? Was she seriously blaming Arus for this? "We didn't ask to be attacked." She kept her tone even, though a warning chill had entered it. "We could hardly even react, they struck too suddenly. I am sorry you've suffered, but—"

"—Didn't you have an army?" Romelle interrupted, eyes burning. "Defenses? Hell, even we have that!" For all the good it did us…

"I think you can guess what happened to our armies." Allura bristled, forcing her own temper down. She'd known Polluxians were said to be spiteful; she hadn't been prepared for this degree. As much as she might have wanted to point out all Arus had been through recently, everything she'd lost, she couldn't afford to right now. "They used treachery to compromise our defenses, and our counterattacks were all overwhelmed. What more would you have had us do?"

She gave a very unladylike snort. "That's all? What of the reason we were exiled?"

"What—exiled?" Allura blinked, the indignation and doubt replaced by new confusion. The House of Lachesis and its followers had not been exiled, at least not that she'd ever heard. They had abandoned Arus in its darkest hour… darkest until now. "Didn't you leave on your own?"

Romelle snorted. Of course the Arusians had told themselves that. So simple. So childish. "We had no choice but to flee, because of what your people insisted on doing with that damned robot."

…That damned what? Allura's eyes widened, and she focused in on the other woman more sharply. "What robot?" Did she know something after all? But the lions… they were robotic creatures, yes, but singular?

"Really? We were forced away because you insisted on hiding it, and now you've forgotten about it?"

Forgotten… Allura looked away a moment, brushing a lock of hair from her face and nervously nipping at her knuckle—that was an old habit Nanny had painstakingly broken her of, but with her nerves where they were now, it hardly even registered. Could it be? "I don't understand what you're referring to. Tell me." Tell me it's what I've been searching for. Tell me it's the answer we need…

"Voltron!" Romelle spat. "The robotic knight, the Lord of Lions! You all insisted on hiding it from the Galra—we told you not to, we told you it would only come back to hurt Arus someday! But you wouldn't listen, so we left. And then you ended up with Drules instead of Galra, and your damn precious Voltron couldn't even save you!"

Voltron.

Allura went deathly silent. She knew that word… no. She'd heard that word before, but she didn't know it. The rest of Romelle's rant—her rage, her accusations, the Lord of Lions, what was a Galra?—all seemed to simply crash over her like a wave. There, but not. She was caught up on the word.

"Vol… tron?"

Romelle's lip curled. "You really don't remember."

"Voltron is a name?" No, they didn't remember. Admitting it in so many words did not seem likely to defuse the situation any, but… "What is it? Is there more you can tell me?"

Part of Romelle had no interest in saying another damn word. Part of her wanted to hold her knowledge over this silly little Arusian's head—that their distant cousins were every bit as foolish and naive as Pollux believed. And part of her felt it was best to answer the questions… because the sooner they found Voltron, by whatever means, the sooner the Earthlings could take it and they could all get off of this damned planet.

"Voltron is a name," she confirmed, managing to keep all but a touch of the sneer from her tone. "A robotic knight, said to take the form of a lion. Your people should have washed your hands of it centuries ago." Then a question of her own sprang up, somewhat unbidden. "If you've forgotten Voltron, what in the hells were you talking about out on the stairs?" What hope did she think she had, if it wasn't their precious knight?

Is this it? The key? "We do have robotic lions," she said quietly. "But the Great Lions are…" As if she could actually explain them with any authority. "They are… something different." Have we been outright missing one, somehow? A Lord of the Lions? No, that still didn't feel right. There was something else out there… she had one more piece of the puzzle, a key piece, but one yet remained… "I don't know of any lion knight named Voltron."

Oh. Of course. More than one hidden weapon they hadn't used to defend themselves. "Why didn't your damned Great Lions save you, then?!"

Allura flinched and lowered her eyes. Yes. That's the question. It still hurt badly. The thought that if they just could have found the answers sooner, her people could have been saved… "They can't help anyone right now," she said softly. "We've been searching for a way to wake them up. All we have are clues buried in ancient poems and fairy tales, but—"

"—Fairy tales?" Romelle interrupted, her expression darkening even further. "So while we were exiled, you all forgot nearly everything about the robot you wanted to keep so badly, then got yourselves conquered, forcing me to be humiliated and raped by your conquerors. And now you're here playing with fairy tales. Wonderful."

…Oh, Honored Mother. Allura shuddered. She hadn't realized it was that bad. She tried to dredge up some indignation—there was still no justice in blaming Arus for that ordeal!—but all she found was sorrow and pity. Romelle's bitterness was rooted in far more than the history of their people. And if perhaps misdirected, her anger couldn't be brushed aside.

But she's here now. If the Great Lions do not fly again, she's in as much trouble as any of us. If not more.

But she had given her something.

Voltron…

Allura nodded quietly to herself. She had to go. But she couldn't just walk away without addressing what loomed between them, either. So she took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"Lady Romelle… I know our people have not gotten along for centuries. If I could alter that past, I would; if I could change your fate on Korrinoth, I would do it without hesitation. I've lost a great deal as well… my brother, my father, too many of my people…" She shook her head. "All I can offer you is my sympathy and a place of shelter. And for now, I'll leave you be."

Romelle had started to snarl a mocking response to that, but something in Allura's tone cut it off. She was standing in the ruined Castle of Lions, she'd seen what had come of this planet… "Thank you," she finally said curtly. Whether for the sympathy, or for leaving her alone, she didn't care to specify.

She wasn't sure she knew.

Arusians.

As Romelle turned back to the window, Allura left the room; she didn't go far. She'd brought the journal where she kept the most crucial clues, in case Romelle did indeed have answers for her. Now she stopped in the hallway, leaning against the wall, flipping it open to a later page.

To that word.

The fragmented page Coran had once brought her was pasted into the journal: the burnt edges, the smudged and faded ink, a rough fold through the middle. The uncertain translation was on the opposite page. Several words were crossed out and corrected, and several phrases were marked as uncertain. The old tongue was often ambiguous, especially when the words weren't all there.

…(stood by) trees pondering the lines in the leaves. (Beside) Yellow took in the sun. Red made (the dash) at Blue, but try as they may could not catch them. How fair the day was, a chance (at some) fun. Upon the hill Black stood watch as always—here the fold had cut through and obscured the ink, a sentence or two lost—leaped to their (feet) and cried out, "Brothers, Sisters, across the sparkling sea (we must be)!" Our merriment shortened, we (dropped) to heed the call. As one we roar, then we voltron (to them)…

We voltron to them. It had been a curiosity. A small oddity, a quirk of the translation—something to keep an eye out for in other sources, not something to dwell on. But now?

Voltron is a name.

We Voltron…

A name made no sense there. But the grammar could be different. The 'to them' was unclear. It had seemed like the most obvious interpretation, when the context had assumed the word Voltron to be an action. Now, perhaps not. We… Voltron… she looked at her free hand, her fingers flexing with frustration as she thought.

A moment's intuition hit her.

Five fingers. Five lions. We Voltron. She watched her hand and her eyes widened. We… she spread her fingers out. Voltron… she drew her fingers back together, then looked back at the words. Another viable translation…

"We become Voltron," she whispered, and a shudder ran through her. It felt right. But what was Voltron, then? A knight? The Lord of Lions? None of it was an answer. And yet she felt herself trembling from the certainty. This revelation was a key, if only she knew which mystery to fit it into.

You really don't remember.

We become Voltron.

"Oh, Great Lion of Storms… what have we forgotten?"

She heard the low rumble of thunder, Black Lion's reassuring purr in the back of her mind. And when he spoke, his voice was stronger than ever.

"We will remember."

*****

Nanny was supposed to be safe in the castle shelter. She was supposed to be helping the elders, keeping the peace, ensuring things ran smoothly. And she'd been doing that… but the Princess was in the castle. And the Princess was the one sworn charge she had left, and may the Honored Mother smite her unworthy soul if she failed to live up to that charge!

So she was climbing the stairs up from the tunnels. The many stairs. It always felt like there were so many more stairs going up than there were going down. By the time she reached the trapdoor she was well out of breath; the Honored Mother surely couldn't fault her for taking a few moments to rest. She would be no good to her charge if she were exhausted, after all.

Nanny was not the only person approaching the castle entryway. Lance had meandered back from the guest wing; there wasn't much there of note. There wasn't much here of note, either, but his mind was running in a million directions at once and if he at least kept himself walking, maybe he would keep those thoughts from running in the one place he really didn't want them…

"Thoughts in one's head never fly far."

He groaned. The voice may have been warm, the warmth may have been comforting, but then it came along and did shit like that and he could really do without it. Though, having someone to talk to—was the mysterious voice that might be a robot lion really a 'someone'?—might also help.

Since you're here, does the Princess know anything about Voltron? She'd sure seemed to.

"Hmm, does she?"

Oh for… I asked the question!

"To avoid what truly troubles you."

Lance groaned again, rather more emphatically, and busied himself looking around the entryway. The huge staircase was still… well, magnificent was a good enough word, even with the damage. He couldn't believe he was in a damn castle, of all things. And when he thought that, he wanted to think of something else, and he swatted it away with all his might.

Somehow, he was certain the warmth in his mind rolled its eyes. But before it could say anything, a very unlikely rescuer appeared.

As she came up through the trapdoor and rounded the corner, Nanny yelped in shock as she found herself looking at a man. An alien man! He was unkempt, wearing clothes surely unfit for any respectable home of nobility—he wasn't a Drule, which she supposed was one small point in his favor—but nonetheless, what was an alien man doing in her castle? Standing there so disrespectfully, no less?

Fumbling in her apron pocket for her paring knife, she guessed at a language—he clearly was no more insectoid than he was Drule. "You!" she snapped in her haughtiest Common English, pointing the knife at him. "Explain yourself, hooligan!"

…Hooligan?

The yelp had spun Lance around to face her; the yelling had mostly just confused him. The plump older woman glaring at him didn't look all that intimidating, knife or no, and she had just called him a hooligan. "Hello," he said with a winning smile, raising his hands. "I'm Lance."

Nanny sputtered a moment; she was certain that didn't explain anything. She was too flustered to get the exact words she wanted, though. "That's no excuse!"

Oddly, it wasn't the first time Lance had been told that in his life. He generally considered it a pretty good excuse, but that was neither here nor there… he tried a toothier grin, older ladies seemed to appreciate the pearly whites. "Well, it's a long story. We landed here, you sent a scouting party, we've just met Princess Allura…"

She looked more scandalized than appreciative. "That's Her Highness to you!"

Oh. His smile didn't waver, though it took a little effort. "Of course, I apologize. Her Highness. Oddly she's my second princess, but I haven't met much royalty otherwise." Was politeness the trick here? He could totally do politeness. "It's lovely to meet you, too. What's your name?"

The way he kept smiling at her was so… infuriating! Disrespectful! Charming! No. No, not that last one. "I am Lady Nandara Hys, the royal governess and First Matron of the Castle of Lions staff." She shifted the knife into a more proper defensive grip and huffed. "Do you have a full name, Mister Lance?"

…The amount of disdain she'd packed into that question was actually kind of impressive. Lance still wasn't overly intimidated, but a knife was a knife, and getting stabbed and bleeding all over the ruined castle seemed like it would be rude. He took a calculated risk and bowed. "My full name is Lance Charles McClain, Lady Nandara."

She huffed again. "That would be Lady Hys, Mr. McClain." But she did give a short bow, which seemed like a plus; the way her eyes narrowed was less of one. "Now, what precisely did you mean by saying Her Highness is your second Princess?"

Talking to this woman was like walking through a minefield. An extremely formal minefield. Which was an amusing thought he really shouldn't laugh at right now; he could totally see Hunk dressing a bunch of land mines in little tuxes and evening gowns, given the chance. "Lady Hys, I apologize, that was just bad wording on my part. It's just that I met Princess Romelle recently as well…"

"…Who?" Nanny was familiar with all the major royal families of Arus, and she'd never heard of a Romelle. "I do think you're lying to me."

"What? No, of course I wouldn't do that. She came with us, she's…" Well she certainly wasn't here with him, that was for sure. Probably back in her new room. Maybe sleeping? He didn't even know how long he'd been out here brooding. "…around somewhere," he finished with a little less confidence.

Less confidence was definitely warranted. "Around somewhere?" Lady Hys repeated, scowling. "Just how many of you strangers are wandering about my castle?"

When there was no castle staff to keep the place running, was it really her castle? More than it was some alien's, at least.

"I assure you we wouldn't wander about where we're not wanted," he answered quickly, flashing another of his most charming smiles: Charming Grin Number Eighteen, to be precise. Daniel, don't make me a liar… "There are eight of us, the Pr—uh, Her Highness gave us rooms."

"Eight." The woman stared, then stabbed an accusatory finger at him. Better than the knife, he supposed. "What do you mean there are eight of you, you… you… you are a hooligan!"

"He's actually a human."

Lady Hys jumped up and shrieked; Lance startled, then sighed as he registered who'd just spoken. Great. Pidge. That was just what this situation needed. "I apologize, again. He likes to pop up."

"Don't listen to him." Pidge had heard enough of the conversation to be certain he didn't like this woman at all. Who cares this much about manners? "I'm not sorry."

"AND JUST WHO ARE YOU, you… you…" Nanny blinked as her eyes fell on the new alien. She was not a tall woman, but he was shorter; she wasn't used to that. "…Little hooligan child?"

"I'm not a child," he shot back, "and I'm not a hooligan, either. I'm a Baltan." He couldn't actually argue with 'little', but those other two had been uncalled for.

Sometimes, Lance really didn't know about Grumpy Ninja. Okay, most times. "Pidge," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "we are guests of Lady Hys…" She's tougher than a Sorthal cat, but I was getting things under control a little bit!

Of course Pidge was having none of it. "I didn't ask to be a guest of anyone."

"Well, we are." Almost despite himself, he turned to the only other… well, presence… present. Don't suppose you have any suggestions?

"Beware royal governesses," the voice answered without hesitation.

Seriously.

Nanny, meanwhile, had noticed that the little hooligan child was also holding a knife. One that looked significantly more dangerous than hers. Discretion was the better part of propriety, and she took a step back before speaking again. "And do you have a name?"

"Pidge."

Sigh. "A full name, Mr. Pidge?" Looking between the two strangers, she couldn't help but give a disapproving harrumph. "It's as if you were both raised by roli herders."

"Pidge, tell her your full name," Lance ordered, just to be sure. It got him a resentful look.

Then the ninja smirked.

On the rare occasions that a Baltan officially emigrated, it was traditional to adopt a new name, and he had. But nothing said they actually had to disavow the old one. So he turned back to Lady Hys and gave a formal bow. "Tazikyra ken Sazashi Hiroshi respectfully reporting, ma'am." For the first time in his life, he'd have appreciated having another honorname or two… or twelve. Oh well.

From the look on her face, she definitely regretted asking. Mission accomplished. Lance was giving him a slightly confused look too; bonus!

That is a fucking Baltan mouthful. Looking at Lady Hys as her expression shifted, Lance had to reluctantly admit he couldn't win this one over. He hated that, but it did happen… very, very rarely.

Nanny was privately acknowledging defeat as well, at least for the moment. She was not going to get an acceptable explanation from these two, clearly; she needed to find the Princess. "I'm sure we are most honored by your presence, Mr. McClain and Mr… Pidge." She bowed again, stiffly. "I must take my leave now. Do BEHAVE YOURSELVES."

"We wouldn't do anything else," Lance assured her, and made a face. Why do I always sound sarcastic when I promise to behave?

"Hmph." Whether that meant Lady Hys also thought he sounded sarcastic, or was just her usual response to that sort of thing, he didn't know… though he could guess. Either way, she stormed off, leaving him alone with the ninja in the entryway.

"I nearly had her!"

"…I thought I took care of her nicely."

"Ninja, she's going to go complain about us."

Shrug. "Who doesn't?"

That… that… Lance stared at him and sighed, that was actually perfectly on-brand. "Yeah, well, we're in their castle. Manners can't hurt."

"Manners," Pidge snorted. He'd just watched Lance have an entire conversation with that woman where no useful information was exchanged because she was too busy worrying about manners. Manners were stupid.

Flynn would not approve—he shoved that down.

"We need to get along with them, Pidge." He sat back on the stairs and looked around. "Unless we want to get kicked out of the castle, and I'm pretty sure we need to be here."

"Yessir."

Sighing, Lance looked up at the ceiling. There had been intricate tiling up there once; about half of it remained. "Before she came out of nowhere I kept thinking about that, you know? We're in a fucking castle, it's hard to believe it's even real. Flynn would…"

He froze.

…Not approve? Pidge thought darkly, though he was quite certain he was the only person here using that as a mantra. "Yes" he said, muted. "He would be intrigued, sir."

Lance swallowed hard, closing his eyes. The thought he'd been fighting down so hard, and there it had just come flying right out despite it all. But maybe… Pidge had been close to him. Maybe if he talked about it a little the thought would go away. "Probably hate that it's rubble," he said quietly. "He'd want to rebuild it…"

That struck Pidge as unlikely. The castle was just rocks. More to the point, though, he was not going to have this damned conversation. "He's not here," he said coldly. "Theoreticals about what he'd be thinking won't change that." I ought to know.

Anger shot through Lance's chest, the grief turning white-hot in response to the frigid words. "You think I don't fucking know he's not here?!"

"I guess you do, since you're whining about manners like he did."

Oh fuck no he didn't. "He was fucking trying to help you!" Lance had heard plenty on that topic. "He gave—he spent—" No. He forced himself to bite that back.

Too late.

It had all been building, shoved into a corner of Pidge's mind. Quietly. Everything was unmoored. Bringing Romelle aboard, Hunk's constant poking at him, Vince's discomfort with his vigilance. The damned sunlight—the reminder that no matter how hard he tried, something would prevent him from fitting in with the humans, from being useful to them. And the constant reminder that others had died for them to be here…

That someone had died for him, specifically, to be here…

It all snapped. He didn't belong here. He knew it as well as anyone else. "I know," he spat, "you'd rather have him than me."

You're damn right I would—the thought was a momentary flash through his mind, a reflex he couldn't quite suppress, even from himself. He couldn't say that out loud. Wait, had the ninja actually just said that out loud? "What?"

Pidge took a step back, his mind seething. Useless. Can't do manners. Just getting in the way. Interrupting when they're doing fine, thinking you're helping. Can't even go out in the fucking sunlight. Failure is betrayal, and you…

"What are you afraid of?"

They stared at each other. Lance was furious, he was confused, he was jumping between the two and couldn't get any words to come out of his mouth. Pidge was reeling from frustration, and from the voice in his head, one that might have been the unwelcome growl but might have been a memory…

"…Go back to whatever the hell you were doing," he whispered. "I won't bother you anymore." He had to get out of here. His presence was unhelpful. It was never helpful. He was just an unwelcome reminder.

What? "Ninja…" Fuck. Lance stood, not sure what to say, still too angry for reassurance and too confused for…

Pidge turned and walked away. But he couldn't maintain that. It was too calm. Before he was even out of the entry hall he'd broken into a desperate sprint, vanishing into the darkness.

"…Wait," Lance breathed, far too late, and kicked the nearest wall in frustration. Way to let him down.

He ignored the warmth as it curled around him. He wasn't in the damn mood now.