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Chapter Text

The passageways in the Galra central command ship were immersed in shadows, illuminated only slightly by the purple glow of modified quintessence flowing through the bulkheads of the ship. The dim radiance of the life-giving fluid was just bright enough to see by, but didn't provide nearly enough light to expose the five silhouettes that slipped silently through the shadows. Five pairs of alert yellow eyes gleamed in the purple light of the quintessence, their keen sight aiding their trek through the hallways. Their footsteps were light, making hardly a sound as their muffled footfalls padded quietly down the passage. Tension rang high and tight through the air around them. They weren't supposed to be out of their rooms past their curfew, and they knew how badly they might be punished for ignoring regulations.

Robotic footsteps echoed across the metal floors suddenly, pounding out a rhythm that sent nervous chills rocketing through the five Galras' bodies. The leader of the group jolted, signaled frantically with one hand, and ducked into a hiding place, forcing the other four figures to press together into the shadowy crevices between the massive support beams that lined walls. As the towering sentry robots strode close to their hiding places, the silent travelers clung to the patches of darkness desperately, not even daring to breathe in case the robot's audio sensors picked up on the sound.

After a few tension-filled moments, the sentries passed harmlessly by their hiding places. the leader motioned the other four Galra forwards silently.

The cadets behind her, however, had their own opinions.

"That was way too close," Corinth, the stocky-built Galra in the back of the pack, hissed once the sentries had passed out of view.

"Stop worrying so much," the leader waved off their concern airily, scratching at the familiar prickling sensation of apprehension that tickled the back of her neck.

"...are you sure you know where you're going?" Another timid voice piped in from the middle of the group. The smallest Galra cadet raised his voice shakily, tone tinted with anxiety.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" The leader mimicked, snappishly replying in the exact same voice as the person who had originally asked the question, parroting the sound almost exactly aside from a snide attitude.

"Could you please stop doing that? I hate when you use our voices, it's creepy," the smallest Galra snipped back.

The leader brushed off the request, but resumed speaking in her normal voice. "Come on, Quinn. Of course, I'm sure!" her yellow eyes flashed and her accented voice tinted with thinly- veiled irritation. "I've been here plenty of times. I know exactly where we're going."

"So let me get this straight," another skeptical voice piped up as the group crossed an intersection of hallways. "You started going to a restricted area every night cycle because, as you said it, 'you had a weird feeling', and now, despite knowing how much trouble we could get in for this, you're dragging the four of us into it, too?"

The leader, an assassin by the name of Chyra, straightened from her hunched position, spinning on her heel to face her four accomplices. Her tail lashed side to side with frustration, her shoulders stood rigidly squared and her lips turned downwards in a disgruntled frown. Her golden eyes glinted with anger. Why did they agree to come with her if they were just going to complain?

"Alright, fine. You four can head back to the barracks, all alone, in a dark ship that's absolutely crawling with sentries. Or, you could keep going and let me show you one of the most amazing discoveries of this century. I promise, this is all going to be worth the trouble of getting to the hangar." Chyra said bluntly.

The four other Galra shuffled uncomfortably, looking to one another with unsure glances until Vrill once again spoke.

"Fine. Lead the way." Vrill conceded, running a pale purple hand through his disheveled hair. The lanky cadet shifted his weight on his toes, his whiplike tail curling idly near his ankles.

"But do you have any idea what they'll do to us if we're caught?," asked Quinn from behind Chyra's shoulder.

"Don't worry so much, I'm Zarkon's favorite person in the whole universe. If we get caught, I'm sure he'll let us off easy." Chyra replied airily. She waved a hand dismissively as she returned to her previous crouched position at the front of the group, her sinuous tail and pointed ears twitching with alertness. As she reassured her companions, however, she felt her stomach twist with nervousness. Traversing the hallways of the mothership was easy when Chyra was on her own, but bringing the others along was an incredible risk. Chyra glanced behind her, where the young Galra cadets Harlow, Corinth, Quinn, and Vrill shared uncertain looks. Emperor Zarkon wasn't known for his lenience or forgiving nature, and all five of the present Galra knew it. In fact, he was best known across the universe for his ruthlessness and rather... homicidal tendencies. Chyra and the others knew that the punishment for disloyalty or rebellion was severe; Chyra herself was a renowned troublemaker, and had been sent on multiple occasions -by the emperor himself- to the gladiator arena as punishment for defying orders. Still, her place as Zarkon's personal assassin was unchallenged, and her skill remained unmatched by any other Galra in her field of work.

Chyra's years of intensive assassin training were clearly evident in everything she did, too. In the fluidity of her movements, in the keen alertness with which she scanned her surroundings, in the twitching of her fingers, as though she was itching to hold a weapon. Her experience was clear in the tension in her lithe form, and in the scars that crisscrossed over parts of her skin as remnants from fighting many battles and killing many targets. She had been trained since birth to know her surroundings, to evaluate her targets for weak points, to be able to move unseen and unheard in the darkness, to know when exactly she needed to strike. With her skills, she could disable a planet's entire hierarchy by eliminating the prominent figures, and allowing the Empire to swoop in and take control with the planet at its weakest. Chyra was a finely tuned killing machine, a lethal weapon in the hands of the Galra and their emperor, and had been used as such ever since she completed her training as a young teen.

Unfortunately, her companions didn't have that kind of experience. They weren't trained in stealth or espionage, and their movements were loud, clumsy, easily detected. They were younger than her, and hadn't received nearly the same training that she had. They were only cadets. Vrill, the eldest of the group, was only nineteen deca-phoebs, followed by Corinth at seventeen, Quinn at fifteen, and Harlow at the tender age of fourteen deca-phoebs. Compared to Chyra's twenty-three deca-phoebs of intensive assassin's training, the other four Galra seemed like downright novices. Because of this, they had to take an elongated route through the mothership to avoid the larger sentry patrols, and even then, there was still a high chance that they would be discovered. But this was important. This was worth the risk. The things they would find in the restricted hangar had made that abundantly clear.

Chyra couldn't explain exactly what was going on, there was too much to say in such a short amount of time. But she remembered the events leading up to her first encounter like it had been yesterday. She had returned from an assassination mission late, exhausted but successful. She had delivered her mission report dutifully and was on her way to the mess hall to recharge. She hadn't made it that far. She had felt a sharp pull in her chest, one that irresistibly drew her towards the lower decks of the ship. It had been an odd sensation, commanding and compelling, but not hostile.

It was that same sensation that Chyra was feeling in this moment, a strong, insistent pull in her chest that led her down the now-familiar hallways of this sector of the ship. Chyra guided her companions down the twisted corridors, avoiding sentry patrols and stray guards with practiced ease. This wasn't the first time she had snuck out when she wasn't supposed to, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Not much further now," Chyra whispered to her friends as they neared the end of their trek.

Within minutes, they had reached their destination: hangar delta-nine, one of the restricted sectors of the lower decks. Only Zarkon's favorite people were allowed in places like this, and those people tended to be scientists, warlords, druids, or generals. Galra cadets and rebellious assassins definitely weren't going to be on that list. Fortunately, Chyra had Quinn on her side.

Quinn was an expert hacker, an absolute genius with technological know-how that far surpassed his young age. His aid had been crucial in Chyra's many exploits, as his ability to worm his way into any and all security programming allowed Chyra special insight into the lives and routines of many of her more high-profile targets. Along with Corinth's knack for weaponry, Harlow's innate strategic abilities, and Vrill's strong analytical mind, Chyra had an entire team behind her on assassination missions, completely unbeknownst to the rest of the empire. Naturally, hacking the keypad to the door would be child's play for Quinn.

The Galra assassin peeked around the corner and withdrew quickly, startling her companions with the speed of her movements. "Ruggle," Chyra cursed, barely audible, "what are they doing here?"

The challenge tonight stood before the motley group. Flanking either side of the heavy hangar doors were two guards, the rank insignia on their chests burning purple to show their foot soldier status. Both were male, both were taller and more muscular than Chyra, and both were well armed with both blasters and swords. It was the first night since Chyra had begun visiting the hangar that living Galra guards had been posted outside, rather than robotic sentry droids. The brief thought flickered in her mind that maybe the people in charge were onto her rule-breaking. But her excitement pushed the worry away. Chyra had gotten her friends this far, they had to see this through.

She motioned the other four Galra backward, heading in the direction they came from. They pulled to a stop just out of earshot of the guards. "Alright," Chyra began in a hushed whisper, "you four stay here, I'll lure the guards away from the hangar. Quinn, as soon as they're out of sight, hack the keypad and open the doors." The cadet nodded in affirmation and Chyra split off, heading back down the hallway they had originally come from. There was an alternate route that she could access the hanger and lead the guards away.

As she was on her way, she turned back to the remainder of the group. "If I'm not back in two doboshes... figure something out."

"Just go!" Corinth whispered, making shooing motions at Chyra with their hands. The assassin poked her tongue at her companion before disappearing down the hallway, leaving a fondly exasperated atmosphere behind her.

It didn't take long for Chyra to circle back around, and she only had to dodge two sentry patrol units to do it. When she was just within earshot of the guards, Chyra tucked herself safely around a corner on their left to give herself the advantage of surprise. Bouncing nervously on her two-toed feet, Chyra took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and smacked the wall.

The sound of her open palm hitting the metal startled the guards as it rang through the hallway, and they shot to attention, brandishing the weapons that had previously been resting in relaxed grips at their sides.

"Who goes there?" One of the guards barked.

At the same time, their companion announced, "you're not supposed to be here!"

Novices, Chyra mentally sneered, way to sound like a pair of buffoons.

When the guards received no reply, the first one warned, "whoever is here, show yourself immediately! We know you're here, and there's nowhere to hide. Reveal yourself now and you may be spared."

He's laying it on thick. Chyra rolled her eyes. That whole spiel wasn't in the manual. Chyra would have reported his breaking protocol to his commander if it didn't come with an exorbitant punishment for being out past her curfew. 

Still, she needed to get them away from the door...

Grumbling internally, Chyra swung out into the main thoroughfare and whistled sharply, attracting the attention of both of the guards. She heard a frenzied cry of "stop! Trespasser!" as the guards moved to pursue her, and she darted off down the hallway at breakneck speed. She just needed to come to a junction that she could use to her advantage.

Adrenaline coursing through her veins, Chyra led the pair of guards on a frantic chase down several hallways, allowing herself to be seen and pursued, but staying far enough ahead that the guards didn't have a chance to aim their blasters at her before she reached the next corner. Occasionally, she tossed an insult over her shoulder, baiting them onward through the dark hallways.

After sprinting down four different halls, Chyra saw the opportunity she needed not too far ahead of her. She slowed her speed and allowed the guards to catch up to her, letting them think that they had won as they approached the fork in the path.

The area was the perfect place for Chyra's next move. The hall split into two separate paths in a giant Y shape, with a thick, flat wall between the prongs of the hall. A banner hung at the top of the median, displaying the huge, glaringly purple insignia of the Galra empire. Chyra's pulse pounded ever louder in her ears. As soon as her pursuers rounded the corner, Chyra sprung to action.

The Galra sentries rounded the corner side by side, leveling their blasters at where Chyra had been just moments before. They found only empty space. Instead, they watched as Chyra sped forwards, used her momentum to scale the thick wall that forked into two hallways, and leaped over their heads. 

It was almost like time moved in slow motion as Chyra arced over the heads of the two Galra soldiers. She tucked her knees up and twisted in the air, managing to land fairly steadily behind the pair of guards. With one motion Chyra reached upwards and smacked their helmets together as hard as she could, making a tremendous CLANG resound through the corridor.

The guards crumpled.

Grinning smugly, the assassin dragged the pair of guards into the shadows and started jogging back to the hangar.

"Next time," Chyra sneered at the unconscious guards as she left, "follow the protocols."

She managed to navigate her way back, and found herself approaching the hangar just as the last Galra cadet was trotting unnoticed through the doorway. Chyra increased her speed and slipped through the gap just before it closed. She was barely able to make it into the dark hangar without her tail getting caught in the door.

"Just in time," Quinn smirked as Chyra skidded to a halt.

Her chest heaving, Chyra turned to her incredulous companions with a triumphant smirk. "The situation is handled," Chyra stated simply.

"What did you do?" Harlow asked.

"Just a little evasive action with an offensive twist." As she replied, Chyra reached behind her to find the hangar's control panel. Her tail lashing and ears twitching in excitement, she hit the lights.

Immediately, bright purple light enveloped the quintet of Galra. Harlow grunted and covered her sensitive copper eyes against the brightness, while the others shut them tightly or covered them to stop the glare. Chyra, not unused to the process, opened her eyes first, and grinned when she saw what towered above her.

There were five of them. Five huge metal beasts loomed above the Galra cadets and their assassin leader. Five pairs of intense golden eyes peered down from far above Chyra's head. Five huge spherical particle shields, so close together that they were almost touching. Five mechs. Five wolves.

They sat in size order; the smallest, a pair of dark forest green and maroon wolves that were hardly bigger than a Galra fighter, sat stoically behind the next largest set, which consisted of a sleek looking blue wolf the color of deep water and a bulky ochre-colored wolf with heavy armor and a prominent underbite.

Chyra felt her chest swell as she beheld the wolf in the center, which sat flanked by the other two sets of mechanical canines. The Grey wolf stood as the tallest and proudest of the group, and was the source of the odd pulling sensation in Chyra's chest. Each of its paws was easily twice the size of the largest Galra, and were tipped with wickedly sharp claws that stood as tall as Chyra's shoulder. Its jaws alone could fit all five of Chyra's group with ample room to spare, and two long, silver fangs protruded from its upper lip and curved down below its jaw. Its eyes glinted gold as its dark grey metallic hide reflected the purple light around it, casting odd pools of light flickering around the room as the mech itself seemed to breathe with life.

"Woah," Corinth gasped, their mouth agape.

"Is this... Voltron?" Asked Harlow, breathless with shock. "Did we finally find Voltron, after all these centuries?"

"Of course not, asteroid brain. Voltron is five lions, not five wolves." Quinn replied, thinly veiled excitement coloring his voice.

"They do look Altean, though," Vrill mused. He stared hard at Chyra. "These are the things you've been sneaking out to see?"

"Yes," Chyra replied.

"Why?" Asked Corinth.

Chyra rounded on the taller Galra with shock written clear across her face. "Don't you feel it? That pull, that call?" When her friends looked simply dumbfounded, Chyra pushed further. "The grey wolf led me here, called to me when I returned from a mission. I felt it and followed it and found them." Chyra gestured to the wolves, a huge sweeping motion of her arm encompassing the entire scope of the mechs. "The more time I spent here, the stronger the pull became. These things are... so different. They aren't like any ship or machine I've ever seen. I swear on the stars that somehow... they're alive."

Silence reigned for a few moments, during which anxiety swelled in Chyra's chest. Finally, Quinn spoke.

"Chyra... do you have any idea how insane that sounds?" His voice was quiet, tentative, like he was afraid to speak his mind.

"I know, I know. Believe me, I know it sounds crazy. And I know anything I say will just make me seem crazier. So please. Let me show you." Chyra held up a hand and walked towards the Grey wolf in the center, her stomach turning with nerves.

"Okay, Grey wolf" she muttered almost inaudibly, "I know you haven't taken this shield down before, but I really need your help to not look like an insane idiot, ok?" Chyra stopped right before she hit the purple particle barrier that surrounded the wolf. She didn't receive any kind of reply from the mechanical creature, but the pull that ebbed at her chest was just as persistent as before, if not even more so.

Chyra extended her open palm towards the shield, her fingers trembling with trepidation.

When her hand met the purple barrier, she felt a jolt in her arm, like a quick shock of electricity arced though her. She didn't pull away. Instead, she stood frozen, absorbed in shock as the shield crackled, glowed bright purple for a moment, and dissapated, leaving nothing behind but a tingling sensation in Chyra's left arm.

Many things happened all at once.

The tugging in her heart became borderline painful, yanking her towards the wolf so hard she physically stumbled a few steps and clutched her chest instinctively. The door slammed open. Her friends cried out. The other four wolves dropped their particle barriers as Chyra whirled around at the sound of blasters cocking.

Sentries, dozens of them, filled the doorway, led by three ridiculously large Galra generals. Dozens of blasters were aimed straight at Chyra and her friends. She threw her hands out in front of her in a placating gesture, still slightly hunched from the pain in her chest.

"Woah, woah woah! This is not what it looks like!" Chyra cried, rushing forwards to protect her friends. She stopped abruptly short as several of the sentries switched their sights onto her. The yanking in her chest remained a constant pain, pulling her towards the grey wolf with so much force it hurt.

"Don't move!" One of the generals, a beefy male Galra by the name of Sendak, growled as he leveled his massive prosthetic arm at Chyra. His face contorted with recognition, a crooked sneer tugging at one of his lips to expose his points fangs, stark against his black gums. Chyra shuddered as his voice rang out across the hangar's tense atmosphere, nearly shaking with a vengeful glee.

"Enchyron."

Chyra didn't use that name anymore. It had been given to her, once, by someone she had cared about. But that was before she knew who she was. She had shortened her name later, long after most Galra would have chosen their true names, keeping it similar enough to the name she had been gifted before to still feel the connection she had with the Galra who had gifted it to her. But many of the older officers, and even the emperor himself, had rejected the name change, and still referred to her by her old moniker, Enchyron. To hear the name she still held close to her heart uttered by Sendak set Chyra's teeth on edge.

The assassin racked her brain for a strategy. She looked sidelong at her friends, who were all standing frozen in fear in front of the other wolves. She had to figure out a way to diffuse the situation or they could get seriously hurt. Or worse. Chyra's stomach twisted. They would never survive the gladiator pits.

"On your knees!" Ordered another of the generals, a brutish female with fins along the sides of her head and neck.

Chyra made an effort to diffuse the tension. "Listen-"

She was cut off by gunfire.

Purple blasts lit up the room in a violent spectacle that sent Chyra and her friends scrambling for cover. They raced towards the wolves, stumbling forwards in erratic patterns to make themselves more difficult to hit. Chyra heard shots whizzing past her long ears as she ran, felt the heat of laser blasts flying near her cheeks.

And all the while, the feeling in her chest tugged Chyra relentlessly towards the Grey wolf.

A blaster beam grazed Chyra's shoulder, singeing her uniform and drawing a searing line of heat across her skin. Chyra cried out and took cover behind the Grey wolf's front paw, grasping her wound with trembling fingers. It stung badly, but Chyra would live. Gritting her sharp teeth painfully, she looked frantically to either side of her and saw her friends in similar situations. They had fanned out and ducked behind the four remaining wolves, taking shelter from the myriad of gunfire behind the creatures' metal hides.

"Chyra!" Shouted Corinth from behind the paws of the dark yellow wolf, "What do we do?"

"I don't know!" Chyra snapped back, gesturing helplessly at the chaotic situation. She felt another sharp pull in her chest, this time so strong that she physically stumbled.

"And you," she growled accusingly, pointing a clawed index finger at the giant mechanical canine above her, "are not being helpful in the least."

A mechanical growl ripped through the chaos, rumbling deep into the floor and knocking Chyra violently off balance. Chyra's hands shot out and grabbed ahold of the wolf's paw, scrabbling frantically for a handhold to keep herself upright. The tremendous sound of creaking metal resounded through the hangar, drowning out the din of gunfire.

Chyra looked up in horror as the giant mechanical wolf extended its head down towards her, opening its yawning jaws wide. Its paws moved to either side of Chyra, blocking any chance of escape. Not that it would have done much good to have any escape routes open, as Chyra made a move to run or duck behind some other form of cover, but the strong feeling in her chest seemed to bubble out and expand through her body, pinning her limbs in place and prohibiting her movement. The wolf, now laying down and surrounding Chyra with its massive mechanical body, leveled its sharp golden eyes at Chyra and growled. The assassin didn't miss the unspoken command in the gravelly sound. Get in.

Now Chyra found herself in a rather uncomfortable situation. Her brain, already frazzled from the sheer amount of chaos around her, raced back and forth with ridiculous speed, weighing the options and risks of the situation. On the one hand, if Chyra refused the wolf's unspoken request, she had a whole lot of robots and Galra with guns who very much wanted to kill or capture her. On the other... big teeth.

Sendak's hovering arm went flying across the room, narrowly missing Vrill as he dived towards the burgundy wolf. Chyra chose the teeth.

"Guys!" She shouted over the chaos of gunfire, "get to the wolves!" Chyra dashed into the wolf's impatiently waiting jaws, squeezing between the massive teeth that she was painfully aware could crush her without a second thought.

She landed in a heap between the wolf's jaws. The giant mechanical teeth snapped shut, immersing Chyra in darkness. Oh this is it, it's going to eat me. The thought flashed instantaneously through Chyra's mind before being replaced with somewhat more logical ideas as violet lights flicked on in rows on the inside of the wolf's teeth.

Chyra's relief was overtaken almost immediately. Light was suddenly the least of her worries.

A vast, alien presence, invisible but somehow irrevocably tangible, engulfed her. It buffeted her consciousness from all sides like a storm, it filled her head and yanked at her mind with surprising strength, forcing her to clutch at the sides of her head with a shriek.

The moment the distressed noise flew past her lips, the pull lessened. An apologetic emotion filled Chyra's mind, but it didn't originate from her. The presence that surrounded Chyra softened, but didn't wane. It stayed resolutely put, swirling around Chyra's mind with a gentle but insistent force. The Galra assassin relaxed somewhat, bringing her hands down to clutch at her forearms rather than the sides of her head. Her eyes remained tightly shut, she was too overstimulated to be taking in any visual information anyway. But as the presence around her softened, as it went from being forceful and intimidating to soft and almost docile, Chyra began to process some of the information that flooded her mind.

The presence was vast, immeasurably huge and intelligent. The workings of the mind were foreign yet familiar, in a language Chyra couldn't possibly have known, but still understood. She could feel emotions coloring the connection between her and the presence, curiosity and happiness and apprehension, with a hint of impatience thrown in. It all melted away within moments to accommodate a content, welcoming feeling.

Chyra's eyes slid open.

"I knew it," she breathed, looking around the purple-bathed chamber of the wolf's jaws in awe. "I knew you were alive!" A bright, baritone hum filled the wolf's throat and resonated around the hangar in affirmation. The presence felt a swell of happiness that surrounded Chyra's mind and thrummed pleasantly in her chest.

Moments after the sound faded, the wolf's head jerked suddenly to the side as something made heavy impact with the right side of its jaw. Chyra was tossed by the momentum against the wolf's exposed teeth, and her shoulder connected painfully with the side of the wolf's mouth. A metallic growl sounded from the grey wolf's chest, and was joined moments later by several more from outside. Chyra's gaze snapped sideways as a hatch opened in the back of the wolf's mouth, leading to its throat. But instead of curving down the wolf's neck, the hatch contained a lift that led up into the wolf's cranium.

The wolf's presence in Chyra's mind urged her to enter.

Fantastic, Chyra thought, I'm literally climbing down the beast's throat. It's a wonder I haven't died yet.

The wolf mentally prodded her again, more insistent this time. "Alright, fine!" Conceded Chyra as she stepped into the lift, throwing her hands up in surrender as she entered.

A few claustrophobic moments of upward motion later, Chyra emerged inside a rather unassuming chamber. It was a cockpit, that was made very clear by the pilot's podium and wraparound holographic screens, through which Chyra could see the chaotic events happening outside. But it was surprisingly... empty. The cockpit contained only a few holographic screens, and two convex disks of purple light that stood on pedestals on either side of a raised, circular dais that glowed bright purple on the floor. It was a soothing violet light, it's calming color a far cry from the Empire's signature shade of garish mauve.

Chyra moved forwards, too entranced by her immediate surroundings to acknowledge the action outside. She brushed her fingers over one of the glowing disks and jolted when a crackling sensation leaped up her arm. The wolf's presence in her mind seemed to grow closer for a moment before backing away when she removed her hand. Awed, Chyra reached tentatively out to touch it again, but before she was able to make contact, an explosion sounded outside and Chyra leaped back, startled by the intense light that blasted past her windshield.

The wolf rumbled encouragingly, and the floor opened up to allow a comfortable looking pilot's seat to rise through the hatch. Chyra eyed the cushioned chair, suddenly suspicious. The wolf replied with an exasperated emotion that flicked across Chyra's mind, and she suddenly got the feeling that if the wolf had wanted to hurt her, it would have by now.

So she sat. And she placed her hands on the glowing disks.

The sensation that overtook her for the next few moments was incredibly disorienting. Her breath hitched, her hands tensed around the control disks, she pitched forwards in her seat. She felt as though she was being removed from her body, but she could still feel the seat beneath her, the warm surface of the round disks beneath her hands, and the twinging pain of the blaster burn that stung her wounded shoulder. Chyra's eyes squeezed shut, but a multitude of disjointed colors and sensations still flickered across her vision. The wolf's presence was suddenly bigger and closer than ever before, dwarfing Chyra's own consciousness beneath its metaphysical bulk.

Things only got more confusing when she opened her eyes.

Chyra didn't see the cockpit. She didn't see her immediate surroundings, or even her own body. She saw, in prefect clarity, what was happening outside the safety of the wolf's cockpit.

Chyra gasped and yanked her hands off of the control disks, her breathing heavy with shock. The wolf sent an impatient feeling cascading over Chyra even as its presence retreated from her mind. Trepidation gnawed at Chyra's stomach. Apparently sensing this, the wolf's abrasive annoyance melted and gave way to a comforting feeling that Chyra knew was encouraging her to try and broaden the connection between the two of them again. 

Chyra's vision melted and reformed to fit what the wolf was seeing as she placed her clawed hands back on the control disks. She saw the squads of droids and the Galra generals growing increasingly furious as their attempts to capture the rambunctious Galra cadets and their assassin ringleader continued to fail. Chyra didn't see her friends anywhere. When she moved her head to broaden her field of vision, Chyra was struck my the singularly odd sensation of moving not only her own head, but the head and neck of the grey wolf as well.

A surge of joy and elation ran through the connection that linked Chyra's mind to the wolf. The mechanical creature's joy sent a grin sidling onto Chyra's face, which in turn made the wolf bare its sizable metal teeth in a rather terrifying, canine imitation of a smile. Far below, Chyra spotted Vrill and Corinth clambering into the mouths of the burgundy and dark yellow wolves respectively, whereas the other wolves had already encased the other two Galra within their jaws. A rush of relief filled Chyra's chest; none of her friends were harmed.

Sendak's arm flew across Chyra's field of vision, latching onto the side of her wolf's face with a metallic clatter. Chyra was startled to find that she felt the uncomfortable sensation on her own face as well, like an insect crawling across her cheek. She and the wolf both shook their head to dislodge the nuisance.

We need to get these guys off of us, Chyra thought as a smattering of gunfire ricocheted off of the wolf's chest and neck. Without hesitation, the wolf opened its jaws and sent a wave of brilliant purple light speeding towards the assembled sentry drones. The laser took out a good third of them in just a few moments. Chyra laughed in surprise, which the wolf echoed with a pleased rumble as her jaws swung shut.

"That works!" Chyra purposely neglected to think about the repercussions of what she had just done would be.

In her periphery, Chyra saw the four reming wolves straighten and look around, shifting on their paws and wagging their bladed tails. As soon as the last wolf stood, four small catalogs popped up on one of the holographic screens, and the busy clamor of excited voices filled the cockpit.

"This is amazing!" Harlow squealed. In response, Chyra saw the dark blue wolf wiggle happily like an excited pup.

"This technology is astounding," Quinn noted, his voice quavering with excitement. The dark green wolf gave a shudder and looked around with an air of interest.

Experimentally, the yellow wolf opened its mouth and shot a laser blast towards the remaining sentries. Corinth's ecstatic cackle was telling enough in itself.

Grinning, Chyra turned the grey wolf to face the much smaller, burgundy canine. "Vrill? You still with us?"

Her smile melted when she heard Vrill's forlorn reply. His voice was quiet, but the truth he spoke struck down any hint of happiness Chyra had been feeling. "We'll be sent to the arena for this. They won't be merciful."

The words rang like a wrongly plucked chord. Chyra's stomach twisted and sunk as another loud blast rent the air outside. Guards and sentry droids flooded in through the open doors. Vrill was right; they had passed the point of no return. If they were caught, they'd be killed, or sent to the arena for a spectacle of an execution.

The grey wolf's presence—which was decidedly female, Chyra discovered—bubbled up through the wall of pessimism that had overtaken Chyra's mind. If they were caught, yes, they'd be killed. But they weren't necessarily going to be caught.

Grey took control for a moment and turned toward the heavy bay doors on the far side of the hangar, her heavy mechanical footfalls rattling the floor with their force.

Chyra realized with a dawning of fear and exhilaration what Grey was planning. "Guys," she said, "cover me while I blast these doors."

A chorus of surprised exclamations resounded around the cockpit.

"What?!" Cried Harlow, "Chyra, that's insane!"

"There must be another option!" Quinn tried to reason.

"If we get out of these ships, we'll be shot on sight. A few more doboshes and they'll start calling in the heavy artillery. This is the only viable option." Chyra insisted.

"...do it." Vrill relented.

The wolf's jaws opened wide. Chyra felt a burst of power swell in her chest. It exploded out of the wolf's mouth in a radiant beam of violet light, blasting into the bay doors with so much force Grey was pushed back a few feet. Still, the beam stayed steady, and within moments Chyra could see the seam between the doors starting to melt under the intense heat of the wolf's laser. Blaster fire peppered Grey's back legs and tail, but the strong metal armor that encased her kept the damage to a minimum.

"Brace yourselves, this airlock is about to break!" Corinth shouted over the din that filled the hangar. Their bulky yellow wolf spread its feet and dug its claws into the floor as much as it could, steeling itself against the pull that would inevitably come once Chyra and Grey breached the doors. The other wolves followed suit.

In her periphery, Chyra watched the Galra generals and their robotic lackeys scramble for cover behind the doors they entered through as the seal broke. The massive doors that blocked the path to freedom were torn off by the rush of air as the pressure in the room bottomed out instantaneously.

Chyra and her wolf nodded to their companions as one entity, suddenly bound through their newfound freedom.

And, as one, they leaped out to join the stars.

. . .

Chapter Text

For a moment, the endlessness of space was disorienting. It always was for Chyra, after spending so much time within the confined hallways of the Central Command ship. The cosmos stretched out before her for an instant, made even sharper and more vibrant through Grey's eyes. Chyra was almost lost in wonder for a moment among the open space, but she was abruptly snapped out of her reverie by a ship zooming into her view. Followed by another. And then two more.

Galra drone fighters swarmed around Chyra like insects, their canons causing significantly more damage- and, in turn, pain- than the blasters of the sentries did. Chyra felt the prickle of gunfire on metal playing against her own skin, and grimaced at the sensation. They were still small compared to Grey, however. The wolf trapped two in her massive jaws and crushed them into rubble on her way out of the hangar.

The other escaped Galra—fugitives, a rueful voice in Chyra's head creened—pulled up beside her as Grey turned to face the mothership, which towered like a behemoth before them, dwarfing them in its immense umbra. Suddenly overwhelmed by the staggering odds stacked against them, Chyra croaked, "we need to get out of here."

"See, that would be a great plan if we had any feasible escape routes." Corinth quipped in response, their dark yellow wolf eyeing the larger grey one with an indiscernible look.

"Listen, I'm working on it!" Chyra snapped, dodging a squadron of automated defense drones as they careened wildly past her.

"What about there?" Quinn offered. Chyra followed the gaze of the small green wolf, eyeing an opening in the mass of ships before them. It would have been an excellent escape route, if not for the densely packed asteroid belt located immediately behind it. Chyra shook her head, the movement mirrored by her wolf. Even if they did manage to slip through a gaps in the field, they would be shot down by the armada while they maneuvered through the space junk.

"See, that's an excellent plan if we all want to die, but I personally have no desire to do that," Chyra retorted. She cast her gaze around frantically as ships closed in, searching for another escape route. "We'll call that one plan Xexes." The last resort.

A brilliant purple light flared up off to Chyra's left.

"Ion canon! Dead ahead!" Shouted Vrill.

Chyra jolted. She didn't think the empire would start targeting them with heavy artillery the moment they got out of the central command ship.

"Scatter!" The wolves split off in different directions, narrowly avoiding the blazing purple beam that fired from the end of the cruiser-mounted canon. Chyra felt the heat that blasted past Grey on her own skin, and hissed at the uncomfortable sensation.

"Is it just me, or did any of you feel that?" Harlow piped up reluctantly.

"I felt it too." Corinth agreed.

"No wonder they don't want us flying these wolves. This strange connection is unprecedented, entirely unheard of." Chyra's tail twitched in thought as she swung wide around a small shuttle ship, and Grey's bladed tail mirrored the movement. For a split second she pondered the implications of sharing a mental bond with a somehow sentient spaceship.

Her attention was wrenched away when ray of light bloomed abruptly nearby, and the wolves spread further apart to avoid the laser.

"This is insane!" Quinn shouted. "We're flying sentient ships through a battlefield of our own people. How did an average night-cycle turn into this?"

Chyra grumbled, dodging past a battle cruiser, "if Sendak hadn't started shooting at me maybe we could have come to an agreement-"

"Don't try to pawn this off on somebody else," Vrill spat suddenly, "you got us into this mess, Chyra, all on your own."

"You didn't have to come with me!" Chyra replied indignantly.

"What choice did you give us?" Vrill shot back. Another speeder whizzed past Chyra. She barely dodged out of the way. "You always do this, you only give us one real option and then blame us when it turns into a disaster!"

"That's not-"

"That's exactly what you did!"

Chyra's sharp retort was cut off by a sudden purple light emanating from the nearest ship's ion canon. Her gaze shot to her left, Grey's vision focusing in on the laser beginning to form. She flung her head back to her right.

The canon was pointed directly at Vrill.

With a surge of terror, Chyra and Grey leapt forward, paws extended, and shoved Vrill out of the path of the beam just as it flashed by. The pair of wolves tumbled into space, barely managing to stabilize themselves before they crashed into another group of large ships.

Panting, Chyra cast a glance at Vrill. "Escape now, talk later."

"Agreed," the younger Galra replied shakily. The two of them were rejoined by the others within a few moments, a chorus of concerned questions accompanying their approach.

"Alright, now is the time to figure out how we're going to get out of here." Corinth asserted as they whizzed by, pursued by several squadrons of fighter drones. Chyra swung Grey's bladed tail at a squadron of fighters that flew past, demolishing three of the seven.

"We need to break through the defenses and slip through the gaps." Quinn offered.

"Well of course, but how are we going to do that?" Harlow quipped in response.

Chyra didn't reply, and instead turned introspective. Grey, she reached out mentally into the bond she shared with her wolf, now would be a good time to fire up your laser jaw thing.

The rush of adrenaline Chyra received in response both exhilarated and worried her.

The control podiums beneath Chyra's palms grew warm. Grey spun around quickly and opened her great metal jaws, exposing a sudden burst of vibrant violet light. It exploded forwards, fueled by a fury that ignited in Chyra's chest. The light tore through the hull of a cruiser like it was fabric, rending the medium sized ship in two and causing a massive explosion, which fizzled out almost immediately in the airless void of space. The flames left a fiery imprint on the insides of Chyra's eyelids.

The ship was nothing but rubble.

A grin sidled across Chyra's face.

"Everyone, start breaking through the lines!" Chyra commanded, receiving several sounds of affirmation from her companions. Four more laser blasts flew forwards from the wolves' tentative line of defense, but none of them rent through ships as severely as Grey's had. Still, the firepower bolstered Chyra's spirits.

Pushing her messy purple hair out of her eyes, Chyra whooped and swung Grey back around to face the other approaching cruisers, readying a laser blast to clear another one out of the way. If she could just take out a few more ships, she and her friends would have enough room to safely slip through the barricade and make their escape.

Just before Grey released the blast, a squadron of massive cruisers emerged from hyperspace and brushed narrowly past Grey's sleek metal form, buffeting her and Chyra back away from the gap. The laser blast they had been preparing launched harmlessly into the depths of space, narrowly missing a battleship before disappearing into the distance. Grey tumbled through the void for a moment before regaining her balance with a few sputtering bursts from her thrusters. Chyra shook her head to clear it and examined the situation. Her stomach soured.

The sudden appearance of the cruiser had immediately closed the space that she and Grey had been aiming at, leaving only on viable means of escape: the asteroid belt.

One of the newly arrived ships charged up an ion canon. "Dodge!" cried Vrill, and the wolves veered off in different directions once more.

"Alright, change of plans," Chyra conceded as Grey batted away a squadron of drone fighters, "we need to slip out through the asteroid belt."

Several protests came at her at once.

"We'll never make it through there alive," Vrill warned.

Corinth argued vehemently, "you said that was a bad idea!"

"I know what I said!" The impromptu leader interjected sharply. She took a breath to steady herself. "But we're out of options. Breaking through the defenses didn't work, and we're not going to be able to keep this up for long." Even as Chyra admitted it, she felt fatigue tugging at her limbs. Flying the sentient ship had been taking a lot out of her. She could only imagine that the other pilots felt the same.

"Come on." Chyra urged, turning Grey sharply towards the far side of the blockaded ships that formed a massive sphere around the five wolves. Her companions moved to follow her, dodging purple energy blasts as they sped through space.

As they approached the asteroid belt, Chyra instructed, "smallest two first, then the larger two. I'll cover you all from the back and make sure we aren't pursued."

Immediately, Vrill and Quinn pulled ahead in the green and dark red wolves, racing towards the slowly shifting mass of space rocks and debris. Their moves were graceful and lithe; Chyra had a feeling that the wolves themselves were controlling the movements more than their rather inexperienced pilots were. Meanwhile, Chyra, Harlow, and Corinth staved off the squadrons upon squadrons of automated fighter drones that swarmed around the entrance to the belt, fighting for an opening to pursue the other wolves in. Chyra winced as she felt the prickle of blaster fire on her own skin as it sizzled against Grey's metallic hide. She resisted the urge to scratch at her arms as they drones peppered her wolf's chest and front end with laser burns.

Once the way was slightly clearer and the smallest wolves were safely through the belt, Chyra signaled for the others to move through with a motion of Grey's head. As Harlow and Corinth split off to enter the asteroid belt, Chyra steeled her nerve, facing down the combined might of the imperial armada on her own. She and Grey leapt into action, tearing through the ranks of fighters that swarmed them in waves, and shooting violet beams of concentrated light put towards the larger ships in the distance that had begun to close in on her.

Moments later, Chyra heard Corinth shout triumphantly, "we're through!" The assassin breathed a sight of relief in between sharp breaths tainted with exhaustion. Perspiration beaded on her forehead and her arms were shaking. "Great," Chyra muttered, "I'm coming through."

She swung Grey around and sped towards the asteroid belt, feeling Grey take a stronger control over the steering as they approached. They had just reached the edge of the belt when Chyra saw a flash of purple on her right.

The ion blast barely brushed against Grey's shoulder.

But it hurt so badly.

The pair's mental link connected them in mind and spirit, and through their bond, Chyra could feel the agony that exploded in Grey's shoulder as the the laser collided with her right side, sending the metal wolf and her pilot reeling into space, out of the asteroid belt and back towards the Galra fleet. The momentum launched Chyra out of her seat, slamming her around the cockpit before she finally hit the floor with an agonizing thud.

A white hot pain stabbed through Chyra's back. Her ribs felt like they were replaced with molten steel. She couldn't help it. She screamed until she was hoarse, her throat giving out because of the abuse. She couldn't get breaths into her lungs. There was warm red liquid dripping down her forehead and into her eyes, and Chyra realized that she had hit her head on the dashboard. Bright spots of vibrant colors flitted across her vision, swimming on the surface of the barrier between unconsciousness and reality.

Chyra felt like she was dying.

The world swam in and out of focus, and pain-thriving tears further blurred Chyra's vision. Voices crackled over the communication links, but the ringing in Chyra's ears blocked it out, overpowering the voices of her family with its incessant screeching. Red light flooded the cabin, and Chyra could feel Grey's consciousness latching onto hers as the wolf struggled to regain her sense of balance. Disjointed thoughts ran rampant through Chyra's mind, none of them decipherable enough to make much sense. Purple light surrounded them. They were being pulled towards the mothership. They were in a tractor beam.

They weren't going to make it.

Grey thrashed around in a last ditch effort to break free of the beam that was pulling her towards Zarkon's ship, but she was weakened by the blow to her shoulder. She couldn't get out.

Chyra blinked rapidly and tried to get the world around her to get back into focus. The ringing in her ears died down enough that she could catch snippets of her friends' conversation. They wanted to help her, but they couldn't get back through the asteroid belt without being gunned down.

Chyra wanted it all to stop.

They were arguing, yelling at each other and Chyra about how much they wanted to help her.

Vrill thought he could go get her. He couldn't. He would be destroyed in the maze of moving asteroids.

She wanted them to stop. They had to get away from there, go somewhere safer so the empire wouldn't capture them. 

Chyra took a ragged breath between her teeth, hissing as she inhaled and the air rushed into her lungs. She struggled to right herself, her limbs leaden. A spear of pain sent her slouching back down to the floor with a pained whine.

"No," her voice was hoarse and weak, "get away," she pleaded.

Her companions stopped, pulling up short before entering the field of debris and watching as the hangar doors began to slide closed, trapping Chyra and Grey inside. Vrill's determined voice cut through the static that was about to overtake all of Chyra's senses.

"We'll come back for you."

The doors slid closed.

Grey lurched to a stop as she landed on the floor, completely immobile despite being released from the tractor beam. The movement sent spikes of pain shooting through Chyra's shoulder. She couldn't even muster up the energy or willpower to resist as she felt hands on her, roughly grabbing her arms, forcing her upright, and shoving her hands behind her back, regardless of the pained grunts they were eliciting from the wounded assassin. A heaviness encased her wrists. Just as Chyra was struggling to lift her head, something heavy collided with her temple, snapping her head to the side sharply.

Everything went black.

. . .

Chapter Text

Chyra, unfortunately, awoke in darkness.

The first thing she processed upon waking didn't offer much comfort. The floor was cold. Chyra's face pressed uncomfortably against the flat surface, her left cheek and nose mashed awkwardly together due to her unfortunate position. Her body was curled inward, her left shoulder pressing hard against the floor as her hands lay pinned against her back. As she gained consciousness, she felt Grey's presence push weakly up against her mind, seeking and giving comfort in her wounded state. Chyra was relieved to have her partner nearby, mentally if not physically. Still, the realization that everything that had happened wasn't a dream, that she was really bonded to a sentient ship and probably imprisoned among the empire's refuse sent a lump of dread thudding into her stomach.

Chyra pried her eyes open and tried to move, only to be met with screaming resistance from every muscle in her body. The injured Galra groaned and wriggled around as much as she could, trying to get her muscles to gradually relax. When she had finally gained enough mobility to raise her head, Chyra peered around and took in her surroundings.

She was immediately aware of the cramped space that housed her. It was dimly lit by a single, dull purple light near the door, with shadows clinging tight to the corners, threatening to overtake the scant light in the cell.

Chyra hated purple.

Perhaps that was too broad; she didn't hate all purple. She liked the soothing violet of Grey's cockpit, and various other shades of the color. No, she didn't hate all purple. Chyra hated that sickly plum color that filled every Galra ship, that permeated the air of every Galra-occupied planet, that shone brightly from every emblem in every hallway, that hung over her every moment of her life without reprieve. Chyra's only escape from this overbearing purple- this overbearing empire- was on assassination missions, when she left the ship and traveled amongst the galaxies to bring down the empire's enemies. Even out there, she couldn't really escape. She was tethered always to the Empire that had washed her in that purple hue long before she had even been born. With a sinking feeling, Chyra realized she would probably never be able to get out of this purple-drenched nightmare again.

Chyra was wrenched out of her musings by a rustling noise. She thrust herself upwards, groaning at the pounding in her skull and the tightness in her muscles, to find the source of the noise. She was met with an intimidating vision; a serpentine cell-mate coiled in haphazard loops in the corner. They shifted and began to uncoil as Chyra scrambled backwards with bound hands, revealing the length and scope of their body. Their torso stood upright, with a long neck and triangular-shaped head attached to wide shoulders and long arms. The top half looked almost normal—a bit like a reptilian Galra—but from the hips downward, their body was just one great tangled pile of serpentine muscle and sinew, covered in greenish tan and brown scales.

Chyra's back hit the wall, halting her frantic escape. This was it, they'd put her in a cell as food for something much bigger than her that would hopefully at least kill her before swallowing her whole-

The creature moved forward, its scales rustling dryly as it approached. Chyra squeezed her eyes shut and threw her knees up in front of her as its head snapped forward, as though her limbs would be a sufficient shield against the massive fangs that undoubtedly would unfurl and snap her neck any second...

Chyra waited for a few moments, expecting the absolute worst. When whatever the absolute worst was didn't happen, she peeked open one eye and glanced at the creature before her.

Its face was a safe distance away, electric blue eyes set in a non threatening expression. No teeth were bared, no frills were raised, the alien was just looking her up and down. Sizing you up to eat, an annoying voice in Chyra's mind nagged. The creature reached out a scaly, clawed hand, and Chyra pressed impossibly closer the wall.

"Um, please don't- uh," the creature backed slightly away, head bowing slightly in the process.

"You are hurt." It said simply. They were speaking universal common, the language used by most of the citizens of the Galra empire. Chyra struggled to remember her lessons in her addled state, her tongue fumbling to switch between the Galran language and common.

"I'm, uh- what?"

"Your head. It was bleeding. You are hurt." The creature elaborated slowly, pointing to the cut on Chyra's forehead, which by now was caked in dried blood. She wiped her head on her shoulder nonetheless, as if she could scrape off the blood without the use of her hands.

Her cell mate made a nonplussed expression. "And judging by your responses, you may also be concussed." Their tone dripped with sass.

"Sorry," Chyra tried lamely to recover her dignity, "I just thought you were going to eat me."

The other prisoner deflated somewhat, looking discouraged. "Of course you did." They sighed with a rattle. Chyra noticed that they drew out the s sound in their words slightly, the consonant rattling for a moment in their throat before moving on to the other syllables.

"Sorry," Chyra tried again. Her apology softened the countenance of her cellmate, and they once again reached out, their clawed hand drawing close to Chyra's face.

"May I see your wound?" They asked before any contact was made.

"It, ah, it doesn't really hurt anymore, so maybe- okay." Chyra objections were halted by her cellmate advancing anyway, gently repositioning her head so they could inspect the cut. Her head tilted, her neck exposed. Chyra envisioned fangs snapping outwards and closing around-

"Alright that's enough," she pulled her head away, smacking it against the wall in the process. Chyra winced and grumbled at the pang of pain, but stayed resolutely pressed away from her cellmate. "I'm fine, thank you." The serpentine prisoner retreated slowly, turning away to reposition themself back in their corner. They nestled snugly among their own coils, resting their chin on one of them and keeping a watchful eye on Chyra from across the cramped space. Chyra relaxed only slightly, the air rife with awkward tension.

"Hey, you're not cuffed," Chyra noted, not bothering to hide the jealousy that tinged her voice. She shifted her weight to try and find a more comfortable position, but was unsuccessful.

"They stop binding you when you stop fighting them." The serpent said glumly, unmoving.

Puffing a breath of air between her lips, Chyra glanced around the cell, searching for something to focus on. But besides her cellmate, there was really nothing of note. The cell was bare, unfurnished, but thankfully clean. The Galra were merciless, and while their prisoners endured other brutalities, pestilence, sanitation, and disease were hardly ever a problem on the prison ships. Of course, the ships weren't scoured to keep the prisoners more comfortable. They were kept clean in order to stop pathogens from spreading through the ship's interior and harming the soldiers that monitored the cell blocks and maintained the ship. Cleanliness was necessary when air was recycled. The only thing of note in the cell was a series of marks, nicks in the wall of various sizes in several rows. They were shallow, more like scratches in the varnish on the metal than actual gouges in the wall.

"Did you make these?" She asked quietly, although she was almost afraid to know the answer. The marks were counters of some sort, but what they were counting, Chyra didn't know.

The serpent nodded solemnly. "I did."

When they offered no further elaboration, Chyra pressed, "what are they counting?"

"How many fights I have endured."

Chyra nodded pensively and flicked her tail, rather impressed. There had to be at least fifty marks, which was something to boast about. Most gladiators, even the lucky ones, didn't last more then ten. She scanned her cellmate quickly, noticing several dark patches of scales that may have been old scars or burn marks.

"Well done," Chyra congratulated "it takes a lot of strength to persist like that." Her cellmate looked surprised, picking up their head and giving her a quizzical look.

"You will change your mind soon. Everyone does." They laid their head back onto their coils sullenly, "those marks aren't signs of courage, they are signs of my cowardice."

"Cowardice?" Chyra snorted.

Her fellow prisoner sighed deeply, apparently unnerved by her lack of understanding. They gestured in a noncommittal way towards the scratches on the wall. "These marks count how many times I have been too afraid to do the right thing. I've fought and killed, but that is not brave. I fight and I kill because that is what the Galra want me to do. I am too much of a coward to stand against them, so I do as they demand."

Chyra's brows furrowed as she struggled to make sense of her cellmate's declaration. Gladiatorial fights between Galra warriors were considered shows of strength and aptitude; fights were used to settle disputes and prove loyalty and show might. All young Galra had to overcome an enemy in the arena before they could graduate their training, Chyra included. It was tradition, it was rite of passage, to fight in the arena was to follow orders. How could this be cowardice?

And if following orders was cowardice, then so was Chyra's entire life. Despite the challenges she faced, despite the risky assassination missions she embarked on and the fearsome enemies she had overcome, the entire time, she had just been following orders. How could this be cowardice? Sure, she knew politically driven murders were... not an ideal way to manage an empire and the rebellions within it, but she had carried them out anyway, and been praised for her efficiency, skill, and prowess. She had always followed orders. Was this cowardice? Was she a coward?

Chyra shifted uncomfortably, the silence a choking miasma that filled the cell with a muted thrum.

"So what's your name?" The sound seemed like it was traveling through water rather than air.

The serpent glanced toward Chyra quizzically, pondered for a moment, as though they couldn't remember, then replied, "I am Tsaeci." They made an odd hissing sound as they said their name. Chyra tried to mimic it to little avail. The snake made an expression that Chyra feared for a heart stopping moment to be a snarl or grimace. But their electric blue eyes were jovial, and they made a hissing rattle that closely resembled a laugh.

"You are very close," Tsaeci chuckle-hissed. "What may I call you?"

"Chyra."

Tsaeci was one breath away from responding when the door slammed open, shining an intense light from the outer hallway into the confines of the cell. Chyra rocketed away from the doorway, startled. Her heart rate spiked when she saw none other than Sendak, hulking and sneering, his massive form filling almost the entire doorway. How had he kept from being sucked out the airlock? He glowered down at Chyra, his prosthetic eye glinting menacingly. A feeble rattle arose in Tsaeci's chest, but died almost immediately as the red glow from Sendak's eye landed on Chyra.

"The emperor requests your presence."

Chyra's veins filled with ice. For a moment, she was thankful her hands were bound behind her back, it concealed the shaking. Her ears pinned back, her eyes went wide, her heart dropped into her stomach.

This was her death sentence.

"Now." Sendak's growl filled the cell with rippling malice. Chyra's hackles raised and she lashed her tail, but remained unmoving.

With a growl of frustration, Sendak seized Chyra by the scruff of her neck, the massive claws of his prosthetic arm digging painfully into her shoulders. She grunted from the manhandling and bared her teeth, hissing out a curse. Her lips pulled back sharply, her glinting fangs a distinct contrast against her gums. She had black gums, like many Galra. It was one of the few traits she believed to have inherited from her Galra father. "I can walk," she snapped at the large officer.

Sendak grinned wickedly, lis lip twisting to reveal black gums of his own. "Then walk." He threw Chyra to the floor in the hallway outside the cell, and she connected painfully, gasping as her hip hit the metal floor. She groaned and dragged herself to her feet; Sendak's sneer never faded. As soon as she had her footing he pushed her again, but Chyra was able to recover and catch herself before she fell. She pinned her ears back and glowered as Sendak pulled up beside her, but moved when he put his massive hand on her shoulder and shoved her forward.

Chyra heard the door of the cell slam closed as she drew away from it, trying in her addled brain to whip up a strategy. She was only guarded by three soldiers, but one of those soldiers was Sendak, so it was really closer to five. She probably wouldn't be able to break free, especially when she was injured, unarmed, and bound. Even if she did manage to escape, she didn't know where they were holding Grey, or if she would even be able to fly. And she wasn't going to abandon the wolf and escape on another ship, the thought of it just felt... wrong. Chyra's only real option was to confront Zarkon, and try to beg for forgiveness.

The odds were not looking too good.

The trek through central command felt somehow instantaneous and immeasurably long. The seconds dragged by, each step an entire obstacle course, but she stood outside the throne room door all too soon. She hadn't even prepared what she was going to say. But the door slammed open and Chyra was thrust forward again. Shaking ferociously, she walked forward to face her doom.

Emperor Zarkon was terrifying to behold. His stature was immense, his aura rippled with power and malice, enough to make even the bravest of warriors stop in their tracks. His presence demanded respect and fear from anyone that saw him, and his terrifying appearance was only exemplified by the spiky armor he wore and the massive scar running down the left side of his face.

Chyra grew colder with every step she took near the emperor, as though his icy countenance was leaching all of the warmth from the throne room. She shuddered when she felt multiple pairs of eyes on her, glancing briefly upwards from her feet to glimpse Haggar, the emperor's witch advisor, eyeing her with intense malice from her place beside the throne. Chyra grimaced in distaste, but stood her ground and refused to give Haggar the satisfaction of scaring her into submission, even though Chyra truly was petrified.

Chyra finished her walk to death row with her head held high, staring straight ahead with seemingly unbreakable bearing.

Zarkon's voice sent shudders running violently through Chyra's body. She froze, paralyzed and wilting with fear as Zarkon addressed her directly.

"You've disappointed me, Enchyron."

His voice was cold, his eyes were fire. The yellow depths blazed with a fury known widely across the universe, but only beheld by a select unlucky few. What made it worse was Chyra knew what happened next. He had used her full name, her old, official name that only those who didn't truly know her used. She had disappointed him. Those words always followed a failure, and preceded a horrible punishment. She knew firsthand. He'd said them to her before.

She took a breath. "My lord I—" she began, only to be cut off abruptly by Sendak as he shoved her down onto her knees. Chyra hit the ground with a jarring pain, and gritted her teeth in response.

Chyra shuddered as Haggar's ragged voice grated across her ears. "You will bow when approaching the emperor, lowborn scum!"

That was a low blow, bringing up her blood status. Chyra lashed her tail and growled in annoyance.

"My apologies, your eminence," Chyra said resignedly, "for more than the disrespect."

"Do not speak." Zarkon's massive voice boomed. Something must have been magnifying his voice; no organic thing should be able to naturally possess that kind of power and volume when speaking. Chyra balked and flinched backwards, making herself seem smaller and trying vainly to keep her hands from shaking.

"In stealing those vessels, you have committed a severe act of treason. I suppose I should have expected nothing less from a lowborn mongrel."

Chyra hissed under her breath. Her blood status had always been a sore spot for her.

"I raised you better than this, treated you with a dignity and diligence undeserved by one of your status, all because of your potential and skill. You have time and again proven yourself to be faithful to the empire, despite your tendency to... blur the boundaries that the law has set for you. Even you, my prized assassin, with your reckless tendencies, must agree with this." Chyra nodded mutely. "Your betrayal, therefore, I find unfounded, and extremely offensive. I ask, in stealing those vessels with your accomplices, what did you hope to gain?"

Chyra swallowed, willing her voice to work. "My emperor," she began hesitantly. Clearing her throat subtly, she continued, "this may seem... unbelievable, but I felt compelled, called to by Grey- by the grey vessel."

She hesitated, just waiting to be struck down on sight by the witch for spouting such blasphemies. On the contrary, Zarkon waved her on impatiently. "Go on," he urged. Chyra could have been mistaken, but did she see... understanding in her emperor's eyes?

"I-it was like a pulling, a bond, an odd kind of tug in my chest. I first felt it weeks ago, but I didn't dare attempt to follow it past the hangar doors until..." how long had she been out? How long had it been since her failed escape attempt? Grey's presence bubbles up in her mind, declaring that it had been less than a day-cycle. "Until I was discovered." Chyra finished.

"Lies," Haggar rasped. Her chilling voice sent goosebumps rippling down Chyra's arms.

"Indeed," Sendak spoke up from behind Chyra. He leveled a sneer down at her. "Security records indicate several breaches over the last few days, all at hours restricted by our dear assassin's time allotments."

Chyra stifled a curse.

"You DARE lie to me?" Zarkon roared, rising from his throne. Panic shot through Chyra like electricity.

"My lord, I- please, I feel the utmost regret for disobeying orders, I just-" her voice was cut off by a sharp blow to the side of her head by Sendak. The room started to warp and spin around her, but Chyra regained her bearings with a few rapid blinks.

She wished she hadn't.

Zarkon towered over her, his immense stature dwarfing Chyra as she swayed on her knees. She looked upwards in horror, beholding the intense anger that flashed across Zarkon's scarred visage. He grabbed her by the throat, wrenching her off the ground with an agonizing tug. His face was too close, all Chyra could do was struggle, kick her useless legs in the air and gasp for breaths that couldn't come as he bore down on her.

"Your judgement has always been remarkably poor," the emperor spat scathingly. "From the rejection of Lotor's proposal to the bold misstep of earlier tonight. And now, you muster up the audacity to lie to me. Your skills and talent as an assassin have protected you thus far, but no more. This treachery will not stand." He pressed impossibly harder against her throat, his fingers crushing Chyra airways. She scrabbled against his massive hands futilely, her mouth gaped as she tried desperately to breathe and stave away the blackness creeping into the corners of her vision.

"You've hand transgressions in the past, but this time you are simply are begging to be disposed of." Zarkon, with a forceful swing of his massive arm, sent Chyra's lanky form slamming to the floor. The pain of hitting the deck didn't even register, all Chyra could focus on was the inward rush of air into her lungs, and how much it hurt. She coughed haggardly, desperately gulping in air despite the pain. Grey's consciousness pressed comfortingly against Chyra's in her mind, but her presence helped little. Especially once Zarkon turned away, straightening his spiked armor and striding back to his throne.

"Sendak," Chyra heard the emperor command, "bring this traitor to the armory and summon the troops for a gladiator match."

The blood froze in her veins.

"My emperor, please," she rasped. Chyra gulped in again as Sendak seized her upper arms and started dragging her backward, despite her desperate resistance. "Please! I'll do anything! I'll do anything!" Her voice devolved to a broken sob within moments. She hunched over, long hair dangling in her face and obscuring her vision as her chest heaved.

Zarkon stopped. His head turned slowly, Sendak stopped wrestling against Chyra.

"Anything?" The emperor echoed.

"Yes," Chyra sobbed, trying to staunch the tears that pricked at her eyes.

Zarkon turned back towards her, towering once again over her kneeling body and making Chyra seem immensely small. He leaned down and tilted Chyra's chin upwards with a single clawed index finger. His claw dug into the skin at the naps of Chyra's neck almost hard enough to draw blood. "If I asked you to track down and dispose of the traitors that stole the other four of my ships, you would do it without hesitation?"

Chyra stopped breathing. Her emperor was asking her to hunt down and murder her friends, the only Galra in the world that mattered to Chyra anymore. Her honor, her position, and her life depended on it. The answer should have been a no brainer. But the thought of hurting her family, of seeing the pain and betrayal on their faces as she struck them down... it turned her insides to ash. She couldn't. She could never do it, no matter how desperate she was.

Her answer was barely a breath. "No."

It was enough.

Zarkon snarled, the rumble of his powerful voice seeming to rattled the entire interior of the central command ship. "Get that mongrel out of my sight!" He turned on his heel, his garish purple cape snapping like the banners of war behind him.

Chyra, numb and mute, allowed herself to be dragged roughly out of the throne room. The door slammed shut with a grim finality. Her fate was sealed.

. . . 

Chapter Text

Chyra's world was nothingness. Her mind kept telling her this, even though somewhere, in the very back corner of her head, she knew it was false. But after so long with nothing to fill her senses; no sight, no sound, no touch, not even the feeling of air in her lungs, it was hard to believe that there was anything else in the world except this nothingness. Just when the possibility crossed Chyra's mind that maybe there was really nothing to the world after all, Grey struggled upwards through the cloudy haze and reminded Chyra where she was.

One of the tubes. Chyra had been throughly broken in the last battle, her prosthetic leg snapped cleanly in two and her arm almost ripped from its socket by her immensely powerful competitor, along with a plethora of deep wounds from claws easily the length of a Galran great sword. Chyra had been doing well... until suddenly she wasn't. Her opponent had managed to land a blow to the base of her neck, deactivating her prosthetics and sending her crashing to the ground. From there, it was all blinding pain. She remembered exactly how it had felt when a meaty fist landed a blow to her blind side and made her see stars; the slash of claws across her back, exposing the wires and quintessence lines beneath her skin; the heat and wet splatter of blood hitting the dirt; when massive hands had gripped either end of her prosthetic and pulled... Only the demands of the roaring crowd had convinced the arena guards to pull her broken, bloodied body out of the pit. There was no way Chyra could recover on her own. So they put her in the healing capsule.

The healing pods were senseless places, in the way that there was nothing for the senses. Chyra couldn't open her eyes or hear anything due to the liquid quintessence she was submerged in, she couldn't even breathe or feel her own limbs. But her mind remained. Despite the stasis her body was in, Chyra's mind was awake the entire time she healed in the tube, letting the seconds drag into hours and days with no ability to judge the duration of any of it. She was in a void. A ceaseless, soundless, empty black void where it seemed she would remain for eternity.

The only reason Chyra had any sanity left, between the endless cycles of torture and healing and fighting, was Grey. The wolf's presence was a constant comfort, even in the healing void, when Chyra's own mind instinctively pushed away the bond it shared with the lupine ship. Only Grey's sheer determination held Chyra's mind together, kept it from splitting at the seams and drifting away into the nothingness that surrounded it.

It may have been minutes or hours or seconds until the liquid began to drain. It was the first semblance of sound Chyra had heard in an eternity. The process was agonizingly slow, especially considering the fact that Chyra couldn't breathe again until the airtight seal on the capsule had been broken.

When finally, after another endless length of time, the tube opened, Chyra was immersed in a whirlwind of pains. Her limp body fell to the floor with a wet smack, shocking her senses and causing her respiratory system to wake up and try to function. Her lungs were full of healing quintessence. She retched and coughed up the liquid, expunging it from her lungs the only way her body knew how: with burning, desperate coughs. The sounds of the medical center were quiet to normal ears, but the dull thrum of machinery and the quiet murmur of voices sounded like a shockwave to Chyra's deprived senses. The feeling of the cold metal floor on her bare skin was too much, even the feeling of the air was painful after being so deprived of all sense of touch for so long. Chyra curled into a ball, overwhelmed by the sheer overstimulation she was experiencing. Every nerve ending was on fire. She couldn't open her eyes.

Seconds after she emerged from the healing capsule, Chyra painfully registered the sound of footsteps approaching. She felt something brush her shoulder, then the agony of a gentle touch. She gasped, the inhale causing another coughing fit, as a cloth rubbed slowly over her scarred skin, drying off the residual quintessence left on her body. The brush of the cloth felt like a hot iron. Chyra would have struggled, made some kind of noise of protest, but her limbs were not functioning and neither was her voice.

Chyra felt herself be lifted from the floor and gently placed on a flat surface. The cold metal burned, but Chyra was internally grateful for the careful nature of the healers. These Galra weren't as cruel as so many of the others, who would have relished in Chyra's pain rather than try to ease it. The healers ran diagnostics on Chyra's motor functions, lingering their attentions on the joints of her metal left leg, which had been savagely ripped off by her massive opponent in the match. Chyra numbly felt them tinkering with the wires and joints in her prosthetics, repairing the last of the damage they'd sustained. Chyra could hear every word they said with painful clarity, but couldn't understand them. Once the healers had finished, they dressed Chyra in prisoners' garb and stepped away. The rough texture of the clothes irritated Chyra's overly-sensitive skin.

Much heavier footsteps approached suddenly, and Chyra tensed and tried desperately to open her eyes. A harsh grip clamped down on her arm, and she made a weak noise of protest and pain. She processed a snippet of conversation.

"Careful! She's still recovering-" the careful voice of the healer admonished, but they were abruptly cut off by the gruff voice of a guard.

"Don't treat Executioner like a mewling child. It could be your last mistake." The voice grated on Chyra's ears, but worse was the agony of another hand on her opposite arm. Still immersed in blackness, Chyra was lifted off the exam table and hauled away, her metal legs and tail dragging against the floor.

She was abruptly thrown into what she assumed was her cell, judging by the slam of the door behind her and the chilly atmosphere. She rolled to a stop against the back wall. The impact pained her despite her growing familiarity with touch. Struggling with her deadened limbs, Chyra clumsily righted herself and curled up in the corner of the silent cell, pulling her metal legs up towards her chest. On the positive side, the quiet atmosphere was a reprieve from the onslaught of sounds Chyra had had to endure since her reemergence. Conversely, the lack of sound left plenty of time to dwell.

She had no idea how much time had passed. Not only in the healing capsule, but in general. How long ago had she seen her family? She had all but given up on seeing them again at this point. If someone asked, she would have guessed several rotations, possibly more than a deca-phoeb.

The truth was likely much longer.

There was no way to count how many battles she had fought; she had initially used Tsaeci's strategy of marking the wall, but the guards had later separated the pair, moving Chyra into a solitary cell, and Chyra's tally was lost. She hadn't seen Tsaeci since.

As Chyra's awareness grew and the tumult in her mind eased, Grey's consciousness rejoined with hers. When Chyra mentally apologized for pushing her bonded away, the wolf responded with a rush of comforting emotion. Grey's steadfast presence had been all that was keeping Chyra in one piece for the better part of her imprisonment. She had stayed by Chyra's side through her long isolation, kept her grounded in battle, and remained a constant comfort in the aftermath of the more savage fights. Grey had kept Chyra from falling apart when she lost her legs, and Chyra had a suspicion that her bond with the wolf had heightened her senses to make up for the vulnerability created by the loss of her eye.

The thought of the injury spurred movement, and Chyra brought her hand upwards to trace the pair of scars that drew knotted lines across her face.

That had been almost as bad of a match as her last one. She had almost gotten through it unscathed, until she pinned her opponent. They had landed a lucky swipe to the side of her face, dragged their claws across her cheek, and rendered her right eye completely blind. Chyra traced the scars idly, a nervous habit she had picked up after she found she couldn't run her fingers through her matted mane of hair anymore. The loss of half of her vision had caused her a lot of pain, not just from the injury itself, but from the vulnerability of her entire right side. Enemies would pick out a weakness like that and exploit it to their dying breath. It had taken her a while to figure out how to fight with a blind side. Fortunately, Chyra suspected, her connection with Grey allowed her other senses to heighten in response to the loss. Her sense of hearing had become especially keen, and her sense of smell was significantly better than it used to be.

Chyra was abruptly startled out of her musings by the sound of the cell door opening. Apprehension prickled at the back of her neck, and Chyra's tail curled defensively around her, as though she could subconsciously form a barrier between herself and the intruder. She tried to wrench her eyes open, but even the dim light seared her eyes and forced her to once again close them. Chyra hunched backwards, curling deeper into the corner. How could they make her fight already? She had just recovered, how did they expect her to fight? She gasped raggedly, panic gripping at her airways and making it difficult to breathe.

She heard an achingly familiar voice outside the cell, seeming to debate with the guards outside. "Look at the state she's in. Do you really think she poses a danger to me right now? Now let me through." Chyra heard a clatter of armor and braced herself for the approach of the guards.

But it wasn't the marching footsteps of Galra soldiers that she heard. Instead, steady, measured footfalls cautiously approached her, and she heard someone kneel down.

"Chyra," the figure breathed, soothing voice full of sadness. The accented tenor sound was just as tempting as it always had been, Chyra tried to open her eyes again, but the light burned.

"Don't try to look yet," he admonished, his voice soft with sorrow and concern. Chyra felt his fingers brush her temple, feather soft as they pushed her matted hair away from her face. His hand moved to her scarred right cheek; she leaned greedily into the warmth of the contact. It wasn't even that she wanted to be close to him, Chyra was just so terribly starved for contact, she would have taken a soothing touch from just about anyone. His breath ghosted across Chyra's cheeks, he was so close to her. She was ashamed to admit that she craved the proximity.

"I came as soon as I heard you were out of stasis. I'm so glad you're alive. For a while there, during that fight... I thought that was the end." Chyra shuddered from both the memory and the sensation of his thumb brushing against her sallow cheek. "Stars, look what they've done to you." His other hand rested gently on Chyra's shoulder, rubbing comforting circles there with the pad of his thumb.

"I've tried to convince them to treat you better, to ease up on the fights and the experiments, but you know the emperor's word is law. And he insists that you be treated in accordance to your crimes. Even I can't stand up against his decrees." His voice soured with disdain. "But they at least should be giving you enough food."

Chyra wished she could muster up the energy for a sardonic scoff. She had been running on empty for the cosmos know how long, and that likely wasn't about to change soon.

"But, Chyra, I've come to ask you, one more time, to let me help you. I'm about to head on another scouting mission, and I think I've figured out a way to ensure you can come with me. I can get you out of here, for good. What do you say?" He sounded hopeful.

Chyra's heart leapt at the prospect of escape, only to be staunched by an aggressive despondency. This was too good to be true, there had to be a catch and if there wasn't, it was a trap. She knew all too well where his loyalties lie; something was bound to go terribly wrong. She would end up right back here, having only made her situation worse by briefly tasting freedom. Chyra pulled away, easing her face away from the warmth of his hand.

His touch receded, and Chyra felt hollow.

"Chyra, have I really wronged you so severely that you would rather stay here, endure this, than leave with me?" His voice was strained with sorrow.

She didn't reply. She only drew herself further inwards.

Chyra heard a sigh and a shuffling, and he stepped back. "I am sorry. I had hoped you would accept my offer. But don't say I never gave you a chance." His footsteps receded, the door closed behind him, and the cell was deafeningly silent once more.

She strained her ears to listen for him, and heard him threaten the guards outside in a stern tone that sent fearful goosebumps down Chyra's arms. "Increase this prisoner's rations immediately, or you answer to me." She wasn't able to open her eyes until he was already long gone. Chyra was alone.

Well, almost alone. Grey's consciousness bubbled up and surrounded Chyra's in a comforting emotional embrace, calming her nerves and making her feel less isolated.

Hours later, after regaining her senses, Chyra lapsed into an uneasy sleep.

- - - - -

"Get up, Executioner! It's time to reclaim your title." A gruff voice startled Chyra awake, jolting her suddenly out of a vivid dream. She bared her teeth, locking eyes with the guard. In full control of her limbs at last, Chyra lashed her tail and lit her prosthetics with an angry purple glow. The guard took a hasty step backwards, but quickly regained his composure. Still, Chyra felt a grim satisfaction in the knowledge that she had startled the much larger Galra.

"Let's go." He urged impatiently, failing to disguise the quiver in his voice. Chyra hauled herself to her feet, the heaviness of her limbs slowing her movements. She had slept, but she felt far from rested in the aftermath of healing. It had really taken a lot out of her this time, even her reemergence was worse than usual. That's what she got for losing a battle, she supposed. This time she would have to be more vigilant. She needed a win to gain her favor back with the audience, and hopefully the emperor. Her life depended on it.

She walked straight into the squadron of guards that stood outside her cell door, pointedly ignoring the half a dozen weapons aimed straight at her. She didn't resist as they clasped neutralization cuffs onto her wrists, but hissed threateningly when they wrenched her arm too harshly. One of the guards thrust a fist between her shoulder blades in response. Chyra staggered and bit back a curse when pain webbed across her shoulders.

The guards had discovered her weakness not long after she got her prosthetics. In order for her legs to be connected to her nervous system, the druids had needed to attach them directly, inserting alongside her spine mechanical wiring to allow for natural movement of her prosthetics. As a result, the wires were close to the surface of her back, and if one was hit, it was extremely painful. The guards had found this out quickly due to the slight glow of quintessence emanating from under her skin, and used her newfound weakness to their advantage, constantly slamming their guns or fists into Chyra's spine to keep her subdued.

As well as being a massive weak spot, the sensitive area looked ghastly. The wires and tubes of glowing quintessence just under her skin bulged out, wrapping around her spine and creating raised veins of dark metal and purple light beneath her greyish skin. The scars from the operation crisscrossed between and over the wire implants, creating an unsightly and sensitive area down the middle of her back.

This was a common target for both guards and gladiators.

Even more vulnerable, however, was Chyra's kill switch. The druids had installed in the back of Chyra's neck, right where her skull met her spine, a small metal plate. If hit or pushed on, the switch would deactivate Chyra's prosthetics, effectively shutting them down for at least a minute. If the pressure point was hit hard enough, Chyra could black out. Fortunately, her matted mane of dark hair concealed the pressure point from view. Only a couple of opponents had even noticed it, much less had time to try and exploit it, before meeting their untimely demise.

One the way to the arena, Chyra inspected her legs. They had been repaired since her last fiasco of a fight, and the dark grey metal shined slightly in the purple light. The malleable black areas at the joints had been cleaned by the fluid in the healing capsule, and the purple glow emitted by the tubes of quintessence beneath the metal exterior flowed faintly through the minor gaps in the connective points of the metallic armoring. If she looked closely, Chyra could see where her left leg had been reattached, the metal was slightly rippled about halfway between her knee and the scarred seam that encircled her upper thigh. It felt stable enough to fight with though.

The guards led Chyra swiftly to the arena, keeping their weapons trained on her nonstop. She walked without complaint, gathering her thoughts for the fight. She needed to have a clear head for this one. Usually, she felt herself slip into an instinctual state, driven by her intense need for survival in dire circumstances. It was a frenzied, monstrous condition that Chyra loathed despite its usefulness. It made her feel like what everyone in the empire called her: a monster, an executioner. For this fight, she needed to be lucid. She needed to concentrate and put on a show to regain the audiences favor.

Grey enveloped her in a strengthening and encouraging embrace, calming Chyra's jittery nerves as she approached the entrance to the arena. The gladiator took a steadying breath as the guards unlatched her neutralization cuffs, allowing her full use of her prosthetics once again. The slight weakness that had crept in with the partial deactivation of her bionic enhancements disappeared.

"I'm betting on your loss; don't let me down." One of the guards growled as the cuffs were removed. Chyra hissed in reply, pinning her ears back and glaring at him with her good eye. The guards stepped hastily away, and Chyra took that as permission to light her legs with practiced ease, their purple glow casting the dark tunnel in eerie shades.

The massive metal gate rattled upwards, and Chyra bounced lightly on her toes and prepared herself for battle. Grey's presence strengthened alongside Chyra's, a nonverbal reassurance passing between the ship and her pilot. The roar of the crowd surrounded her, and Chyra, heart pounding ferociously, bolted out of the tunnel and into the all-too-familiar gladiator arena.

The arena was immense. It was easily the size of a coliseum, with seats organized in concentric rings all the way up to the cavernous ceiling. There was probably enough room for an entire fleet of soldiers. Over ten thousand seats surrounded the ring completely, allowing audiences a three hundred sixty degree view of the carnage that took place in the battleground.

The seating was almost completely full.

The only places in the arena that weren't packed with spectators were the areas behind massive screens that showed closeups of the action that took place inside the arena. There were important officers and soldiers filling up every seat in the upper levels, with Zarkon and his court stationed in a private box at the very top of the seating areas, although the box was unlit today. The emperor must have been otherwise occupied. The middle and lower levels of seating contained the spectators of lesser rank and blood status, some of which looked excited to be present for the imminent bloodbath, while others looked like they were going to be sick, and had undoubtedly been forced or "strongly persuaded" to attend. Automated drones and sentry robots hovered around the arena, waiting to strike out at the gladiatorial competitors if they got too rambunctious.

Speaking of which, Chyra's opponent was surging into the arena to meet her, fangs bared and serpentine coils undulating-

Chyra halted in her tracks.

"...Tsaeci?"

Her opponent froze, mouth dropping open in shock. A distressed rattle rose in the serpent's chest. "Chyra!" He rasped. The crowd's cheering died down somewhat, confused as to why the battle had suddenly stopped before it had even begun.

Chyra's mind was reeling with turmoil.

She couldn't fight him. Of that much she was sure. In  the moment of the kill, she usually had no remorse. It wasn't until later, in solitude, that she let her emotions catch up to her, and even then she usually didn't necessarily feel guilty for winning her matches, it was survival, after all. But she couldn't bear to have Tsaeci's death on her conscience. He was her friend, they had been friends for weeks before the guards had noticed how close they were and separated them. Tsaeci had helped ease the transition from prized assassin to vilified traitor, and for that Chyra was eternally grateful.

She couldn't fight him.

"You're alive," Tsaeci hissed, eyes wide with disbelief. "I heard you'd been killed in your last fight-" one of the sentry droids fired a shot off at Chyra's foot, trying to initiate conflict between her and Tsaeci. Chyra snarled at the robot, more to make herself feel better than to scare anyone, and the simple action elicited a smattering of cheers and applause from the audience.

The snake looked startled, glancing to Chyra with uncertainty. "Play along," she gave him a pointed look and instructed in a stage whisper. Tsaeci nodded and obliged when Chyra bared her fangs and thrashed her tail in a threatening gesture, fanning out his hood, baring his claws, and hissing menacingly. She let herself slip into one of her personas, which had served her well in her career as an assassin. She even used someone else's voice, that of one of the more intimidating female guards that had been assigned to her a few phoebs back. Chyra felt her throat tighten as she spoke in that tone, as she always did when she parroted someone else's voice.

It was an odd ability, Chyras proficiency for mimicry, but it had served her well during her time as an assassin, and during her time in the arena. When she used someone else's voice, she could lure her targets away by imitating one of ther loved ones, or use a different voice to conceal her own terror when facing an opponent.

"Dead?" She snorted in make believe derision The voice she used was deeper than her own, and she felt it resonate in her chest. "You thought I was dead? Do you really think they could get rid of me that easily?" She filled her tired voice with false bravado, trying to put on a show and stall for as much time as she could while they figured out a strategy.

Tsaeci slipped into easy banter, as he and Chyra used to do to pass the time. "Of course not. That's why they set you against me!" He lunged then, but the motion was deliberately slow and easy for Chyra to dodge. Still, the crowd ate it up, cheering and egging the pair of tired gladiators on.

Once they passed one another, Chyra hissed, "how are we going to get out of this?"

"I thought you were the one with the plan!" Tsaeci had barely enough time to reply before an explosion rocked the ship. Chyra was thrown suddenly off balance as a wave of confused chatter crashed over the audience. Somewhere above, an alarm blared. Chyra recognized it as the signal for all fleet commanders and squadron leaders to move immediately to their battle stations. The Galra started to surge out of the stands all at once, the entire crowd bustling through the multitude of doors surrounding the arena.

Were they under attack?

Chyra's question was answered rather abruptly, as another explosion made the dirt floor beneath her feet shake. Something or someone on the outside was targeting the area of the ship that housed the arena and the cell blocks, and it felt like they had some serious artillery. But who would be stupid enough to attack Zarkon's central command?

Once again, the universe provided Chyra with a convenient answer. Something moved in the corner of Chyra's vision, originating from somewhere in the rushing crowd of spectators, soaring high over the arena, and landing several feet away from her. As soon as the object landed, smoke started pouring out of it. Chyra backed up to Tsaeci and held out her hand, which he readily took. Chyra watched in tense fascination as two more smoke bombs flew into the arena. The air filled with a thick grey fog.

Chyra strained her hearing, her ears swiveling to try and get her bearings in the thick miasma. She jumped as a tremendous rattle sounded and the gate she had emerged from moved abruptly upwards. Chyra whirled on the gate, growling as several pairs of pounding footsteps approached. She heard the guards, armed with blasters and electric prods, march into the arena to collect her and Tsaeci.

But she didn't hear the gate fall back down.

The assassin felt a genuine grin sidle onto her face. Those idiots didn't even close the gate! A realization struck Chyra. They could escape. They could use the attack as a distraction and get to Grey, Chyra could sense her somewhere in the belly of the ship. She and Tsaeci could escape, find somewhere safe and start over. They could find Chyra's family and be safe.

They just had to get past the guards. And the sentries. And the fleet waiting outside. The chances were slim, but at least there was a chance. The long staunched hope of escape reared back upwards in Chyra. Her chest swelled and an unfamiliar smile slid onto her face. She could escape.

Chyra squeezed Tsaeci's hand and hissed, "we'll have to fight our way out. I can get us off the ship from there."

"How?"

"I can find my wolf, I promise. Now help me take out these guards."

Tsaeci bared his fangs in a reptilian grin. "With pleasure."

The pair of gladiators advanced forwards, approaching the entrance through which the guards had entered. They moved cautiously, and Tsaeci took up position on Chyra's blind right side. Chyra's ears swiveled back and forth, trying to pick up any sound of the guards with her sight so severely limited. The noise of the crowd had died down significantly; most of the audience members must have made it to their battle stations. Chyra advanced towards the gate carefully, making her footfalls as light as possible despite the metallic material.

Her ear flicked and she reared upwards as she heard the buzz of a quintessence blade igniting on her left. She whirled around and bared her teeth, her tail thrashing as a guard charged towards her. He hurled his blade forwards with entirely too much force. Chyra sidestepped nimbly and struck the back of his shoulder with her elbow. The top heavy guard toppled, losing his grip on his weapon as it flew out of his hand. Chyra swiftly snatched it out of the air, then dragged the stolen quintessence blade across his neck. Ignoring the splatter of blood on the dirt, Chyra turned as he heard Tsaeci and a tussle, but smirked momentarily as she watched the serpent bite into the Galra's leg, injecting his paralyzing venom into their bloodstream. The guard fell, rigid as a board.

Another flash of movement caught Chyra's eye, and she whirled on her newest opponent with her legs aglow. A sentry droid advanced on her, mechanical footfalls heavy as they vibrated through the gritty dirt beneath Chyra's feet. The ex-assassin surged forward, a bristling vision of fury and bared teeth, and kicked her leg out, knocking the droid immediately off balance. It staggered, beeping in apparent alarm. It brought its weapon up to shoot, but Chyra knocked the blaster out of the robot's hands before it got the chance. She was about to slice the droid's head off with her stolen blade, but was thrown abruptly sideways when a massive fist swung in from her blind side and collided with Chyra's chest, knocking the wind out of her, tearing the blade from her hands, and hurling her several feet away from Tsaeci. Chyra hit the dirt and rolled a ways, desperately gasping for air to fill her crushed lungs.

She scrambled sideways to avoid a kick aimed at her ribs, using her momentum to stagger to her feet. Chyra bared her fangs at her opponent, and fought down the surge of animalistic instinct that broiled at the corners of her mind. The bulky female Galra surged forwards with a roar, brandishing her electric prod at Chyra with a rabid fervor. The ex assassin barely managed to dodge the strike, still struggling for breath. She backpedaled quickly, trying to put as much distance as she could between her and her opponent. Chyra dodged two more swipes with the prod, her heart pounding as her thoughts ran wild. If that electric spike hit her, the metal in her spine would conduct the electricity straight to her brain. It wouldn't be a pleasant death. Chyra swung her leg at her attacker and landed a harsh blow to the ribs, staggering the soldier and giving Chyra time to put some distance between them.

Chyra surged forwards again just as her foe started to regain her balance. She ignited her legs and jumped upwards, twisting in the air and landing with her knees on her opponent's shoulders, her head in between Chyra's metal thighs. The guard's hands flew upwards and she clawed at Chyra's legs to try to get her off, shoulders bucking wildly. Chyra steeled her nerve and twisted her hips sharply, snapping the guard's neck sideways. She felt the crack of bone beneath her legs, and the guard crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

Chyra rolled with the impact and regained her footing, slicing her glowing heel across the chest plate of a droid in the process. The severed mechanics sparked feebly with residual electricity as the mechanical soldier slumped to the ground. Chyra dashed back to Tsaeci's side, where three soldiers lay paralyzed in the dirt. Tsaeci straightened and grinned as Chyra pulled up beside him, obviously very proud of himself.

"Let's go, before they come to their senses and close that gate!" Chyra urged, and her serpentine companion followed closely on her metal heels. They navigated through the fog purely because of familiarity; they both knew this arena like the back of their hands.

Chyra halted as she approached the open gate, eyeing the limp form of a fallen guard in the entrance with apprehension.

"You didn't take that one down, did you?" Tsaeci hissed, his voice clearly on edge.

"No," Chyra answered lowly, bristling with anticipation of disaster, "something's wrong. Stay close, this might be a trap."

Ears swiveling like satellites, Chyra crept forward towards the entrance. She had almost passed the threshold when a hooded figure stepped out from the shadows, directly into her path.

She moved without thinking. Immediate instinct and a sudden panic controlled her as Chyra lunged forward, grabbing the figure's outstretched arm and twisting it harshly behind their back while driving them forcibly to the ground. She dug her knee into their back and hissed threateningly as they squirmed beneath her, Chyra's claws digging into their arm sharply.

They gasped suddenly, forcing out words around the pressure of Chyra's weight on their chest.

"Chyra! Chyra it's okay, it's me!"

That voice, Chyra couldn't believe it. She froze. Took a moment to process. And pulled the figure's hood off.

A familiar face greeted her, grinning sheepishly from where it was squished to the floor.

"Hello Chy," they said nonchalantly.

Chyra scrambled backwards, her mind reeling. She stammered incoherently for a few ticks as the unmasked figure righted themself and sat back on their haunches, opening their arms as if anticipating an embrace.

There was no way. It couldn't be...Vrill?

The younger Galra grinned, his yellow eyes shining with mischief. He took in Chyra's wide eyed expression good-naturedly, quirking an eyebrow up when she still didn't answer.

"Surprised to see me?"

Chyra said nothing. She just stared, shocked, at her long lost friend.

Vrill's brows furrowed in concern, and he reached forward slowly to place a hand on her shoulder. "Chyra? Are you okay?" He asked softly.

Something about the touch, the weight of his hand on her shoulder, the softness of the contact, made it suddenly real for Chyra. He was here, he was alive. And Chyra was just sitting there speechless like an idiot.

Chyra reached forwards wordlessly and pulled Vrill into a desperate embrace, wrapping her arms around his lanky frame and burying her face into his shoulder. Her hands shook and her chest tightened with the sheer relief of seeing him again. After a moment, Vrill hugged her back, holding tightly to Chyra's bony shoulders like she was all that anchored him in this reality.

Chyra felt tears welling up in her good eye and she pressed ever closer to her friend. The sheer relief of seeing him alive and well was overbearing, but she realized she was digging her claws into Vrill's back rather too hard. She pulled back reluctantly, wiping at her wet eye feebly.

"I can't believe you're here," Chyra forced out around the lump in her throat, "where are the others?"

"Quinn is escorting prisoners to our shuttles, Harlow and Corinth are covering us from outside. We need to get going soon, though, Quinn should be done in the prison blocks by now and the others can't hold off the armada forever." Vrill answered determinedly.

"Vrill, stars. It's really you."

"Yeah, it's me." His hold tightened around Chyra's shoulders, as though he could barely comprehend it himself.

Gently, Chyra drew him close again, gently touching her nose to his forehead. It was an old-fashioned gesture, one that most Galra refused to use anymore. But it was one that one reserved only for the people they cared about most in the universe. The younger Galra flushed with embarrassment at the maternal gesture, but didn't resist.

"I'm so sorry!" Chyra said suddenly, overwhelmed. She pulled back to level her gaze with Vrill. "I was so worried I would never see you again, and that the last thing we would have done is fight, and I'm so sorry I got everyone into this mess-"

"Woah, woah." Vrill said soothingly. "Let's get you and the other prisoners out of here. Then we can think about apologies." Vrill slipped out of Chyra's hold and rose to his feet. He offered his hand to Chyra and she took it, allowing Vrill to pull her upwards. She stood at her full height, glanced back to Vrill, and couldn't help the sour expression that took over her face.

Vrill was taller than her now.

Chyra had never been the tallest of Galra, mostly due to her lowborn genetics. But even though she had gained a couple of units with the addition of her prosthetic legs, the much more pureblooded Vrill had outgrown her significantly during their time apart. The smug look on his face told Chyra that he had noticed too. That wasn't the only thing about Vrill that had changed. His lavender hair was longer than before, and shaggier. He had filled out significantly; while he was still thin and lanky, he wasn't the scrawny youngling Chyra had helped escape from the empire. He was strong and mature and different. But that stupid, smug little smile he was casting down at her hadn't changed a bit.

She pinned her ears back and glowered up at Vrill's smug face. "Not. A word."

Vrill's smile only grew, but he didn't say anything, instead using the lapse in conversation as an opportunity to move forward, beckoning Chyra and Tsaeci to follow him. Chyra followed immediately, looking comfortingly to Tsaeci and reaching out with her mind to find Grey, who had receded somewhat during the fight.

Where can I find you? Chyra asked in her mind. Grey responded with a surge of excitement at Chyra's freedom and a mental map that beckoned Chyra in the direction of the hangar Grey was being kept in. Another explosion rocked the ship. Chyra grunted with the impact and hoped desperately that Harlow and Corinth were alright out there as they fought the fleet. The sooner they got out there and helped them, the better.

"Vrill, what exactly is the plan?" Chyra jogged a few paces to catch up with Vrill, lashing her tail nervously as she glanced back and forth. She half expected a group of sentries to round a corner any moment, but she knew better. They would be piloting the automated drones at the moment, all surrounding her friends and-

Vrill's response pulled Chyra out of her nervous haze. "We'll take your friend to meet up with Quinn and the refugees at the cell block, then we'll find the grey wolf and get the quiznak out of here."

Chyra nodded determinedly. "I can lead us to both of those places." She shook off her anxieties as best as she could and forged ahead. The journey was silent and short-lived; they made it to the cell block without challenge.

When it was time to part ways, Chyra hugged Tsaeci, much to the snake's surprise, and told him she would see him after everyone made their escape. Reluctantly, Tsaeci and Chyra went their separate ways, with Chyra following the pull in her chest and Tsaeci slithering aboard an escape shuttle alongside a slender, light blue rebel alien with six arms and a prehensile tail.

Vrill and Chyra made their way to the hangar holding Grey, following the insistent pull in Chyra's chest and keeping always on the alert for sentries or soldiers. By some miracle, their course was unhindered, and they made it to the hangar without having to fight off any soldiers. Harlow and Corinth must have been putting up one hell of a fight outside.

"How did you even get here? And what was with the smoke in the arena?" Chyra asked suddenly, processing exactly what had transpired.

"We have some insider intel, we're working with a rebel group called the Blades of-"

A blaring alarm cut off Vrill's thought, and the hallway the pair was running through became suddenly engulfed in red light.

"Quiznak" Vrill cursed. "Quinn says Corinth cut off the propulsion systems of the ship, we need to get out of here now."

"Grey is this way, come on!" Chyra replied, picking up speed. Vrill followed hot on her heels, his patchwork cloak flapping behind him.

Excitement bubbled up inside Chyra's chest when they reached Grey's hangar. Vrill placed a scrambler chip onto the door's control panel. She could sense her wolf on the other side of the thick bay doors, feel the physical closeness that the bonded pair had lacked for two long decaphoebes. Chyra couldn't help but smile and bounce excitedly on her toes as the scrambler beeped.

The doors slid open with a sudden whoosh.

And there she was.

Huge, stunning, and perfectly whole again.

"Hello, Grey."

Chapter Text

Nothingness, again.
Flashes, disjointed thoughts, fear and anguish burning into Chyra's mind and heart.
Fury, pain, then silence.
What happened?

Finally, a solid thought, barely there, shapeless in the dark.

It had all been going so well.

Chyra and Vrill entered Grey's hangar without opposition— Harlow and Corinth were keeping the crew and sentries very busy with their onslaught outside— and Chyra was greeted by an immense presence both physically and mentally. Grey enveloped Chyra in a torrent of excitement and comfort that had the exhausted ex-assassin almost tearing up from the sheer joy of reunion. The battered gladiator ran towards her wolf, stumbling in her haste to reach her. Grey lowered her head to meet her pilot and Chyra embraced her, spreading her arms across Grey's massive metal nose in a very disproportionate hug. Chyra laughed in exhilaration as Grey's consciousness enveloped her in a feeling of warm fondness and welcome.

It had been so long since she had genuinely laughed.

The battered gladiator pulled away from Grey's nose as Vrill walked up beside her, patiently waiting for her wolf to open her jaws. Grey didn't move, instead sending an apologetic feeling into Chyra's mindspace.

"What's wrong, girl?" Chyra whispered, touching Grey's nose gently with her right hand. A jolt traveled through her arm, focusing its power onto one specific spot: the inside of her forearm, just above the tracker chip implanted beneath her skin. A feeling of reluctant refusal traveled through their mental bond; Grey wouldn't open until she knew it was safe.

A sinking feeling overcame Chyra's chest, the exhilaration she'd been feeling faded somewhat as realization came crashing in. "Oh," she muttered feebly, tracing her thumb over the slight bump in her arm. She turned to Vrill, purposely nonchalant.

"Would you happen to have a knife on you?"

"Yes," Vrill replied suspiciously, quirking an eyebrow upwards at Chyra's inquiry.

"Great. Can I see it?"

"I don't see why not." Vrill reached into the sealed pockets on his belt, unzipping one on his hip and withdrawing a small, retractable weapon from the pouch. Chyra took it when he offered it to her, taking a few steps away from him and unsheathing the small blade.

Testing the sharpness of its point, Chyra glanced back at Vrill once again. "Unrelated question," she prefaced, "you have medical supplies in that bag of yours, right? Bandages, gauze, the like?"

"Yes, but why— Chyra what are you— oh my stars!"

The tracker chip clattered to the ground with a metallic plink, rolling to a stop between Chyra's feet. The assassin groaned, clutching the wound weeping crimson on her inner arm as it stung fiercely. Within moments her hand was drenched in red, and Vrill was at her side.

"What the quiznak did you do that for?" Vrill asked frantically, scrabbling within his satchel for a med kit.

"Tracker in my arm," Chyra forced between gritted teeth, "needed it out, knew you wouldn't do it."

Vrill looked at Chyra aghast as he opened a gauze pad and pressed it onto Chyra's wound, applying pressure to try and stop the flow of blood.

"You couldn't have waited until we got somewhere safe? Quinn could have deactivated it without you slicing your arm open!"

Chyra shook her head mutely, trying to ignore the stinging pain that the pressure intensified. "If I'd waited until we got out of here, they could track us straight to your safe haven. It's safer for everyone this way."

"Tell that to your arm," hissed Vrill in exasperation. "We need to get out of here fast, this wound is going to need stitches as soon as possible." He wrapped the wound swiftly in bandages. It still stung, and it would need almost immediate medical attention, but at least the risk of bleeding out during the escape was significantly lowered.

"That'd be great," Chyra agreed, teeth still clenched tightly as she looked towards Grey. The wolf sent an apologetic emotion cascading into Chyra's mind; she felt terrible despite the necessity for safety. Chyra reached with her good arm and patted Grey's nose, prompting the mechanical canine to open her jaws.

"You go ahead, I'll call Red and then we can all leave together," Vrill called as Chyra squeezed between Grey's massive teeth. The last time she was in these jaws...

"Vrill," Chyra called back, "how long has it been? Since I was captured, I mean?"

Vrill's look of satisfaction faded, and was replaced by a forlorn expression. "Two and a half deca-phoebs." He replied quietly.

Chyra's heart dropped to her stomach. She had been imprisoned, tortured, subjected to the horrors of the empire for more than two deca-phoebs. During which she had lost her legs, her eye, and nearly everything she had ever held dear, including her loyalty, her dignity, and her position in the empire.

But most importantly, she had been away from her friends— her family— for more than two deca-phoebs. Her throat tightened with grief. She had missed milestones, she had missed what would have been Harlow's naming day, when she turned fifteen. She wasn't there for any of them during what was probably a turbulent time in their lives, in which they had to transition from soldiers in training to rebels against their empire.

And it was her own fault.

"Chyra," Vrill stepped forward, his yellow eyes scanning her reaction. "Chyra, don't you dare blame yourself."

"I've missed so much." The assassin muttered numbly.

"I know, but you couldn't help it. If anything, we should have rescued you sooner."

"I shouldn't have needed to be rescued!" Chyra countered, clutching the sides of her head in distress. "If I hadn't been stupid and impulsive, if I hadn't dragged all of you into my mess... you wouldn't have been named traitors, everything would have been fine— none of this would have happened!"

Vrill was in front of her suddenly, his hands gently grasping Chyra's wrists and guiding them down away from her head. "Hey, Chy. Look at me." Chyra shakily meet Vrill's gaze, tears pricking at the corner of her good eye. "Leaving the empire was the best thing that could have happened to us. We've done so much good since we escaped, we've helped so many people and so many planets, and that never would have been possible if you'd hadn't brought us to the wolves. You saved us from a lifetime of serving a corrupt empire... I'm just sorry we didn't save you sooner." Vrill drew Chyra into a hug, and the ex-assassin melted into the embrace. She hadn't felt a gentle embrace like this in so long, she almost broke down then and there from sheer relief.

"And don't worry about what you've missed," Vrill added in a whisper, "we'll have all the time in the universe to catch up once we get somewhere safe."

Chyra took a few deep, steadying breaths as Grey sent a calming emotion washing over her. Within a few moments, the pressure in her chest had started to ease, and she pulled away from Vrill with an embarrassed laugh.

"Thanks, Vrill."

"Anytime," the taller Galra replied with a gentle smile. "Now, we do have to be leaving as soon as possible, so let me just..." he closed his eyes for a moment, focusing intently on something. Evidently, he was summoning his wolf, as the sleek, burgundy body of the red wolf surged in through the airlock seal, coming to rest next to her larger grey counterpart. Chyra smiled at the sight of the canine ship, which was somehow familiar to her despite laying eyes on it only a handful of times. Grey sent a surge of happiness outward, creating a strong thrum of positive energy in the hangar. Chyra turned to Vrill, a determined look taking over her face and her golden eye gleaming with determination.

"Let's get the quiznak out of here."

"Agreed," Vrill grinned mischievously back at Chyra. They clasped hands before separating, just like they did when they were young, before they executed one of their infamous and rebellious plans. The Galra escapees moved into the cockpits of their respective wolves, anxiety tugging at their chests alongside the thrill of adrenaline. Freedom was just an airlock away.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.
No, everything lost, everything wasted, how did this happen?
Everyone gone.

How could everything have gone so wrong?

When Chyra emerged from the lift into Grey's cockpit, she felt a rush of nostalgia and relief. Even though she had only been inside it once, the cockpit of the Grey wolf felt like a home, more than the central command ship ever had. The smooth curves of the minimalistic dashboard, the soft glow of violet light that diffused through the quiet space, the wonderful, immense presence of Grey's consciousness pressing against Chyra's own mind... it all felt like home. She ran her hands along the soft material of the pilot's seat before sitting down, closing her eyes, and resting her palms against the control disks. Grey's mind flooded around her own, just like it did the first time they had flown together. Except this time it wasn't so disorienting, and Chyra wasn't in the least bit frightened.

She opened her eyes, and saw the world through the eyes of her wolf.

Words couldn't express how much she had missed this.

A surge of adrenaline swelled in Chyra's chest as Grey began to move, the power of her mechanical muscles filling her with excitement. Grey's strength carried over to Chyra as their bond re-emerged, making the weakened gladiator feel powerful beyond her physical state. With a celebratory cheer that was echoed by her wolf with a powerful howl, Chyra and Grey lunged towards the open hangar doors, launching themselves out into the vastness of space.

It was pure chaos.

Ships careened wildly through the void surrounding the central command ship, with squadrons of automated drones led by their Galra squad commanders whizzing around the larger battleships in carefully strategized formations. Chyra winced as an ion canon blast tore through the void, illuminating everything in that ghastly Galran purple.

Vrill pulled red up beside the larger wolf, motioning with the wolf's head towards the center of the battlefield.

"Corinth and Harlow are in that direction," Vrill's voice crackled into existence over the communication links, "we have to help them hold off the armada while Quinn finishes escorting the refugees to a clear space. Once they get safely into hyperspace, we can all rejoin and make the jump to our base together. I'll send you the coordinate—look out!"

The red and grey wolves split apart, dodging an incoming squadron of fighter drones. They opened fire, the purple laser blasts peppering the rebel wolves with prickling burn marks. It was merely surface damage, though. Grey growled and snapped one of the drones out of space, crushing it in her jaws with a tremendous crunch. The red wolf shot a beam of dark red light from his jaws, turning four of the fighters instantly into rubble and dust.

Chyra's tail twitched in anticipation, an action mirrored by the tail of her wolf. Her senses were intense, enhanced by her connection with Grey. She rejoiced in the opportunity to have her full range of vision, as Grey's sight wasn't limited by Chyra's blindness. Everything seemed sharper, more distinct. Each second the pair of them spent bonded this closely strengthened their connection much more than all the time they spent separated ever could.

Deftly, Chyra and Grey maneuvered through the battlefield, dodging fighters and ion beams on the way. Chyra took out as many enemy ships as she could, using Grey's barbed tail and laser blasts to destroy them. The pair of escapees took cover behind a large asteroid, using it as a shield to assuage the force of the Galran onslaught.

A blue blur whizzed past on Chyra's right, startling her to a halt. The blue wolf brushed past her, the dark blue metal hide gleaming in the light of the fleet's gunfire. Harlow. The younger pilot fired a shot off at a battle cruiser, igniting the canon's fuel cells and causing the entire ship to explode. Then the blue wolf turned towards Chyra. She could practically feel Harlow's gigantic grin radiating from the countenance of the dark blue canine.

Harlow's voice emerged over the din of battle. "Chyra?"

The gladiator's voice broke as she replied through a relief-tight chest, "Hi Harlow."

The blue wolf blasted through the void, leaping like an excited puppy as she reached Grey's larger form. Chyra felt her wolf's rush of excitement and joy as she reunited with her companion. Harlow was chattering excitedly, talking too fast for Chyra to process what was being said. She heard snippets of dialogue, mostly involving the words excited, relieved, worried, and missed you.

Stars. How she had missed this.

Chyra retreated from Grey's mind, disconnecting just enough to be able to look through her own eyes. She willed Grey to turn on her visual comms. Four screens appeared on her dashboard, buffered for a moment, and then flickered into focus.

And she saw them.

Chyra's chest swelled with overwhelming joy as she stared, beaming and speechless, at her family.

They had changed, they were rougher and more mature, but beneath the two years of separation between them, they were the same rebellious group of kids from which Chyra had been separated.

Harlow's grin never faltered, although her eyes darkened as she got a good look at Chyra's face. The assassin felt suddenly self-conscious; she must have looked like an absolute wreck. Even when Corinth and Quinn caught a glimpse of her, they looked shocked before they had the chance to smile. Nevertheless, excited chatter flooded Grey's cockpit, surrounding Chyra with the familiar voices she had so desperately missed.

"Chyra! Stars, it's so good to see you." Quinn shouted, relief flooding his voice.

"You're alright!" Corinth cried jubilantly, a smile breaking through their normally tough facade.

Just hearing their voices would have been enough to make Chyra sob, but seeing her family again... that was more than she had been emotionally prepared to handle. Unwillingly, tears slid down Chyra's face as she realized all of this was real. Until this moment, she thought maybe all of this was a dream, that it was just too good to be true. But it was all really happening: she was escaping, her family was here, and everything was going to be alright.

Fool, foolish, FOOLISH. WRONG.
False hope and wasted chances, such a fool.

I didn't even say I loved them.

Of course the universe had to yank her abruptly out of her euphoria, as a massive explosion shook the asteroid behind which the wolves had taken shelter. Deep fissures appeared in the rock, and large chunks around the stone's outer edge broke off and drifted out into the void.

"Time to move," Harlow warned as another blast made the asteroid shudder and crack. The other pilots agreed and maneuvered away from their makeshift shelter as one unit. Somehow, even after a long period of separation, they still worked miraculously well together.

The wolves lunged back into the fray, decimating a swath of Galra fighters around them with some well-placed laser blasts. Within moments, the team had cleared a large space around them, using the large, floating chunks of rocky debris as barriers to protect them from the rest of the fleet. But they were far from safe. With every moment, the empire deployed more and more ships, cruisers, and fighter squadrons to stop the wolves' escape. They needed to get out of there fast if they wanted any chance of making it out alive.

There was only one hitch in that plan.

"Alright everyone," Vrill said assertively, taking charge. "The escape squads are on the backside of the ship, we need to clear a path so they can have a clear shot at jumping into hyperspace. Everyone, on me!" The red wolf moved swiftly toward the central command ship, weaving between the spires of the ship and blasting imperial fighters as he went. The others followed suit, covering one another as they traversed the chaotic battlefield. Chyra could see the skills that the others had been developing while she was separated from them. They worked perfectly as a team, moving as one unit, almost too in sync. It was as if they could sense one another's intentions before they even made a move, it was stunning for Chyra to see.

Seeing the team so closely knit, so well-unified, made Chyra's heart ache for all the time she had lost.

Lost, lost, lost. Time and lives and opportunities.

All lost. All gone.

The wolves turned a corner around one of Central Command's control spires, dodging several shots from the ship's lasers in the process. Gathered around the bottom of the spire was a group of several small shuttles. The prisoner evacuation teams, Chyra assumed. They had to get them out of there before any of the wolves could escape.

"Deloni," Corinth radioed in to the comm's system of the lead shuttle, "keep close on our tails, we'll clear you all a path." The yellow wolf ignited the fuel cells on a cruiser, as if to punctuate the order.

"Copy that," replied a low voice on the other end of the comms line.

"The second you see a clear shot out of here, make the hyper-jump!" Harlow instructed, raking the blue wolf's claws across the side of a battleship.

Chyra leapt into the fray, slashing Grey's bladed tail across the side of a battleship, destroying it in just a few swipes. Chyra was growing re-accustomed to flying and fighting with Grey, and she felt herself sinking deeper into the connection she shared with her wolf.

As the wolves took down several battle cruisers, the escape pods slipped through the gaps created in the empire's defenses. Fighter squadrons swarmed around them, but Quinn and Vrill were able to drive a wedge between the fighters and the rebel craft, giving them just enough time to slip into the open. The shuttles seemed to stretch and warp for a moment as they jumped into hyper speed, before disappearing in a wink of bluish light.

"The shuttles are clear!" Quinn announced as the last rebel ship flashed out of sight.

The moment the shuttles had dispersed, the clear path through the imperial fleet closed up, filled by seven immense cruisers, all with ion canons glowing with a dangerous radiance.

As one, as if by unspoken command, the wolves scattered. They were instantly pursued by squadrons of fighters, and boxed in on all sides by a multitude of cruisers. Chyra lashed out left and right at her foes, trying desperately to get through the blockade and rejoin her companions. She startled as a purple laser grazed Grey's hide, drawing a stinging line of heat across Chyra's own ribcage. She hissed with pain, wincing and trying to draw in steadying breaths to recover from the blow.

Chyra's attention was suddenly wrenched away, redirected towards her struggling friends.

"I'm getting hammered over here!" The Yellow wolf was nearly obliterated as Corinth narrowly dodged a fiery purple blast from a cruiser's ion canon. They were completely surrounded by cruisers, locked into a strategically placed trap of Galra warships.

"I'll cover you- wait, I'm closed in! Help!" Chyra's attention was yanked abruptly away from her own battle as Quinn was surrounded by fighters. They swarmed over him in a mass of writhing metallic bodies, looking like a plague of locusts on the gleaming surface of the green wolf's hide.

"Vrill and Harlow, help Cory. I'm coming, Quinn!" The ex-gladiator cried, hurling herself forward through the raging battleground. She used Grey's claws as her own, raking them across the writhing fighter drones with a panicked fervor. She managed to help Quinn shake off the rest of the drones, but the green wolf looked significantly worse for wear, sparking feebly in a few places along his shoulders and haunches.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." The tech-savvy pilot replied. His voice sounded strained and suddenly tired. Chyra remembered the pain she had experienced when she and Grey had been captured, the sensation of receiving her wolf's pain as sharply as the metallic canine felt it. Quinn must have been hurting pretty badly, considering the damage done to his wolf. They needed to get out of there, fast.

Chyra escorted Quinn back to the other wolves, striking out at a handful of ships on the way. They sheltered in a relatively safe place, taking cover amongst the rubble that floated through the battleground. Even from a position of relative safety, Chyra could see that the rebel Galra and their mechanical companions were being quickly overwhelmed. For every squadron of fighters they destroyed, two more materialized from the depths of the central command ship. For every battle cruiser they took down, no matter how efficient and thorough they were, another seemed to rear up to fill the gap left by the fallen ship. Chyra's heart sank with dread as she realized exactly how badly they were outnumbered and outgunned.

Chyra herself was getting tired, the drain she felt when she first connected this closely with Grey had returned, made exponentially worse by Chyra's already exhausted and diminished state.

A quick glance around revealed that the others weren't doing too hot either. Corinth had just managed to escape the trap they were in, with help from a battered looking blue wolf and a red wolf that looked like it had expended too much energy in the fight. Yellow looked far worse for wear, the strain of fighting that many powerful ships had done a number on both the wolf and its pilot, as evidenced by Corinth's heavy breathing echoing over the communication channel.

"We need to get out of here, now." Vrill asserted, exhaustion tugging at his voice.

"We just need to clear a new path, then we can make the hyper jump to-AAAGH!"

Harlow was first.

The youngest. The most vulnerable.

I couldn't protect her.

The scream made Chyra's chest sieze with terror, the raw sound ripping through her ears and setting her nerves alight. A flash of purple off to her left. Chyra didn't see what happened. She turned in time to see a chunk of blue metal go spinning off into the abyss, and a ravaged blue wolf drifting limply through the void, a gaping wound rent savagely through its right shoulder.

For a heartbeat, there was stillness. Shock rocketed through the quintet of wolves, making them freeze on the spot from sheer disbelief.

Then, another scream. "HARLOW!" Vrill snapped out it first, lurching toward's Harlow's inanimate wolf with heartbreaking fervor. His voice rang high and tight with devastation, dragging his companions out of their collective stupor.

No.

"Harlow, are you alright?"

No reply. Just shaky breathing on the other end of the line and a petrifying feeling of dread washing over Chyra. Her breaths shortened as she gasped, trying to drag air into her disobedient lungs. She could feel tears stinging at her eyes even as she tried to hold them in, tried to keep a clear head. Grey initiated movement rather than Chyra, moving herself forward to approach the blue wolf. Her motion seemed to startle the others out of their shock, as the remaining duo surged forward with her.

This couldn't be happening. It didn't seem real. Any moment now, Harlow would return on the comms channel, her wolf shaking off the blow as its pilot cracked her signature jokes. "Sorry, guys," she would say, "just a glitch! Just a joke!"

But Harlow didn't say anything, even as her companions reacher her wolf's side. Through Grey's eyes, Chyra saw the blue wolf struggle weakly to stir, only to fall still once again. Through her own ears, Chyra herd Harlow's breaths weakening.

"Harlow!" Chyra could hear the choking emotion in Corinth's voice as they fought away tears.

"We need to get her somewhere safe!" Vrill commanded, his wolf starting to push against Harlow's broad side with his shoulder.

Quinn replied, frantic and distraught. "We can't make the hyper-jump though! We won't be able to drag Harlow and Blue into hyperspace and make it all the way back to base!"

"We'll just have to make a regular retreat." Chyra said, her nerves on fire. She felt her emotional shutdown begin, her voice remaining flat despite her internal torrent of fear and anguish. It had been an invaluable asset during her time in captivity, as it helped her avoid facing her emotions, no matter how relentlessly they plagued her. But now, when she was in immediate danger and dealing with the fate of others, it helped her keep a somewhat level head despite her devastation.

"We just need to get far enough away to get Harlow some help, then we can hail your allies to retrieve us." Chyra continued.

Her teammates didn't have time to reply. Six cruisers converged on them in that moment, surrounding the tight-knit pack and aiming their canons with deadly accuracy. Drones swarmed out of the ships' hangar bays, flying straight for the wolves. Chyra blasted at a squadron with Grey's purple jaw blast, swiping her massive metal claws at the fighters as they passed.

Chyra swung wide around a cruiser and shouted and order: "Corinth, grab Harlow and follow us! Quinn, cover Cory and Vrill, help me clear a path."

Vrill complied with a quick utterance of "You got it."

"Aye!" Replied Quinn.

Chyra glanced back at the blue wolf, her stomach souring at the lack of movement. Harlow's shuddering breaths were still getting weaker. The damage to her wolf, and in turn, herself, was extensive. Chyra couldn't be sure if Blue would ever fly again.

Dragged out of her musings by a bout of canon fire in her direction, Chyra swung out sideways, barrel rolling away from the blasts. she barely scraped past, and she felt intense heat sear across her lower back as the canons brushed past Grey. Chyra choked out a cry, clenching her teeth so hard it hurt. Grey sent a rush of apology to her pilot, apparently sorry for not moving away fast enough.

"Chyra, are you alright?" Vrill paused to glance at Grey, who had recovered enough to level out and fire a blast as one of the cruisers.

"Fine, we're fine." Chyra managed to pant. She sent a comforting reassurance to Grey as well. As she swung around to face her oncoming attackers, Chyra spotted two cruisers drifting closer together, turning slightly towards one another. She didn't have time to process more; they had bigger issues to worry about, especially as one of the moving battle cruisers turned their ion canon towards the blue and yellow wolves. The canon glowed brightly, readying the shot. It was so close to Harlow and Corinth, it was practically point-blank. A shot at that distance would obliterate the wolves.

"Vrill, redirect the canon!" Chyra cried, frantic.

Everything happened so fast.

Vrill flew forward, darting towards the ship with the active canon, which was at this point practically brushing against the nearest cruiser. Vrill got closer, and both cruisers simultaneously launched something out of their side-hangars. For a moment, Chyra assumed they were more fighters. But no, they were the wrong shape for that.

Vrill got closer, the canon glowed brighter, Corinth couldn't move fast enough to get out of the way.

Those weren't fighters.

Those were escape pods.

Realization dawned on Chyra like a crashing avalanche. The ships moving closer, the pods, the canon.

It was a trap.

Chyra didn't even have time to draw breath before it happened. Time seemed to slow down, stretching on as every instant overwhelmed Chyra with terror.

Not enough time, never enough.

If I'd only had more time.

Maybe I could've saved them.

Vrill reached the canon, hellbent on moving it out of the way. But it moved on its own, faster than it should have been able to. It turned, aimed, and fired right at the other cruiser. The blast hit the fuel cells. In the split second before it happened, Vrill turned his wolf towards Chyra, and she could feel his gaze on her from across the battlefield. Intense, sorrowful, afraid. 

"Varialis!" Vrill screamed, terror filling his voice. "Chyra, find Vari-"

The explosion was massive. Every ship in the vicinity was rocked sideways, every fighter in the blast radius was instantly vaporized. If there had been air in the void to carry the sound, Chyra was sure she would be deafened by the blast. Grey tumbled backwards from the intensity of the shockwave, but not before Chyra watched in almost slow motion was the blast consumed Vrill first, followed half an instant by Harlow and Corinth. The light seared Chyra's eyes as Grey's mechanical body was slammed sideways by the blast. Chyra suddenly disconnected from Grey as she was thrown sideways from her seat, slamming hard against the side of the dashboard with enough force to almost make her black out.

It took a moment after the light had faded, leaving black splotches across Chyra's vision, for her to fully comprehend what had happened. Shaking herself out of her stupor, Chyra scrambled upwards, bracing herself on her pilot's podium. All the saw was rubble.

Rubble.

Exactly where Vrill and Harlow had been.

Nothing but rubble.

Gone. They were gone.

Chyra felt fire. Scorching its way up her chest and tearing out of her throat in the form of a savage scream, she let it ignite. Fury drove her forward as she slammed her hands onto Grey's control podiums, throwing herself into their bond so that her agony fed Grey's anguish, transforming it into total and utter rage. The Grey wolf surged forwards with a fury that Chyra had never felt before. Her only desire was for destruction, for revenge. She needed to tear the empire apart right then and there, she would use her bare hands if she had to. She had to make them feel the utter, hopelessly immense anguish that threatened to overtake her at any moment. Grey's claws glowed purple, tearing through metal armoring as though it were butter. Four cruisers fell to Grey and Chyra's collective fury, even as Chyra felt sobs racking her chest and tears streaming down her scarred face. She screamed in absolute fury, the guttural sound tearing out of her throat with such force that Chyra thought her heart had been torn out with it. She felt blaster fire searing Grey's hide, she felt blows landing against her wolf's back and shoulders, threatening to destroy her. She couldn't let that happen. Chyra had to make them pay, all of them. The empire would fall right here and now, by Chyra's own hands, even if it killed her.

Through the haze of anguish, terror, and rage Chyra heard a choked voice crying her name.

Quinn.

He was sobbing, his cries choked and distressed as he called out, "Chyra! Chyra come on, we have to get out of here!"

The ex-assassin took a shaky breath inward to try and calm herself. It didn't work. She tore savagely at the cruiser before her, sending chunks of metal plating spinning off into space. Her own sobs were beginning to overcome her now, fatigue dragging against her limbs and making her movements sluggish.

"Chyra, please!" Quinn shouted, the Green wolf flying forward to intercept its enraged leader. "If we don't leave now, we'll die, too!" He sounded so young then, so helpless and terrified, it snapped Chyra out of her rampage as though she had been struck.

The ship before her powered down and drifted away as she turned to face a sobbing Quinn. A profound numbness took over, her exhaustion finally registering as her adrenaline surge passed. Chyra was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Her tears stopped, her breathing shuddered, her body began to ache. But inside, she was just... numb.

She forced her voice to work. "Let's go."

Quinn's wolf nodded and turned sharply, dodging through a sea of debris to reach the edge of the battleground. The teams efforts coupled with Chyra's rage had taken out enough of the enemy ships that their exit was fairly uncontested. They were far from the central command ship by this point, and it hadn't been firing at them for quite some time. Chyra had assumed they were out of range.

The wolves retreated, their pilots exhausted and devastated. They were weakened and wounded, so their progress was slow.

Grey's anguish made Chyra's heart feel like it was splintering in two. Her companions were all but gone, her pack reduced to two battered, heartbroken wolves. Loss weighed heavy on them both, as Chyra's numbed mind drifted dully back and forth. Scattered thoughts flitted across her mind and through her bond with Grey, dragging her mind in different directions. the thought with the most clarity sent a shock through Chyra's system like a bolt of lightning.

This was all her fault.

My fault, my fault.

They're gone because of me.

It's all my fault.

If she had done better, been faster, thought for a second more, maybe they would have made it out alive and in one piece. Better yet, if she had never involved them in her harebrained schemes in the first place, they would never have had to fight in the first place. It was her fault she had lost everyone she loved. Her fault she and Quinn were on their own.

She had killed her own family. Indirectly, accidentally, of course, but it was because of her that they were dead.

Out of the corner of her eye, Chyra saw Quinn and Green pull up on her left side. She could still hear Quinn sobbing from the comm line, and although she felt tear tracks streaming down her cheek and a horrible tightness in her chest, the assassin was completely numb. All of her senses were dulled with shock, and that's probably why she didn't see the battleship on her tail before it was too late.

A blast of purple light flew towards her and Quinn, and Chyra heard her companion shout before Grey jolted harshly to the right, shoved from the left by a desperate Quinn. Chyra heard a gut-wrenching scream.

Then there was silence.

Hollow, deathly silence.

The purple light surrounded the small green wolf, and in moments, Quinn was gone. Dead just like the others. Green's metal body shattered into rubble, and Chyra was launched away from the blast, sent tumbling into space helplessly, all the strength gone from her limbs, sucked out by grief.

Grey took control of maneuvering through the void, carefully righting herself and flying off towards the border of the solar system they were currently in. Chyra and Grey's grief combined in the forefront of her mind was almost too much for her to bear. It sent waves of hopelessness cascading through her, sapping her strength with each passing moment. Now Chyra knew what people meant when they said they might die of a broken heart. The feeling in her chest was so sharp and painful that it felt like her heart was splitting into pieces.

Chyra didn't even notice how fast Grey was traveling, or that she had outrun the Galra fleet and was now entering another nearby solar system, one full of planets covered in vegetation and bodies of water. They looked positively hospitable, but Chyra wasn't getting her hopes up too terribly high. Nothing else had gone right today, or for the past two years, really, so why should she expect a stroke of luck now? She didn't deserve to find solace. She was a coward, a traitor to her empire and nothing more than a slave that should be dead. It should have been her that died, instead of her family. They didn't deserve such terrible fates.

Chyra's grief blinded her to the red blinking light on her dashboard, the one that signaled engine failure. She didn't notice that she was being pulled into the gravitational field of a small planet, or that Grey was furiously trying to catch her attention. Chyra barely felt anything when they entered the atmosphere of the planet, or when they got closer and closer to the water on the surface of the planet.

The shock barely registered as she hit. The numbness spread, overtaking Chyra's senses. She felt herself fading, losing her grip on consciousness and reality as she sank. A pair of huge figures splashed into the water above Chyra and Grey. The world faded away, taking her along with it. Chyra slipped into the dark's embrace, defeated and lost.

And then, suddenly, light.

. . . 

Chapter Text

The crowds bustled around the base of the castle, celebratory cheers rising from the gathered Corridans at random intervals. The Black Paladin looked down from his perch atop his lion's head, taking in the warmth of the breeze and the jovial calmness that filled the atmosphere in the wake of Voltron's latest victory. The planet Corrida had been under Galra occupation and control for hundreds of years, and the Paladins had finally managed to put and end to it after several days of strategizing and ambushing the galra bases scattered across the planet's surface. Now, the lions gathered around the courtyard of the capital city, standing sentry to the celebration of freedom going on below.

Usually, Shiro would have joined in on the festivities, but the battle for Corrida had been a particularly difficult one, and he was still a little bit on edge. So the Princess and the other Paladins were on party duty, while Shiro took a quick breather with Black. He promised Allura that he'd be down in time for the political potion of the celebration, when all the Paladins gathered with the planet's leaders to negotiate joining the growing Voltron Coalition, but for now he had some time to relax and calm his frayed nerves.

He patted the top of Black's head thoughtfully, and the lion rumbled slightly in response. "Another planet saved, just several hundred thousand more to go, right bud?" Shiro muttered jokingly to his lion.

"What was that, Shiro?" Lance's voice crackled over the comms, startling the Black Paladin slightly.

"Nothing," Shiro replied, "I was just... thinking out loud."

He turned back to the crowd below, switching off his comms for a few moments of peace.

The momentary silence was shattered when an explosion sounded off in the distance. Murmurs of confusion rippled through the crowd of gathered Corridans, and Shiro's gaze snapped upwards as tension surged through the bond he shared with his lion.

Something was plummeting through the sky, glowing with the heat of entering Corrida's atmosphere. Shiro couldn't make out exactly what kind of ship it was from this distance, but as far as he could tell, it wasn't anything he would recognize anyway. Shiro reached back up to his helmet and switched his comms back on, suddenly finding himself amidst a torrent of chatter from the Paladins.

"What is that thing?" Lance shouted. Shiro could hear the nerves in the young Paladin's voice. He watched as the object careened towards the sea in the distance, crashing into the water hard enough to send a torrent of spray flying several hundred feet into the air.

"I don't know, but we need to go check it out fast, before it sinks too far. Paladins, to your lions." Shiro replied, rushing to his feet. "Allura, can you get the Corridans to safety? I don't want them in the line of fire if this thing turns out to be dangerous."

"I can." The Princess affirmed, determination ringing through her accented voice. "Go, quickly!"

Shiro didn't need to be told twice. He rushed to the back of Black's head, leapt through the hatch, and hurried into the cockpit, situating himself in the pilot's seat. He grabbed the control handles and Black stood, his massive footfalls shaking the ground. Shiro felt the power of his lion as it moved around him, turning to face the place where the unidentified falling object landed.

Black leapt upwards, taking to the sky with a powerful blast of his thrusters. The other lions closely followed suit and pulled up on either flank.

Shiro radioed in once the other Paladins caught up, "Pidge, can you get a scan on that craft? Try to figure out what we're dealing with."

"It's a robeast. I'm calling it!" Hunk said, drowning out the Green Paladin's reply. They were approaching the crash site now, Black's scanners were picking up slow movement beneath the crystalline waves.

"I don't think it's a robeast."

"How do you know, Keith?" Lance asked, a little bit of bravado creeping into his voice. Shiro sighed inwardly, this wasn't the time for those two to be bickering.

"It didn't look like any of the robeast transports we've seen before. It was small and... asymmetrical." The Red Paladin replied.

Pidge spoke up over the comms, their voice excited and a little bit shaky. "Guys, this thing is made from the same material as Voltron."

A beat of silence.

Lance was the first to speak after the shock had registered. "What? How is that possible?" They had never found any trace of the element that made up Voltron, much less anything actually made out of it.

"We'll never find out if we don't pull this thing up." Shiro interjected. "Lance, your lion is best in the water, help me get it out. Everyone else, stay alert. We don't know what this thing is capable of."

Shiro was about to dive down when Pidge interrupted, "Shiro, one last thing."

"What is it?"

Pidge's voice was quiet, almost difficult to hear. "I'm picking up signs of life in that thing, but they're weak. Whoever is in there... I think they're dying."

A cold solemnity grabbed hold of Shiro's chest. With renewed determination, he dove into the sea with Lance on his heels.

He could see the slight glint of metal below him, but whatever it was, it was sinking fast, moving swiftly into the darker regions of the water.

"Lance."

"On it!" The Blue Paladin responded, his lion shooting downwards into the darkening ocean. Shiro kept heading steadily deeper, his eyes straining to see what was going on below. He heard a sudden groan of metal, and the blue lion surged upwards, pushing in front of it what looked like a battered silver lump of scrap metal.

Shiro steered Black over and helped Lance as the blue lion emerged from the sea and placed the vessel on dry land. Water ran off of the damaged ship in waterfalls, cascading down onto the pebbly beach below. Now that it was out of the water, Shiro could get a good look at it.

Scorch marks littered the ship's metallic grey hide, covering a large portion of it in blackened burns, but overall the ship looked mostly intact. A few of the plates along the top had been somewhat crushed inwards, and the roughened facets held water in odd little pockets, making the light refract off of it strangely. Despite this, Shiro's breath caught once he realized how the ship was shaped.

"Woah," Keith muttered.

"Shiro?" Allura's voice came over the comms. "Do you know what it is yet? Is everything alright?"

"You can let the Corridans know they're safe, Allura. The ship is deactivated and very damaged." He replied distractedly.

The yellow lion hovered overhead, and Hunk voiced the question that everyone wanted to ask. "What kind of ship is that?"

Lance answered breathlessly, "It's a wolf."

Pidge broke the Paladins out of their stunned reverie. "Guys! Those vitals aren't getting any stronger, we need to open that thing now if we want to save whoever is inside it."

"It looks like we can enter through the jaws, let's get whoever it is out of there." Shiro commanded, landing Black just beside the wolf's head. The black lion dwarfed the damaged ship in comparison, but when the green and red lions crouched beside it, they measured up to about the same size as the mysterious craft. The lions all lowered their heads and allowed their Paladins to run out, converging on the head of the inactive wolf mech. Its jaws were open and its head lay sideways on the gravelly beach, water dripping off of the machine's massive teeth gently. In the back of its open mouth, Shiro spotted a kind of elevator that would lead upwards into the wolf's cranium if it were right side up. For now, it was just a cramped, horizontal tunnel.

Keith went in first, his bayard at the ready.

"So we're just, like... cool with this?" Hunk piped up nervously. "I mean, we're crawling into the belly of the beast here."

"Literally," Lance added dryly, his voice barely above a mumble.

"Well seeing as 'the beast' is deactivated, I'd say yeah." Pidge replied, hopping between the wolf's massive metal teeth nonchalantly. They followed Keith cautiously, but with an air of excitement. Shiro went in close on the Green Paladin's heels, followed by Lance and Hunk.

The Paladins crouched through the sideways elevator, emerging into an almost empty cockpit one by one. The control room was spacious, albeit tipped completely sideways, and furnished only by a wraparound dashboard and viewport, a pilot's podium, and two elevated platforms with control disks mounted inside them, just like the control mechanism for the Castle of Lions. The Paladins stood on what should have been the right hand wall, all in awe of their strange new surroundings.

"I found the pilot!" Pidge's distressed voice pulled Shiro out of his reverie. The Black Paladin shook his head, trying to clear it. He needed to get a grip, he was really out of it today.

"They're alive, but barely."

The figure was laying in a rumpled heap against the wall, their back to the Paladins and long, matted mane of hair concealing their features. They had long limbs and a whiplike grayish-purple tail that ended in a close-cropped fringe that lay limply across their legs. Shiro's breath caught when he saw their prosthetic legs shining dully in the slight light provided by the windows. Their garments were hauntingly familiar too, striking a chord of fear into Shiro's heart as he beheld the Galran prison clothes adorning the figure's emaciated body.

Hunk, overcoming his fear with the help of his strong protective instinct, moved towards the unconscious pilot carefully, kneeling down before touching their shoulder and gently rolling them over onto their back. Their long ears flopped limply, and their matted hair fell aside to reveal the pale, gaunt, scarred face on an unconscious Galra.

"Woah!" Hunk scrambled backwards, startled. "Guys, what do I do?" Despite Hunk's frantic movements, the Galra didn't stir. They were seriously injured and thoroughly knocked out; their right inner arm bled profusely through a sloppily tied bandage and Shiro could see several half healed, painful looking scars peeking up from the back of their shirt collar. From the menacing prosthetics to the scars that marred the prisoner's sallow face, they looked positively wrecked, and more than a little dangerous. Still, the Paladins couldn't just leave them to die.

Shiro took a calming breath, mulling over the decision in his head for a moment. "We need to get them to a healing pod immediately. Hunk, Keith, you two fly ahead and get them to the castle. Pidge and Lance, help me bring the ship into a hangar. We'll meet back up in the med bay once it's situated."

"Are you sure we should bring them into the castle?" Keith asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"We don't have many other options," Shiro replied.

"What harm could they do like this?" Pidge added, unconcerned. "Plus," they continued, "I really want to know where they got this ship, and they can't answer my questions if they're dead."

Hunk gingerly gathered the Galra's limp form in his arms, struggling slightly with their height. Keith moved to help, stabilizing the injured pilot in the bigger Paladin's grasp and helping to carry part of their dead weight. The pair exited the cockpit hurriedly, and Shiro watched as they climbed into the red lion and sped off towards the castle outside the city.

Shiro hailed the castle directly, thinking it best to avoid telling Allura that they were having a Galran houseguest for the moment. "Coran, Hunk and Keith are bringing an injured Galra onto the castle, get them into a healing pod as fast as possible. And maybe don't tell Allura until I get back there to negotiate."

The line was silent for a moment, before Coran replied in a distressed whisper, "you mean I wasn't supposed to broadcast that message through the control room?"

"Shiro!" Allura snapped over the comms. The Black Paladin threw his head back and stifled a groan as the princess's aggravated voice filled his helmet. "Were you seriously going to bring a Galra into the castle and not tell me?"

"I was going to let you know as soon as we got there with their ship, I just didn't want to cause undue conflict or-"

"Undue conflict?"

"No, I mean, yes- listen," Shiro struggled, trying to assuage the princess's ire before he dug himself into a deeper hole than he already had. He would have massaged his temples had he not been wearing his helmet.

"Every time we've had a Galra on our ship disaster has fallen, first Sendak, then Ulaz... I will not allow another one in this castle!" Allura insisted, that sharp edge of stubbornness creeping into her accented voice.

"Princess, please," Shiro tried to negotiate, "they're injured, they're unconscious, they can't do any harm. And they were a prisoner of the empire, for all we know they could have come looking for our help."

"For all we know, they could be a spy sent by Zarkon!"

Shiro exclaimed in exasperation, "if we don't help them, they'll die. Do you really want that on your conscience?" His tone came out more snappish than he intended, and attracted concerned glances from Pidge and Lance. Shiro took a shaky breath, steadying himself.

"Sorry, Allura. I didn't mean to-"

"No," interrupted the princess with resignation, "you're right. But the moment they wake up, they're going in the holding cell."

In his periphery, Shiro heard Lance whisper, "we have a holding cell?"

"That's the first I've heard of it," replied Pidge.

Shiro closed his eyes, took another calming breath. When he opened them, he saw Pidge and Lance staring at him with concern. They looked away the moment Shiro noticed them. Deliberately ignoring their attention, he scanned the cockpit and looked for any kind of indication as to where the vessel came from. But the cockpit was surprisingly empty. Sure, the display monitors were turned off and blank, but every ship Shiro had ever been in had a more complicated system than this one appeared to, and that included the old outdated Galran escape pod he had gone back to Earth in.

"Pidge, scan the craft for tracking devices, see if you can figure out how this thing works, and get any information off of it that you can."

"I'll try, but I'm not sure anything will start up. It seems a little too far gone to be of any real help." The Green Paladin reasoned.

"Could we maybe use my arm to power the system like a Galra shuttle?"

"This tech isn't Galran, but we could give it a shot."

Shiro looked across the minimalistic dashboard, trying to find a power source of any kind. When he didn't find one, Shiro maneuvered through the crooked cockpit to the raised podiums, placing his Galran prosthetic against one of the control disks and igniting it. He waited for the activation, the thrum of energy and power as his prosthetic arm synched with the ship's systems.

There was nothing.

"There's just not enough power to recharge the ship. Sorry Shiro, we'll have to try something else once we get this thing back to the castle."

"Sounds like a plan," Shiro agreed.

"On the positive side, there doesn't seem to be any tracking devices."

"Great," Shiro breathed a minuscule sigh of relief, "then we can bring it in. Where can we put it, in one of the pod bays?"

"I'm not sure it'll fit, not without us having to rearrange all of the pod docking stations." Lance dissented.

"That's alright," piped up Pidge, "there's extra room in Green's hangar. Plus that's where all my equipment is, and I really want to run more detailed scans on this thing."

Between the black and blue lions, taking the battered wolf ship to the castle was little trouble. Lance and Shiro, under the guidance of a very strict and strategic Pidge, maneuvered the silver mech into the green lion's hangar, then split up and landed in their own respective spires of the castle.

The Paladins converged in the medical bay, where Keith and Hunk stood to the side while a stony-faced Princess Allura stood in front of the only occupied pod, her arms crossed over her chest and her hip cocked out defensively. Coran was positioned at the room's control panel, typing away on the holographic data display. As Shiro approached the pod, flanked by Pidge and Lance on either side, Allura looked towards him with a skeptically arched brow.

"You said you were bringing in an injured Galra, not a dead one." The princess scoffed, deadpan. She was obviously not thrilled at the prospect of housing a Galra, even one who was a refugee of the empire.

"Coran, have you run the preliminary scans yet?" Pidge called just as Shiro was readying a response.

"I've got the basic information, here's the readout." The older Altean replied, handing Pidge a glowing blue data pad.

They read aloud, "species: Galra plus unknown variant. Mixed signals on the gender but outwardly appears female, age around 23 Earth years. As for the injury diagnostics... it's an extremely long list, including but not limited to a severe concussion, fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder-"

Hunk shuddered. "I knew that arm wasn't supposed to bend like that."

"How long does it say she'll be in there?" Allura asked, on edge.

Without looking up the from data pad (they were still scrolling down the diagnostics list of the Galra's condition), Pidge responded, "about a week and a half, give or take a few days."

"We'll need to keep a close watch on her pod, since we don't know exactly when it'll open up."

Shiro nodded, "Good idea, Keith, but for now, since we know she'll be in there for at least a week, we can probably make do with a surveillance monitor on the bridge." The other Paladins agreed, and gradually started to lose interest in the inanimate Galra in the healing pod.

After a while, Hunk motor boated his lips awkwardly, before standing up and walking towards the door, grumbling something about scanning the wolf ship.

Pidge shot up after him. "I'm gonna go work on that droid that I've been rewiring." They started to head for the door, but Lance called out.

"The one that you're programming with a C-3PO voice? Count me in!" He jumped up and followed Pidge out the doors, chattering amiably with the short-statured inventor.

Keith left silently after checking in to make sure Shiro was okay. The Black Paladin dismissed his concern airily, assuring that he was just a little tired. Some rest would fix him right up. Keith looked unconvinced even as he walked away. Eventually, Shiro and Allura were the only ones left in the medbay.

When the princess approached, Shiro braced for the scolding, the argument he had been expecting since getting to the castle. If Allura's stern expression was anything to go off of, Shiro was in for a very long conversation.

Unexpectedly, the princess' face softened as she stopped in front of him, her silver eyebrows furrowing with worry rather than anger and her multicolored eyes softening as she looked at the black paladin. "Are you sure you're alright? You look worried."

Shiro deflated. He didn't know how she did it, but Allura had a way of completely disarming people's defenses, no matter how carefully constructed they were. It was what made her an excellent leader, negotiator, and diplomat. It made her a great friend to confide in, even when Shiro was trying to put on a brave face in front of the team.

He tucked his helmet under his arm and rubbed at his eyes with his left hand. "I'm fine, just tired and stressed out."

Allura nodded, understanding evident in the small motion. "I know having a Galra in the castle is as... challenging for you as it is for me. If you ever need anything, I'm here. We all are, even though I am questioning your sanity just a little bit right now." Allura punctuated her comforting assurance with a lighthearted jibe, breaking through the heavy tension that had settled over the room in the wake of the Galra's arrival.

Shiro allowed himself a slight chuckle. "Thanks, Allura. I really appreciate that."

"Of course, Shiro." The Princess patted his shoulder as she walked past him, heading towards the door. She bid him farewell as she exited, leaving Shiro alone in the medbay with the unconscious Galra.

Shiro turned back to the healing pod, staring hard at the figure within. He knew he should leave, he needed rest and he didn't want a repeat of the mess that happened last time he was alone too long with an encased Galra, but something about this wounded person had caught his interest, although he couldn't place a finger on exactly what.

Maybe it was because this Galra looked like she had been through hell.

She was tall, quite a bit taller than Shiro, even though she was slouched somewhat in the healing capsule. Her skin was a sallow, light shade of grayish purple; it looked like it had been a long time since she'd seen sunlight. Her face had been marred over on the right side by a a pair of scars that had been slashed across her face, leaving stark reminders of pain over her eye, nose, cheek, and lip. The upper scar, which was drawn through her right eye, stretched from her hairline at the temple across the upper bridge of her nose. It narrowly missed her other eye, passing just below it and ending about halfway across her cheek on the other side. The lower scar was shorter, and spanned across her cheek to cut through her lip and brush her chin. Her facial expression was serene, at rest, except for the occasional moments in which a pained expression would twitch across her face, making her scars pucker oddly. Her ears were long and the right one was ragged, poking out from inside her mass of matted hair, which was dark purple despite being incredibly tangled and matted. Her body was emaciated, with a concave chest and ribs that you could see through her dark clothes. Her long torso looked too thin to support her upper body, especially with her wide shoulders that even a lack of weight couldn't hide. Her hipbones were prominent, her arms too skinny to be healthy, and her cheekbones protruded out too far above her concave cheeks.

And that was to say nothing of the rest of her scars.

Shiro studied her arms, which were uncovered due to the torn sleeves of her prisoner's clothes. Almost everywhere he looked there was a blemish, a mark, a scar from a healed over cut or burn. He could only imagine what the rest of her looked like. There was a large, prominent Galran symbol carved into the inside of her right arm, and he could even see dents and slashes drawn across her metal prosthetics, the grey metallic surfaces reflecting the light back out from inside the healing pod. Shiro suppressed a shudder and turned his gaze away from the prosthetic limbs.

A thought flashed unbidden across Shiro's mind. Had he looked like this after he escaped? Surely not, he couldn't have been so skeletal and scarred... could he? He didn't remember hardly anything from his time in captivity, just flashes of memories too terrible to recall completely. Shiro didn't know what the Galra had done to him; maybe when he first escaped he had looked just as pained and haunted as this poor soul.

He studied her face, his eyes squinting as he looked at her. He tried to figure out if he had seen this Galra before. There was something about her features that felt... familiar.

With his memory, Shiro wasn't sure if that was a good or bad sign.

She had a strong, sharp jaw, although Shiro guessed part of its definition had to do with how sallow her cheeks were. Even if she hadn't looked so deathly thin though, her cheekbones would still have been prominent. Her nose was wide, sharp and kind of flat, like Galra noses tended to be. She had dark eyebrows that would furrow occasionally as she winced in pain from the healing pod's work on her wounds. Lance was right, people in the healing pods always looked like they were having bad dreams. Her appearance didn't put Shiro on edge, although worry gnawed at his stomach at the fact that he found this Galra prisoner familiar at all. Even so, Shiro let himself relax just a little bit.

He hesitantly stepped closer, reaching out to touch the capsule housing the prisoner. His metallic fingers clinked on the glass, and he withdrew with a wince, never taking his eyes off of the Galra. He couldn't help but ask aloud, although there was no way the Galra could hear him, "what happened to you?"

. . .

Chapter Text

Chyra groaned as her eyelids snapped closed against the bright light, her body curling inward as she slowly gained control of her senses. Confusion clouded her mind; she felt an oddly soft surface beneath her as she moved. Blankets rustled on top of her, and dare she say her head was resting on a pillow?

She worked her eyes open again, blinking to adjust her vision to the bright light. As her surroundings came into focus, unease and worry overcame her. Where in the seven hells was she?

Chyra was lying in a bed in a small, circular room. It was a sparsely furnished chamber, with very few other features besides the white-sheeted bed. Chyra struggled upwards, sitting up slowly and massaging her eyes to try and rid herself of the itchy dryness there. As she moved her arm, she felt an odd tug and a sting of pain. Blinking in numb surprise, Chyra saw an IV inserted into her arm, dripping liquid down the tube slowly. Clumsily, Chyra prodded at the needle with one clawed finger, wincing as the movement jostled it and made her arm sting.

Looking back upward, Chyra saw a thin silver doorway that was open to reveal a cramped bath chamber within. A stark light radiated from a blue crystal mounted on the wall next to the bed, but nothing else broke the smooth surface of the circular walls. They were an odd material, it looked partially translucent, like frosted glass. Chyra's stomach did somersaults as she realized that there was no door to exit the room. She was trapped.

Panic surged upwards, throwing itself to the forefront of Chyra's mind. She yanked the IV drip out of her arm, hissing with pain as the needle was dragged out of her vein abruptly. A frantic beeping began, emanating from somewhere outside the room. Cell, Chyra realized with a gripping terror. She was in a cell, she was a prisoner again. Her breathing shortened at the realization, terror gripping her ribcage and making her lungs struggle to function.

Worse still was Chyra's next realization: she couldn't sense Grey. The comforting presence that had kept her sane through her imprisonment was gone, leaving a gaping silence in its place. Chyra struggled to her feet, swaying from disorientation. She braced against the wall as she staggered sideways, unbalanced and shaking ferociously. Where was she? What was happening? Where was Grey?

Voices broke through the haze of panic in Chyra's mind, indistinct due to distance or the barrier around her or their non-Galra language, Chyra couldn't be sure of which. A nervous, male voice shouted, "Guys! Guys uh- she's awake!"

To which a higher pitched voice replied, "Yeah, I can see that!"

Chyra heard more shouting from outside the glass walls, growing nearer by the second. She frantically searched for an escape, only to find herself completely trapped within the glass-walled cell. She slammed the side of her fist against the wall, desperately wishing for it to break. When that didn't work, she tried to ignite her right leg and kick out at it, only for her to lose her balance as her blow glanced off the wall. Her leg only glowed feebly for a couple moments before flickering out, her weakened state inhibiting the ignition of her prosthetics. She scrambled to regain her footing and rocked back on her heels, panting and shaky.

Chyra heard a deer voice say, "Alright, now don't bombard her with questions, we need to take this slow."

"Speak for yourself, I'll ask whatever questions I need!" An accented female voice quipped back.

"Remember, just like Ulaz, not all Galra are as bad as they seem."

The people outside were close now, several figures were standing just on the other side of the wall, their shapes obscured and indistinct through the semi-opaque glass. The terrified Galra backed up against the opposite wall, her tail thrashing and her ears pinned to the sides of her head. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse and her words awkward from disuse.

"Who's out there?" Chyra took a breath, swallowed as her parched throat protested the use of her voice.

Another new voice piped up, "what is she saying? And can she hear us through the glass?" This person sounded defensive and on edge. Chyra didn't like the implications of his tone.

Yet another voice, this time a male with an exaggerated accent, replied. "Yes, in fact, she's definitely listening to exactly what we say right this moment!"

"Well that's just great. From how this conversation has gone, she probably thinks we're super lame!" This person's tone was dripping with sass. Chyra couldn't help but think of Harlow.

The deeper male voice returned. "Then let's make up for it with a good first impression. Manners, you all."

"Show yourself!" Chyra demanded, trying not to let her words sound shaky or timid.

The voices quieted, and the indistinct figures outside the wall stilled. Chyra backed up another half a step, wishing in that moment that she could get her prosthetics to work. She must have been too low on energy for them to light. Still, her demands must have worked, as two small blue dots appeared on the wall in front of her, blinking for a moment and beeping softly.

Then the lights disappeared, taking with them the opaque sheen on the walls. The barriers were suddenly clear, and Chyra saw a group of seven people standing outside the cell, watching her intently. She balked, moving as far away from the observers as she could. Her gaze darted rapidly between them, trying to pinpoint the most dangerous one of the group. If it came down to a fight, she would be at a serious disadvantage. But even as Chyra pressed further against the wall and put as much distance as she could between herself and the group, she realized none of them looked exceptionally... dangerous. Most of them looked like adolescents, and none of them were armed or poised to attack. Chyra felt herself relax only slightly, straightening her posture a bit from her defensive stance.

"Who are you, and what's going on?"

One of the figures stepped forward, a comforting expression on his face. He was one of the taller ones of the group, wearing black and grey clothes. His hair was black with a shock of white that hung down like a fringe, almost obscuring a long, jagged scar across the bridge of his nose. When he spoke, it was with a cautious tone of voice, as though he was trying to avoid spooking Chyra.

"Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you." He said, moving closer to the glass. "Can you understand me?"

"Right, you speak galactic common." Chyra replied, shakily switching from the Galra dialect to the lingua franca of the universe.

One of the watching figures, a young lanky male wearing blue and green, sent a quizzical expression Chyra's way. "That's a weird way to say 'English'."

"What is English?" Chyra asked, puzzled.

Before the boy could continue to pursue the subject, a young woman near the front of the group exclaimed, "We'll ask the questions, Galra!" Chyra winced at her tone and expression, the aggression was enough to set the ex-assassin's nerves alight. There was open hostility in the young woman's voice, and for good reason, Chyra realized suddenly. She was an Altean. Weren't they all supposed to be extinct?

"You're Altean?" Chyra asked, aghast.

"I am Princess Allura, you are in my castle. Now, you'll answer my questions or we'll turn you in to whatever bounty hunter may be looking for you."

Chyra's shock was so great, she didn't hardly register the threat. "How are you alive?"

The princess looked affronted, she took a step back with a hand over her chest. A short statured kid near the front of the group stifled a snort of laughter. One of the taller teens, a lanky one wearing blue and green, muttered "geez, you can't just ask how somebody is alive."

"Right," the scarred man said, dragging out the word as though her couldn't figure out what else to say. "We're off track." He looked back to Chyra, a cautious sort of expression on his face. "Are you feeling alright? You were in bad shape when we saved you from the crash."

Chyra blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the man's concern. "I'm..." she pondered it for a moment, unsure, "...fine."

"That's good," he smiled comfortingly through the glass, "now, can you answer some questions for us?"

Despite detesting being treated so delicately, Chyra nodded stiffly, staring hard at the still-glaring Altean and trying not to let her shaky hands show. The young woman's regal posture screamed royalty just as much as her gown and bejeweled circlet did, and the sour expression on her pink-marked face as she looked Chyra over made the ex-gladiator bristle with unease. Chyra tried vainly to calm herself down; she could feel her anxiety spiking as she started to tremble.

"Right then," the Altean said, apparently satisfied by Chyra's wordless reply. "Now, what are you doing here?"

Unsure of how to answer, the shaking Galra braced herself and asked, "Where exactly is here?"

The Altean looked immensely frustrated, as though Chyra's very presence was taxing her. "Did you not understand when I-"

The man with the scar interrupted by placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let's start out a little easier." He turned to look at Chyra again, a careful and comforting expression on his face. "What's your name?"

Chyra's shaky hand moved to cover the brand on her arm, concealing her identity from the onlookers. "I'm Chyra. Please, where am I?"

"You're safe, in the Castle of Lions, the headquarters of the Voltron Coalition."

Chyra's hair stood on end at the mention of that name. She had heard of Voltron, of course, it was a prominent figure in the Empire's history and legends. Chyra had always loved those stories. Now, however, the name made a sour taste rise in her mouth. Lately, every time she had heard that name, it had been whispered under the breath of the guards in the cell blocks, or muttered from between the masked lips of Haggar's druids. Voltron had been causing issues within the Empire for several months, inciting rebellions and defeating Zarkon's every move. The Emperor never took well to these losses. They had made him frustrated, and in need of entertainment.

Chyra had never encountered Voltron, but it had caused her a lot of pain.

"I... I shouldn't be here. Please, I need to get out-"

"Why?" Another of the gathered people asked, this time an adolescent boy wearing black and red. His dark eyes flashed with aggression, and his posture screamed of a life of struggle that had hardened him. "Do you want to leave so you can go report our location to Zarkon as soon as possible?"

She shook her head ardently, "No, I-"

"Were you sent here to infiltrate us?"

"No, I just-"

"Why did the empire send you here?" The voices were piling up, too many question and answers rang through her brain. Chyra couldn't catch a breath.

"I didn't-"

"Are you some kind of spy?"

"No!" Chyra was beginning to panic now, her heart pounded in her chest and her breathing started to shorten. It was getting hard to fill her lungs. There were too many people, all staring at her in this tiny space and she could hardly breathe-

"Guys, lay off. She's overwhelmed." The man with the scar stepped in front of his inquiring companions with a stern look and an outstretched arm.

Calm down, you look weak. Chyra scolded herself, taking a few steadying breaths and trying to slow her racing heart. It didn't help much, but she was able to stammer out a response. Her hands gradually moved down away from the sides of her head, where she had been clutching at her hair in distress.

"I-if Voltron is here, then Zarkon is doing everything in his power to capture it. I don't... I don't want to be here when you cross paths with the Empire. I can't go back there."

"And you won't have to," the man wearing black said. "We're not going to let you be recaptured." He cast a meaningful glance at the Princess before looking back to Chyra with that same carefully concerned look he had been wearing before. His comforting tone and reassuring look helped put Chyra's mind at ease, but only slightly. She would still prefer if there were less people present.

"If-if you people are really allied with Voltron, it would seem we have a common enemy in the Empire." Chyra resumed the conversation shakily.

"Oh we're more than allies of Voltron!" The lanky teen in blue replied, "We are Voltron!" He struck a pose, much to the befuddlement of his compatriots. Several of them looked at him with a mixture of confusion and resignation. The aggressive one in red and the smallest member of the group smacked their foreheads in such perfect synchronization that Chyra had to wonder if they had practiced that exact motion. The oldest one, another Altean with orange hair and a very large mustache, posed too.

That diffused the tension pretty spectacularly.

Chyra scoffed, unconvinced and unimpressed. The shenanigans of the onlookers helped ease her anxieties and put her mind at ease. Surely these people weren't serious. They had to be decoys or apprentices to the real Paladins or something.

"You're joking." Chyra retorted, deadpan.

A large-statured teen in the back of the group spoke up, interjecting into the conversation. "See, that's what I thought when Allura told us we were gonna pilot the lions, but evidently no, we aren't joking."

"Thats impossible! You can't be..." Chyra stared at the faces of the people gathered outside the cell. "You're children."

Children, fighting a war against the most powerful empire in the universe's eons-long history. It was wrong when Chyra's family was doing it, but at least then Chyra knew that they were capable warriors, trained for years in the art of war, only to turn that training back on the Empire when they fought with the rebellion. These kids looked so inexperienced. The only one that looked like he had seen any kind of battle or military training was the man with the scar, but he was fully grown, and Chyra could only guess about his experience by the way he carried himself and the scar across his nose. All of his companions except the older Altean man were so young, they should never have been fighting a war.

The one in blue seemed to take offense to the statement. "Excuse you! I am of legal drinking age in Germany!"

Chyra tilted her head, her ears flicking in confusion. "...What is Germany?"

"Not helpful, Lance." The smallest one piped up, straightening the round glasses that rested on their nose as they gave the taller teen a sideways glance.

"We really are the paladins of Voltron, and maybe some introductions are in order." The scarred man stepped back, gesturing one by one to the people behind him as he introduced them.

"You've been introduced to Princess Allura, the princess of Altea and leader of our coalition. This is her advisor, Coran." The older Altean with the mustache, Coran, bowed in greeting like some kind of old fashioned nobleman. Chyra nodded stiffly in response. Princess Allura didn't make a move, just stood there with her steely, multicolored gaze scrutinizing Chyra endlessly.

"And these are the paladins of Voltron: Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk. I'm Shiro."

Chyra almost didn't even hear the last three names. She was too fixed on the man- Shiro's- right hand.

It was of Galra make, dark grey metal with malleable black joints, just like Chyra's legs. It was a weapon, that was for sure, built like her own prosthetics as a device of battle and war. Chyra's mind flashed through with images of the arena, of arms built just like that glowing a furious purple, slashing towards her and-

Chyra shook herself, trying to regain her sense of reality before she lost it again. Still, she knew that Shiro had seen her reaction to his prosthetic hand, as he glanced down, winced, and then tucked it discreetly behind his back with a knowing look in his eye.

The conversation paused, held up by the tense atmosphere rippling between the Paladins of Voltron and their unexpected guest. Chyra took the opportunity to ask the question that had been plaguing her since her first moments of consciousness.

"My ship, please, tell me if she- if it's alright."

The princess looked exasperated by Chyra's question, but the other onlookers shared perturbed glances. Worry clenched at the ex-assassin's heart upon seeing their expressions.

Finally, the smallest teen, Pidge, stepped toward the glass and replied, "your ship sustained a lot of damage, and it hit the water on Corrida at such an extreme velocity, it should have been destroyed."

Should have been. That meant Grey was alright, or at least in one piece.

"But somehow, your ship survived." Pidge concluded. Chyra felt such immense relief that she visibly relaxed, breathing a huge sigh of contentment. Even though Grey wasn't connected to her at the moment, she was intact. Alive, in her own unique way. She was going to be alright.

"Don't look so relieved," the Princess snapped suddenly, "you won't be getting your ship back if you don't answer our questions." Allura's tone immediately put Chyra on the defensive, and she couldn't stop the split second scowl that she shot at the young Altean woman.

Chyra replied, venomous and with a sideways glare, "Ask away, your highness."

The Princess looked taken aback, but quickly recovered by putting on a mask of cool indifference. "What is your purpose here?" She asked cooly.

Props to her for the quick recovery, Chyra thought absently. Still, she didn't like the way this conversation felt more like an interrogation. "Your knowledge there far exceeds my own. I don't even know how I got here."

"Stop being difficult!" Allura snapped.

Chyra watched as Shiro put a hand on Allura's shoulder, stern but non threatening in his body language. He looked to Chyra, said "excuse us for a moment," and guided Allura away from the cell, just out of earshot. While they talked, the other Paladins shifted nervously, not saying anything.

Chyra took advantage of the lull in conversation to try and calm herself down. She tried to run her hand through her matted hair, pushing it back away from where it hung in her face, and took a deep breath to steady herself.

Chyra heard a whispered exclamation from outside the cell: "Woah."

Her gaze snapped back to the Paladins, her expression quizzical and gaze searching for the speaker. The one in red, Keith, looked at her intently.

"What happened to your eye?"

Chyra sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she would probably be answering questions like this for a long while before these people would leave her alone. So she answered simply, "I lost it in a gladiator match."

"You were a gladiator?" The shy one, Hunk, asked.

"For about two deca-phoebs, yes."

"Did you ever see either of these people during your time as a prisoner? They're humans, like us, and I've been looking for them in Galra and rebel databases for months now." Pidge pulled up a small holo-screen and held it up to the glass. Chyra approached the group cautiously, leaning down and squinting to get a better look at the pictures the Paladin was displaying.

"No, I don't know those people." The faces displayed on the holopad were unfamiliar to Chyra. She had never seen these people: an older human man and a younger one, both with a startling resemblance to Pidge. "Who are they," Chyra asked, raising an eyebrow at the small Paladin," family of yours?"

Pidge answered, downcast, "my father and brother. They were captured along with Shiro on a mission to a moon at the edge of our home solar system. Nobody has seen them in over a year." They turned the holoscreen back towards themself, looking longingly at their family for a moment before hastily turning the device off and shoving it in their pocket.

Chyra softened with sympathy. "I'm sorry, I don't know anything about them."

"It's fine." Pidge's reply was short and clipped. Chyra was going to say more to comfort them, but her attention was dragged back to Shiro and Allura as they approached the cell once again. Allura looked calmer, although still fairly exasperated.

"Kiah, was it?"

"It's Chyra," the ex-asssassin responded.

"Right. As the leader of the Voltron Coalition, I have a duty to protect those who have been wronged by the Empire, be they rebel soldier or displaced refugee. We believe that you may fall under one of those categories, so we are honor-bound to help you. But as of right now, we have no idea who you are, and therefore cannot in good conscience allow you to go free. I need you to be cooperative and answer our questions, so we can decide whether or not we can trust you enough to release you."

"I understand." Chyra replied.

"Good, then let us begin. First, who are you?"

Chyra blanched, but kept her face in as neutral of an expression as she could manage. How in the world was she supposed to answer that? If she told them she was a former assassin of the Galra Empire (or, stars forbid, the top assassin), they would assume she had been sent to kill them and probably maroon her on a deserted planet in the farthest reaches of the galaxies and let her rot, or maybe something worse. She had already let slip the fact that she had been a gladiator, and while they hadn't reacted horribly to that fact, it definitely hadn't put any of these people more at ease. No matter how she decided to spin the tale, if she told any semblance of truth, Chyra was going to be in danger.

Good thing Chyra's time as an assassin had made her a master of twisting the truth around to her own benefit.

"I was a soldier of the Empire up until almost three deca-phoebs ago, when I was captured and imprisoned for betraying Emperor Zarkon."

"How did you betray him?" Shiro asked, his expression guarded but curious. Chyra didn't miss the way he leaned forward slightly, eager to hear her reply.

Chyra could't help the bitter smile that graced her features at the memory. "How didn't I betray him would be a better question." At the lack of response from the paladins, Chyra continued, counting off on her fingers as she listed her offenses. "Let's see, I defied direct and explicit orders on numerous occasions, I snuck into restricted areas frequently, I directly assaulted other soldiers when they got in the way of my breaking orders, I stole a priceless and ancient vessel along with its counterparts, I caused a lot of property damage while doing so, and I roped four cadets into defecting with me and stealing the vessels that accompanied my own." She looked up and gauged the paladins' reactions.

"And that was just what I did before I was deemed a traitor." Chyra shot a lopsided grin at her captors' utterly flabbergasted expressions.

"Sounds like you aren't too big on rules." Keith recovered, raising an eyebrow at Chyra. Did she detect a smidge of admiration in his expression?

She merely shrugged in response. "When all the orders come from an oppressive military regime that controls every aspect of your life, is defiance really all that bad?"

"Speaking of vessels, how did you get that ship of yours?" Coran asked, raising his hand as though he was asking for permission to speak.

"And do you have any idea where it came from before you got it? We've never seen anything like it." Hunk piped in.

"I don't know. The first time I saw Grey was in the hold of central command. She and the other wolves were just... sitting there with particle barriers up. I think they'd been inactive for an extremely long time."

"In the weeks you've been in the healing pod, I've been studying your wolf." Pidge said. "It's self healing, made of the same rare element as Voltron, and it looks like ancient Altean tech, but we can't find any information on it in the castle archives at all. Are you sure you don't know anything else about it?"

"I don't," Chyra promised, "but when she's back online, I'll see what I can find out."

"How did you know the ship was offline?" Keith shot back, his tone defensive and accusatory.

"You just said it was a miracle she wasn't completely destroyed. There's no way my wolf is online after sustaining that much damage." Chyra retorted, deadpan. In truth, Chyra knew Grey was offline because of the startling lack of the wolf's presence in her own mind. But she didn't really need these people to think she was any more insane than they already did.

Keith backed down slightly, but kept a wary eye trained on Chyra's face through the glass.

"You said there were other ships like yours?" Allura asked.

Chyra went quiet, her breath catching in her chest and her eyes beginning to sting. Memories flashed across her vision, and she tried to block them out by closing her eyes to no avail. She answered quietly, around the growing lump in her throat, as she processed her most recent memories.

"There used to be, but they're gone now. The ships are destroyed and their pilots..." Chyra's throat closed with emotion, and she tried to clear the lump out of her throat with little avail. "...they're gone too." She looked down, trying to conceal the tears in her eyes from the onlooking Paladins.

"Who were the other pilots?" Keith asked. "Rebel fighters?"

Chyra's answer was quiet, barely audible, but it sent a wave of shock rippling through the Paladins.

"My family."

A horribly long silence ensued, one so tangible Chyra could feel the lack of noise creeping down her throat and stifling her. She had to say something, break the silence before it consumed her.

So she let herself speak.

"They were there with their rebel allies to rescue me. They helped me escape, me and all of the prisoners in Central Command." Chyra lowered herself onto the foot of the bed, her knees weak as she recalled the dark memories.

She scoffed humorlessly, her hands forming into tight fists in her lap. "I don't know why in the seven hells they thought it was a good idea to attack Central Command, but they were always good at getting in over their heads." She looked away, turning her blind eye to the Paladins so they didn't see the tears shining in her good eye.

"They pulled me out of the arena, saved me from having to fight one of my only friends. And they brought me back to Grey- my ship." Chyra paused again, waiting for one of the paladins to speak up, but they said nothing. She swallowed the lump in her throat and kept going.

"We were... so close. We had gotten all of the prisoner shuttles to hyperspace safely. All the rebel fighters were en route to their bases, it was just the five of us that had to make it to the rebel base. But... all of a sudden things just went so wrong." A shuddering breath, a flash of memory across Chyra's mind, a tear tracing down her cheek. "It should have been an easy escape, with all five of us working together. But it wasn't, and... I was the only one who made it out alive."

"Gosh, that's awful." Hunk said softly. "I'm so sorry."

Chyra didn't say anything. She had probably already said too much. She wordlessly wiped the tears off of her cheek with the back of her hand, taking a few shaky breaths to try and staunch her grief. It wasn't working.

Finally, Chyra mustered up the ability to whisper hoarsely, "you should have left me to drown."

Another ripple of unease swept through the Paladins. Chyra didn't see them exchange worried and sorrowful glances, but she did hear when Shiro spoke.

"Listen, I know what you're going through is incredibly hard, but that's no reason to give up hope. We want to help you get back on your feet, and if you want to join us in our fight against Zarkon, we can help you avenge your family."

Chyra stared hard at Shiro for a moment, taken aback by his empathy and kindness. She supposed she was just unused to someone being compassionate towards her. But after her initial surprise abided, Shiro's words began to sink in.

He was right. Chyra couldn't let herself sink into despair or give in to grief and sorrow. Because yes, her family was gone, but she was still alive. They had given their lives to make sure she continued to live, and if she gave up now, they would have died in vain. Chyra had to honor their memory, continue to fight and persevere and live, and make a difference in the universe to carry on the work that her family never got to finish.

A swell of determination surged into Chyra's chest, burning intensely and breathing new life into Chyra's exhausted heart. She looked up at the Paladins and their Altean allies, and though grief still dragged against her, a new vigor and sense of purpose shone bright in her eyes.

"I'll help you."

"Really?" Lance asked, surprised.

Chyra stood tall in response, crossing her right fist to her heart in a solemn oath as she rose to her full height. "However I can, until my last breath if need be, I'll help you fight Zarkon. To avenge my family, and make him atone for all the wrong he's done, I will help you stop the Emperor. I swear to it."

And when Shiro smiled at her, Chyra couldn't help but smile back.

. . .

Despite her oath of allegiance to Voltron's cause, the Paladins and Princess questioned Chyra for quite some time afterwards. Hunk brought her a bowl of weird green mush that he insisted was food, and Chyra settled cross-legged on the floor to eat and answer the questions the Paladins had left. After spending so long in a cell, sitting so casually on a bed just seemed wrong.

The questioning went fairly smoothly after Chyra's oath, although the Paladins were still cautious (Allura and Keith were still downright hostile), the conversation went much more smoothly after the tense atmosphere had been broken. Chyra had apologized to the princess for her stunned reaction to her, she explained that she had been raised to believe that Alteans were gone forever, never to return, so Allura's presence had been shocking to her. The princess stiffly accepted the apology. 

Chyra was very careful about her answers, she thought them through carefully and intentionally left out some of the truth from many of them. She figured the Paladins wouldn't take too kindly to having an ex-assassin aboard their ship, especially Zarkon's once-favored one. She left out the fact that she had been renamed Executioner during her time in the arena, and that Grey was a sentient, conscious being. Those facts were likely to convince the Paladins that she was not only dangerous, but certifiably insane, and Chyra really wanted to avoid that.

But the more she talked to Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Coran, and Shiro, the more relaxed Chyra began to feel. She realized that they reminded her so much of her family that it hurt. The way they bickered and bantered, the way they would casually lean against one another or mutter little asides to each other during a conversation was something so... familial. Chyra had missed this too.

If she had to guess, Chyra would've estimated that she talked to the Paladins for about two hours, asking and answering questions. By the end of the conversation, Chyra had a full stomach and significantly lessened anxieties, although Grey's inactivity still made her uneasy. The Paladins eventually filed out of the room after Coran suggested she get some rest, leaving Chyra to her own devices in the cell. She was made no promises of release, and if Allura's scowl was anything to go off of, Chyra shouldn't hold her breath about getting out any time soon.

The room was too quiet; with nothing but Chyra's own breathing echoing around the circular chamber to break the silence, she was reminded forcefully of the many silent hours she had spent alone on the prison ship. Suppressing a shudder, Chyra slipped into the open bathroom attached to the cell. It was cramped and uncomfortable, but came with a shower, sink, toilet, and mirror, with some essentials laid out on the sink. Chyra avoided at all costs looking in the mirror, she didn't think she could stomach her reflection after two years of neglect and maltreatment. So she peeled off her grimy prisoner's garb and slid into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it could go. She sighed as the hot water slid across her back, and scrubbed at the grime that is this point felt engraved into her skin. She purposely ignored the prominence of her ribcage and hipbones, and scrubbed extra hard over her scars, as though the could make them disappear if she rubbed soap over them enough times. She only succeeded in irritating her skin with all her scrubbing. Chyra tried to save her hair, she really did, but it was so matted and tangled that she wasn't even sure she had rinsed all of the soap out of it after almost ten minutes of scrubbing and rinsing. She may have only made it worse.

Eventually, Chyra had to leave her steamy haven, turning off the water and toweling dry with a towel she dug out of the cabinet beneath the sink. There were a couple of pairs of clothes sitting on the counter as well, and Chyra chose the looser fitting set of shirt and shorts and left the bathroom, still resolutely ignoring the mirror on her way out.

She settled herself into the bed, resolving to try and get some sleep in the hopes that Grey would be in better shape by the time she woke up. She laid awake for several more hours, her mind racing and heart aching from loss. She wondered if she really had a chance to atone of all of the wrongs she had committed, to make up for the atrocities of her past, and to avenge the death of har family. It was certainly never going to happen if she never left this cell, but Allura's clear hatred of Galra was most likely going to get in the way of Chyra gaining her freedom.

Well, at least these people weren't actively trying to kill her, so that was improvement, right?

. . . 

Chapter Text

Over the course of the next several days, Chyra settled fairly well into her new environment. It wasn't all that different from the environment she was already used to, although the overall feeling wasn't nearly as hostile. Hunk and Lance would frequent her cell, bringing her food and conversation. After several real meals and some friendly company, Chyra was already feeling much better, both physically and mentally. She was starting to like the yellow and blue paladins. Pidge visited a couple of times as well, mostly to ask about Grey, but also to inquire about Chyra's prosthetics and find out any information she could regarding the location of her father and brother. Chyra offered up what little information she knew on the topics, and in exchange, Pidge broke the suffocating silence that engulfed Chyra's cell in the times in between the Paladins' visits. Even Coran stopped by a couple of times, dropping off clean clothes and some books for Chyra to read to pass the time. She was surprised at the gesture; she hadn't held a real book in Stars know how long.

She hadn't seen hide nor hair of Allura or Keith. Shiro said it was because they were busy, but Chyra was well aware of why the most hostile members of the team were avoiding her. Chyra and Shiro didn't talk much during his visits, mostly just exchanging pleasantries or talking in vague terms about their time in the arena, but the black paladin seemed to understand that time alone wasn't very good for Chyra. She guessed it was because of his year spent in Zarkon's prison ships. Nevertheless, despite the quiet, Chyra was grateful for his company.

Although she still slept fitfully, plagued by nightmares every night, Chyra was becoming much more comfortable. She was still immensely worried about Grey, though. She spent a lot of her time pacing the cell, uneasy and trying desperately to connect with her partner. Every second they were apart made Chyra's worry worse, it felt like a piece of her mind was gone. After three days, Chyra was worried Grey would never wake up.

Chyra was doing some of her nervous pacing when Lance came down to bring her lunch on her sixth day on the castle. She paused, nodded in greeting, and spun once more on her heel, her tail thrashing and hands fiddling with nothing.

"Uh, are you okay?" Lance asked, quirking an eyebrow as he tapped a few buttons on the cell's control panel. A slot opened in the glass at about chest height, allowing Lance to pass a tray through it.

"Thanks," Chyra grabbed the tray and plopped it down on the end of the bed before resuming her pacing, ignoring the question and the food altogether.

Lance looked at her incredulously. "What is going on with you? You don't usually pass up food."

"Just," Chyra turned to him, gesturing vaguely at her surroundings and bouncing on her toes, "pent-up energy, I guess."

"I feel that," Lance replied, crossing his arms and watching Chyra stride agitatedly around the cell. "It's been so quiet and boring these past few days."

"Tell me about it," muttered Chyra.

"I mean, we haven't had a mission in like a week, training isn't really happening because Shiro and Allura are so busy with the Coalition leaders, the most exciting thing to happen lately besides you waking up is when we made a pit stop on a supply moon. Although Hunk did almost get roped into indentured servitude again, so that was kinda fun."

At the mention of resupplying, Chyra finally noticed the food she had practically discarded. Some kind of glazed meat with vegetables sat in the bowl on her bed, looking delicious and smelling even better. Chyra could hardly keep her mouth from watering.

"No green goo today?" she asked jokingly, letting herself smirk at the blue paladin.

"Oh be grateful I snagged you the leftovers from before Keith finished them. He wasn't too happy about that, mind you." Lance shot back, wagging his finger scoldingly. Chyra snorted in response and scooped up the bowl, sitting cross-legged on the bed with her good eye aimed at Lance, instinctually protective of her meal.

Chyra was pretty sure this was the best meal she had ever eaten. And that was including the food at the banquets and galas she had attended on her assassination missions. "Wow. This is amazing, Hunk made this?" Chyra asked before shoving another forkful into her mouth.

"You like it?"

"This is the best food I've ever had in my entire life."

"Hunk will love to hear that, I'll be sure to tell him."

Chyra eagerly ate the rest of the food, passing Lance the bowl and tray through the window when she was finished. "That was fast, feel any better?"

"A bit," Chyra replied, but she resumed her pacing at a slightly less frantic pace.

"What's bothering you?" Lance asked, concern growing on his face.

"I just feel like... like I can't really breathe in here."

"Sorry, but Allura says you've gotta stay in the holding cell for now."

Chyra snarled in frustration, spinning back around and slapping the wall with the metal tip of her tail. She plopped down on the bed, her arms crossed and a pout on her face.

"I hate the holding cell," Chyra muttered indignantly, her metal toes tapping on the floor. Lance went quiet, appearing pensive.

"So how did that happen anyway? Your legs, I mean."

Chyra looked upwards, an unreadable expression on her face. There was a sadness and tiredness to her voice when she spoke. "It's not a pleasant story, Lance."

"Is it one you're comfortable telling?" His inquiry was genuine, not prodding or overstepping any unsaid boundaries. Lance was speaking carefully, more carefully than Chyra had seen him speak in the days that she had known him. Maybe he was more than just the goofy teen he appeared to be at first glance.

"I... don't actually know. I've never told it before." Chyra rubbed her arm sheepishly.

"Well, now I'm extra curious. Is it like top secret or something?"

Chyra chucked despite her dour mood. "No, it's just that everyone back in Central Command already knew. In fact, most of them were there to see what happened." Lance took a seat at the edge of the glass, mirroring Chyra's earlier cross-legged position. He looked at her eagerly, like a child waiting with bated breath for an epic tale. Chyra smiled, shook her head, and moved over to the glass, sitting just on the other side from the excited blue paladin.

"Alright, fine. Do you want the straight story or can I add some embellishments?"

"Embellishments always make things more exciting, but I think I'd like to hear how it really went down," Lance replied with a shrug.

Chyra nodded, adjusted her position on the floor, and began her tale.

"I had only been in the arena for a few phoebs, but I had already been in a lot of matches. One day, after a long and strenuous bout of experiments at the hands of Haggar, Zarkon's witch," Chyra suppressed a shudder, but continued, "I was set to fight one of the arena's reigning champions: Venkhar the Terror.

"He was a massive beast, standing almost fifteen units tall, with shoulders the width of a fighter's cockpit. He had dominated the arena for almost a deca-phoeb, and he sure looked the part. He was an absolute monster, covered in this coarse grey fur that was stained with blood, he had huge claws on huge paws attached to those huge shoulders. His chest was like a barrel, his head was like a wolf's, but big and blocky and much, much uglier." Lance was listening with rapt attention, his eyes huge and awestruck.

"I had no idea Venkhar would be my opponent, so I was not prepared for when that massive gate on the opposite end rattled upwards and that huge monster came barreling out! I didn't know what to do, they hadn't even given me a weapon! So I found cover behind one of the metal sheets that had been set up in the arena. I hid there and tried to figure out what to do, and eventually dug up a bent up sword out of the pile of scrap. I hadn't even thought up a plan yet when Venkhar tore up the metal like it was nothing! I scrambled out and landed a few good blows, some slashes across his arms and chest, maybe a couple of stabs to the hindquarters, but they were like nothing to him. The monster just kept going.

"So eventually, I was forced to take drastic action if I was going to survive the fight. I scrambled up one of the pillars scattered in the arena, waited for Venkhar to charge at me, and when he got just close enough, I jumped forward and buried that twisted up sword right in the big beast's heart."

"No way!" Lance leaned back, shocked. "Was that an embellishment?"

"Nope," Chyra replied, almost smug. "I really defeated one of the most feared gladiators in arena history."

"But that still doesn't explain what happened to your legs."

Chyra's slight grin faded. "I'm getting to that." She replied more quietly. She took on a more serious tone, abandoning her theatrical voice for a more serious one as the memory resurfaced. "Even though I had landed a killing blow, Venkhar didn't go down as easily as I thought. Right as I let out a breath of relief, he grabbed me and threw me across the arena as hard as he could, like I was nothing. I would have been fine if I had landed in the dirt, but I... I hit one of the pillars. My back, it-" Chyra took a shuddering breath, "I felt it break. But by the time I hit the dirt, I couldn't feel anything from the waist down. I could barely stay conscious as Venkhar staggered up to me, but I saw his massive paw slam down right on my legs. By the way it sounded, I was glad I couldn't feel it. I blacked out right after Venkhar finally went down, and when I woke up..." Chyra ran her hand over the plate on the back of her neck. "...I was like this."

Lance was quiet, his expression forlorn and pensive. "Chyra, I'm so sorry that happened."

Chyra shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "It's all in the past. I have the luxury of being alive to tell my arena stories, and I was able to walk again eventually, so it all worked out in the end. And these old legs saved my life more times than I can count, so maybe replacing my old ones was actually for the best."Chyra tapped her metal knee with a clawed finger, shooting Lance an almost-convincing grin.

"Yeah, I guess so," Lance replied. He stood up, gathering up the bowl, tray, and utensils that he had brought down earlier. "Well, I should probably go, I told Hunk I'd help with kitchen clean up after I brought you your food, and I've probably been successful in avoiding that by now." He turned to leave, starting to head down the runway, but turned and glanced at Chyra over his shoulder on the way out.

"For the record, I'm glad you survived your match with Venkhar the Terror. Plus, you're a fantastic storyteller, and you've made my day much more interesting."

Chyra chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm glad I could help."

Lance shot her a smile from the doorway before he left.

Chyra really hoped she wouldn't regret telling Lance that story.

. . .

The next day, Chyra was awoken by an intense and sudden panic.

She scrambled upwards out of bed, throwing the sheets off of her and leaping into a fighting stance, her legs lighting up on instinct. Chyra looked around, saw nothing amiss, then realized something that made her blood run cold.

The panic was coming from Grey.

Dread created a hard lump in Chyra's stomach; something had to be wrong for Grey to be reacting this way. She tried to reach out with her mind, connect more fully with her wolf, but she wasn't able to breach the mental defenses that Grey had erected around herself. Growling in frustration and shaking with secondhand adrenaline, Chyra did the only thing she could do: she kept trying.

Chyra didn't have too long to try, as alarms began to blare through the interior of the ship. Lights along the walls flashed red and sirens sounded through the holding cell, sending Chyra's already intense anxiety spiking. She shifted nervously on her feet, still desperately reaching out among the chaos to try and reach her wolf.

Minutes later, after several failed attempts to connect with her wolf, the door to the room slid open with a whoosh. Keith and Shiro rushed to the glass on the side of the cell, frantic looks on their faces.

"Your ship just reactivated and it's going berserk!" Shiro exclaimed.

Before Chyra had a chance to respond, Keith accused, "What did you do?"

Chyra took a step back, offended and off-guard. "I didn't do anything!"

"Yeah right," Keith retorted, crossing his arms defensively. "before you crashed you must've input a command code that would make it attack us when it reactivated or something."

"Keith," Chyra responded, deadpan, "I was practically dead when you found me. When would I have had time to put in a command code?"

"You tell me!"

A tremor shook the castle again, and several new alarm sounds joined the chorus of chaos. Grey's mind grew ever more turbulent, and the tension building up within her partner made Chyra stagger back, clutching at her head.

"What's wrong?" Shiro asked, concern coloring his voice.

"My ship- ah!" Another twinge of pain echoed in Chyra's head, making her stagger in pain.

Shiro's gaze softened, although confusion still furrowed his brow. "How do we deactivate your ship?" He asked gently.

"You can't, I have to-" Chyra stooped, a realization striking her. "You have to let me out."

Keith looked flabbergasted. "What?"

"Let me out! I can stop Grey from tearing this castle apart but I can't do it from here! I need to get to her."

"No way!"

Shiro said sternly, "Chyra, explain."

"There's no time!"

"You're not seriously considering-"

Chyra cut Keith's objection off. before he could finish. "Fine! My ship is sentient and we have a mental link, she just regained consciousness and is panicking because she doesn't know where she is or if I'm okay. Now can we please move along so I can calm Grey down before she tears apart this whole ship?"

"You've got to be kidding. You can't expect us to believe-"

"Fine!" Shiro smashed a button on the panel next to him, making the glass walls evaporate.

"What?!"

"Let's go."

"Lead the way." Chyra prompted, gesturing to the for on the other side of the room.

The trio dashed out of the cell, spurred onward by the blaring alarms and flashing lights. Keith said a few words of protest, but was cut off by a pointed look from Shiro and a sharp turn around a pristine white corner. Chyra's first glimpse of the castle ship's interior was not as in-depth as she would have liked, but she got the impression that the ship's designers were a big fan of the white, grey, and blue color combination. Not that she was complaining, of course, anything beat purple.

After several hurried turns and a dull ache in her lungs, Chyra asked, "how big is this quiznaking ship? And how long are we going to have to keep running?"

"We're almost there, just a couple more hallways to get to the Green Lion's hangar." He sounded a little weary. Another wave of panic rushed through Chyra's mind, emanating from her frantic wolf. She tripped, stumbling over her own feet and barely managing to regain her footing. Shiro glanced back over his shoulder as Chyra sped up to match his pace.

"You alright?"

"We need to hurry," Chyra replied, pained.

She could tell when they finally reached the hangar by the sounds of mechanical growls and miscellaneous chaos ringing out from behind the massive metal doors. Shiro palmed a touchpad near the side of the doors, causing them to slide open with a swift whoosh.

Chyra had to take a moment to process everything.

The paladins were all in the hangar, accompanied by Allura and Coran, watching in shock as two massive metal beasts circled around one another, clearly on edge. Chyra saw Grey, up and moving but badly damaged, backed into the far corner of the large hangar. Holding her at bay was a slightly larger, unfamiliar mechanical feline in hues of bright green, black, and silver. In response to Grey's threatening demeanor, the Green Lion swatted a gigantic clawed paw, narrowly missing Grey's already battered shoulder with the attack. Pidge and Lance were standing between the massive mechs, trying to get through to the Green Lion to little avail. Hunk and Coran, on the other hand, were scrambling back and forth to try and herd Grey away from the lion, which was obviously not working well. In fact, Chyra was astonished the two of them hadn't been stepped on yet.

"Do your thing," Shiro prompted, gesturing to the hangar. Chyra nodded resolutely and bolted through the doors, still trying to mentally reconnect with Grey. At this close range, it should have been easy, but Grey's mind was so clouded over with confusion, fear, and aggression that Chyra couldn't reach her. Chyra ground her teeth and steeled her nerve. Desperate times, stupid measures.

She wove through the chaotic hangar, dodging around a startled Hunk and weaving between the stomping feet of her agitated wolf. She passed Lance, who did a double-take with an incredulous look on his face.

"Chyra? You're out!"

"You said you wanted some excitement!" Chyra replied, shrugging towards Lance as she dodged one of the Green Lion's monstrous footfalls.

Chyra shouted Grey's name, trying to get her attention, but her voice was drowned out by the mechanical growls resounding around the hangar. Snarling in frustration, the ex-assassin jumped out in front of Grey, waving her arms.

"Grey!" Chyra bellowed again, trying to be heard over the commotion. "Stop!" Grey snapped her metal jaws at the Green Lion, her silver fangs bared in a threatening gesture as her yellow eyes flashed. Evidently, she hadn't noticed Chyra.

"Oh my stars, seriously?" Chyra muttered, frankly embarrassed by her wolf's behavior. With an annoyed grumble that may have contained some foul language, Chyra ignited her legs and kicked Grey in the shin as hard as she possibly could.

Grey's head snapped downwards, and she snarled at Chyra menacingly. The Galra stood still, completely unimpressed with her arms crossed, staring at her wolf with a very skeptical eyebrow raised in the canine's direction. Grey stopped, evidently surprised to see her partner standing immediately beneath her, exasperated but unharmed. The commotion ceased, the hangar going suddenly quiet as Grey's aggression melted away.

The wolf's mind touched Chyra's, colored with confusion and slight indignation. You kicked me, Grey seemed to complain within Chyra's head. A plaintive, mechanical whine accompanied the complaint, the almost pitiful sound a far cry from Grey's earlier aggression. If Grey had been a normal wolf rather than a gigantic mechanical one, Chyra could imagine the absolutely scandalized look she would be receiving at the moment.

"Hey, I only kicked you because you weren't listening!"

Grey whined again in argument, lowering her chin to the ground and looking more closely at Chyra. Beneath the indignant attitude, Chyra felt relief wash through her newly-reestablished bond with Grey.

"Don't make me out to be the bad guy! You're the one that shut me out!" Chyra retorted, trying not to crack a smile. I didn't work, and within moments she was laughing in relief, happy tears starting to prick at her eye. She wiped them away with one hand, reaching out to touch Grey's nose with the other. Grey hummed in satisfaction, and Chyra couldn't stop herself from laughing just a little.

"I missed you too, girl."

Grey's mind enveloped Chyra in the wolf's equivalent of a hug, sending happiness swirling between them as they rejoined their consciousnesses. Apology and forgiveness surged through the bond, and was overtaken quickly with happiness, relief, and eventually contentment.

Chyra became suddenly more aware of her surroundings as the Paladins all approached, bewildered and cautious of the unfamiliar mech Chyra was currently coddling like a pup. Grey's gaze moved towards them warily, a slight growl rising in her throat. Chyra patted her massive nose and sent a comforting emotion to let Grey know they weren't a threat.

"Don't worry, she's alright now," Chyra said in response to the Paladins' wary and dumbfounded expressions, "she was just a little freaked out after waking up in a strange place with a new neighbor."

"How did you do that?" Pidge asked excitedly, a curious gleam in her eye.

Chyra sighed in resignation. The gnarlon was out of the crate, she supposed. "Everyone, this is Grey. She's a sentient ship that I stole from Zarkon. Grey, meet the Paladins and Princess-"

Chyra was cut off by Allura barreling straight towards her, an enraged look on her face. She slammed Chyra back against the wall with more strength than she should have been able to possess.

Agony.

Chyra's metal-wrapped spine hit the wall, and she saw white. Pain spiked from the back of her neck and drove white-hot blades across her ribs and shoulders, spreading through her chest and seizing her breath away. Chyra cried out and shoved her attacker off of her as hard as she could, then immediately sunk to her knees, clutching at the control disk on her neck feebly. Dully, she could hear shouting and mechanical growls, but what really broke through the haze of pain was Grey.

Chyra's turbulent and pain-addled mind was surrounded completely by Grey's comforting presence, although beneath the surface Chyra could sense rage broiling. She had to get up, get over her pain, and calm her wolf down before she did something she and Chyra would both regret.

The injured Galra forced open her eyes, blinking away the pain-thriving tears that blurred her vision. Her breathing was shaky and her hands still trembled at the base of her neck, but slowly, the pain was fading away. Cautiously, Chyra brought her head upwards, wincing at both the movement and the commotion in the hangar. When her vision cleared, Chyra saw the Princess being helped up by Hunk and Coran, while Keith, Pidge, Lance, and Shiro all stood between her and a very obviously enraged wolf.

"Stop," Chyra muttered weakly, but Grey's growls drowned out her plea.

Chyra dragged a breath in between her clenched teeth, struggling upwards and using the wall to steady herself. "Grey, stop it!" She shouted, garnering the attention of Grey and the Paladins. "She didn't know," Chyra told her wolf, her voice quieting. Black spots swam across her vision, the blow to her spine sapping her energy and strength. She sagged back against the wall, dragging breaths in against her protesting ribs. She was pretty sure she was going to be sick.

Allura glared at Chyra, rage coloring her face. "How dare you attack me?"

"I attacked you?" Chyra retaliated, bewildered. " I only pushed you off because that quiznaking hurt!" Chyra snapped back, her gold eyes flashing with anger. Her hand still lingered at the back of her neck, as though she could staunch the residual pain that lingered there.

"You're not even supposed to be out of the cell!" Allura fumed.

"Princess, I let Chyra out so she could stop the wolf from destroying the ship. She didn't escape or try to cause any trouble." Shiro tried to ease the tension, and admittedly, his comforting tone would have usually helped Chyra calm down, but she was in a lot of pain.

"You let her out?"

Chyra snapped, "You know, if you had wanted me to go back to that stupid cell you could have just asked rather than slamming me against a wall!"

"Well, I'm sorry for defending my castle from Galra intruders like you!"

"If you don't want me here then why don't you let me leave?!"

"Okay, that's enough," Shiro said sternly, stepping between Chyra and the seething Princess. "I'll take Chyra back and we can talk about this later, alright?" Without waiting for an answer, he strode over to the wall Chyra was hunched against. He offered her a hand, but Chyra couldn't stop herself from flinching at the sight of a Galra prosthetic that close to her. Shiro blanched, about to switch, but Chyra grabbed his offered hand and used it to hoist herself upwards. His metal palm was warm in hers.

"Thank you," Chyra muttered gratefully, sending a slight grin the Black Paladin's way. She put a steadying arm on Shiro's shoulder, trying to keep her footing as the room seemed to sway around her. That blow to her spine had really done a number on her.

Shiro nodded in response. Allura crossed her arms, a displeased look on her face. "This conversation is not over, Shiro."

"I'll be right back. We can talk then." He replied simply. He and Chyra started out of the hangar, only to be halted by a plaintive mechanical whine.

With a sad smile, Chyra turned back to her bonded and tried to comfort her. "Don't worry, Grey. I'll be fine. Stay here, try to get along with the lion, and please don't do anything to get us in more trouble."

Grey nodded, a sense of resignation bubbling up from the corner of Chyra's mind that Grey had settled into. She sat down on her haunches, keeping a wary eye on the Lion that mirrored her on the other side of the hangar. Chyra turned away and started back down the hallway with a pained groan. Keith pulled up on Chyra's left, looking conflicted.

"What happened to you back there?" He asked cautiously.

Chyra sighed. Apparently she was revealing even more of her secrets today. "When Allura pushed me against the wall, I hit my spine. It's... sensitive back there."

"Does the purple glow have anything to do with that?" Shiro questioned.

Chyra went quiet, her reply barely a whisper. "Yeah, it does."

Keith and Shiro didn't look entirely satisfied with her answer, they wanted more information. But what was Chyra supposed to tell them? How was she supposed to explain that the glow emanating from her metal-infused spine was from modified quintessence that not only powered her prosthetics, but kept her alive and functioning? How was she supposed to tell them that she was just one of the witch's monsters, nothing more than one of the abominations they fought so hard against? What could she possibly say?

Shiro caught Chyra as she stumbled, holding her steady as she regained her footing. "Take it easy. Are you going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine. The pain usually goes away after half a varga or so."

They reached the holding cell after a few more minutes of tense, awkward silence. The glass walls loomed before Chyra, ready to trap her once again. Her anxiety spiked, making her already upset stomach twist even more tightly. She could feel her heartbeat pounding against her throat, like it wanted to climb out of her and escape those awful walls that were going to close around her any moment now.

Shiro looked over at her sympathetically, he could probably feel Chyra trembling against him. "I know it isn't ideal, but until we can convince Allura that you're on our side, you have to stay here. I'm sorry."

"She's never going to believe you," Chyra said, putting on a brave face and standing herself upwards as steadily as she could. She stepped away from Shiro, standing fully on her own. "Her hatred of me and my people runs too deep. Allura won't ever believe that a Galra could be good, that prejudice is too strongly rooted in her."

Shiro and Keith didn't respond, but she could feel the tension in the atmosphere increase. She shook her head, as though she was trying to physically dislodge the disparaging thoughts that plagued her. She took a shaky breath, looking over her shoulder at the Paladins.

"Sorry," she said with a rueful smile, a resigned sadness shining in her eyes. "I was just trying to savor the fresh air out here."

Then she stepped across the barrier, and the walls closed down around her.

Shiro and Keith exchanged glances, their faces unreadable from Chyra's perspective. Keith looked at Chyra for half an instant, and she thought maybe that for a moment, Chyra detected some empathy in his expression. Then he turned on his heel, and she only saw the rigid set of his shoulders as he walked away.

"You'll get out of there eventually, just try to hang in there for now," Shiro promised, his voice ringing with earnest.

"Yeah. Right." Chyra said, her voice hollow. Shiro hesitated before leaving, looking like he had more to say. But he evidently thought better of it, and left without another word.

Chyra managed to wait until he was out of sight before she let the tears fall.

. . .

That night, the sound of shattering glass broke the silence that hung heavy in the holding cell.

Chyra gulped in ragged, frantic breaths and she sunk to her knees, clutching her throbbing knuckles and trying to stave away the tears that threatened to fall. Pieces of glass littered the floor of the bathroom, the splintered mirror sending the dim light refracting in odd directions through the small chamber. Chyra's right fist was cradled against her chest, her other hand wrapped around it. She took a shuddering breath, working around the lump in her throat, and stood shakily on her two-toed feet.

She shook out her fist, which was miraculously only bruised rather than bloodied, and left the bathroom, ignoring the glass that still littered the floor. It's not like it could hurt her feet anyway.

She sank against the wall the moment she was outside, her tangled hair falling forward as she pulled her knees up and tucked her tearstained face between them. She wanted to disappear then, if someone had told her she could simply stop existing, she would accept the offer, no questions asked. Grey's consciousness bubbled upwards and tried to comfort her, but even the wolf's gentle presence didn't do much to help.

Despite her best efforts, Chyra felt herself slipping into panic. Her breaths got short, her chest constricted, and her limbs trembled violently. She couldn't stop the chaos in her head, images of her time in the arena flashing across her vision, as if they were burned into the backs of her eyelids. She was trapped, just as trapped as she had been before she escaped. And that thought tormented her to the point that it physically hurt.

Chyra didn't know how much time had passed when the door opened suddenly, casting a slanting beam of blue light through the dark room. Chyra flinched away from the light, shrinking into the shadows to avoid the conversation that was undoubtedly about to happen.

Footsteps approached, two sets, and by their measure and volume Chyra guessed the identities of her unexpected guests.

"What did you do?" a snarky voice asked. The attitude, despite seeming unfriendly, helped disarm Chyra somewhat, and she glanced at Pidge with her good eye.

"N-nothing, nothing." She hated the cracking in her voice, that shaky, stammers quality it took on way too often. It spoke of a weakness she couldn't seem to ever escape, it was so deeply ingrained in her by now.

"Did you punch the mirror out?" A tired-sounding Hunk asked, pointing to the glass sparkling on the bathroom floor.

Chyra intentionally made her voice hard and more aggressive to try and mask her anxiety. "What does it look like?"

"Are you... alright?"

"I'm fine." She was getting snappish, she wanted to escape this conversation almost as much as she wanted to escape this damn cell.

"You don't look fine," Pidge retorted.

"Then stop looking."

The Green Paladin squatted down on the other side of the glass, making sure to position herself on Chyra's left so the battered ex-gladiator could see her.

"We're not getting anywhere with you acting like this. So Hunk and I can go back to the lab and leave you to your issues, or, and here's just a suggestion... we could stay here and help you. Sound good?"

Chyra looked hard at Pidge, who merely quirked an eyebrow as if to prompt an answer. Chyra didn't reply, but she pressed slightly closer to the glass, as though trying to get within a closer proximity to the green Paladin herself.

Pidge smiled slightly, shaking her head at the Galra's stubbornness, but sat down and leaned against the glass anyway, gesturing for Hunk to do the same. A few seconds of quiet elapsed, Chura's shaky breathing and ragged gasps the only noise to disturb the quiet. She buried her face back between her knees, the cold metal bringing her some semblance of clarity.

"So... panic attacks, huh?" Hunk asked, tapping his fingers on his crossed legs.

Chyra glanced back at him from beneath her messy hair, her gold eye glinting in the dim light.

"I-I mean, I'm sorry you get those. My cousin back on Earth got them sometimes and they said it was terrible."

"My brother Matt got them too, pretty often while he was prepping for his Garrison entrance exams. It's hard to get them to stop once they've started, but Matt always calmed down if I started talking to him about random stuff. I think it helped him to have something else to focus on."

Chyra stayed quiet, considering Pidge's words for a moment. Maybe the kid was right, Chyra was feeling slightly less shaky just from being in the Paladins' calming presence.

Over the next few minutes, Pidge and Hunk carried on quiet conversations, mostly about the project they had been working on before coming down to the cell or about their families back on Earth. Chyra listened quietly, focusing on her breathing and the words of the Paladins, nothing more. In time, she began to feel herself breathe easier. Grey's mind wrapped comfortingly around her the moment Chyra let her back in, scolding the Galra slightly about shutting her out before embracing her in a mental equivalent of a hug.

Pidge cracked a smile when she saw that Chyra had visibly calmed down.

"I hate to bring this up, and you don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable, but what started all of this?" Hunk asked trepidatiously, bringing a sour atmosphere back into the room.

Chyra looked down at her hands, noting the bruised knuckles on her right fist. "I saw-" her voice cracked. She tried again. "I looked in the mirror."

The Green and Yellow Paladins looked nonplussed, seemingly not comprehending why that had caused Chyra to slip into a panic.

"I hadn't seen my reflection since... since before I was imprisoned." Chyra elaborated. "I didn't mean to look, I've been avoiding it since I arrived, actually. But I caught my reflection out of the corner of my eye, and I just..." Chyra trailed off, not sure how to continue.

"You must look different," Hunk said softly, with an air of sympathy and understanding that caught Chyra off guard. She nodded, looking down.

Then, careful of the jagged edges, Chyra picked up a shard of broken glass from the floor near her. She steeled her nerve and looked into it, deeply unsettled by the reflection of a hollow, disparaged being looking back at her.

"I don't know who this person is." She gestured to the mirror shard, tilting it so that Pidge and Hunk could see her haunted reflection. "I don't know who she is, and that's... terrifying. Because that's not me. I looked in the mirror, and I got scared and upset because what I saw wasn't me. This," Chyra gestured broadly to herself, shoving her hair out of her face with evident frustration, "this isn't me. This is what the Empire turned me into." She realized she was clutching the glass shard so tightly it was digging into the palm of her hand and the tips of her fingers. Chyra dropped the piece of glass and withdrew, curling in on herself once more. Her tail wrapped around her, the metal tip twitching with Chyra's nerves.

Pidge put a hand on the glass, as though the diminutive Paladin was trying to comfort Chyra from afar. Hunk scooted forwards and leaned in too, looking for a second like he was going to offer Chyra a hug before realizing that the glass barrier between them made that impossible. Chyra smiled gratefully, comforted by the caring nature of the paladins.

Suddenly, Pidge straightened, snapping her fingers and lighting up with the expression she made every time she had an epiphany. "I think I may have an idea that could help you."

Chapter Text

Chyra muttered slightly as she read, rubbing at the back of her neck absently. The newly cut hair at the back of her head was oddly soft. Once the mats had been cut out, her hair was almost too fun to mess with; Chyra found herself fiddling with it entirely too often, even now as she reclined on the bed with her book. Pidge had been more than happy to deal with the disaster area attached to Chyra's head last night, and had actually done a miraculously good job. Chyra was already feeling more comfortable, especially since she had finally been able to thoroughly wash her hair for the first time in Stars know how long.

She took her hand away from her head to turn the page of her book, taking a moment to find her bearings on the new page. The novel in her lap was written in a language she hadn't read in a long while, and the organization of words on the page was sometimes disorienting, especially since Chyra was so rusty. It helped to read aloud though, hence the muttering. Despite the language barrier Chyra was struggling with, she enjoyed the story that the pages held: one about a young spacefarer who was searching for a magical realm outside of the known universe, accompanied by a mystical space-dwelling creature that could fly among the stars. So immersed in the story was she that Chyra didn't even notice that a pair of people were approaching until they had already reached the glass.

Chyra startled when someone cleared their throat outside the cell's barrier, straightening suddenly and seeing both Shiro and Allura standing outside the cell wall. She moved to stand up, but was interrupted by Allura making a surprised and distasteful face.

"What happened to your hair?" She asked, her shapely silver eyebrow raised.

"Oh, Pidge cut it for me last night." Chyra replied, running her fingers through the more lengthy hair at the top of her head. Every time she messed with it, she ruffled up the light lavender streaks at the front and mixed them in with the darker strands behind and beneath them. She ducked her head down, somewhat embarrassed by the amount of her face that could be seen. This shorter hairstyle didn't cover her scars as well as it had before, and she couldn't help but be self conscious about them, despite Pidge's earlier assurance that they made her look 'badass.' Whatever that meant.

Allura looked like Chyra's presence was taxing her to no end, but she took a breath and addressed her anyway. "Shiro and the other Paladins have assured me that you mean us no harm, and therefore we've decided as a group to let you roam the castle. You'll be provided different accommodations, should you choose to accept them, and you will no longer be confined to this cell." At the sight of Chyra's excited smile, Allura tacked on in a mutter, "unless you prove yourself to be untrustworthy."

Chyra grinned at Shiro, trying to convey her gratefulness through the now unfamiliar expression. He made a face and glanced sideways, making Chyra balk and drop the smile. Was it intimidating when she did that? Did humans take the baring of teeth, even in a genuinely happy way, as a sign of aggression? She tried to gauge Shiro's reaction. How badly had she just ruggled up?

"Anyway," Shiro said, readjusting his stance and crossing his arms, "I'm here to show you where you'll be staying now, and if you want I can show you around the castle." He looked back at her with a slight smile, looking slightly apologetic.

"Sure," Chyra accepted the offer with a barely restrained air of excitement, eager to escape the confines of the cramped holding cell. "Give me one moment." She hopped off the bed after marking her page, grabbing the couple of pairs of clothes off of her bathroom counter, as well as her toothbrush and other supplies. She winced at the shattered mirror, but at least she didn't have to worry about the broken glass on the floor, Hunk had offered to help her clean it all up last night. She picked up the small stack of books that was sitting on the end of her bed, and, tucking everything under her arm, nodded to the Princess and the Paladin to let them know she was ready to leave.

Allura pressed a few buttons on the control panel almost reluctantly, and the glass walls evaporated. It felt in that instant like a weight had been lifted off Chyra's chest. She could finally breathe. Chyra's own euphoria was enough to awaken Grey from the back corner of Chyra's mind, where the wolf's consciousness had been snoozing calmly. Chyra sent a mental message that everything was alright, and Grey settled back into her resting state.

"This way," Allura turned and started to walk out, beckoning Chyra and Shiro to follow over her shoulder as she receded. Shiro glanced at Chyra, looking apologetic about Allura's brusque attitude, then gestured for Chyra to walk in an 'after you' sort of motion. She nodded and moved forward, feeling lighter with each stride she put in between her and the cell.

Allura led the way through the halls, casting frequent, mistrustful glances over her shoulder at Chyra, who hung back and walked near Shiro. When Allura had gone a few moments without shooting Chyra a death glare, the Galra leaned down to Shiro's height and whispered, "How did you convince her to let me out?"

Shiro replied at the same hushed volume, "I pointed out that you could have definitely attacked us when I let you out yesterday, but you didn't. Pidge, Hunk, and Lance argued for it too, but the one who really swayed her was Coran."

"Really?" Chyra asked, surprised. Coran had always been cordial, if a bit awkward, but she had expected him to hold the same biases against Galra that Allura did. She would have to remember to thank him the next time she saw him.

The trio squeezed into an elevator; Allura stood as far away from Chyra as she possibly could on the ride upwards. When they emerged, they were standing in the middle of a long hallway that stretched in either direction before ending in ninety degree turns on each end.

"These are the barracks, where everybody's rooms are." Shiro said, gesturing to the hall. He walked a few paces down the hallway and gestured for Chyra to follow. They passed a couple of rooms on each side, a couple of them had little signs and stickers on them to make the doors stand out from the blank walls. Shiro stopped and pressed a keypad on the side of the doors and they opened with a smooth whoosh.

"Allura wants you bunking next to me, so here's your room. If you want you can drop your stuff off here and I'll show you around the castle."

"Sure," Chyra shrugged noncommittally. She slipped through the doors and into the dark room. As she entered, the lights flickered on, casting the bedchamber in a calm white glow. The room was nice, pretty much the exact same size as the holding cell, but much more cozy. The bed sat in a recession in the wall, clearing the center of the room for a small round rug. There were some cabinets with sliding doors set into the wall above and next to the bed cubby. Chyra peeked inside and saw some spare bedsheets and blankets. There was also a panel in the wall that looked like dresser drawers, Chyra figured they would be empty. Attached to the main bedroom was another tiny, cramped bathroom. Overall the room was small, but the only area that seemed really claustrophobic was the bathroom. Chyra put her clothes and books on the bed and turned back to the doorway, where Shiro and Allura were waiting.

"Thank you for allowing me to stay here, Princess. I promise I'll do whatever I can to repay this generosity." Chyra said. She was trying to seem formal, but she probably just came across as stiff and awkward. The Princess looked slightly caught off guard by Chyra's gratitude, though, and she seemed to soften just a little after the Galra had said her thanks.

"You're welcome," Allura replied, somewhat haltingly. She recovered with a quick clearing of her throat. "Well, I have some things to attend to, Shiro I leave this in your capable hands." Without waiting for a reply, the Princess turned and strode back down the hallway, her hair and her gown flowing behind her.

A few seconds of awkward silence elapsed in the wake of the Princesses' departure. Chyra shifted her weight from foot to foot for a few moments, her tail swishing nervously. She wasn't sure how to fill the quiet.

"Um, I-I guess I should thank you. For convincing Allura to let me out." Chyra stammered awkwardly. She smiled slightly at Shiro, who was about a head and a half shorter than her. He rubbed the back of his neck, ducking his head before looking back at Chyra.

"No problem," Shiro replied simply. "Do you want the tour or...?"

"Yes, that would be great." Chyra rushed in reply. When did talking to people get this hard? Must have something to do with the multiple years of solitary confinement.

"Great, let's start down here," Shiro pivoted on his heel and started leading Chyra down the hallway in the direction they had come from. "The barracks form one big square, and the only way to get off this level is the elevator or the maintenance chutes. And trust me, you don't want to take the chutes unless you absolutely have to, they weren't cleaned for ten thousand years and Coran hasn't finished getting them all cleared out yet." Shiro shuddered, as though he had some prior experience in the maintenance chutes that he didn't necessarily want to remember. The pair entered the elevator and continued to travel up through the ship.

Shiro showed Chyra the training room, a huge white-walled chamber with racks of weapons and technology that Chyra was honestly curious to try out. Keith was training inside, and gave the pair of onlookers a curt nod in greeting, to which Chyra replied with a slight wave. She and Shiro didn't linger, however, and continued the tour after just a cursory glance into the chamber. Chyra learned that just down the hall from the training room there was a larger bath chamber equipped with shower stalls, sinks, mirrors, a large bath, and other facilities. Chyra made a mental note of the location, it was much larger- and therefore much less anxiety inducing- than the bathroom attached her her bedchamber.

Chyra also got a cursory tour of the rec room, where a large couch and several holoscreens were built into the floor. This room looked more lived-in than much of the rest of the castle; there was a jacket slung over the edge of the curved couch, and a pile of small mechanical components sparked on a table, beneath which a pair of boots was resting with a set of socks tucked haphazardly inside. Chyra found herself smiling at the homey atmosphere; it was unfamiliar but strangely pleasant.

The pass by the library was probably the most exciting part. Chyra thought she might cry at the sight of endless shelves of books and manuscripts. "If I ever disappear, this is where I'll be." Chyra said without thinking, running her fingertips over the spines of the books resting on the nearest shelf with an excited smile.

"I wouldn't take you for a bookworm," Shiro remarked lightly, crossing his arms and leaning casually against the doorframe.

"What did you just call me?"

"It's not an insult!" Shiro rushed to recover, his hands moving into a position of placating surrender. "It's just something we say back on Earth, it's like a nickname for people who like to read."

"Oh." Chyra flushed with embarrassment, turning back to the bookcase to avoid eye contact. "I love books. We uh, we didn't have many real ones in central command, almost everything was digital. But I would always go looking for older tomes while I was on my missions, they were some of my most prized possessions."

Chyra could see Shiro out of the corner of her eye. She watched his expression go suddenly sorrowful as he looked hard at Chyra, seeming to study her movements and bearing. "I'm sorry."

Those two words held much more than just sympathy for Chyra losing her favorite books. The air went heavy and it became almost hard to breathe, tension rippling and ringing with the echoes of a shared past too terrible to speak of.

"It's fine. What's gone is gone. No use crying over the books now." Chyra said dismissively, shoving her emotions down and swallowing them like a pill. Maybe she wasn't just talking about the books anymore. Chyra shook her head, pushing away her thoughts desperately. She wasn't unpacking all of that right now. Her hands fell to her sides, her fists clenching as she retreated from the bookcases. She would come back here later to browse. Alone, hopefully.

"Where to next?" Chyra asks. Her tone was blunt, that same hard, emotionless voice that she used when dealing with her superior officers in the fleet. Shiro flinched, and a surge of regret soured Chyra's stomach.

"The kitchen is close, let's stop by there."

Chyra moved wordlessly to Shiro's side, and stepped off with him out of the library, matching his pace. The elevator ride was tense as they continued their trek upwards through the castle. The silence was almost suffocating, stifling any opportunity to clear the air with its pervasive weight.

Chyra hated this.

"About what I said, I-." Chyra cut herself off, sounding harsher than she meant to. She took a breath, trying to get herself to relax. "I'm sorry. I overreacted, and you were just trying to help. I apologize for my response."

"It's okay, no harm done." Shiro replied.

The elevator door opened, effectively ending the conversation. Shiro and Chyra hurried out and entered the kitchen, where Hunk, Lance and Pidge were conversing amicably. When the pair of ex-gladiators entered the room, however, the Paladins' attention was turned onto them.

"Hi, guys." Hunk said, waving a spoon in greeting before grabbing a helping of food.

"Hey Shiro, hey Chy. Good to see you out and about." Lance said nonchalantly.

After some more greetings, Hunk showed Chyra around the kitchen, telling her where everything was and how most of the appliances worked. She was taken aback when the Yellow Paladin told her she could come in and help herself whenever she wanted. She hadn't had free access to food in years.

"So," Lance asked once Hunk had finished the kitchen mini-tour, "what do you think of the castle?"

"It's very nice," Chyra answered earnestly before digging into her bowl of food goo. "Hard to navigate, though." She finished, gesticulating with her spoon for emphasis.

"Yeah, you'll get used to it," Hunk piped in from where he leaned against the counter. "It took me a while to figure out where everything was, I even ended up in an airlock one time!"

"Wait what?" Chyra stammered, shocked that someone could accidentally end up in an airlock.

"Oh yeah! The airlocks here are conspicuously easy to wander into. Right Lance?" Pidge grinned wickedly, nudging the Blue Paladin with her elbow sharply. He inhaled sharply and started choking on his food goo, sputtering out an indignant response.

"We do not speak of that!" He forced out between coughs.

Chyra raised her hand. "I would like to talk about it."

Lance looked at her, looking affronted. "How could you? I thought we bonded!"

Laughter rang through the room, the Paladins all unwinding and letting their guard down. Chyra felt a sudden shift then, as though a fundamental rule of the universe had changed around her.

Suddenly, Chyra realized, she didn't feel so alone.

Chapter Text

If the Paladins had asked how Chyra's first few nights in her new quarters went, she would have answered, "great. I've been sleeping well and I am very comfortable."

The truth was the exact opposite.

For the sixth night in a row, Chyra lurched upwards and forwards with a sharp cry of distress, scrabbling at the air in front of her as she dragged desperate breaths into her tightly clenched lungs. Her blankets tangled around her thrashing legs, limiting her movement and making her growing claustrophobia immensely worse. She tried to breathe, to remind herself that everything was fine and that she was perfectly safe, but her fear only continued to escalate despite her best efforts.

Chyra finally managed to kick her way out of the tangle of blankets that held her down and sprung out of her bed, landing awkwardly on shaking legs. She wasn't entirely sure why she felt the need to get out of bed, Chyra had learned on her first night that the door was locked from the outside. She was trapped in this tiny room with no chance of escape until the castle's day-cycle began.

It had been a difficult adjustment period from the start, inhabiting a ship with a set day-night cycle when Chyra herself didn't have any kind of circadian rhythm. No Galra did. As a species, they no longer inhabited a planet and therefore did not orbit a star to create natural day and night cycles. Since all Galra were raised in space, on ships floating in the middle of the vast nothingness, the species itself had adapted to their environment by overcoming the need for set sleep cycles. Most Galra took short resting periods- they really only needed about five Vargas of sleep to operate at full capacity- at irregular intervals. Chyra's time in the prison blocks hadn't helped with her lack of rhythm either, as time in that place was as vague and surreal as the knowledge of the universe itself.

So of course this factored into the fact that after her first couple of nights on the Castle of Lions (during which she was so emotionally and physically exhausted that she slept more than usual), Chyra had gotten next to no sleep, and didn't have much trouble hiding it. Aside from the growing dark circles beneath her eyes which, for the record, were already there to begin with, Chyra didn't show many signs of insomnia at all.

Taking steadying breaths and counting down from ten, Chyra tried to slow her racing heart. She paced around her cramped little room, trying to breathe deeply but only really succeeding in dragging in short, ragged gulps of air that stung her throat on the way in.

Chyra knew she shouldn't try the door. She barely resisted the temptation that gnawed at her, her every instinct screaming for her to get out, get out now.

Her hands were shaking and her head buzzed from lack of oxygen, her chest was tight and she sobbed despite herself every now and again. Even Grey's connection, still faint and fuzzy from the wolf's recently-sustained injuries, didn't help much at all to calm Chyra's nerves.

She hated this. She hated feeling weak and scared and out of control. Chyra despised this strange vulnerability she had developed, something that she never would have had or tolerated in others before her time in the arena. This had to be a passing thing, she didn't know how she could go on to fight Zarkon if this kind of thing kept happening. What if she did this during battle? What if she couldn't get it together before something bad happened? What if this stupid, uncontrollable panic got someone killed?

Chyra's chest constricted and she sank to her knees, choking out a sob as tears ran down her scarred face. She couldn't do this, she couldn't lose anyone else. Not Grey, not even the Paladins, who had somehow managed to gain her affections in only a few short weeks. If something happened to them because she couldn't get herself under control-

She scrambled to her metal feet, overcome with the need to escape the confines of her bed-chamber. Chyra pressed her shoulder desperately against the door as she fumbled with the touchpad, as though she could use brute force to make the heavy metal door budge. The locking mechanism flashed red, rejecting Chyra's handprint. Over and over she slammed her palm into the pad, desperately hoping that something, anything she tried would somehow miraculously work and make the door open. Her breathing got heavier and more rapid, tears blurring her already limited vision as she tried once more, her emotions surging in a moment of sheer panic.

Something within Chyra suddenly felt like it snapped, a torrent of adrenaline shooting through her system in one huge wave of emotion.

The door flew open, the keypad shorting out with a shower of sparks and a bright flicker of light.

Chyra bolted out of the now open edifice, skidding into the hallway with the high screech of metal from her feet. Wincing at the sound but undeterred, Chyra raced forwards, heading in a direction that her scrambled thoughts couldn't identify as familiar. Still, something unspoken in her spurred her onwards. It was something beyond rational thought, something deep within her that somehow, she had felt before.

Chyra turned a corner and remembered with a jolt where she had felt this feeling before; it was the same tugging feeling deep inside her chest that had first led her to Grey and the wolves.

Comforted and somewhat encouraged by Grey's calling, Chyra increased her speed and turned another corner, following Grey's call through the castle in a direction in which she began to recognize as the path she had taken to reach Grey's hangar just a few days prior.

She reached the hangar doors and felt Grey's presence grow in her mind, sending a steady flow of comforting emotion washing over her. Chyra felt herself begin to relax as she sank into her bond with Grey to find comfort. The trembling Galra palmed the keypad and opened the door, running inside and rushing to Grey's side immediately. The giant mechanical wolf was ready and waiting, her head and body lowered to the ground and her mind open and ready to envelop Chyra in a mental embrace that helped de-escalate Chyra's adrenaline rush. She rushed forwards, embracing her bonded wolf partner's jaw in a very disproportionate hug.

Chyra sank to her knees against Grey's cheek, tears welling once more in her eyes as she rested her scarred right cheek against the cool metal. Grey hummed softly, the bright baritone sound resounding through the hangar and making the air thrum with positive energy. Out of the corner of her eye, Chyra caught a glimpse of the Green Lion peering curiously over in their direction, ears perking upwards and an almost incredulous expression glinting in its flashing eyes. Grey chuffed in response to the Lion's attention, as if to say don't judge me, cat.

With a breathy laugh, Chyra pulled away, patting Grey's jaw as if she were petting the fur of a flesh and blood wolf.

"Thank you for being here for me," she forced out of her tight throat. Grey replied with another mechanical hum. "How do you always know exactly what to do to make me feel better, hm?"

A melancholy feeling bubbled up in Grey's mind, one that spoke of nostalgia and fond memories that had occurred long ago, but the wolf said nothing more.

As Chyra sat between Grey's huge paws, the giant canine enveloped her both physically and mentally with her vast, comforting presence. The ex-assassin's frayed nerves began to settle the closer she and her wolf became. As she closed her tired eyes and curled against her bonded companion, Chyra let her negative emotions wash through their bond. Grey replaced them with comforting sensations and nonverbal reassurances. Chyra accepted these feelings gratefully, relaxing in her connection with Grey as it enveloped her further and further.

Gradually, the soft sounds and calming emotions that she and Grey exchanged grew stronger and more tangible, gaining a certain clarity in their melded thoughts that had never been present before. Chyra was a little taken aback by the sheer enormity of Grey's mind compared to her own as they lay in side by side comparison.

Suddenly, as if turning on a light, images bloomed into view behind Chyra's closed eyelids. She jolted and snapped her eyes open, expecting to be barraged with unwanted flashbacks of her imprisonment. Instead she returned suddenly to the stark white interior of the hangar. She looked up at Grey, who towered above her even while laying down, with questions evident in her facial expression and in her mind. In response, Chyra only felt the wolf tug impatiently at her consciousness.

"What are you planning?" She muttered but complied and closed her eyes once again, submerging herself in the depths of the bond once more.

Images slowly materialized, coming into gradual focus to reveal unfamiliar scenes. Most of them were of beautiful landscapes, but some of the others had indistinct humanoid shapes that were beginning to focus very slowly, as though the details of their features had been lost to time and memory. As the gorgeous scenes came into view, Chyra couldn't help but marvel as they flashed before her eyes with increasing urgency. But the scenes all moved so quickly, it was hard for Chyra's already disoriented mind to process everything Grey was giving her.

Slow down, she urged mentally, and her wolf begrudgingly complied. The flashing images were replaced with a scene of a sunny meadow in a clearing surrounded by alien-looking trees and foliage. Sunlight tilted through the gaps in the canopy, and motes of pollen danced in the air. It looked like springtime. Chyra's world suddenly lurched, and she suddenly felt like she was there, in that presumably Altean forest glen, with the fresh scent of the wind whispering through the trees and the sounds of animals chirping and moving in the canopy overhead. She looked down and found she could see her own body, if only a halfway corporeal, almost ghostly version.

"Well, this is... new." Chyra inspected her ghostly palms; they weren't quite opaque enough to be called solid. She knelt in the lush grass, running her hand over the wide blades. She couldn't feel them, and her translucent hand seemed to pass harmlessly through the underbrush, leaving not even a trace of wind rustling over the plant life. "Okay, Grey. I'll bite. What's going on?"

Her question was answered in a rather unexpected way, with another ghostly figure appearing very, very close to her left shoulder. Chyra shouted in surprise and lurched away, taking several clumsy steps backward in a hasty retreat from the ghostly canine creature. Only when the spectral wolf turned its bright golden eyes on her did Chyra recognize what- or rather, who- was standing before her.

"...Grey, is that you?"

It sure as the hells didn't look like Grey. The wolf standing in the glen was as real and organic as a wolf could possibly be, and much smaller than her mechanical companion.

Maybe small was an exaggeration.

She was immense, towering head and shoulders over Chyra, reaching almost seven feet tall at the shoulder. Soft fur in various shades of grey rippled over broad shoulders and a slightly sloping back, across a muscled rump, and ended at the tip of the wolf's flicking tail. Grey had long, powerful legs and large paws, equipped with wicked-looking black claws at the ends of her toes. She should have been terrifying in her size and musculature, but there was something strange and regal and beautiful about her, most of which lay in her shining golden eyes that were so intelligent and expressive, a far cry from the emotionless mask of metal the wolf usually wore. Her face was elegantly shaped, with a tapered snout and shiny black nose. She had one patch of white fur in the shape of a multi-pointed star that sat directly in the center of her forehead, and a few scars crisscrossed the bridge of her nose. Chyra saw a few more dotting her legs, her back, and her shoulders. Despite the old injuries, she was gorgeous.

Grey took a step forwards, her paws making no sound on the forest floor. "Hey, girl." Chyra held up a hand and Grey nuzzled against her purple palm with her nose. The ghostly canine felt surprisingly solid. Chyra scratched behind Grey's ears experimentally, and the wolf tucked her massive head beneath Chyra's arms, nuzzling into her torso and pushing Chyra backward a few steps with the weight of her head."You look great, but I have to admit I wasn't expecting you to be so... fluffy."

Grey somehow managed to look exasperated at the comment.

A smile tugged at the Galra's lips. "But seriously, what are we doing here? What is all this, some kind of lucid dream?"

Grey answered by looking into the trees and sitting down on her haunches next to her pilot. Chyra followed Grey's gaze and looked just in time to see a dark reddish wolf come loping gracefully out from between the trees. He was smaller than the spectral form of Grey beside Chyra, but much more solid. He must have been part of the memory. His fur was a dark oaky red, and his eyes shone a vivid cobalt in the soft sunlight.

As Chyra watched, a two-legged figure darted out from the gap in the brush that the wolf had just slipped through. They were lean and swift, their body arcing elegantly as they flew across the ground too quickly for Chyra to process any real details to describe them with. She just saw long dark hair and a whirl of limbs that leaped upwards, swinging onto the reddish Wolf's back with surprising ease, considering the canine's height. The wolf seemed not to mind the new rider on its back, in fact, it looked quite content and at ease, its pink tongue lolling happily out of the side of its mouth.

Now that the humanoid had stilled, Chyra could make out the details of their form and face. Perched comfortably upon the Wolf's back was a tall Altean man with dark hair and striking features. He was elflike, elegant in his poise and posture in a way Chyra couldn't exactly attribute to one specific thing. His presence was regal and stunning. The teal markings beneath his eyes shone bright in the sunlight, and as he leaned down to scratch his Wolf's neck he smiled in a way that seemed to brighten the entire surrounding area.

Chyra heard rustling in the woods, and stared in awe as four more giant wolves came galloping through the trees. Their healthy coats shone in the sunlight and they all carried Altean riders upon their backs. One was small and dark grey, with startling green eyes the color of the forest around them, who carried a slim female Altean with auburn hair and pink markings upon narrow shoulders.

The next wolf to emerge from the forest was light brown, almost a mousy color, with eyes as blue as the sea. The wolf was slightly bigger than the first two, but still very streamlined. Upon its back sat an elegant Altean man with short cropped blonde hair and a brilliant blue cloak slung across his wide shoulders.

Another wolf was large and dark blonde, its coat shone like molten gold in the sunlight and cheery grey eyes peeked out from beneath a heavy brow, and a pink tongue lolled out of its mouth, which sported a prominent underbite. Upon its back sat an imposing female warrior with crimson hair and pale skin, her cheeks marked not only by her dark blue Altean markings but by a few scars as well.

The final wolf to emerge was the largest of all. Strong, imposing, and gorgeous with eyes like molten gold. A spitting image of the specter sitting beside Chyra, although maybe a slight bit younger in appearance.

"Grey, is that you?" Chyra asked, bewildered. Her wolf didn't reply, but instead stared hard at her past self, and the rider on her back specifically.

The Altean man that sat astride Chyra's bonded was tall and lean, with silver hair that tumbled in thick waves across his wide shoulders and halfway down his back. His eyes were bright green, and purple markings shone on sharp cheekbones. He was wearing light armor that shone in the sun, casting flickering refractions of light around the glen. The light seemed to bend around him and his aura of power and energy, cloaking him in a halo of luminescence that made him look almost angelic. His bright smile was stunning, and his entire presence radiated both jovial and regal energy.

Curious, Chyra extended her mind to probe Grey's. She was met with such a strong torrent of emotions that she almost got swept away.

Chyra was bombarded with intense feelings of grief, of loss and sorrow and longing. Grey's mind was troubled almost beyond comprehension, her emotions ensnaring Chyra and threatening to drag her down into the depths of her wolf's despair. And overall pervaded an intense feeling of guilt. Like Grey had taken upon her shoulders every misfortune in the universe as her burden to bear. Chyra visibly staggered under the weight of Grey's grief, and tangled her fingers into her wolf's thick fur to help her stay on her feet. Grey snapped her head around as if shaken from a trance, and the memory dissolved, leaving them alone in a dark grey landscape. Chyra felt Grey's big wet nose on her cheek, and the wolf snuffled apologetically against her bonded's face.

Chyra steadied herself and patted Grey's cheek. "It's fine, you're allowed to mourn for him. He used to be your..." not pilot, one didn't pilot a living creature, "...rider?"

A feeling of affirmation flowed from Grey's mind, and a few disjointed images and sounds floated into view and hearing. Images of Grey and her rider running and wrestling playfully in the grass, the sounds of playful barks and a ringing laugh that was infectious enough to drag a smile and a cheerful feeling into even Chyra's saddened heart. The two of them even looked very young in some of the memories, like the Altean had grown up with Grey. They clearly had an incredibly close bond. A word rang like brass bells over and over in Chyra's mind: Addiel, Addiel, Addiel.

"Addiel," Chyra whispered. "Was that his name?" Another confirmation from Grey. "Did you two have the same kind of bond that we do now?" A yes from her wolf.

"Did he... he's not around anymore, is he?" Chyra wasn't sure why she asked, she already knew the answer. The kind of grief that filled Grey's heart didn't come around when someone was alive and well. Chyra knew better than anyone: it was a grief that she was all too familiar with. The pain in Grey's eyes was just confirmation.

"So how did you get all... metal?" Chyra asked awkwardly, trying to break the tension. Grey's electric blue eyes glinted with a slight relief, and she stood straighter as a scene began to materialize. Chyra found herself standing on a large balcony overlooking when looked like a laboratory with about forty to fifty Alteans working on a gigantic metal exoskeleton that looked like a newly constructed version of Chyra's own Grey wolf mech. Addiel and Grey stood side by side, the Altean's long fingers tangled in the thick fur of Grey's neck as he spoke to a tall Altean woman with silver hair and bright green eyes.

"And you're sure this will be safe, Nemena? My partner will be well protected in this armor?"

The Altean woman nodded knowingly, but with the air of having said this many times before, "I assure you, Addiel, your partner will be well armored and well protected, and you'll still be able to communicate and feel one another while in battle. Not to mention it will protect you much better in the thick of things than your typical armor does. You'll both be better off with this."

"And we'll be able to protect the planet from extraterrestrial threats as well as terrestrial ones?" Addiel pointed out.

"Yes," Nemena agreed, "the Varialis Corps is entering the next stages of its evolution, and you and your team will be at the forefront of this movement. Now, we have a few calibration tests to run before your first flight. If you'll follow me." Nemena turned towards a long ramp that spiraled downwards, and the memory started to fade back to darkness as Addiel turned to Grey and quirked up his lips in a half-smirk.

"Come, my heart. Our future awaits." Grey chuffed and moved forward, bumping Addiel lightly with her huge shoulder as she passed him. Then the memory faded completely, leaving only the echoes of Addiel's laughter ringing across the plains of Grey's mind.

The spectral version of Grey turned towards Chyra, who was staring dumbfounded at where the immense suit of wolf armor had been. Armor. It was armor. So Grey, the real Grey, the one the looked like the spectral creature standing next to Chyra in the mindscape, was inside the metal body of the Grey wolf.

"Oh, my stars." Chyra breathed, her eyes shot wide with disbelief. "Grey, why didn't you tell me this before? Why haven't you come out yet- how long have you been in there?" Chyra's voice was rising in urgency, worry for her bonded wolf bubbling up from the depths of her stomach and clawing at her throat, forcing her tone of voice up almost a full octave. Grey stepped back, a look of surprise coloring her canine face. She shook her head adamantly, a look of staunch refusal on her face.

To combat Chyra's hysteria, Grey abruptly shoved a memory to the forefront of their collaborative minds. Chyra quieted as she saw the scene unveiled before her, this time of Grey in her armor, standing hunched over a limp figure that lay sprawled across the ground. the backdrop was the remains of a battlefield, strewn with bodies and shattered weapons, which lay alongside destroyed alien cruisers in knee-deep mud that had been stained darkened crimson. A feeling of tension pervaded the atmosphere, setting Chyra immediately on edge and pulling her out of her frazzled state. The gruesome scene was deathly quiet, full of tension so palpable it ensconced everything in sight. It dripped off of the shoulders of Grey's massive metallic form and bled off of the other four wolf mechs that stood in a loose ring around Grey. The wind wasn't blowing, there was dead quiet. Chyra was hesitant to breathe for fear of interrupting the moment of incredible tension.

When the silence shattered, it was abrupt and gut-wrenching.

Grey threw her massive metal head back and howled, a sound so full of anguish and pain that even with Grey's somewhat inexpressive metallic voice, the sound brought tears to Chyra's eyes. Chyra approached the memory of Grey, her spectral form floating silently across the bloodstained battleground. Although she was unaffected by the carnage of the battle, she had seen so much of it she'd become desensitized at this point, Chyra's stomach soured when she saw what lay at the giant mech's feet.

Addiel was dead.

His broken form lay prone on the ground, the long shaft of a spear running through his cracked silver chest plate and burying itself in the ground beneath him. His platinum hair has escaped from what one had been a braid, and now lay limp and dirty in a tangled heap. His striking face was smudged with mud and gore, his cheek sported a slice across his right cheekbone. He wasn't moving. His eyes were glazed over, his face contorted into a permanent grimace of pain. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth and stained the dirt beneath him crimson where it dripped off of his chin.

Addiel, the original rider and pilot of the Grey wolf, was dead, killed on this battlefield and left in the mud like a discarded weapon.

And then Grey roared upwards, leaping out of her crouched position with incredible purpose.

Chyra jumped at the sound of grinding metal, her gaze flying upwards to see the massive wolf mech above her turn sharply, eyes flashing and body crackling with electricity. The other wolves, who had been crouching or sitting mournfully behind Grey's hulking form, leaped to their feet and to attention, surprise radiating off of them at their alpha's unexpected movements.

Chyra cringed as a wave of palpable and vengeful fury came crashing across her, emanating from Grey's mechanical armor. She watched in horror as the wolf turned her furious gaze towards the horizon, where the standards and sputtering hovercraft of a retreating army could be vaguely seen in the distance. A mechanical snarl echoed across the broken battlefield, and in one immense leap, Grey had taken off at a dead sprint, her strong mechanical legs carrying her quickly towards the enemies that had slain her partner. The other four wolves yelped in surprise and hesitated, those few precious seconds of motionlessness allowing Grey to get several long, purposeful strides in between herself and her companions. The other four wolves, Blue, Red, Yellow, and Green, quickly followed in the wake of their heartbroken alpha, taking great leaping bounds to try and gain back some of the ground they had lost.

"What's happening? Where are you going?" Chyra asked Grey quickly, swept up in the intensity of the moment. The wolf next to her shook her head mutely, her emotions turbulent and undecipherable in Chyra's mind, before quickly crouching down. At Grey's mental prompt, the Galra assassin scrambled onto her wolf's broad back, clutching at thick grey fur to try and keep herself steady. With one swift movement, Grey had rocketed forward and taken off at a dead sprint across the war-torn field, attempting to keep pace with her mechanical counterpart in the memory. While Grey in her natural form didn't have a chance of keeping up with herself in her armor, Chyra soon saw their opportunity to catch up.

The mechanical wolves chasing their alpha surged forward, and suddenly long lassos of multicolored light flew forwards from the chests of the smaller wolves, wrapping eagerly around Grey's mechanical form. The blue wolf hooked the lasso around Grey's neck, the red caught her right front leg. The yellow and green wolves both managed to ensnare Grey's beck legs. With their leader thoroughly entangled in their snares, the four wolves began to move backward, dragging a furiously thrashing Grey away from her target. And then she turned towards them.

Everything happened in a blur.

Grey's mechanical body rocketed towards the members of her pack, leaping and thrashing at the bonds that held her. Fueled by fury and grief and pain, the grey wolf attacked the others with a blind fury Chyra had only seen once before: when they alone had escaped from the Galra empire.

Chyra, still clinging to the organic version of Grey's coat, lifted a hand to her mouth in horror. The mechanical armor of the other wolves crunched and buckled against Grey's larger size, the alpha wolf leaving severe dents and scratches in the metal skins of her family. An intercom line crackled into existence as a kind of voice over in the memory, a cracking call of distress from the remaining four wolf pilots.

"Someone has to stop her! She'll tear us apart if we don't!" One of the pilots shouted. Chyra could hear the sorrow and fear in his voice. The wolves twisted frantically away from Grey's blows, dodging the flying claws and snapping jaws that their leader threw their way.

"Quick! Use an ion beam to paralyze her!" Another wolf pilot replied frantically. The yellow wolf released the lasso of light and instead charged up a bright golden beam in its jaws, the glow building rapidly from a small circle of light to a raging inferno of golden light inside the wolf's mechanical maw. Grey took the opportunity to lunge forwards and away from the remaining three wolves, but the tendril of light wrapped around her foreleg caused her to stumble and she had to rapidly halt her momentum.

The beam inside the dark yellow wolf's jaws fired straight at Grey, hitting her broadside with the blast of radiant light. The giant she-wolf staggered then stiffened as bright gold electricity crackled across her mechanical coat. A growl ripped from her throat but was quickly silenced as her body straightened, stiffened, stood up.

And then collapsed.

As the final flickers of golden electricity faded away, Grey's now prone form lay still on the muddy battlefield, the grime sinking into the gaps in her armor as she growled and struggled to move her mechanical muscles. The remaining lassos of light receded back into the chests of the other wolves, and the four of them crowded gingerly around their distressed leader. The scene faded, and Chyra suddenly found herself inside a hangar, beneath the massive silhouette of Grey's mechanical form.

Then, an almost time-lapse sequence began. Chyra watched as days, weeks, months flew by in rapid flashes, the sole focus was on Grey, alone in the hangar through the day and night cycles of several years, which the wolf spent locked away at the research facility on Altea. Over time, though, Grey found herself less alone. Eventually, more conflicts arose on Altea, and each time the four remaining wolves and their pilots were sent in to help settle disputes. But without their leaders to guide them, they found winning to be nigh on impossible. Gradually, the other four wolves appeared in the hangar, sitting just as motionlessly as Grey herself was, trapped in silent anguish at the losses of their pilots. It was a few years before all of the wolves were reunited, but it was even longer before they saw even a glimpse of the action. After almost a century of solitude, the four wolves were abruptly moved into a Galra ship, undoubtedly they were taken during the Empire's siege of Altea just before the planet's destruction. And there they sat, trapped in stasis without pilots to free them, occasionally poked or prodded by Galra scientists that couldn't pierce the particle barrier surrounding the long empty mechs. It pained Chyra to know that inside those suits of technical armor were five real, living Verinsk wolves, some of the last remnants of the long-destroyed Altea, and that they would never be released. Instead, they would be destroyed by the same people that had obliterated their home planet, separating the family of wolves one last time.

But she still had Grey.

A jolt passed through Chyra's body, Grey's spectral form began to fade away moments before the memory followed suit, leaving Chyra with a sensation of grim finality. Her eyes flickered open, vision blurred as her eyes readjusted to the bright fluorescent light of the Green Lion's hangar. She didn't know how much time had passed since she had entered Grey's mind, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to.

"Grey..." Chyra's voice cracked as she straightened, brushing her hand against her wolf's jaw. "I'm so sorry." The wolf replied with a mournful mechanical hum, and her mind pressed against Chyra's own with the distinct feeling of needing comfort.

Chyra obliged as best as she could, letting out a rueful scoff as she sent calming emotions Grey's way to make up for the comfort the wolf had given her earlier. "We're really messed up, aren't we?"

Grey replied with a lighthearted growl and a sardonic rise in emotion, like she was acknowledging the irony of the situation.

"But I suppose being broken together is better than being broken alone, hm?" Grey's hearty agreement echoed throughout the hangar and Chyra's mind, making her heart swell with an emotion akin to adoration.

"I'll figure out a way to get you out of that armor someday, I promise."

By the end of the night, Chyra felt closer to Grey than she ever had before.

Chapter Text

Later that night, Chyra crept out of Grey and the Green Lion's hangar and retraced her steps, navigating her way to the castle library. The lights flicked on at her entrance, illuminating the rows upon rows of bookshelves and holo-stations. Chyra navigated through the library, struggling to decipher the titles and dates of the books written in Altean. She had very little grasp of the language, as she had learned only the basics many years ago, but she could catch some words here and there that helped her figure out where she needed to be.

Chyra made her way to the Altean history section of the library and started skimming titles, searching for what she was looking for. When her limited understanding of Altean hindered her search, she went to one of the holo-stations, grabbed a handheld translator pad, and returned to the shelf. If she was going to find any information about Grey, Addiel, or the other wolves in the Varialis corps, this was where she was going to do it.

She pulled some books off the shelves that encompassed the time period in which Grey's memories may have taken place, then tucked them under her arm and made her way to the end of one of the shelves, where a cushioned bench sat. She plopped down on it, setting the stack of books next to her, and read through the holographic translator pad: The Early Wars of Altea. Grey had been created during a time of war, so this was as good a place to start as any.

Chyra skimmed through several passages, looking for any mention of mechanical canines or Alteans named Addiel, but found nothing. She checked the tables of contents for several more books, sighing when the search continued to yield nothing but extraneous information.

Grey, Chyra called in her mind, stirring the wolf from her slumbering state in the back corner of Chyra's consciousness. What can you tell me about you and your pack that might help me find something?

Chyra could sense Grey contemplating for a moment, then another name rang through her mind, echoed in a slew of voices from across history: Varialis.

A shudder ran its way up Chyra's metal-plated spine. Varialis. She had heard that somewhere, besides Grey's flashbacks of the past. Vrill's voice had called that to her, in his last moments. "Find Varialis," he had pleaded before his breaths were cut short.

Chyra shook her head, clearing the lump from her throat as Grey pressed comfortingly against her mind. Standing up forcefully from her place on the bench, Chyra retreated back to her place among the shelves, searching for any mention of the name Varialis.

Almost two Vargas of searching yielded a big fat pile of nothing.

Chyra couldn't find a single mention of the word Varialis, not in the history records or the fictional stories or the tales of Altea's ancient culture, nothing.

"Grey, are you sure you ever existed in the first place? I can't find a single quiznaking thing!" Chyra huffed in sarcastic exasperation, pushing another pile of useless books across the bench. Her frustration leaked into her words as she sent the message to Grey as well as projected it through the library's vast halls of shelves and books.

Annoyance bubbled up on Grey's end of the connection, and Chyra almost heard her mechanical growl in her mind. Clearly she was just as tired of the fruitless search as Chyra herself. Slowly, another name began to echo around the confines of Chyra's mind, indistinct at first but slowly coming into focus and hearing. A multitude of voices spoke again, but one stood out the most, as the clearest and most ringing tone out of all of them. Chyra recognized the voice as Addiel's, and he said one name over and over.

Arivala. Empress Arivala.

Chyra sat up from her hunched position at once, scrambling for a book in which she had seen that name before. She picked up a dusty old tome titled Altean Monarchs: Kings and Queens of Altea's Greatest Empires. Rifling through the pages too quickly for her translator pad to read, Chyra found the familiar stream of symbols and began to read the translated text.

'Empress Arivala, the first ruler of the Planetary Empire of Altea, brought the warring nations of Altea together after four hundred years of bloodshed and territorial disputes. Her military prowess as a general, strategist, alchemist, and empress led her to become the most revered and respected monarch in all of Altean history.'

Chyra kept skimming the paragraphs until she found something more useful, a passage that read: 'Arivala's victory was made possible by the Imperial Wolf Corps, a group of highly capable soldiers trained to fight alongside the hyper-intelligent Verinsk wolves, the titans of Altea's ancient forests.'

Titans of the Forest. That's a name that I could get behind. So, Grey, you're a Verinsk wolf under all that metal? Chyra asked after finishing the passage. The wolf's sense of pride came across in her affirmation of the question, obviously happy about the compliment and the fact that Chyra had made the connection.

We'll add that to this list of things to research next time. For now, let's just look at how to get you out of the armor, okay?

Grey growled her agreement before going quiet in Chyra's head once more. The Galra yawned and kept digging through the books, searching for more information on Arivala and the Verinsk Corps. She picked out several more books, immersing herself in Altea's history and searching for more information on her bonded wolf's origins.

It wasn't until Chyra had been searching for almost two more hours that she found the first mention of Varialis.

It was only an offhanded remark made by an Altean author that was clearly biased against Arivala, but it allowed Chyra the first glimpse into the origins of the wolf who had bonded with her heart and mind.

'Arivala's great conquering of Altea was only made possible through the discovery of a rare type of metal, sourced only from a type of comet said to pass through Altea's solar system once every few thousand years. Without this astral phenomenon and the highly evolved ships and weapons that were made from it (see publication on Varialis), Arivala and her military never would have been powerful enough to take over the rest of the planet.'

"A comet?" Chyra mused, flipping through the book to try and find more information. "How could a comet have helped overtake an entire planet?" She had seen plenty of ways to conquer planets during her time in the Empire, but never before had she heard about a comet used in a takeover. Solar eclipses used to take advantage of and scare primitive societies into submission? Sure. Solar flares used to power ion blasts that can evaporate entire planets? Definitely. But a comet? That Chyra had never seen.

Grey, sensing Chyra's confusion, peeked upwards and sent a flow of images into the forefront of Chyra's mind. A streak of light in the sky over a war-torn battlefield on what Chyra assumed was Altea during the time of war. The landing site of a piece of debris, a comet about half the size of a battle cruiser laying in a massive crater. The comet was almost black, streaked through with streams of different colors and glowing trails of bluish light. She saw an image of a team of Alteans with early-spacefaring machinery moving the comet, then a tall Altean woman with dark hair and clever eyes touching the comet with a glowing blue palm.

Chyra's eyes snapped open. "There's something special about that comet, isn't there? And was that Empress Arivala?" Grey replied with a feeling of affirmation, a couple more images of Arivala and Addiel interacting surfacing in her mind to solidify the answer.

"Okay, comets, Verinsk wolves- all of that I've got covered. But what about Varialis?"

Grey replied with a mental shrug, indicating that she didn't know how to find what Chyra was looking for. Chyra sighed, throwing her head back in exasperation. She thrashed her tail in annoyance, smacking the side of the bookshelf accidentally. She ran her hand through her hair, trying to revive herself so she could keep searching.

"What are you doing here so late at night?" An accented voice rang through the still library air.

Chyra almost jumped out of her skin.

As it was, she startled violently and ignited her legs, baring her teeth in an instinctually threatening gesture. She bristled and tensed, and every muscle in her body went taut with anticipation of a sudden fight.

The realization that the person who had broken the stillness in the library was none other than Coran did little to calm Chyra's nerves but forced her to straighten, try to switch off her legs, and hope to the stars that she hadn't just royally messed up. The Altean's startled face and taken-aback demeanor weren't promising.

"Coran! I um, sorry. I was startled- you, uh- you startled me." Chyra stammered, embarrassed at her reaction. She kept her eyes trained on the floor as she rubbed at the back of her neck where her fear and apprehension had made her skin crawl.

"No harm done," Coran responded, his posture relaxing almost immediately. He stood a good distance away but didn't seem defensive or on edge, which put Chyra somewhat at ease.

"What are you doing in here, though? It's the middle of the night." Coran prodded gently, his voice earnest.

"I couldn't sleep, and I've been wondering for a while if your castle's library had any information on Grey or the other wolves. But..." Chyra gestured vaguely around her, glancing guiltily at the disorganized pile of discarded books nearby, "...clearly I've been unsuccessful so far."

Coran hummed in thought, one hand tugging at his mustache while the other tapped idly on his leg. "You know, I did spend some time as a research assistant at Altea's royal library, and most of those books are survived here. I could maybe help you find what you need."

Chyra looked at the Altean advisor with surprise. Why would he want to help her, of all people? "I'd appreciate that, Coran, but I just don't think there's anything here."

"That's just because you don't know where to look." Coran winked, making a 'finger gun' and putting it under his chin in a gesture that he definitely learned from Lance. He zipped over to one of the holo pad stations much faster than a person his age should have been able to, but Chyra had come to expect the unexpected from the crew of this castleship. Wordlessly, she followed suit, leaning over to get a good look at the rapidly flashing Altean text on the screen that Coran was tapping away on.

"Now, what kinds of keywords were you searching for?" Coran crackled his knuckles loudly, his hands hovering over the keypad.

"Uh, well I looked in history books but-"

"Ah ah ah," Coran held up a finger, silencing the ex-assassin, "keywords."

Chyra wrinkled her nose, but replied "Varialis."

In about two ticks flat, Coran had pulled up a list of book titles and digital resources, and started scrolling through, scanning the summaries too quickly for Chyra to even try catching a decipherable glimpse of the rapidly-moving Altean script. After a few more moments, however, Coran drew back, once again messing with his orange mustache.

"That's weird, I can't seem to find anything on this Varialis. Are you sure you're looking for something that actually, you know, exists?"

"Yes," Chyra answered defensively, despite not knowing anything about the thing she was searching for. "Grey and Vrill told me to look for Varialis."

"Who?"

Chyra stiffened, she hadn't meant to let any names slip. "No one. Just- Vrill was one of my little brothers."

"Oh. One of the ones you lost to Zarkon?" Coran's voice was filled with sympathy, and Chyra realized that out of everyone in the universe, she may have been talking to one of the only people who truly understood how it felt to lose everything and everyone you cared about.

She looked over at the empathetic Altean, blinking back her tears. "Yeah."

Coran put a hand on Chyra's shoulder for just a moment, just long enough for her to register the gesture as one of comfort, before turning back to the holopad. "Well," he said, almost as chipper as ever, "there's nothing to be found on this Varialis, but maybe there's something else we can find to get us where we need to be. Any thoughts?"

Chyra, grateful for the return to the original topic, breathed a sigh of relief and wiped her eye. "Okay, how about Arivala?"

Coran's face lit up with recognition, and he turned to face Chyra with an incredulous look. "Arivala? Well, why didn't you say that at first?!"

Chyra leaned back, trying to get a little less proximity to the Altean who acted like he might possibly explode every ten seconds. "I- well, uh-"

"Of course you're not going to find anything here if you're looking for data from Arivala's empire!" Coran whizzed away from the holoscreen, grabbing Chyra's wrist and dragging her forward. She instinctively dug her heels in, bristling with unease and pinning her ears against her head with fright as she yanked her arm backward.

Coran raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Right, sorry, no touching. But follow me!" He wove between shelves fast enough for Chyra to have to jog to keep up, he clearly knew this castle like the back of his hand. Within moments, he was standing in front of a large, dark blue door with gold Altean symbols etched around the frame.

"Ta-da!" Coran cheered, clearly expecting Chyra to be in awe. She just shrugged, nonplussed.

"Cool door? How is this going to help us-"

Coran clapped twice, the door slid open with a mechanical whoosh, and Chyra's jaw dropped.

From floor to ceiling of the softly lit room stood hundreds of bookshelves, stretching up in all directions and stocked full of the oldest looking books Chyra had ever beheld. It was the coziest looking room that she had seen in the castle, with a heavy-laden desk made out of gold-colored wood and a comfy-looking dark blue armchair positioned off to one side. There were two more armchairs near the center of the room, positioned in front of a central fireplace that switched on to reveal holographic flames that sent soft light throughout the whole space.

"This is gorgeous," Chyra breathed, walking in behind Coran and gaping in wonder. She had rarely seen places like this, places of real beauty, and when she did it was usually because she had been sent somewhere to murder someone.

"This is King Alfor's personal study. Here are all of the rarest, most classified, most uncommon books and scrolls on all of Altea."

"Wow," Chyra grinned, soaking in the atmosphere. She was surrounded by history here, even more so than in the larger section of the library. These books and tomes were ancient, and she was incredibly lucky just to be able to see them, much less read anything from them.

"Now, of course, one of Alfor's main goals was documenting and recreating these rare books so that their knowledge could be shared with the rest of the universe, but most of those recreations were lost when Altea fell. Now, all we have are the originals, which I suppose is a good thing, but still."

Coran kept talking, expositing about the rarity and special qualities of the records in this room, but Chyra tried to respectfully cut to the chase after she had to stifle another yawn.

"Coran, I appreciate the history lesson but what makes you think we'll be able to find anything in here about Varialis or Arivala?" Chyra cut in as gently as she could.

"Right! I know we'll be able to find everything we need because all of Arivala's records are so classified that they're kept in here!"

"Really, why?" Chyra was eager to learn but cautious. Hiding history was never a purely positive thing, she knew that from all her experience in the Galra empire.

Coran suddenly adopted a teacher's voice, like one of the instructors Chyra had trained with when she was little. "Arivala, while being one of the most respected rulers of all time, is also known as the most secretive. Her success in uniting Altea under one banner was impressive and good for the planet since it stopped ages of war, but it's said that she was ashamed of some of the things that happened during her reign. We would have made the records public eventually, but it's customary to honor the dying wishes of an Altean ruler, even if they're outrageous, and Arivala wished for her classified records to remain hidden from the public. No one except the royal family is really sure why."

"You don't even know?" Chyra prodded.

"No, but maybe we'll find out tonight."

"You're really going to let me look through all of your ancient Altean records?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Chyra balked, caught off guard by Coran's nonchalant response. "Uh, nothing, No reason. Where do we start?"

Coran turned back to the bookshelf with a knowing look, tapping his fingers along the book spines as he navigated. He muttered as he did so, getting close to the spines and squinting to decipher some of the older scripts. "Ah-ha!" He exclaimed, grabbing a book, a pair of handwritten notebooks, and two reams of bound paper off the shelf. "Here we go," Coran hefted them onto the desk and beckoned for Chyra to come closer.

"Take a look at that!" Coran pointed triumphantly to the title on the inside cover of one of the notebooks, which was handwritten in the most indecipherable Altean handwriting Chyra had ever seen.

Chyra, after several seconds of straining to make out even one symbol, conceded. "I... can't read that."

"Right, language barrier. It says Progress of Project Varialis, written by someone named Addiel of Eskrevar."

Grey's presence flooded with happiness behind Chyra's eyes. That was him! That was Grey's old pilot, he must have written the mission reports for whatever Project Varialis was. Grey's happiness was infectious, and Chyra found herself grinning in excitement as she replied, "I think that's it. I think we found it."

"Aw yeah!" Coran exclaimed (again, was he hanging around Lance too much?), throwing his hand in the air with a grin. Chyra flinched away, but recovered when she saw that the Altean wasn't moving, and instead just looked at her with an expectant smile. She quirked an eyebrow, confused.

"It's a 'high-five', a human gesture the Paladins taught me! You slap my hand, like this." Coran hit his palms together, then prompted Chyra to do the same. Hesitantly, she tapped his raised palm.

"That's a good start," Coran said in response, "we'll have to work on that. Anyway, here's what we've got."

Coran started reading through the files, reports, and records written in Addiel's messy scrawl, deciphering and reading it aloud for Chyra to hear.

'Queen Arivala, in the wake of the ongoing territorial disputes between the separate kingdoms of Altea, has started an initiative to bring peace to our war-torn planet,' Addiel wrote in one of the personal entries.

Should we be reading this? I mean, is it a violation of Addiel's privacy to read his journal entries? Chyra asked Grey mentally. She could practically feel Grey shake her head, asserting that it was alright. A feeling of encouragement bloomed in Chyra's chest; Grey was urging her onwards.

'For this mission, Queen Arivala has selected only a handful of five riders from the Elite Force of the Verinsk Corps, chosen through a rigorous selection process. Fortunately, as I have been chosen as the leader of this venture, most of the other riders and wolves that Arivala chose are amicable towards me and my partner, if unfamiliar. Hopefully, we'll be able to work well together in the coming months of training while our ve, as the Queen expects us to be able to work flawlessly together as a team within the phoeb.'

"Wait, so why was Addiel calling her Queen, when Arivala ended up an Empress?" Chyra asked.

"Well, that's likely because she was Queen of one of the warring kingdoms at first, but once she united the kingdoms she probably changed the title to Empress." Coran continued to read aloud from Addiel's journal.

'And what complicated it more is the technology. Somehow, we've managed to create five of the most technologically and alchemically advanced vessels in Altea's history, but we're not entirely sure how. The ore seems to work itself almost, and I honestly think my Bonded has more of an idea of how the armor works than the engineers who created it. Not to mention we've added in quite a lot of experimental technology, including this device that Arivala calls a 'teleduv.' It's supposed to be able to channel my energy and make portals, but I'm not convinced it's going to work. It's strange to figure out how the suits operate once they're done, but I'm excited to find out.'

"Does the journal say anything else about the mechs? Anything about how they were made, or the comet that he mentioned?"

Coran hummed in thought, flipping through the journal quickly. "There aren't many specifics in here, but maybe we can find something in the project report." Coran flipped the journal closed and moved on to the reams of bound papers, flipping past the first few pages.

"Let's see, it says here that the Wolves of Varialis were created by imbuing Altean energies into the weapons, which were made by refining and reshaping the ore from... a glowing comet." Coran went quiet as he said it, as if coming to a realization.

"What, what's important about the comet, Coran?"

"Number Five said that your wolf is made out of the same material as Voltron, but Voltron is made out of a trans-reality comet that landed on Daibazaal more than ten thousand years ago. If Varialis was made out of that same trans-reality metal, then that means that more than one of these comets have passed through Altea's star system. What if more of these comets passed through while we were asleep, and they're in the hands of the Galra?" The Altean mechanic looked more worried than Chyra had ever seen him, his bubbly nature was gone, replaced by this solemn fear.

"I don't know if it's any comfort, but I don't think the Empire has found another one of these comets. If they had, Zarkon would have created weapons just like Grey, or just like Voltron, by now."

"I guess so, but how can you be sure?"

"I know how Zarkon's mind works, they trained me to think like him. Even if he didn't have Altean magic, he still would have found a way to make the comet into some sort of weapon if he had one. I think we're safe on that front."

Coran breathed a sigh of relief, and Chyra hoped desperately that he didn't read too far into her words. There she went again, saying things without thinking, things that could lead the Paladins to discover who she really was.

"Right, well, I suppose that's good news at least," Coran said, mustering up some of his usual cheer. "It looks like, for their time, the wolves were an exceptional feat of Alchemy and engineering. While not as advanced as Voltron in many ways, due to being made almost five thousand years before it, the Wolves of Varialis were more magically inclined, since they possessed the bodies and souls of the wolves that their Altean pilots were bonded to. I wonder what it means by bonded," Coran mused.

"Oh, it means the riders could connect to their wolves with their minds."

"What?" Coran looked skeptical.

"You know the whole mental bond thing that I do with Grey? I think the old riders were able to do that with other wolves too. How do you not know about Verinsk wolves?"

"Verinsk wolves went extinct long before I was around! You mean you can talk to your ship in your mind?"

"Yep." Chyra said brightly, enjoying the expression of bewilderment on Coran's face. Apparently Grey was too, as a canine bark of laughter echoed softly in Chyra's mind. At her partner's request, Chyra laughed, tapped her forehead, and said, "Grey says hi."

Coran's jaw dropped, and he stared at Chyra as if she had just sprouted horns or an extra tail. "What?" Chyra asked, still smothering her laughter. "Pidge said the lions have a similar link with the Paladins, just not as strong."

"The wolf can see me. Through you? Right now?" Coran was still gobsmacked.

"Yes, she says hi. Now does it say anything about getting the wolf out of the armor?"

"Why would you want to take the giant wolf out of the ship?!"

"She's been in there for fifteen thousand years, Coran. I think she's earned the right to stretch her legs."

"...Right." Coran leafed through the reports again, muttering quietly to himself the entire time. Chyra couldn't catch many of the words, but she could have sworn he uttered the phrase 'strangest houseguests ever' more than once. Suddenly, he popped upright, pointing to a passage on the page.

"Here! It says that the Wolves of Varialis were piloted by the most elite Alchemist-Warriors in Arivala's kingdom, who could operate their ships with the help of their wolf partners. But here's where it gets to the tricky part: 'The riders of the Varialis Wolves were able to release their mounts from within their armored carapaces through an exchange of arcane Energy.' It looks like the only way to get your wolf out is with Alchemy." Coran concluded.

"Oh." Cyra's heart sank. She sure as hell couldn't do any Altean Alchemy, she was a Galra for stars' sake, and she knew for a fact that she couldn't get Allura to help her. Grey's consciousnesses bubbled up again, wrapping Chyra in a comforting embrace.

"Don't fret, we have a couple of the most clever Paladins in the universe on this ship! I'm sure Pidge and Hunk would be willing to help you out."

"Maybe," Chyra muttered, disheartened.

"Sorry what we found wasn't what you were looking for, but at least we know a bit more about where your ship came from!" Coran pointed out, looking to the bright side.

"I guess so," Chyra admitted, lightening up. "Thanks for helping me, Coran."

"Anytime," he replied. "Now, before we put these away, is there anything else you want to know?"

Chyra pondered for a moment, mulling over everything she had learned. One thing still didn't add up. "Yeah, why exactly are these records classified? Why didn't Arivala want people to know about her reign?"

"Hmm, let's see..." Coran flipped to the back of the research logs, where the reports looked from Chyra's perspective to be more disorganized, and less detailed. There were streaks of red ink crossing out entire sections of text, and handwritten notes scribbled hastily in the margins. Coran slipped into a pensive expression as he read, his orange eyebrows furrowing and one hand coming upwards to mess with the end of his mustache.

"This is strange, records usually weren't kept this way. It looks like Arivala wanted really badly to hide this project from the public eye. But why..." He flipped through some more, skimming over the documents. His face went slack then, realization dawning on him. "Oh," he whispered.

"What? What is it?" Chyra asked, trying to see the document despite knowing she couldn't read a word of it.

"Arivala hid the records of Varialis after the pilots were killed in battle." Images of Addiel's lifeless face flashed before Chyra's eyes, followed by disjointed emotions of loneliness and a pervasive sense of loss and failure.

Shaking off the feeling as best as she could, Chyra asked, "Why? Death in battle is honorable, why would she hide everything about Varialis because the Pilots ended up falling?"

"I don't know," Coran trailed off, turning another page. "Maybe something in that pilot's journal will help."

"I don't think so, he was the first of the Varialis pilots to die." Chyra refuted.

"And you know that because...?"

"Grey showed me."

"Right. Of course. The psychic wolf told you."

"Well, she doesn't really speak, per se, but she showed me the memory earlier."

Coran didn't say anything, he just blinked in confusion and shook his head mutely.

Chyra winced with embarrassment and rubbed at the back of her neck. "It's... been a long night." She stifled a yawn as if to punctuate her comment.

"You're right, it has!" Coran noted, checking a small timekeeping device in his pocket. "I don't think we're going to find much else tonight, so we should turn in for bed. But I'd be happy to bring you back in here to keep looking for answers whenever you'd like."

"Thank you, Coran. For all your help, and for being so kind to me. I know it probably isn't easy."

"You'd be surprised," Coran said with a knowing smile. "Now, we should be off to bed, I'll reshelve these tomorrow. Would you like me to show you to your quarters, m'lady?" He offered with a flourish and a bow.

Chyra was caught off guard for a moment, but found herself laughing and replying in an exaggerated accent, "Why yes please, my good sir." Coran grinned, happy to have coaxed a laugh out of the exhausted Galra, and started off through the library.

"You are going to help me put all those books you rifled through back on their proper shelves in the morning, right?" Coran asked, pretending to be stern as they passed the spot where Chyra had been piling up discarded books earlier.

"Yes," Chyra ducked her head in embarrassment, "sorry about the mess."

"No worries," Coran waved off the apology nonchalantly. "Sorry I startled you earlier, but you know what? I noticed something about you when I did."

Chyra's heart thudded to a stop. Her steps faltered and she felt like the blood had all drained from her face. "O-oh? What uh, what did you notice, exactly?" Chyra tried to keep her voice from trembling.

"Your hair," Coran noted, gesturing to the back of Chyra's head, "it goes poof when you get startled."

Chyra stopped in her tracks, blinking numbly. That wasn't what she was expecting at all. "What?"

"That short bit in the back, it poofs outwards when you get scared," Coran elaborated.

"No way," Chyra argued, her hands moving to cover the short-cropped hair on the back of her head as she jogged to catch up to the still briskly-walking Coran. She knew it laid funny there at the back, and sure, maybe it would prickle or itch when she was apprehensive, but it had never fluffed up before!

Then Chyra realized. Her hair had also never been this short before. The tuft on the end of her tail, when it had once been long before the guards sheared it off in the arena, would frizz up when she was nervous, who's to say that now that her hair was short it didn't do the same thing?

"Just a little quirk that I thought I should point out," Coran said, putting a stop to that line of conversation. Chyra' still coming to terms with her newfound ability to fluff up like an angry Klanmurl.

Conversation resumed pretty easily after that, and Coran chatted with Chyra about things of little consequence on the way to her quarters. The conversation was lighthearted and casual, and Chyra found herself reluctant to part from the mechanic's cheery presence when they reached her door.

"Looks like your stop."

"Yep," Chyra agreed, wincing at the fried control panel outside the door. She winced and sucked in a breath between her teeth, looking apologetically at Coran, who was probably going to get stuck fixing her door. "Um, I think there's something wrong with my door, it shorted out earlier."

"What did you do to it?" Coran asked, looking closely at the wires that were still slightly smoking.

"I don't know, it just... did that when I went to open the door earlier." Chyra mimed an explosion with her hands, looking apologetic. "Sorry."

"It's fine, but I'm not fixing that until morning," Coran said, straightening before giving Chyra another cordial bow. "Sleep well, it's been a pleasure."

Chyra couldn't help but laugh and reply, "You too, Coran. Goodnight."

And even though her brain swam with newfound information and old memories that weren't her own, Chyra could confidently say that the sleep she got for the rest of that night was some of the best she had gotten in a long time.

Chapter Text

Morning came all too soon.

Chyra had finally gotten some decent rest, and her body was ready to sleep for much longer than she got the chance to. But when the lights flicked on and the castle's systems started humming to life as they came out of night mode, Chyra dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom to make herself look somewhat presentable. She had gotten used to her reflection at this point, and although it was still unsettling sometimes to look in the mirror and see herself like this, she had been noticing some small improvements over the last few weeks. Her face wasn't so pale and ash-colored, she was getting some of that healthy light purple back into her complexion, and the sallow dips in her cheeks were beginning to fill in and smooth out. Her ears, although one was ragged and torn on the one side, were standing straighter, and her expression didn't look so hollow or haunted. While her scars and the shadows that lurked under her eyes would likely never fade, she had noticed some reclamation of liveliness in her expression and demeanor that she was nevertheless appreciative of.

Chyra ran her hands through her hair, laying flat any trace of bedhead she had gotten overnight. After washing her face, cleaning her teeth, and wriggling into a clean set of grey and black clothes, Chyra slipped out of her broken door and headed blearily to the kitchen, still half asleep.

She walked into the room in a daze, a wide yawn exposing her fangs as she entered. The paladins were already in the kitchen or at the table by the time she got there, suited up in their armor with their helmets strewn around the room.

Coran, somehow chipper even after the late-night study session, called in a greeting. "Morning, Chyra! Sleep well?" His tone of voice was teasing, and Chyra caught a glimpse of his mischievous grin from beneath his mustache.

The Galra fixed him with a pair of tired yellow eyes and a slightly rueful smile. "Morning," she waved to the Paladins and grabbed herself a bowl, filling it with green food goo and settling into a spot where she could observe the morning goings-on without being too engaged. It was too early for conversation.

At the counter, Lance and Keith were competing to see who could balance a spoon on their nose the longest. Currently, Lance was winning, which clearly drove Keith crazy. Shiro was watching this all go down with a raised eyebrow, a quizzical smile, and a spoon halfway raised to his mouth, as though he forgot it was there before he had a chance to take a bite. Hunk was rinsing out his bowl from breakfast at the sink, and he grinned at Chyra when she glanced his way. Pidge, looking just about as bleary as Chyra, meandered over and grabbed a bowl of breakfast goo, and peeked over the brim of her glasses, looking disgruntled.

"You look as tired as I feel," the minuscule Paladin muttered, her glasses askew and hair rumpled.

"Not a morning person, are you, Pidge?" Chyra chuckled, looking down at the moody kid next to her.

"Not at all." Pidge replied as though waking up was the bane of her very existence. "Rough night last night?"

Chyra smiled slightly at Pidge's concern. Ever since the night she had broken her mirror, Pidge had been checking up on her whenever she looked like she'd been through an ordeal. Chyra was touched by the thought that Pidge cared enough to make sure she was alright, so she tried to do the same for the Green Paladin if and whenever she could.

"Not really, just up late reading since I couldn't sleep."

"Ah. Good book?" Pidge asked.

"Yeah, it was very educational," Chyra replied, smiling. She was so glad for the chance to learn more about Grey, even if it hadn't yielded the exact results she had wanted. "Why are you so tired?" She asked then, sparing a glance at Pidge.

She replied with a disgruntled noise of discontent, a regretful look taking over her face. "Got caught up in coding a program to predict Galra attack patterns and locations, and I almost finished it before I realized what time it was." She held up her hand, her index finger and thumb barely separated. "I was this close."

"That's unfortunate, did you at least get a little bit of sleep?" Chyra asked, she knew humans needed sleep more regularly than Galra, but she wasn't sure about the actual amount they needed.

"Yeah, I got a couple hours, and it's fine, I'll be able to finish up the program after training and the castle repairs Allura wants us to do."

"I hope you do, that program could be really useful in finding the Empire's most concentrated areas of attack," Chyra encouraged, reminded inexplicably of Vrill and Quinn's ambitious inventions by Pidge's aspirations to help fight the Empire's control.

"Well, it's not so much a finder as it is a pattern prediction-"

Pidge was cut off by an annoyed exclamation from Lance; apparently Keith had 'accidentally' knocked the spoon off of his nose.

"How dare you?" Lance cried, terribly offended. He aimed a smack at Keith, who dodged effortlessly, a devilishly mischievous look on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about- STOP." Keith's playful look turned venomous when Lance pulled on his hair, grabbing the back of his mullet in retaliation.

"Guys, don't-" Shiro started, only to be cut off by a screech from Lance as Keith jabbed him in the side, right underneath his chestplate.

Chyra stifled a laugh as the boys began to tussle, poking and prodding with no real vitriol, but plenty of conviction. Pidge rolled her eyes but watched with an entertained expression as Hunk tried to cool the situation to little avail.

Shiro spoke up, looking like he was trying to shove down his own amusement. "Guys! You can settle this in the training room, but please keep it away from the breakfast table."

Keith and Lance froze for a moment, still all twisted up and grabbing at various different pieces of one another's armor. They locked eyes.

"I call first dibs on kicking your ass in training," Keith declared, grinning.

"Bet." Lance replied with a smirk. The boys immediately detangled themselves and resumed their breakfast as though nothing had happened, sitting contently next to one another, aside from an occasional elbow nudged in the other's direction.

Chyra leaned down to whisper to Pidge, "Is this normal? Like, do they do this often?"

"You have no idea," Pidge snickered back. "I can't wait to see this blow up in the training room."

Chyra observed for a few more seconds, her tiredness slowly fading as she became more alert. She yawned again and grabbed another bowl of food goo, moving to sit at the table this time. She sat seperate from the others, almost at the opposite end of the table from Shiro, in case her presence made him uncomfortable. She noticed Shiro looking in her direction with a contemplative expression on his face, but he said nothing despite looking like he wanted to.

Chyra slouched at the table, eating silently as the familial atmosphere hummed around her. She wanted to be a part of it, but she was afraid that she would make things awkward or even hostile if she interfered with the Paladins. She still didn't feel like she belonged there, she was an outsider who was likely on thin ice already.

Chyra's self-doubt was exacerbated the instant the Princess walked in.

She entered with that sense of purpose that she carried with her at all times, and the second she caught sight of Chyra, her expression turned cold and hard. She pointedly ignored Chyra's presence, instead taking her place at the head of the table, near Shiro's seat. She had the remarkable power to alter the very atmosphere in a room with the intensity of her presence, and Chyra receeded inward even more as the Altean's multicolored gaze settled on her.

"Good morning, Princess. Sleep well?" Chyra tried to sound cordial, she really did. But the way Allura glared and looked even more guarded made Chyra's stomach turn in knots. She didn't know how she did it, but while she had been sleepily breaking through barriers with the castles other occupants, every interaction with Allura just seemed to escalate the tension that had always existed between them.

"Yes," Allura answered curtly, "thank you for asking." The princess turned away and started speaking to Shiro and Pidge, intentionally ignoring Chyra.

The Galra winced, pinning her ears against her head and dropping her gaze to stare at the remainder of her breakfast. This was clearly not going to work. Hunk walked by on Chyra's good side and nudged her sympathetically with his elbow, making an apologetic face. She shook her head mutely, her food goo now unsettled in her stomach.

Conversation resumed haltingly, and Chyra remained excluded from it all. Her appetite gone, she returned to the kitchen and rinsed out her bowl in the sink, listening to the Paladins' plan their activities for the day.

"We'll do individual combat training exercises first, " Allura suggested, "then we have some minor repairs and calibrations to make to the exterior poklones-"

"Apologies, Princess," Coran interjected, "but the repairs are needed on the agroclams, not the poklones."

"No, I was quite certain it was the poklones, not-"

Chyra's voice leaped forward before she could stop herself from interrupting. "Can I train with you today?"

Allura stopped dead, her multicolored eyes flashing to Chyra in an instant. The Galra withered beneath the stares of every one of the Paladins as the room went silent.

Quiznak.

"What?" Allura asked, surprise dominating her sharp features.

Chyra regretted ever opening her mouth, she hated when she let her thoughts get ahead of her. It had gotten her into trouble many times before, from sassing commanding officers to blurting out her plans while conversing with an assassination target, but this error, for some reason or another, felt more egregious than all of her other slip-ups before.

"Can... can I join you for training today?" Chyra reiterated, careful and aware of her words this time.

Allura scoffed. "Why would you want to do that?"

"Well," Chyra twisted her hands together behind the counter, where she hoped the others couldn't see. "I've recovered fully from my injuries by now, don't you think that if I'm going to help you fight Zarkon and the Empire, I should at least get back into fighting shape?"

Allura glanced to the side, her face twisting into an expression of distaste. "Absolutely not, you will not be training with the Paladins." She insisted, meeting Chyra's eyes once more. The Princess was resolute and determined, her voice blunt and expression stolid.

Chyra scrunched up her nose, no longer unsure of her words. It made no sense to her why she shouldn't be allowed to start training, there was nothing in her way: not an injury or reservation or limiting factors. "Why not? I don't see why I cant-"

Allura interrupted scathingly, "I will not allow you to jeopardize the safety of the Paladins by engaging with them in combat."

The Galra blinked, processing the Princess's implied accusation. Her ears swiveled back, pinning themselves to her head as her tail started to thrash. "Are you saying I would attack one of you if I were allowed to participate in training?"

"I'm saying that I don't trust you, and that I wouldn't put actions that despicable past a Galra, especially one of your..." the Princess seemed to look Chyra up and down as she searched for the right word "...disposition."

There was a stir as the Paladins all started to shuffle and glance among one another, all seemingly waiting for someone to interrupt. But they didn't have a chance to intercede. Chyra's temper had flared.

"My what?" Her disposition? What was that supposed to mean? It probably shouldn't have angered Chyra as much as it did, but the thinly veiled insult hit too close to home. It reminded her of the constant disdain with which she had grown up, the Galra Empire's obsession with blood purity, and the constant glares and antagonization that Chyra received for being 'lowborn.' She bared her teeth at the comparison, not even bothering to hide her emotions.

Lance started to "Allura, maybe we should-"

"Your disposition, I said," Allura jabbed, ignoring Lance's attempt at diplomacy, "or are you half deaf as well as blind?"

A sudden silence fell on the room, full of shock and a latent tension that Chyra could have slashed through with a blade. Hunk shattered it instead by dropping his spoon, a noise that made Chyra flinch and lose her extended staring contest with the Princess. She scrambled silently for a second, trying to muster up a rebuttal. She couldn't do what she wanted to do (which was punch the Princess for commenting on her blindness), but she couldn't let that be the end of the confrontation. That would mean defeat. And, not to quote the Empire Chyra detested so much, in this case, it really felt like the only options were victory or death.

Chyra saw a look of satisfaction start to grow on Allura's face, she was under the impression that the argument had been won. But Chyra wasn't the type to let herself be beaten so easily. She couldn't approach the table in this state, that could be perceived as a threat, which was exactly what Allura was after atthis moment. So instead, Chyra crossed her arms and casually leaned forward against the countertop, forcing her face into an expression of nonchalant indifference to hide the anger that made her quintessence-laden blood boil.

"Well, Princess," Chyra drew out the honorific, letting her tone of voice make it sound more like an insult than a title of respect, "maybe we should settle this the old fashioned way. With a sparring match." A grin sidled onto Chyra's face despite her best efforts. She was slipping into a persona, one of the ways she had stayed sane in the arena and lulled her assassination targets into a false sense of security when she was in the early stages of a mission.

Allura looked affronted, which was exactly Chyra's intention. "Like I would allow such a barbaric means of diplomacy to-"

The Paladins were watching aptly, their heads swiveling to watch the two extraterrestrials verbally duke it out with expressions of intense interest on their faces.

"A formal challenge then," Chyra proposed, not allowing the Princess to finish her thought, "I'll spar with the most skilled fighter among you. If I win the match, I can train with you from now on. If I lose, I'll back down and you won't hear a word about it from me again."

Allura stiffened, and Chyra stifled a smirk. If she had judged the Princess correctly, Chyra knew she wouldn't be able to back down from a formal challenge because of her code of honor.

If there was one thing besides murder that Chyra's many years as an elite assassin had taught her, it was how to prey upon someone else's hubris.

"Okay," Shiro stood up, apparently snapped out of his shock, "this is ridiculous. Nobody is fighting anyone, we can sort this out like reasonable-"

"I accept."

Shiro deadpanned, looking towards Allura with a blank expression. "Are you kidding me?"

Chyra replied with a cheshire grin that exposed her fangs, "perfect, who's my opponent?"

It was Hunk's turn to try and step in. "Guys, don't you think this is a bit brash?"

"Hadn't you guessed?" Allura ignored the Paladin and faced Chyra, rising from her seat at the table. She was composed now, her mask of diplomacy thin but firmly placed over her emotions. "You'll be fighting me."

. . .

Why in the seven hells had Chyra done this?

She was on thin ice already, seen as a threat and a potential security risk on the castle, and she had just had the brililant idea to try and fight the person who was letting her stay here? What was wrong with her?

Chyra paced across the floor of the training room, Keith and Pidge watching from the floor, where they sat cross-legged as Chyra's frenzy grew by the moment.

Grey's mind brushed passively against Chyra's in an attempt to calm her, but the effort, while appreicated, didn't do much to help.

"Ruggle," Chyra cursed under her breath, "why did I think this was a good idea?"

Pidge made a noncommital noise and shrugged, her head following Chyra's movement as she strode across the room. "I honestly can't believe Allura was acting like that. It's uncharacteristic of her, especially bringing up the whole blind thing." Chyra couldn't help but send Pidge an expression that Lance had dubbed the 'stink-eye' for bringing up the topic once more. "Personally I thought you played that off well!" The Green Paladin rushed in response, throwing up a gesture of surrender.

Chyra returned to her pacing, even more unsettled than before. "Allura is Altean royalty, why did I think it was a good plan to challenge her to a match? She's bound to be extensively trained-"

"Yup," Keith agreed.

"-and extremely adept in her abilities to have done this well in a war so far."

"Pretty much," Pidge affirmed.

"Wait, isn't your whole schtick that you can survive any opponent you have to fight? I thought that was like, your M.O. You don't think you can beat Allura in a fight?"

"Of course I can, Keith," Chyra snapped back, "but that's not the point! It's the fact that I just challenged my host to a duel! She's barely tolerating me as it is, although I can hardly blame her for disliking me because of my Galra blood. But how mad do you think she's going to be if I best her?"

. . .

"Allura," Shiro tried to reason again, "you don't really plan on fighting Chyra, do you?"

"Of course I do!" Allura retorted, whirling to face the Black, Yellow, and Blue Paladins who had followed her to her quarters. "She issued a formal challenge, if I had backed down she would have won!"

"Won what, exactly?" Lance piped up, raising his hand to speak as though he were in a classroom.

Allura paid him no mind, too absorbed in her frustration to answer. "Honestly, the nerve of that Galra! Demanding to be allowed to fight alongside you as Paladins! Initiating a challenge with me, the one who let her stay here in the first place!"

"She didn't really demand anything," Hunk rationalized, "I don't think she meant to offend you either."

"Well, until she asked Allura to fight her." Lance pitched in.

"Right, until she did that."

"Princess, please be rational about this, the last thing we need is fighting in the castle, surely the two of you could solve this by talking it out." Shiro offered carefully.

"She should have thought of that before initiating a challenge!" The Princess replied snappishly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm honor-bound as an Altean and as a member of the Royal Family to accept a formal challenge that threatens my personal character, authority, or the dignity of the Royal Family," she recited, as though quoting a lesson that had been taught to her long ago.

"Be that as it may, I agree with Shiro. Fighting Chyra will only lead to a bruised ego, on one side or the other." Coran approached from behind the group, adding his opinion.

Allura, at the arrival of her advisor, deflated somewhat. "Coran, I can't believe this. Being initiated a challenge by combat, I never thought I would have to stoop to this level." She massaged her temples in exasperation, her silver eyebrows furrowed.

"You don't have to, you can always rescind your acceptance of the challenge, let Chyra train with the Paladins," Coran suggested cautiously.

"And have the Galra win against me? Absolutely not!" Allura's defensiveattitude returned, her multicolored eyes flashing with frustration.

"This isn't a disagreement worthy of a duel, Allura," Coran tried again. "Chyra could be an asset to the team if you'd let her."

"We still can't be sure where her loyalties lie. If we give her access to our plans by admitting her to the team, she could betray us to Zarkon and be our undoing. I cannot allow our cause to be jeopardized with her around." Allura replied, resolute.

Lance nodded, "fair point, but personally I don't think Chyra seems like the conniving mastermind type. She's pretty upfront about things if you ask her, and I don't get the impression that she's trying to sabotage us."

"I agree," Shiro added, "what harm could letting her do some training with us do?"

Allura sighed, loosed her erected posture, but shook her head. "I'm sorry, as much as I dislike this kind of settling of disputes, I have to spar with her. I accepted the challenge, now I must deal with the consequences."

. . .

Chyra couldn't help but feel intimidated when the Princess entered the room.

Her powerful presence rolled through the door to the training room before she even stepped across the threshold, making Chyra stop her anxious pacing and straighten with attention. Keith and Pidge got up from their places on the floor as well, looking unsure of what to do but ready to intercede if they needed to.

Allura was wearing a battle suit, one in shades of white, grey, blue, and pink with the symbol of Voltron emblazoned in pink across her chest. Her colorful eyes were resolute, her elegant brow tilted downwards in a hard expression. Her hair was pulled back, tucked into a flawless bun at the back of her head. She still wore her circlet, and even in a more casual outfit, she still exuded a kind of regal energy. Flanking her were the three remaining Paladins and Coran, although they all looked significantly more uncomfortable than Allura did. She was carrying a long white staff with electric blue ends that glowed faintly. Chyra's tail curled with anticipation as she shifted from foot to foot; she wasn't sure if there was going to be dialogue before they started fighting or if she was expected to jump right into the match, like she had back in the arena.

"You know," Keith leaned over and stood on his toes to say quietly to Chyra, "you guys could probably like, settle this with an arm wrestle or something."

"An arm what?"

"Tell you later."

"I am here to accept your challenge," Allura said, her voice ringing with authority. She strode into the room with an air of power Chyra had seen in very few rulers before. She tried to keep the hair at the back of her neck from flaring out as best as she could.

"Very well," Chyra tried to answer with the same smooth voice full of authority and power, but she felt like it came out much more timid and scratchy than she intended, "let us begin the match."

"Without a weapon?" Allura raised an eyebrow quizically.

"Am I allowed to have one?" Chyra's composure broke. She cringed inwardly and resisted the urge to kick herself.

"It's only fair that you be armed with a weapon of equal status to mine," Allura replied, gesturing to a rack of staffs that was off to one side of the room with an expectant expression.

Cautiously and with no small amount of suspicion, Chyra went to the rack, keeping Allura within her field of vision at all times. She grabbed a staff that was almost identical to Allura's and turned to face the Princess, who had moved into the area in which the training activities generally took place, a large octagonal patch of flooring with a holographic projector protruding from the roof above it.

Chyra entered the arena, and the floor lit up with blue light.

"Alright, competitors," Coran stood at the edge of the ring like an announcer, fixing the opponents with a serious glint in his eye despite his energetic tone of voice. "I want a clean fight today! That means no scratching, biting, spitting, or hair-pulling allowed. Use only the staffs that have been provided to you, no extraneous weapons are permitted." Coran looked to Chyra as he said this. She sent him a nervous thumbs-up.

"The wager on the table is as follows: Chyra wants permission to train with the Paladins from this point forward. Allura is contesting that request with a show of skill and battle prowess. The first fighter to pin their opponent to the ground, disarm them, knock them out of bounds, or get them to concede wins the match. On my mark..." He held up a hand, and Chyra took up a defensive position twirling the staff in her hands to get a feel for its weight and balance before settling it in front of her body. She hadn't fought with one in a while, this was going to be challenging. Allura spun her staff and held it at the ready, pointing it at a diagonal off the side of her body with one hand while the other set in bront of her. The way she handled the weapon made Chyra balk. This was clearly her weapon of choice, one with which she had spent a lot of time.

"Prepare yourselves!" Coran called. Chyra's grip tightened on her staff. She forced herself to loosen up, she wouldn't get anywherre if she was stiff.

"Begin!" Coran lowered his hand.

Chyra barely had enough time to dodge Allura's blow. The Princess brought her staff down hard towards Chyra, forcing her to block and try to shove her backwards. Chyra skittered sideways, dodging another swift blow aimed at her ribs before maneuvering away from the edge of the arena.

By the Stars, the Princess was fast. Chyra was blocking attacks left and right, just barely able to keep up with the blindingly fast movements from Allura. It certainly didn't help that she was keeping to Chyra's blind side, forcing her to keep turning. It was a tactic meant to both catch her off guard and drive her towards the edge of the arena, since she couldn't kee an eye on her location if she was too preoccupied with blocking Allura's rapid attacks.

The Princess backed off suddenly, giving Chyra just a moment to recoup before dashing forwards to resume her barrage.

That's when Chyra saw her opening. Allura would stop for just a moment after a powerful attack, using the slight break to rebalance after the hard blow. If Chyra could catch her on the way off...

Chyra winced as a blow met her shoulder, shoving her back a few stumbling steps. Allura used the chance to try and land a jab to Chyra's ribcage. Her arms moved without thinking, driving the staff sidwatys to deflect the blow. Allura paused, looking surprised. In that instant, Chyra went on the offensive.

She lunged, swinging her staff in a narrow arc towards the Princess' side. Allura blocked, but Chyra had anticipated that. She spun sideways, driving Allura to turn in the opposite direction with the point where their staffs connected. Successfully positioned behind the Princess for just a second, Chyra feinted towards Allura's head, letting the staff whiz past the Altean's ear, prompting her to duck. With a skilled twist, Chyra redirected the blow to hit Allura's legs, almost successfully knocking her feet out from under her. The Princess rolled with the blow however, regaining her footing and dashing forward with a determined shout. Chyra blocked another downward swing, grunting with the effort of holding back Allura's forceful blow.

They strained against one another for a moment, just long enough for Chyra to shoot a grin in Allura's direction. "You're really good at this," she said amicably, as though she wasn't struggling to keep the Princess' furious attacks at bay.

"I was taught by my father, whom your people killed!" Allura whirled away, brandishing her staff and charging forward once again. Chyra sidestepped, deflecting Allura's weapon and pinning her ears back.

"I'm starting to think this isn't just about training!" Chyra said, her voice rising as she ducked beneath a swing that was aimed towards her head. She frantically blocked another swing, then shoved off Allura's staff and went in for a blow to the ribs. Allura ducked sideways, moving to Chyra's blind side. Two sharp smacks landed against Chyra's upper arm and shoulder before she had the chance to maneuver to be able to see the Princess again.

"You're a very opportunistic fighter," Chyra remarked, glancing a blow away with her own staff before aiming a feint at Allura's leg. While the Princess' guard was aimed low, Chyra changed the direction of her weapon, sending it whizzing towards Allura's shoulder instead. The blow landed, and the Princess grunted and staggered a few steps. Chyra took the opportunity to drive her back, keeping her from regaining her balance as she steered Allura towards the edge of the arena. The Princess' eyes grew wide, she was fumbling as she dodged several hits in quick succession that prohibited her from being able to fight back unless she fixed her stance. Chyra let loose, using the same tactic Allura had used before, keep your opponent focused on the weapon so they don't notice their surroundings.

Chyra watched as Allura made a wrong step in her haste to block a sideswipe. Chyra lunged forwards, jabbing her staff forwards into the gap above Allura's bent arm. She changed her grip, hooking Allura's staff with her own and twisting, the circular motion yanking th eweapon out of the Princess' hands. Chyra caught the other staff with her free hand, now holding both weapons. Allura became unbalanced, falling backwards and hitting the ground. Chyra swung the staffs in a wide arc. The Princess braced for a blow, her eyes shut tight and her hands raised in front of her.

Chyra froze, the staffs inches away from Allura's outstretched hands, set in an X between the two combatants. Chyra's expression was one of deathly calm, she was riding the adrenaline rush that always came with the enhanced focus she got during battle.

"But being clever and opportunistic won't be enough to defeat someone who's been fighting so long for their very survival, not just for the sake of winning."

Chyra lowered the staves, and Allura opened her eyes slowly, surprised at the absense of a finishing blow. The Galra transferred the weapons to her left hand, offering her right one to help Allura upwards. She looked at Chyra with interest and shock, her brows arching upwards in disbelief.

"You have skill, Princess, I'm impressed." This time, the honorific didn't taste sour in Chyra's mouth. Allura stared at Chyra's outstretched hand for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons of taking her hand. The ex-assassin smiled in a way that she hoped was comforting and friendly.

Slowly, Allura took Chyra's clawed hand in her own, and allowed the Galra to help her to her feet.

Allura released her grip immediately after she had regained her footing, but Chyra wasn't too deterred. She couldv'e been wrong, or maybe just imagining things, but she thought for a tick that maybe she saw a glint of acceptance in the Princess' multichrome eyes.

Allura cleared her throat, straighteneing the collar of her battle suit. "Well then, I suppose you've won permission to train with the team. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Chyra handed Allura her staff back, then crossed her fist over her chest in a gesture of respect.

She looked over to the edge of the ring, where the Paladins were all standing, most of them wide-eyed and shocked. Keith, Chyra noticed, was holding onto a small object that looked like the pommel of a sword without the blade, and Shiro's fists were clenched, but the others didn't look on edge at all.

In fact, as soon as Chyra looked their way, Lance bounced excitedly on his toes and shouted, "you guys have to teach me how to do that!"

Chapter Text

Chyra wasn't exactly sure how she had gotten to this point.

Dueling with Allura to get permission to train had seemed like the craziest thing Chyra would have had to do today. And it would have been if it weren't for the flying spores.

Somehow, Chyra had been conscripted to help the Paladins make repairs to the castle's shielding systems, 'since she wanted to be part of the team so badly,' in Allura's words. So there she was: floating freely in space in a borrowed suit with Grey worrying relentlessly in the back of her mind about Chyra's safety, despite how many times she had assured Grey that she would be fine. So far, the Paladins had bickered some, messed with some dials on a twisting control panel while Chyra and Hunk sautered some wires back together beneath the ship's exterior armoring, and made the shielding system go briefly berserk by tampering with said control panel. It had been a very eventful handful of doboshes, and Chyra was just starting to wodner if she really needed to be out here, especially if it was going to worry her wolf so badly.

And then, something squishy hit her.

She pulled a smushy mass of squishy greenish glop off the side of her neck, where the viscous material had slapped against the material of her space suit. "What in the seven hells...?" she muttered, screwing up her face in distaste as the weird material dripped off of her fingers and floated into the void.

"What is this stuff?" Lance asked, poking at one of the floating blobs. Chyra looked around and suddenly saw hundreds of thousands of these little greenish blobs, all floating in the same direction and pulsing with a rhythmic light that resembled almost a little heartbeat inside each of the little masses. They didn't seem dangerous, but they were sightly unsettling to Chyra in the way that they all glowed and pulsed in time to one another, as though they were all somehow synchromized.

"Alright," Shiro said, his voice changing to that specific tone he used when he was being authoratative, "we're prepared for this. Remember your rogue cluster projectile training from the Garisson. first we need a temporary shelter." The black paladin was about to say more, but a glowing blue blob went sailing right into the back of his head, sending him spinning just a bit in the zero-g environment.

"Oops, sorry, Shiro. I was trying to hit Keith." Lance apologized, holding his hands up in a gesture of surprise. Chyra turned to face Lance just in time to see another blue blob go sailing, from seemingly out of nowhere, directly into Lance's face. The blue paladin gave an exasperated growl of protest.

"Like that?" Keith asked, his arm poised to throw another one of the squishy lumps of iridescent blue. Keith's voice was dripping with snark and sass, and a wickedly mischievous smirk bloomed on his lips.

Hunk beamed, snatching up a bunch of the odd little bits of space junk in his arms and shouting, "Yes! Squishy asteroid fight!"

Chaos ensued.

For the first moments of impromptu battle, Shiro tried to settle the paladins as they began to launch the spongy blue material at one another. However, all that ended when Lance nailed him in the face with a tiny blue asteroid again. Chyra pushed herself off the side of the ship and took cover behind Shiro, who had his shield out to block the oncoming projectiles, but she soon realized that trying to keep herself from getting covered in goo was pointless. The little blobs of luminescent material were flying everywhere now, smacking into helmets and chestplates indiscriminantly.

It was Lance and Hunk against Shiro and Keith, with Lance using Hunk as a human shield half of the time, only emerging from behind his friend to throw an asteroid or to collect more ammunition. Shiro and Keith used their gauntlet shields to deflect the incoming asteroids as they threw them towards Lance and Hunk. Chyra really just tried to weave in between the asteroids as best as she could without getting coated from head to tail, but she did end up launching a couple at Lance after he purposely threw some in her direction.

Chyra watched the paladins of Voltron, the protectors of the universe with a huge weight on their collective shoulders, play like children in the depths of outer space.

And she realized they were just kids.

Kids who had homes, kids who had families, kids who had lives back on Earth. Even Shiro, the oldest of the group, was young for a human. When Chyra had been calculating how old she was in earth years with Pidge and the paladins the others had told her their ages, Shiro mentioned that he was twenty five in earth years. He was older than Chyra, whose life measured up to roughly twenty three earth years, but not by much.

They were all so young, and fighting a war. It was unfair. Horribly, ridiculously unfair. The young shouldn't have to fight the wars. That should be the jobs of adults, the ones who messed everything up in the first place. Why should the paladins, why should Chyra and the Alteans- who had done nothing but sacrifice and work to remedy what everyone else had ruined- have to fix everything that had been destroyed?

Why were they suffering for the actions of others?

Chyra physically shook herself, shuddering as she forced her attention away from her musings so she could turn back to the play battle taking place around her. She stifled a snicker as Shiro failed yet again to dodge a squishy asteroid, breaking into a laugh as he wiped the goop off of his helmet's visor. He looked up at where Chyra was situated, hovering just out of reach of the ship's exterior, then at the roughly spherical object in his hand. He grinned.

"Shiro, don't even think about it," Chyra warned, trying to scoot back towards the ship in the weightless void. "Don't you dare!" But her movement were slow, and she wasn't able to dodge the spongy wad of asteroid that went sailing straight for her chest.

"Aaah, no! Betrayal!" Chyra pretended to be wounded when it hit her, grinning at the sudden sound of Shiro's bright laugh over the comms. "How could you do this to me?" She cried as she floated backwards from the momentum of the projectile. "If I don't make it, tell my wolf I love her."

Chyra grabbed an asteroid that was floating near her hand and tossed it, narrowly missing Shiro's shoulder pad. It still hit Keith in the back of the head, but the revenge wasn't as satisfying as it should have been.

"Stupid shoddy depth perception," Chyra grumbled, using her boosters to move back towards the group as Pidge rejoined the conversation.

Pidge, miraculously, was completely untouched by the blue asteroids. She instead held one of the small blobs in her hands like she was cradling an injured animal, inspecting the blue object scrupulously. "I don't think there are asteroids. Coran," the green paladin said, "I'm going to need a containment unit."

"Just a tick," the Altean mechanic replied, typing in a few commands onto the holo-console before him. A small device ejected from the side of the castleship, scooped up one of the blobs, and retreated back into the ship. Inside, the container entered through a small tube in the wall and hovered idly in the corner of the control room.

"They appear to be some sort of hyper-resilient spore." Allura mused over the communication links.

"This bioluminescent pulsing doesn't seem natural, Pidge observed. "It appears programmed."

"But how can you program a spore?" Chyra asked. Curiosity bloomed in her chest, and she floated over to peek over the Green Paladin's shoulder.

"I don't know, but I think it's a code," said Pidge.

"A code? From who?" Hunk asked worriedly, his mind obviously jumping to the worst conclusions.

"I don't know. I mean, it makes no sense. You literally cannot program a spore." Pidge mused.

"If anyone can figure it out, it's you, Pidge," Shiro told the youngest paladin. "We should probably get back inside."

"Yes," agreed Allura, "but before that, everyone needs to come in for decontamination."

The entry hatch on the side of the castle's bridge opened, and Chyra followed the Paladins into the small chamber within. The goopy residue that the spores had left on the Paladins' armor and Chyra's black space suit was quickly rinsed off, and the jets of air that swirled around them dried the suits off in record time. The Paladins were all chatting amicably on the way out, talking about what they were going to do now that their necessary activities for the day were all finished.

Pidge split off from the others almost immediately, heading in the direction of the Green Lion's hangar, where Grey was also residing. Chyra called out, jogging a few steps to catch up with Pidge's surprisingly rapid pace.

"Hey, Pidge! Want any help with that spore thing? I'm not the best with technology, but if it happens to be coded in a language I can work out, I'd be happy to translate it for you."

"Oh, uh sure," Pidge replied, "I've already remotely set the scanners to start decoding the pulsing sequence, but if you want to come see if you can help, that'd be okay with me."

"Great," Chyra let herself smile, glad that she could be of some assistance and avoid Allura's stern looks for a while longer.

On the way to the hanger, Pidge looked upwards and asked, "Chy, exactly how many languages do you know? You mentioned something about Galran and Galactic Common, but I saw you reading a book written in Altean the other day and I got curious."

Chyra ducked her head, rubbing at the back of her neck. "Well, I learned seven formal languages during my schooling-"

"Seven?"

"Y-yes. Galactic Common, Galran, and the fundamentals of Altean- although the grammar is really hard and I read it better than I speak it- as well as four of the most common root languages, which a lot of other regional languages are based off of. Those are called Glatruan, Sëdke, Virtruin, and Avdienr."

"That's so cool, I didn't know you knew that many, how did you learn them all?"

"Lots of downtime between missions, and lots of travel during my education phases of training," Chyra answered carefully, making sure she didn't divulge that the motivation behind most of her missions was murder, not cultural exposure.

Unfortunately, Chyra's affinity for languages didn't help much with Pidge's decoding of the spore, and she ended up wandering over to sit on Grey's massive front paws while Pidge worked with her tech. Despite the beeping of the monitors and scanners on the other side of the hangar, a sense of calm and peace settled over Chyra, as it always did when she spent time with Grey. The massive mech's self-healing ability seemed to be working ovetime in the handful of weeks since she had awoken, Grey looked almost like new at this point. Some of the more superficial damage hadn't gone away, the burns and deep scratches in her outer layers staying in place like scars, and some of the deepest, most serious damage to her shoulder and back hadn't quite repaired itself yet, but all in all, Grey looked and felt much better. Grey sent a hopeful feeling that maybe they would be able to fly together again soon.

Chyra wasn't sure why that idea both excited and terrified her.

Chyra eventually ended up dozing off, leaning against Grey's foreleg as her wolf's mind settled in beside her to rest. She was awoken a while later by the sound of Pidge's excited voice, which she broadcasted over the castle's loudspeaker system.

"Guys! Come over to Green's hangar and check this out!" The green paladin rushed. Chyra marked her place in her book and smiled at Pidge's enthusiasm. No doubt she had discovered a clue about the odd little spore.

She patted Grey on her foreleg and hopped back onto the floor as the other paladins entered the expansive white room where Pidge had built her lab.

The youngest paladin had several monitors and devices set up in the lab, with dozens of small, unfinished projects littering the workbenches and tables that were located in one small corner of the hangar. The little area was chaotic but homey, and Pidge spent most of her free time in here. Much like Chyra's reading nook in the library, the lab was Pidge's place. A little spot to call her own inside the massive structure of the castle.

On one semi-organized table sat Pidge's latest project: the spore. It was connected to a mass of wires and monitors, and pulsating with light. Pidge had her laptop nestled in her lap, the piece of earth technology modified with bits of Altean tech. On the device's screen ran lines upon lines of code in every language available, translating the pulsing of the spore into something that only Pidge could decipher.

Chyra joined the paladins and Alteans in Pidge's lab, standing next to Lance on the edge of the loose semicircle of people. Keith gave Chyra a nod of greeting from Lance's other side.

"So," stated Pidge, "I managed to run the bioluminescent pulse emissions through several layers of decoding, and I've finally managed to crack the Sporse Code." She laughed at her own joke.

"Great job, Pidge." Chyra congratulated the young paladin.

"I ran it through a variety of code breaking sequences, including this homemade virtual Turing machine. Of course, I had to make a few tweaks to the original design, because, obviously, there have been several advancements since he designed it. Although you have to admit, Turing was a shining light in the world of science in an age where people were still-"

"Pidge," Keith interrupted the young teen's tangent, "what does it say?" Straight to the point, as always.

"Oh, yeah. It says, 'under attack. Galra. Help.' And then some coordinates."

"It's a distress signal." Shiro realized. The paladins all shifted nervously, realizing that they had another battle ahead of them. "Good work, Pidge. Get those coordinates into the castleship's navigation system." The black Paladin ordered. "Let's set a course for that planet."

The group turned to leave on an unspoken command, all of them heading in the direction of the control and navigation room. Pidge shut down her computers and replaced the spore inside its containment unit, most likely so that she could study it some more later. Chyra trailed behind so that nobody would notice or point out the slight unevenness in her step, but rejoined the paladins once they all made it to the bridge.

"The distress signal came from the planet Olkarion, home of the Olkari, a proud class of engineers, builders of vast cities that could change shape at the whim of their creators." Coran informed the team as they gathered in the control room. He pulled up a map of the planet, a strangely gold colored atmosphere surrounded a greenish planet, with a large range of immense mountains rising along one side of the planet like the spines of a massive beast. Coils of white clouds floated among the upper atmosphere, twining around the planet and themselves in streaks across the planet's sky. It was eerily beautiful.

"They had a seemingly magical ability to manipulate solid metal. With just a wave of their hands, they could make a computer inside a block of steel." Allura added, pulling up statistics and maps of the topography of the planet.

"Woah." Chyra heard Pidge mutter from beside her. The Galra glanced over and down to see the youngest paladin staring in awe at the map of the planet, her eyes practically glittering with excitement.

"Woah indeed!" Coran crowed, digging around in the pockets of his coat, "an Olkari once gave me this!" He whipped his hand out of his pocket and tossed a small object into the air: a petite metal cube with a glowing blue line splitting it down the middle. It hovered serenely in the middle of the group, making a very slight humming noise.

Chyra was nonplussed. A floating cube?

"What exactly is it?" Lance asked, leaning forward to inspect the cube closer.

"Uh, hello? It's a floating cube." Coran deadpanned. "But watch!" He straightened, and said loudly and clearly to the cube, "my name is Coran, and I am a gorgeous man."

The cube echoed back in a voice just as clear, "my name is Coran, and I am a gorgeous man."

Pidge grinned and snatched the cube out of the air, having to jump a bit to do so. She began to inspect it wth lithe fingers and eager eyes.

"Hold on," Keith began, "why would a society of literal tech wizards use spores to send a distress signal?"

"I've been wondering that, too." Chyra replied, shifting from foot to foot thoughtfully. "If these Olkari are so technically proficient, why not send a normal distress signal? It probably would be more effective. If you guys hadn't been outside the castle when we went through the spore cluster, we wouldn't have paid the signal any mind. Seems a little risky and not well planned for a people that are evidently so ingenious."

"Maybe they were going green? You know, trying to be more environmentally friendly?" Hunk hypothesized, explaining the meaning of the idiom to the non-humans in the room once he saw the confused looks on their faces.

"I guess we'll find out once we get there." Shiro concluded, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, when do we get to see that city?" Pidge asked eagerly, releasing the cube from her grip. The little device hovered back upwards and balanced in the air just above Coran's head.

"Actually, Pidge, the distress signal 's coordinates lead to the forest, not the city itself." Allura corrected.

Pidge's excited expression slid from her face.

"I'll set up a wormhole to warp us to Olkarion. I give it half a varga before we get there, though, the Teladiv has been on the fritz lately." Allura tapped the destination into the control panel, and the paladins watched as a blue ring of light began to form in front of the castle; the wormhole was beginning to form.

"Alright, everybody, let's suit up." Shiro concluded the meeting, causing the paladins to head in the direction of the armory, where their bayards and armor were kept. Chyra glanced outside the castleship at the wormhole forming before them, and turned back towards the paladins as they retreated from sight.

She took a breath and steeled herself, then ran to catch up with the Paladins. She pulled up next to Shiro, who was taking up the rear as they all headed towards the armory.

"Hey," she greeted, twisting her hands together from nerves.

"What's up? Is everything okay?" Shiro asked, a eyebrow raised and a curious look in his scarred face.

"I know I've probanly already overstepped multiple boundaries today, but I thought I may as well ask you if I can accompany you down to the planet." Chyra rushed, struggling to phrase her request in her nervous state.

"Wait, what?" Shiro blinked, his expression stunned for a moment.

"I want to go with you and help on Olkarion." She clarified.

"Look, Chyra, I would be just fine with you coming with us, but I'm not sure you're ready for it." He glanced up and down, his expression pained as his eyes lingered on her bony hips and prominent ribs. "You did well in training today, and I know you can hold your own in a fight, but it might be an unnecessary risk, especially since we don't have armor for you."

"I'll be fine, Shiro. And I want to help. Please," Chyra insisted, shifting her weight to stand more comfortably on the metal floor. "I can do this, I swear. I'll be fine." She crossed her arms and tried to convey strength and confidence, two things that she had been significantly lacking lately. "Besides, you guys are inevitably going to end up inside a Galra base, and none of you have any clue about how they're built or operated. I grew up in one. I can really help here."

Shiro seemed to contemplate for a moment, but didn't say anything. He was about to open his mouth to reply to Chyra's plea, but Lance came bounding down the hallway, interrupting what Shiro was about to say.

The blue paladin was half dressed in his armor, his black, skintight flight suit emblazoned with a blue V symbol across his chest was only halfway covered by the armor that fastened to his legs. His chestplate, bracers, and helmet must have still been in the armory.

"Shiro," he called, skidding to a halt in front of the black paladin and the ex-assassin, "come on, we've got to get ready."

Chyra scowled and lashed her tail, discouraged and frustrated that she may have missed her chance to do some real good for once.

"Um, am I interrupting something?" Lance asked, confused.

"No," Chyra replied, then turned back to Shiro with her arms crossed, "I realize you're trying to look out for me, but I don't need to be coddled. I'm not some trainee, I've been in battles my entire life. I want to do something, be useful for once instead of staying stuck in the castle while you guys save the day again."

"I know, but I don't want you to overexert yourself. Your injuries were really serious, and you're not exactly in the best state." Shiro rebutted sympathetically.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Chyra shot back, crossing her arms over her chest defensively and glaring down the the Black Paladin.

"Well, considering about three weeks ago you were two missed meals away from starving to death-"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Wait," Lance, who had been watching the conversation unfold with rapt interest, spoke up, "is Chyra asking to go to Olkarioin with us?"

"Yes," Chyra answered.

"And you don't want her to come?" Lance clarified.

Shiro replied, "no, I don't."

"Okay, cool cool cool. Why though?"

Shiro's gaze snapped to Lance with a look of surprise.

"I mean, you saw her during training, she's a badass! Chyra's got moves like a ninja, why wouldn't we want her to come along?"

"I just don't think you should be rushing to join missions until you're fully recovered, Chyra. It seems too hasty." Shiro reasoned, his demeanor levelheaded and calm.

Chyra reciprocated with a frustrated scowl, thrashing her tail and flicking her ears backwards. "Fine, forget I said anything." She conceded, turning to retreat down the hall.

Behind her, Lance face Shiro a prompting look, gesturing the the discouraged Galra with a waving motion. A nonverbal argument happened within a split second, one that Shiro had no chance of winning when Lance broke out his begging face.

Shiro groaned, deflating somewhat as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his metal hand. "Fine," he sighed, steeling his nerve. "Chyra!"

The Galra perked her ears up and turned around, holding back an excited smile when she saw Shiro's resigned expression.

"You can come down to the planet with us, but we have to set some ground rules." The Black Paladin said with a resigned tone of voice.

"Yes!" Chyra bounced on her toes, pumping her fist in the air the same way Coran did when he was gesticulating wildly. She jogged back to the Paladins, one of which was smiling while the other looked like a frustrated father who had just lost an argument with his kid.

"I'm serious, Chyra. This isn't a walk in the park, this is probably going to get dangerous."

"I don't understand your Earth phrases, but I get the idea." Chyra would have to ask what exactly a 'park' was later. She was grinning and tapping her metal toes excitedly, her eagerness to get out of the castle shining through. Apparently her enthusiasm was infectious, as she caught Shiro having to fend of a smile to try and remain serious.

"Anyway," Shiro shook his head, as though he wanted to physically dislodge the distracting thoughts in his head. "You need to stay with the team at all times, no running off or separating for whatever reason."

"Got it," Chyra affirmed.

"And you have to follow what we do, in battle and during the diplomacy part." Shiro continued, he started to walk in the direction of the armory, beckoning Chyra and Lance to come with him as he kept talking.

"Lastly, be aware that the Olkari might not like you. So if they start giving you dirty looks, don't do anything brash like, say, challenge one of their leaders to a duel." He got a funny sort of look on his face then, like the one that Corinth used to make when she was jokingly teasing Chyra and the others. It was the same smarmy smile, quirked eyebrow, and flash of teeth that Chyra had received from her mischievous younger siblings. It sent a stab of pain into her chest.

She tried to play it off as embarrassment, ducking her head and running a hand through her hair as she tried to push down the lump in her throat. "Right, that would probably be best."

Shiro walked into the armory followed by Lance just as the other Paladins were coming out, dressed once more in their color-coordinated armor.

"I'll bring you down to the planet in the Black Lion," Shiro said before entering fully, "I'll meet you in the hangar in five doboshes."

. . .

Chyra's entrance into the Black Lion's hangar was... not what she expected.

She expected it to go well, for one thing.

She certainly wasn't expecting to be immediately roared at by a robotic cat the size of a small mountain, that was for sure.

Chyra startled at the loud blast of furious noise, clumsily changing direction and bolting back outside, her metallic feet ringing against the pristine floors as she veered out the doors. Grey reared up out of the quiet section of Chyra's mind, snarling defensively in response to Chyra's sudden spike in adrenaline. The Galra caught her breath, registered the fact that she had just balked away from a loud noise like a skittish yalmor, and poked her head through the doorway. She locked eyes with Shiro, who was blinking in surprise, trying to figure out how she had dissapeared that fast.

"How did you move that fast?" Shiro asked, his eyebrows raised in a quizzical expression.

Chyra let out a shaky breath, her adrenaline lessening after the lion didn't make another move. "Bionic legs plus ingrained survival instincts equal a pretty big speed boost," She replied.

"It looked like you teleported," Shiro continued, a hesitant sort of laugh breaking into his voice, "you were just- poof, gone."

"Poof, right." Chyra responded, hesitantly moving back into the hangar, her eyes on the lion the entire time. "Your cat doesn't seem to like me very much."

"That was weird, he's never done anything like that before." Shiro said, eyeing his lion as well. The vessel sat motionless for the moment, although Chyra thought that she caught a steely glint in the mechanical feline's yellow eyes.

Chyra stood next to Shiro again, her ears pinned and a tentative look on her face. Somehow, she felt like she could sense the Lion's hostility towards her, although she didn't know why. Another three steps towards the lion, and another mechanical growl rent the air, sending shocks up Chyra's spine.

"What in the hells is wrong with it?" Chyra snapped as another wave of anger rolled forward from Grey's consciousness. Chyra could feel the energy flash forwards to combat the Black Lion's hostility, and she appreciated Grey's protectiveness, but she really wished she didn't need to be the conduit for it. The wild, animalistic energy was not great for her mounting anxiety.

"I dont know!" Shiro answered, wincing slightly. Chyra thought that maybe he was experienceing a similar outrush of energy from his lion as she was feeling from Grey. She just hoped the both of them didn't get headaches.

"He's never like this, I don't-" Shiro stopped, his eyes widening with realization. He glanced back and forth between Chyra and his lion, his dark brows furrowed. "You've got to be kidding me."

He turned back to his lion abruptly, putting his hands on his hips. "Black, you can't be serious." The lion moved then, its gigantic metal head shaking as another growl echoed around the hangar.

Chyra winced as Grey returned the gesture. "The cat can't hear you, Grey, you can stop trying to split my skull open now."

Shiro stared hard at his lion for a second, then rolled his eyes, reaching back and grabbing Chyra's hand with his prosthetic one and starting to guide her towards the lion. She dug her heels in, reluctant to get any closer to the hostile mech.

"Wait a tic, what are you doing?"

"Black is being weird, he doesn't want you near because you're a Galra. But once he realizes that you're not a threat he'll be fine, come on."

"I- I don't think that, I mean- I can always ride with someone else," Chyra stammered, yanking her hand away before Shiro could move forward again.

"Don't worry, he's already coming around, just give him a minute to warm up to you."

"I really don't think I should test this thing, it seems like he really doesn't like me."

Shiro turned to face her fully, his expression earnest. "Chyra, it'll be fine. Trust me."

He held out his hand for her to take again, smiling confortingly. Chyra hesitated, her mismatched gaze flicking between Shiro and the lion as she weighed the potential pain scale rating that 'getting eaten by a giant metal feline' would warrant.

A look of recognition and regret flashed on Shiro's face as he looked at his outstretched metal limb, misconstruing Chyra's hesitance to approach the lion as a refusal to take his hand. He winced and started to pull away.

Chyra grabbed his hand.

The silver metal was warm in her palm, and something about the weight of it was comforting. Chyra mustered up her courage, then looked down to Shiro with a determined look masking the uncertainty she wanted to hide.

"Okay," she said, "just... don't let me get eaten. Please."

Chyra liked the laugh that followed.

They approached the lion, which got to its metal feet as they drew nearer. Another growl started to form, but Shiro kept walking, a look of concentration on his face. He was probably trying to communicate with his lion. Grey, at Chyra's rising discomfort, started to move towards the forefront of her mind and give off a defensive air, which really only succeded in making Chyra even more nervous.

"Black, come on," Shiro muttered, and the lion set back on its haunches, its head tilting sideways. Slowly, it seemed to relax, gently lowering its body towards the floor.

"That's it," the Black Paladin urged, "see? This is Chyra, she's nice." He talked to his lion gently and with care, as though it were an animal of flesh and blood. It reminded Chyra of how she and Grey interacted.

The lion lowered its chin to the floor, its bright yellow eyes glinting with an air of interest. Chyra could feel the hostile energy release somewhat, although there was still a lingering sense of trepidation from the lion. Shiro stopped, drawing Chyra up next to him.

"Here," he guided Chyra's hand to touch the Black lion's nose. When her palm touched the metallic surface, she didn't feel a jolt like she did when she first touched Grey, but instead, a gradual feeling of acceptance grew to overtake the overt hostility that had made the air in the hangar ring with tension.

Chyra returned by extending her mind towards the immense consciousness of the lion, sending a flow of reassurances that she was on his side, and that she wouldn't hurt his Paladin. Grey sent some nonverbal messages as well. The lion hummed in satisfaction, and Chyra felt another consiousness, smaller and nearer than the lion's, brush against her own.

Shiro went rigid.

The slight smile slid off of his face, replaced with a look of shock and discomfort. His shoulders were tense and his posture stiff, he looked immensely uncomfortable. Chyra drew her mind back, retreating from the brief contact that she had had with Shiro's unguarded mind.

"Are you alright-" Chyra started to ask, but she was cut off by Shiro.

"What was that?" There was some sort of unnervung quality about his voice just then, a tremor in his tone that Chyra had never heard before. His brown eyes were wide and scared, although he tried to recover and hide it. He took a step back, staring hard at Chyra.

"Sorry!" Chyra rushed, moving backwards and raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I was trying to let your lion know I wasn't an enemy, I must have touched your mind by accident. I didn't mean to, I swear."

"Touched my-" Shiro faltered, running a hand through his white shock of hair, "you did what?"

"You know, I kind of... extended my consciousness to your lion. I can do it through my bond with Grey, haven't you done that before?"

The Black Paladin looked flabbergasted. "No," he answered resolutely, "no I have not."

"Oh."

"Can..." Shiro cleared his throat, his voice getting steadier, "... can all Galra do that? Get into people's minds, I mean."

"No, I can only do it because of Grey. But I know the Emperor's witch, Haggar, has figured out the ability. She's a special case though, nobody really knows how she does what she does."

"I knew I'd felt something like that before." Shiro shuddered, then shook his head, looking resolutely back at Chyra. "Sorry to grill you with questions, the feeling just reminded me of when Haggar would dig around in my head."

"Yeah, I hated when she did that." Chyra ducked her head, rubbing at her neck as she winced with sympathy. "But, if you'd like, I can teach you how to block others out, our connections with our vessels make us vulnerable in that way. It might be heplful to know, especially if we're going to be defending against Haggar at some point."

"I- well," Shiro stuttered, unsure of what to say, "sure. Maybe. I don't know, let's load up and get down to the planet." He regained his composure after a moment, then tapped Black's nose, prompting the Lion to open its jaws. A runway extended downwards from the center of the lion's mouth, and Shiro started to walk up it without a word, gesturing for Chyra to follow him.

Chyra made her way into the pilot's chamber in the Black Lion's head, and readied herself to arrive on the surface of Olkarion.

Chapter Text

Chyra held onto the back of Shiro's pilot seat as the black lion swooped down towards the heavily forested area of Olkarion. They could see the city in the distance, its massive points and spires rising into the sky like claws. It glowed a strange gold on the horizon, partially covered by the dense cloud cover. Chyra turned her attention from the city to the forest, where the treetops glimmered in the light of the nearby star. Chyra couldn't see much through the dense canopy, but apparently the scenery was not very pleasing to Pidge.

"Ugh. Why doesn't anyone ever send a distress signal from a cool place? I hate the outdoors. Nothing but sunburn and poison oak." Grumbled the green paladin over the comms';/[. The green lion swooped upwards away from the trees, as if Pidge wanted to keep as much distance as she could between her and the treetops.

"I like it out here," Keith said on the contrary, "it's quiet. Peaceful." Chyra had to agree with him there, the forest below was serene and still, only the slight wind brushing against the treetops caused any movement.

Suddenly, the ethereal stillness was broken as hundreds of thin, fast-moving objects came flying from the treetops, latching themselves onto the undersides of the various Voltron lions. "That's not good," mumbled Chyra as Black gave a shudder.

"What was that?" Hunk asked, panic seeping into his voice.

"Uh, are we being attacked?" Keith asked, unsure whether to get angry or not.

"I don't know," Shiro replied, "but something's dragging my lion down to the surface."

"I think that might qualify as being attacked." Chyra retorted.

"Yeah, something's pulling Blue down, too." Lance continued.

"Yep." The Galra answered as the Lions flew increasingly lower to the ground, approaching a large clearing in the woods.

"Are those wooden mech suits?" Hunk interrupted, bringing the topic of conversation back to something necessary. Chyra's gaze traveled down towards the forest floor, where a crowd of people stood brandishing weapons that glowed with a slight green light, backed up by large... somethings. Wooden mech suits, apparently.

The lions continued their forced descent, landing side by side on the forest floor beneath the canopy of massive trees.

"Are you kidding me?" Lance lamented. "We got taken down by a bunch of tree people!"

Shiro fiddled with his controls, flipping a couple of switches to broadcast his voice outside of his lion. "We come in peace!" Shiro assured the crowds gathered below. Chyra peered out through the viewports and suppressed a wince as Grey sent a pang of possessiveness and annoyance driving into her mind.

You can stop being jealous now, Chyra scolded.

That earned her a mental slap upside the head.

Chyra saw Pidge pop out of a hatch in her lion's cranium, brandishing one of the spores like a trophy. "We found your distress signal!"

A collective cheer of relief arose from the ranks of Olkari, and most of them lowered their weapons and raised their fists in jubilation at the sight of the lions of Voltron.

"That's our cue." Shiro stood from his seat and Black began to lower his head, his massive jaws opening with a whoosh. Chyra and Shiro exited once Black's chin had reached the ground, and the ramp lowered down to allow them to leave once they entered the black lion's mouth. The Galra hesitated on the way out of the lion's jaws, momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people who were waiting outside. The last time she had been surrounded by this many people...

Chyra caught herself and followed Shiro towards the gathered Olkari, taking a couple of calming breaths to slow her racing heart. She dreaded what the Olkari would think of her, a mutilated ex-gladiator with something to prove.

Shiro and Chyra joined the other paladins as the leader of the Olkari stepped forward, a female with strange multicolored eyes that shone with years of wisdom, and a strong presence that demanded respect while exuding calm, collectiveness, and kindness. Shiro approached the Olkari, whose frame was almost humanoid, but with skin in shades of green and tan. All of them were lean and lanky, and as they moved over the forest floor they walked so smoothly that they seemed to float.

"Greetings, paladins." The leader of the Olkari offered an outstretched hand, her four fingers extended in a gesture of welcome. Shiro clasped her hand in greeting and she continued. "I am Ryner, the head engineer of the refugees here."

"It's good to meet you," Shiro replied, shaking Ryner's hand in the strange way that humans greeted one another, "I'm Shiro, the Black Paladin. These are the other Paladins: Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and Keith, and this is our teammate Chyra." Shiro gestured to each of the paladins as he introduced them. Keith gave a slight nod while Lance, Pidge, and Hunk have little waves of greeting, Pidge beaming at the Olkari the entire time. Chyra didn't give much of a greeting, as Ryner scanned over Chyra coldly, her eyes reflecting her distaste at the thought of a Galra accompanying Voltron to help stop other Galra.

Chyra shifted uncomfortably, withering under the smoldering gaze of the Olkari. This was a stupid idea, she concluded. A really, really, unbelievably stupid idea. The Olkari wouldn't trust the Paladins because they had Chyra with them, and she would mess up the mission and-

Shiro's voice snapped Chyra out of her self deprecating thoughts. "Chyra is one of our allies, an ex-soldier from the Galra empire. She escaped and joined us to help stop Zarkon." He told Ryner, trying to ease the tension. Chyra cringed inwardly. The paladins still didn't know the truth of her past, and she was hellbent on never letting them find out, although it pained her to have to lie to them.

Chyra stiffened as Ryner approached her, the Olkari's long stride carrying her over to Chyra in a matter of steps. Chyra resisted the urge to turn tail and sprint back to the lions to escape from Ryner's judgement.

The Olkari extended her hand slowly, as though it took some effort. "An ally of Voltron is an ally of the Olkari. It is good to meet you, Chyra." The engineer greeted.

Chyra deflated with relief and took the hand offered her, shaking it briefly before letting go. "And you, Ryner," Chyra replied quietly, her once strong, commanding voice abandoning her once again.

Ryner inspected Chyra's legs as soon as she noticed the prosthetics, scrutinizing them from under the dim light of the canopy. The Olkari circled around Chyra, inspecting her prosthetics and making the Galra bristle with discomfort. "Shoddy." She grumbled, unable to disguise the distaste in her voice.

"I'm sorry, what?" Chyra snapped.

"The workmanship of your legs cannot be described as anything but shoddy." Ryner straightened, her multicolored eyes flashing. "And they seem to have sustained considerable damage."

Chyra was mortified. She answered haltingly, with a prominent stammer, "they've been around for a while. Been through a lot."

Ryner looked unimpressed, but didn't press, instead opting to circle around Chyra once more, this time inspecting her back. She stood taller, eyeing the pattern of wires and metal plating on the back of her neck. Suddenly, Ryner tugged at the collar of Chyra's shirt, peeking downwards to examine the patchwork of wires across her spine.

"E-excuse me!"Chyra balked, skittering forward as she bristled with discomfort. "You Olkari don't care much for personal boundaries, are you?"

The Olkari tsked, "humph. Manual synchronization. Painfully outdated." Ryner scoffed with disdain.

"What?" Chyra snapped back, her patience wearing thin.

"Do you're ever experience any lagging in reaction time between your legs and your brain? How pressure-sensitive is the path of connection? How long have you gone without proper calibration to the balancing mechanism?"

"Hold on, I don't-"

"If you were to ever want replacement prosthetics, we could provide you with much more durable-"

"We're off-topic." Chyra snapped, both sensitive about discussing the weapons grafted onto her body and disoriented from the barrage of questions thrown her way. Ryner recoiled, straightening and stepping away from the fuming Galra. "Besides, if you mess with these, I go into shock. They're connected directly to my brain." She sounded stupid compared to all of the technical jargon that Ryner had just barreled through, it made Chyra uneasy, seeming like she was less intelligent than the people around her.

"I apologize, I seem to have lost track of my thoughts." Ryner apologized, nodding to Chyra before turning to the paladins. "Come, we have much to do before we can drive the threat of the Galra off of our planet." Chyra scowled at the choice of words Ryner used, but followed the Olkari leader as she began to stride lithely over the forest floor. Compared to the light, fluid steps of the native people, Chyra felt that her footsteps were heavy and loud, destructive and damaging as she crushed countless blades of grass beneath her metal feet.

The leader of the Olkari approached the ranks of refugees before her, and gestured for the paladins to follow her. "It will most definitely be a challenge to eradicate the threat the Galra pose to us, as our forces are numerous, but they aren't as large as they should be. When the Galra attacked, only a few of us escaped the cities. We were forced to flee into the forest."

"How long have you lived like this?" Shiro asked.

"Many deca-phebes," Ryner replied, a sadness filling her voice, mourning the loss of her home. She became much more upbeat, however, as she continued. "But, as you can see, our people are resilient. We never stopped evolving, and simply adapted our skills to the environment." The team watched as a young Olkari created a weapon out of wood, the fibrous material forming around their hand smoothly, flowing as if it were water until it took a more definite shape. The teenaged alien turned towards an empty section of forest, where targets had been strung up on tree branches for practice, and fired a couple of experimental shots from the newly crafted blaster. It worked flawlessly.

"Well done, my little one." Ryner congratulated the young Olkari, placing her arm across the teen's shoulder.

The adolescent Olkari smiled with excitement and placed a hand on the blaster she had created. "Thank you, mother."

Ryner turned back to the paladins, a smile on her wizened face. "Paladins, this is my daughter, Maliera," Pidge said hello and the other paladins smiled or waved in greeting. Chyra smiled slightly and nodded to the fidgeting Olkari under Ryner's arm, and tried to ignore the way she flinched at Chyra's very movement.

Maliera was small and lanky, just a hair taller than Keith. Her skin was a light shade of minty green, and she seemed to be a very nervous little thing, constantly moving and glancing around her. Chyra noted a couple of faded scars at the base of her neck and around the one wrist that wasn't encased by a wooden blaster, most likely from a Galra-made control collar and cuffs. Realization dawned on the ex-assassin. Maliera had been a Galra slave at some point, even though she could only be around Pidge's age.

"Mother, I should test this out..." the teen whispered to Ryner. Maliera smiled shyly and waved fleetingly to the paladins as her mother released her, allowing the young Olkari to scamper away towards the target practice area with a quiet bid of goodbye.

"Coran was right, Ryner." The small green paladin praised, her eyes shining with amazement at the wooden weapon held by the retreating Olkari, "you really are the most incredible engineers in the entire universe. To be able to switch from working with precision machinery to a bunch of sticks is... amazing!" Chyra had to agree. The advanced weaponry that the Olkari made from simplistic materials like wood and vines were truly incredible.

The engineer smiled knowingly, and replied with a slight lilt in her voice that hinted at satisfaction. "Nature's designs are superior to any that we could devise."

Pidge looked unconvinced. "No offense, but I'll take a computer over a tree any day."

"You two can talk science later," Shiro said formally, using his Leader Voice™, "let's assemble Voltron and get rid of the Galra invaders." Chyra saw him glance briefly over at her before tacking the word 'invaders' onto the end of his sentence.

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid," Ryner corrected, a sorrowful look flooding her multicolored eyes once more. "The Galra have our leader, Lubos. If you attack, who knows what they'll do to him?"

"Then we'll just have to rescue him," Shiro replied, determination filling his voice.

Ryner smiled gratefully. "I had hoped you would say that." She turned on her heel and beckoned for the group to follow, heading off into a tunnel of trees on the opposite side of the clearing from where the lions stood.

The paladins followed Ryner to a dimly lit cove beneath the canopy, where a couple dozen Olkari stood with their palms on different plants or trees, some muttering softly to themselves or with their faces scrunched in concentration. The entire grove was eerie but peaceful, awash in pale green light from the glowing vines hanging in lazy, looping spirals from the branches high above. Chyra watched as Ryner approached a small cluster of trees and turned back to face the paladins in pursuit.

"Uh, where are we?" Keith asked, his gaze traveling all over his surroundings and lingering on the several wooden mech suits that stood like sentries at various points around the grove.

"This is the armory," Ryner said, spreading her arms in a gesture of welcome. Behind her, a massive wooden mech suit descended from the branches, its round body and thick legs sending tremors through the ground as it landed. The paladins made assorted sounds of awe and interest, and Chyra's eyes widened as the massive wooden machine touched down heavily at the base of the tree trunk.

A chorus of woahs and cools echoed across the clearing, broken by Keith piping up hesitantly. "Uh... can I get one of those?"

"Of course," Ryner smiled, "you can each have one." She reached out to touch the tree trunk and a long, sinuous vine moved towards her, holding out six headbands made of woven plants with a glowing blue stone set into the center of each of them. "Now, the key to operating it is understanding that the nano-cellulose responds to electrical impulses from the neural pathways through this." She held up a ring to each of them, and the Paladins each took one. Chyra did so hesitantly, grabbing onto the ring with caution.

The material was rough beneath her fingertips, and Chyra held it gingerly in both hands as Ryner continued her speech which, frankly, Chyra didn't know how anyone was following anymore. Lance leaned over to her and whispered in Chyra's ear, "do what now?"

"Don't ask me, I've got no idea what she's talking about," Chyra replied in a hushed tone. From behind her, Chyra heard hunk make an odd noise. She turned to see him... tasting the headband for some reason?

"Makes my tongue itchy!" The yellow paladin observed. Classic Hunk.

Chyra was almost scared out of her skin when another mech suit landed close to them, this time leaning forward and opening the hatch for Pidge to enter.

"... I think mine is just a tree," Lance commented from a few paces away.

"Excellent!" Praised Ryner, congratulating a beaming Pidge. "You must have a deep connection with nature."

"Not really," Pidge conceded, "my allergies and pale skin don't really mix with outdoor living." She sniffed as if to prove her point.

"Pidge is our resident tech expert," Shiro explained, placing his left hand on the green paladin's shoulder.

"Well, that explains it. Like the Olkari, you understand that, at the deepest level, trees, metal, you, me, we're all made of the same cosmic dust, all arranged by the laws of mathematics." Ryner said, radiating wisdom.

Chyra forcibly shoved the philosophical thoughts she was having to the back of her mind. She'd been doing far too much existential thinking lately.

"Does this mean I should start gardening?"

Ryner chuckled at the green paladin's inquiry. "It means you're going to need to give your friends a ride!"

So they all piled into the two mech suits. Pidge took Hunk and Lance in hers, while Shiro, Keith, Chyra, and Ryner squeezed into the other, which Ryner had made larger specifically to hold the remaining members of the team. Their pod was just slightly ahead of the other, leading the way to the edge of the wilderness.

"This way, to the edge of the forest! To save our king!" Ryner cheered, her mech speeding through the dense woods. They wove effortlessly between the trees, moving much faster than what should have been possible for a machine so bulky looking.

In a matter of minutes, which elapsed in an awkward silence within the cramped pod, the two groups had reached the edge of the forest. The city melded seamlessly with the wilderness, its outer fringes beginning exactly where the forest ended.

The group stopped just outside the uninhabited outer rim of the city after rolling up a steep incline that led to a cliff. From this vantage point, they could see almost the entire city displayed before them, and Chyra saw that the capital city of Olkarion was arranged in concentric squares, all surrounding a thin spire that rose high above the other buildings around it.

"That is the Galra central command." Ryner pointed to the tallest tower in the distance. "It used to be the center for telecommunications and governing the city, but it became a prison and a base for the empire when they took over. It is impenetrable from the ground, but there is one way in: a small opening in the roof. It leads all the way down into an open courtyard." Various statistics and blueprints appeared on the display of the mech, showing diagrams of different points of entry through which the paladins could get into the fortress.

"That's quite a drop," Keith noted.

"True, but from here you will have access to the entire building. The hard part will be getting onto the roof undetected." Ryner clarified.

"That won't be a problem." Chyra saw Shiro smirk confidently for just a moment out of the corner of her eye. The expression was so fleeting that by the time Chyra had turned her head to look at him, Shiro had stopped smiling and Chyra was left to wonder if that small little grin had ever happened in the first place.

Chyra heard a tinny voice sound from Shiro and Keith's helmets, and both of their heads snapped upwards at the same time. Shiro pointed to a large cube of dark material near the center of the city, and asked Ryner what it was.

"My Lubos! It can't be!" Ryner exclaimed in dismay, her hands moving to cover her mouth in shock.

An image of the interior of the other pod appeared on the display, showing Pidge, Lance, and Hunk all looking worriedly at the block in the distance.

"That thing looks like the cube Coran gave me!" Pidge noted, allowing the cube to hover over the top of her open palm. Even the small machine was silent and didn't repeat Pidge's words, as if it sensed the dire nature of the situation.

"I haven't seen one of those in many deca-phebes. We used to play with them as children, but this... only Lubos could have designed one that size." Ryners face grew dark with anger, and Chyra could see the rage simmering in her multicolored eyes.

"Why would he do that?" Keith asked, oblivious to the Olkari's enraged state.

"They must have forced him to reveal his designs and reconstruct it as a weapon. From the looks of it, I'd say it's almost finished." The announcement weighed heavily on all of their collective shoulders. If Lubos was really this valuable to the Empire, if he could construct a weapon of this magnitude, he was definitely someone that the team needed to rescue from the Empire's hands.

Shiro was the first to break the silence, his authoritative tone filling the cockpit. "Okay, we need to act fast. Everyone back to base; I have a plan."

It didn't take long for the two pods to return to the forest camp of the rebel Olkari, but by the time they made it back, they were afraid that it was too late. The weapon could very easily have been finished in the time it took them to navigate the dense forest. The mechs didn't seem quite so speedy now.

Ryner opened the hatch the moment the wooden vehicle had come to a complete stop, allowing Chyra and the paladins to leap out and rejoin the other three members of their party. The moment they had all gotten within a reasonable distance of each other, Shiro began to pitch his plan to the rest of the team. It was short, simple, and could go terribly wrong. Chyra shook off her objections and followed the paladins' lead, cramming into the green lion alongside the other paladins after she and Shiro agreed to lend Chyra a small, compact jetpack from the cargo hold of the Green Lion so she wouldn't go splat on the ground below.

As soon as Pidge took off, leaving a crowd of waving Olkari behind her, she activated her cloaking technology and Green became completely invisible.

"Okay," Chyra said, marveling at the technology, "you're putting this cloaking tech in Grey, right?" Pidge only winked in reply.

Chyra and the Paladins left Pidge in the cockpit, moving into the Green Lion's cargo hold. Just a few moments after everyone got settled, Pidge's voice came on over the radio links.

"Good morning passengers, this is your captain speaking. We are entering the drop zone in ten ticks." Chyra and the four other Paladins tensed, waiting for the opportune moment to leap from Green's cockpit so they could land in the courtyard far below.

"Three, two, one... now!" Pidge said, smashing a button on her control panel that opened a hatch in Green's armor. Chyra steeled herself and followed the paladins out of the hatch, leaping out and freefalling down towards the open courtyard. Her breath caught in her throat, it had been ages since she had needed to make a jump from a ship. Tears streamed from her eyes in the raging wind, but she couldn't help but grin. This was even more exhilarating than she remembered. She ignited her jetpack's boosters as she fell through the center of the building, landing lightly on her metal toes and immediately taking in her surroundings.

The entire structure was essentially a massive spiral, with a staircase looping around the interior and leading to various rooms on various landings as the stair wound their way to the top of the building. For the paladins' sake, Chyra hoped they didn't have to travel to the top floor.

"Beginning the scan for Olkari biorhythms," Pidge said over the comms, and a small map was displayed on the visors of the paladins' helmets. "Here! Level sixteen, the room at the end of the right-hand hallway." Shiro gestured for Chyra to stay close as he jogged off towards the staircase, the rest of the group following close on his heels.

They maneuvered up about three levels, stopping at the end of a hallway that was mysteriously devoid of sentries or guards, considering it was a prison cell for a genius engineer.

Odd sounds emanated from behind the thick metal door, groaning and the occasional sob just to name a few. The Paladins shifted uncomfortably. Chyra took a steadying breath and steeled herself for a grizzly sight; she was all too aware of how Galra prisoners were treated.

Pidge unlocked the door remotely, putting her hacker skills to good use. In moments, the door was open and the paladins were filing in stealthily while Chyra tried to keep her footsteps light. She positioned herself in the shadows behind the others, trying to stay out of sight.

"Betrayal!" Chyra jumped when a voice startled her with its suddenness and volume. The sound of strange music drifted through the air and into the corner, causing many of the Paladins to exchange odd looks of confusion. Lance met Chyra's eye and she shrugged, unable to see what was happening around the corner. "She loves you!" Someone moaned again, followed by a set of sobs.

Chyra raised one eyebrow in bewilderment, glancing towards the other Paladins to try and figure out what exactly was happening. They all leaned forward and watched as Shiro straightened and entered the room fully, confusion radiating off of him in waves. The others followed suit, emerging from behind the corner to join the Black Paladin.

"Uh, King Lubos?" Shiro asked tentatively as Chyra pulled up beside him. Her eyes went wide with confusion as she beheld the padded throne in front of a massive holoscreen displaying... a soap opera? A thin Olkari slave stood behind the throne, shackled hands holding a large tray of alien food. The room didn't look at all like a prison cell, and Chyra wasn't sure whether to be thankful or wary of that fact.

A rather rotund face peeked out from beside the throne, a skeptical and impatient expression painted across the king's face. "Yes?" He snapped. "Who are you? The jesters I requested?"

Hold on... jesters?

"Um, we're here to like, rescue you?" Lance said, more of a question than a true response.

King Lubos narrowed his eyes and pressed a button on the side of the arm of his throne.

Without any proper warning, the walls raised up, revealing multiple squads of sentry robots hidden within secret compartments behind the walls. They all brandished blasters, and a Galra commander entered through a separate door beside Lubos' throne wielding a wickedly sharp sword.

"Shit!" Chyra whispered, shading her eyes with her hand to try and throw off the sentry's programming.

"Chyra? What's wrong?" Keith asked quietly, noticing her movement first because of his close proximity to her.

"These droids have facial recognition software. If they see me, we'll have a lot more to deal with than just two squadrons of sentries." Chyra said, keeping her voice low and her explanation vague.

"You know, you could have just said no thanks!" Hunk yelled as he swung his bayard around, hefting the weight relatively easily for a weapon that size.

"Looks like someone came to rescue you, King Lubos." The Galra commander sneered. Chyra thought she may have recognized him from somewhere, but she couldn't place a name to the face. But she knew that wouldn't stop him from recognizing her if he got a good enough look at her face. She was infamous, after all.

Chyra almost jumped out of her skin when Shiro whirled to face the king, who ducked down behind his throne with a whimper of fear as he beheld the Black Paladin's furious expression.

"You turned your back on your people to save your own skin?" The rage in Shiro's voice was very evident, and it sent a wave of apprehension bubbling up from Chyra's stomach. She couldn't remember how many times she'd heard anger like that directed at her.

Lubos leaped from his throne in anger at Shiro's deduction. "I'm doing this for my people! They wanted to fight the Galra, but they're too powerful! The Galra could destroy us!"

"Well duh," Chyra muttered, glaring at the false king from beneath the hand that still shaded her face. Sure, he was right about that, but the argument was still invalidated by the luxurious suite and the massive platters of food stacked around the king's throne.

"So you helped enslave your people to build some superweapon?" Lance accused, his rifle's barrel slowly and unconsciously moving away from the sentries and towards the king.

"Don't make me out to be the bad guy!" Lubos complained, sounding like a spoiled child, "He forced me to do it!"

"Did he force-feed you too?" Lance spat disdainfully.

Lubos didn't have an objection to that one.

"You're no king," Keith growled, finally giving some input. Chyra had quite a bit to say on the matter as well (some scathing remarks and insults would be a nice addition to the conversation), but with all these sentries and a Galra commander that she was sure could definitely know her voice, she figured it would be best to keep her mouth shut to minimize the risk of being recognized.

Lubos' enslaved servant suddenly leaped forward and barreled into the King's back, sending him stumbling towards the paladins and right into Keith's waiting grip. He held his bayard against Lubos's neck, a furious expression dominating his face. The false king tried to wriggle out of Keith's grip, but this proved to be the one situation he couldn't worm his way out of.

"Okay, we're walking out of here! Anyone tries to stop us and Lubos gets it!" Keith commanded. Shiro's jaw dropped and Lance almost dropped his rifle from shock, while Hunk squeaked in surprise. Chyra was taken aback for a moment, but grinned after she overcame her initial surprise; she would have done the exact same thing. It was a very Galra thing to do.

"Woah, K-Keith!" Shiro stuttered, his voice faltering for a moment from surprise.

"That came out of nowhere!" Lance added.

"La-Sai! What are you doing?" Lubos balked, addressing the servant that had 'betrayed' him.

"You betrayed our people. I can't live this lie anymore!" The servant retorted, anger coloring his voice and shading his eyes.

Chyra smiled at the servant, La-Sai, lowering her hand to meet his eye and try to send some encouragement his way. She felt a weird sort of pride for him, she knew how difficult it was to stand up to someone you had been taught to idolize.

Quiznak.

Chyra quickly covered her face again, trying to cover down behind Hunk and shrink into nothingness.

She screwed up.

Some semblance of recognition dawned on the Galra commander's face, but Keith dragged the attention back to himself as he jostled Lubos around again, causing the king to exclaim in fright.

"Hey! You don't want me to hurt your genius engineer, right?"

"Oh, be my guest. His work is done. The cube is complete." The commander sneered, his gaze flicking from Chyra to Keith as his lip curled in disgust.

"What?" Lubos exclaimed, "but-but I thought we had a deal!"

"Guards, put them all out of their misery!"

The Paladins tensed and Chyra's stomach dropped to her knees, but they all took up battle stances. Shiro and Chyra lit up their metal prosthetics in preparation for a fight.

"You!" The commander gasped as he saw the purple glow emanating from Chyra's legs. She winced, her chest tightening in apprehension. She desperately hoped beyond reason that he wouldn't say something to raise the paladins' suspicions of her fabricated backstory. "Sentries! Bring the Paladins to justice, and capture that traitor!" He commanded, raising his hand to point out Chyra among the paladins. She didn't miss the way his hand shook as he singled her out, though. He was scared of her.

The realization brought Chyra a grim sense of satisfaction.

The sentries charged forward and Chyra prepared to leap over Lance's head to destroy them, but all at once, the entire building rattled and a massive blast shook the very floor beneath their feet. The sentries all scattered or fell to the floor, and the paladins had to grab onto one another to keep their balance. The Green Lion's head appeared outside a gigantic hole that had been blasted in the wall

"Heads up! Your ride is here!" Pidge's voice broadcasted through the shattered room. Chyra grinned in utter relief that she wouldn't have to risk her life again right this second and started towards the lion, only to turn back and see La-Sai standing still, his eyes wide in shock as he saw the Green Lion of Voltron. Chyra took just a moment to dart forward and grab onto La-Sai's bound hands.

"Come on!" Chyra prompted, "we're getting you out of here!" The Olkari looked hesitant at first, but he followed Chyra nonetheless, apparently willing to overcome his mistrust of a Galra in favor of escaping his imprisonment.

"Engage the cube! Take down the lion!" The commander screeched, picking himself up from the floor. Fortunately, there was a delayed reaction from the sentries, since their programming couldn't really handle more than two commands at the same time. Chyra scoffed at the commander's ineptitude. She realized who he was now: Commander Branko, an impudent upstart who really had no business being in high command. He was one of the Galra who had been promoted because of his bloodline.

Chyra made sure to flip him the bird as she leaped out of the hole in the wall.

She and La-Sai landed hard on the shield atop the Green Lion's back, and they held on tight as they began to retreat from the blaster fire that had finally begun to pour from the opening like a swarm of agitated wasps.

From down below, the Cube began to emit a startling purple light.

"The cube is operational!" Shiro noted, "we've got to get back to the other lions and form Voltron!"

"On it!" Pidge responded. A hatch opened at the top of the shield that the escapees were perched on, allowing them access to the interior of the lion.

They reached the forest in minutes.

Chyra, the paladins, and the prisoners poured from Green's cockpit as soon as they landed. Keith, who had been nonverbally promoted to 'Kingwatch' tossed Lubos out rather roughly, causing him to stumble and fall on the ground at Ryner's feet. Chyra suppressed a shudder as the sound of steel gates and charging blasters echoed through her mind.

"Lubos?" Ryner asked, aghast as to why the paladins were treating him so roughly. "What's going on?"

"While your countrymen starved, King Lubos was well taken care of by the Galra. He willingly helped them build that cube, willingly helped to enslave his own people." Shiro announced, unable to disguise his glare. The Black Paladin was so loyalty-oriented, so focused on keeping the people who depended on him safe, that the acts the king had committed were totally unforgivable in his eyes.

Murmurs of dismay and dissent resounded from the gathered Olkari.

"I know you're devasted," he continued, "but it's time to be strong, and use your Olkari spirit to fight alongside Voltron and take back your planet!"

The man could give one hell of an inspirational speech, Chyra would give him that much. She found herself unconsciously grinning as she saw the Black Paladin in his element, in control, in command, and motivating his subordinates like a true leader.

The Olkari cheered in unison, and Chyra couldn't help but join along, clapping and raising her fist alongside the Olkari rebels and her teammates.

When the cheers of the crowd died down, Chyra saw Shiro was slightly flustered, apparently not used to this kind of response to his speeches. Chyra bumped his shoulder with her own and sent him an encouraging grin, to which he smiled back, but his flush only deepened.

"Lubos... how could you?" Ryner asked, her eyes filling with sorrow.

Lubos balked. "I-I was only trying to-"

"-look after yourself and your own selfish needs," Chyra interjected, finally speaking to the fallen monarch. She didn't miss the way his eyes filled with fear as he looked at her, and she quickly turned away, purposely positioning herself so the king was on her blind side and she didn't have to see the terror with which he looked at her.

"Come, everyone! We must free our people!" Ryner cheered. She turned to the Paladins and bowed in respect. "We will take back the city. Best of luck to all of you in stopping that weapon."

The paladins of Voltron nodded and headed towards their lions, but Chyra grabbed Shiro's shoulder before he got too far away. He looked at her with surprise, his reddened face just now dying down. She wasn't sure what came over her, but Chyra pleaded. "Shiro, be careful."

"I will." He reassured her. "But I want you to stay here, where it's safe."

"Oh hell no," Chyra scoffed, "I'm going to help the rebels take back the city and free the slaves." She stopped him before he could object. "I have to do this, Shiro. I can't let the Empire's prisoners suffer for one more second. And besides, I know loads about Galra battle formations and strategies. I can really help here. I'm going, and you're not stopping me so don't even-" Shiro smiled, an unreadable emotion mixed in with the slight hint of pride in his eyes.

"Be careful, Chyra." He said.

"I will."

"Hey SHIRO!" Lance bellowed from Blue's open jaws, startling the both of them, "Quit flirting with Chyra and hurry up! That cube thing is getting way too close for comfort!"

Shiro nodded with one last encouraging look before turning away from Chyra, running towards Black and putting his helmet on as he went. Chyra watched him retreat and enter the Black Lion's cockpit, then turned to watch as the lions of Voltron form their massive humanoid counterpart.

She was stunned. It was captivating to watch, almost more like an intricate dance than the formation of an immensely powerful superweapon. Chyra was almost startled when the multicolored robot flew off with a blast of concussive force, disappearing from sight to engage the other superweapon on the planet.

Chyra shook herself out of her stupor and turned to see Ryner directing troops and a trio of angry Olkari escorting Lubos away from the scene. Chyra called out to Ryner, causing the Olkari leader to turn around and face her.

"Yes, Chyra?"

"How can I help?"

The engineer seemed taken aback by her offer of assistance, but smiled after overcoming her surprise.

"Accompany squadron three to the interior of the city and eradicate the Empire's forces from sector 2B. Kivién will be your commander."

The Empire. Not the Galra. Chyra's heart swelled with happiness and she saluted the Olkari, crossing her right arm across her chest to cover her heart with her fist as she bowed her head in a gesture of respect.

"I won't let you down, ma'am."

"I'm sure you won't." Ryner bowed in farewell, but added one more order to the list. "And please, look after Maliera for me." Chyra turned and spotted the young Olkari standing among a troop on the edge of the clearing, holding her blaster and looking far more resolute than she did when last Chyra had seen her.

"I'll make sure to get her back safely," Chyra promised, feeling the responsibility for the young teen's life weigh heavy on her shoulders. The last time she had been in charge of someone else's fate...

No. This time would be different.

Chyra was sure of that.

Chapter Text

Chyra had almost forgotten what battle sounded like.

She wasn't sure how exactly she had managed that, since it seemed like every time she closed her eyes or found herself in a silent room the echoes of it came back to haunt her, but this was bringing up memories she didn't even remember repressing.

Another chunk of wood went flying off of an Olkari warrior's shield, smacking into the wall off to the group's right. Chyra ducked down, feeling the heat of blaster fire against her face as the shields gradually wore away under the barrage sent by a group of Galra scouts and sentries, all armed with heavier weapons and equipment than the Olkari. Chyra grimaced as the shields began to groan; no matter how advanced the Olkari's weaponry was, metal was always sturdier than wood. If only she had a ranged weapon like a blaster rather than just her legs.

The Empire had Chyra and the rebels backed into a corner of a large plaza near the center of the sector, firing endlessly at them as they moved gradually closer. The rebels had barricaded themselves at the entrance to the plaza, constructing makeshift shields out of the metal ground with their metalworking powers to hide and fire at the Galra squadron from a distance. Chyra looked up over the top of the shields, taking in the squadron ahead of her. Thirteen enemies. Too many for her to reasonably take down on her own.

She glanced down to Maliera, who was kneeling next to Chyra behind one of the frontmost barriers. She peeked out over the top and aimed her blaster at the enemies ahead. Her gaze was resolute, her hand surprisingly steady under the chaotic circumstances. The teenaged Olkari took down a sentry robot, narrowing the numbers down to twelve. Chyra felt suddenly proud of the kid.

"Commander Kivién!" Chyra called, dragging the attention of the squadron's leader to her. He ducked down into cover and looked away from the battle for a moment, looking somewhat unhappy to have Chyra address him. "We need to use our shields to advance, if I can get close enough to the sentries I can take down the entire left flank, plus their commander."

"And let our shields take even more damage at close range? Not likely," the lanky Olkari replied, hefting his shield higher.

Chyra resisted the urge to bare her teeth. "Taking a little more damage would be better than getting hammered further into a corner!"

"No," Kivién argued back, his expression resolute.

"Fine," Chyra scowled. Then she peeked back over the top of the shields. Three more enemies had fallen, now there were eight sentries and one Galra commander. Those odds, she could work with.

"Maliera," Chyra leaned down and said, "Cover me, please."

"What?" The young Olkari asked, surprised.

Chyra steeled her nerve, ignited her legs, and leaped out into the fray.

She heard Kivién shout an objection and something that sounded like an insult from behind her, but the rush of blood in Chyra's ears drowned out his voice. She moved faster than she should have been able to with her bionic enhancements, darting forward and dodging the sensors of the octet of Galra sentries.

She reached the first sentry in a heartbeat, and time seemed to slow down. With a swift slash of her leg, the sentry's body had been sliced in half by her glowing heel, and it crumpled into a heap of useless metal. Chyra used the momentum of her blow to spin sideways, blocking a sentry's swing with her arms. The blow stung, and it would definitely leave a bruise, but Chyra wasn't deterred. She had felt much worse. She pushed back against the droid, using her legs to fuel the thrust. The sentry staggered, giving Chyra a chance to drive her foot through its metal-plated chest.

Chyra shuddered, trying hard not to think too hard. The clashing of steel and the crumpling bodies of the droids as they slumped to the ground sent memories gnawing at the corners of Chyra's mind, and she tried to combat them by focusing on something else. Anything else. She focused on nothing but where her faceless enemies were, and how her body moved in retaliation to their strikes. She didn't focus on what they looked like, she didn't focus on their negative connotations in her mind, she didn't focus on any feelings or memories or emotions at all. She just focused on movement.

A kick, a duck, a swipe, a roll. Another kick, a blocked blow, a dive away from a swinging sword. There were nine of them, only nine enemies surrounding her. With one kick, it became eight. A quick swipe of her leg and it dropped down to six. A lucky blaster beam ricocheted off of her prosthetic and lowered the number to five. A duck, a spin; four. Three, two, one.

Zero.

Chyra stood, slightly hunched and breathing heavily, but largely unharmed. She knew she was going to be sore, and a couple of new discolored bruises now dotted her grayish skin from where the droids had resorted to punching or where a piece of metal hit various parts of her as she cut down the robotic soldiers. Mangled piles of broken metal, frayed wires, and crumpled weapons lay scattered at her feet, and Chyra's chest clenched as images flashed across her mind's eye. For a moment, the robots looked a little more organic and a lot more mangled. The street went silent, except for one sound.

Wait- Chyra scanned the crumpled remains of the robotic soldiers around her. She jolted, looking upwards, her multicolored gaze following the sound of retreating footsteps. She stifled a curse for Maliera's sake.

She hadn't taken down the commander.

The bulky male Galra was sprinting deeper into the city, speaking hastily into a communicator. His movements were frantic, and he kept glancing back at Chyra as he retreated. She heard him shout in fear, "It's the Executioner!"

Not good.

Chyra faltered, glancing between the retreating Galra and the advancing Olkari. Her allies looked impressed, somewhat tentative after her display of prowess, but overall they seemed unharmed. Chyra looked back as the Commander disappeared behind a corner. If he told the Empire she was alive, there would be no keeping her identity a secret from the Paladins. They would find out she had lied, they would never trust her again, and she had just started to gain momentum and-

She took off.

She at least had the clarity of mind to shout over her shoulder to the Olkari, "I'll get him!" Hopefully, they didn't jump to the wrong conclusion and think they were being betrayed.

Chyra's legs worked in overdrive to close the distance between her and the Galra commander, she bolted through the street in pursuit, trying desperately to catch him before he reached reinforcements. The Empire never left their squadrons completely alone, there was always, always someone waiting nearby: a group of sentries, a couple of backup fighters, something.

As she drew nearer, Chyra was unsettled by the sounds she heard emanating from where she saw the Commander disappear. Harsh, shrill screams grated on Chyra's sensitive ears, exacerbating the noise from the chaos of battle and setting her teeth on edge. Still, despite her reservations, she knew she had to stop that Commander from contacting the higher-ups, or else her secret would be revealed and she would be done for. Not to mention more reinforcements would inevitable come if the Empire knew she was here, and Chyra really didn't want to make this battle more difficult than it already was.

Chyra rocketed around the corner, skidding on the metal streets and coming to a screeching halt as she discovered exactly what kind of reinforcements were awaiting her.

Four Galra soldiers, six sentry droids, and a gigantic metal cage.

"There! Open fire on The Executioner!" The Commander who retreated shouted, pointing at Chyra. She didn't even have time to show her distaste for the title she had been given. She was too busy scrambling back around the corner to dodge the blaster fire of the droids. What was worse, she had seen what was in the cage. That had chilled her to the bone, made her quintessence-ridden blood run cold in her veins.

She risked a peek around the corner as the blaster fire lightened up, and watched with sinking realization and a spike in adrenaline as the Galra soldiers climbed to safety on the tops of the nearby buildings. The door to the cage rattled upwards. And something surged out with a screeching cry to match the ones that Chyra had been hearing earlier.

It immediately went after the sentries left on the ground, and Chyra saw the flash of a metal-bladed prosthetic as the creature drove its arm into the chest of the nearest droid.

...Why couldn't Chyra move?

It's like she had seen the glint of light off that prosthetic and suddenly she had frozen. Her pulse was pounding in her ears louder than any other sound, and her mind screamed at her trambling body that she needed to move, she needed to get back to the Olkari so they could help her take down this thing because she was never going to be able to do it on her own. She needed to move, to get out of this thing's sight right now-

"Scarred One!"

Quiznak.

The Olkari squadron Chyra had left behind was coming up behind her, maneuvering through the alley from the open plaza. Chyra unfroze, snapped out of her daze by the shout from Kivién and the approach of her allies.

The sounds of clashing metal from around the corner suddenly stopped.

Chyra, gripped by adrenaline, whirled to face the Olkari and broke into a sprint towards them. "Run!" she shouted, "Get back to the plaza and get out of here! They have a berserker!"

"A what?" Maliera asked, poking her head out from behind Kivién.

"Just go!" The Olkari started to retreat, and Chyra was spared from any further explanation as the creature skidded into view.

A tall, muscular gladiator was standing in the center of the street, all heaving breaths and limbs of metal. He was wearing a Galra prison uniform that clung tight to his bulky body and multiple arms, three of which were flesh and bone with long-fingered hands. The other was like a metal spearhead grafted onto his arm; wickedly sharp and gleaming with a sinister light. The creature's visible skin was bluish, almost a teal color, with ribbons of dark grey stretching up and down his bare arms.

He would have been handsome if not for the expression on his face.

Chyra could tell Haggar had tampered with the gladiator's mind, twisting him into a beastly creature with a killing instinct dominating his mind. He growled, the horrendous screeching noise emanating from deep within his chest and radiating out from his throat as a ghastly and threatening gesture. His eyes were blown wide, an endless, seething rage flashing dangerously within. Even though these creatures had little left in their minds aside from killing instinct, Chyra had faced enough of them in the arena to know that they weren't stupid. Crazed, impulsive, and extremely dangerous, sure, but nowhere near stupid.

The Olkari behind Chyra muttered uneasily, and she saw Maliera duck behind the commander out of the corner of her eye. She tensed her muscles and steeled her nerve, preparing for a fight.

"Go! Get back, find an escape route and get out!" Chyra ordered, refusing to take her eye off of the rabid gladiator to talk properly to the Olkari. "I'll cover you from behind, just go!"

"Wait, Scarred One," Chyra curled her lip despite herself at the title the commander addressed her with, "who is that?"

Chyra swallowed a lump of nerves in her throat. "A monster."

Chyra didn't think they did this anymore. The Empire used to send these corrupted warriors to hasten battles that they thought were going to be difficult to win. These once-people were savage, their minds twisted by Haggar and their bodies mutilated from fighting, but they had no qualms about killing. They couldn't feel any of the damage done to them; they kept fighting until they physically couldn't anymore, which is why the Empire thought of them as the perfect weapons in battle. That was why they were called berserkers; they would fight and kill endlessly, never stopping until they physically fell apart. Chyra thought they had stopped doing this once the mechanical sentries had reached the point where enough of them could turn the tide of a battle.

This time, Chyra didn't hesitate. She bolted.

If she could just get out of the alleyways, if she could get this thing into the plaza, where she could maneuver and scavenge weapons from the fallen sentries, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe she would be able to take this thing down, one way or another.

She just had to outrun it.

The berserker screeched and followed the retreating Galra in hot pursuit. Chyra cast a glance behind her, realized this berserker wasn't the speediest of movers, and felt emboldened, racing into the plaza and over to the pile of ravaged sentries. She snatched a dented sword from the wreckage. It wasn't well balanced and the blade was damaged, but it would have to do.

The berserker had hesitated and stopped running as it stepped into the brightly lit plaza, blinking its crazed eyes to adjust to the light. It recovered before Chyra could start moving towards it to make a strike, though, and started stalking around the edge of the plaza. His mindless eyes were wide and feral, his gaze slanting back and forth wildly between Chyra and the retreating soldiers. The Olkari kept up their retreat while Chyra blocked any incoming advance from the bluish creature. Chyra hated how she couldn't see what the Olkari were doing, but she couldn't turn her head away from the gladiator to watch over their escape. Chyra hated being half-blind.

She matched the alien's stride evenly, measuring her paces to match up with his and keep an even tempo. She kept her head tilted to see better, focusing on the minute movements he made that may signal an attack. Every sense of hers became suddenly heightened from adrenaline, as they always did when she was fighting. She could suddenly hear the berserker's rasping breaths from across the plaza, she could smell the tang of metal from the crushed entries, even the feeling of the wind against her skin seemed more noticeable. But she didn't allow herself to be distracted. She kept her eye trained on the berserker, studying him and waiting for a signal to attack.

She saw a momentary tense of his muscles, and prepared for a fight.

He darted towards her, snarling with a high wheezing sound as he inhaled. Chyra replied by baring her teeth and igniting her legs to propel her forward towards her foe. They met with a clash of metal in the center of the plaza, Chyra's leg swinging upwards in a strike at his ribs while his spearheaded prosthetic blocked the blow. The gladiator shoved Chyra backward, causing her to drop her sword with a clatter to the ground, fall back, and roll to her feet, bouncing on her metal toes in anticipation of another attack.

He was gone.

Chyra spun full circle, her ears swiveling as she tried to see a full three hundred and sixty degrees around her without leaving herself open to attack on her blind side. She spotted her opponent running across the plaza and quickly advancing on the group of fleeing Olkari. Chyra darted off in pursuit, snatching her sword off of the street. A surge of protectiveness coursed through her as Chyra saw the gladiator intending to attack her allies, some of the only people to ever give her a fighting chance to be a decent person. Besides the Paladins, that is. The feeling bubbled up inside her and caused her legs to ignite an even fiercer purple as her emotions fueled the prosthetics.

She pursued the berserker, pushing to try and catch up before he could reach the fleeing Olkari.

And all in one moment, although her body kept moving, Chyra's heart came to a screeching halt.

Maliera tripped.

The slim young Olkari's foot caught on a loose paving stone and she went tumbling to the ground, only a few paces from where the gladiator was rapidly catching up to her.

Chyra was still too far away to do anything except run faster, throwing all caution to the wind as her heart seemed to wake up again and start frantically pounding against her ribcage. Maliera tried to scramble back to her feet, but she couldn't manage to get her legs underneath of her in time. The gladiator lunged closer, letting out a rattling screech of victory and bloodlust.

Chyra was almost there, reaching out her hand as if it would make a difference. Maliera's eyes filled with terror and she held up an arm to protect herself. Chyra's vision tunneled, and for a split second, she saw Quinn. Her little brother on the street, in danger, about to be struck down. She had promised to protect him. She had let him down.

Never again.

A surge of energy raced through Chyra's body, quite literally sending her into overdrive. Her surroundings blurred as her legs glowed an intensely bright purple, and she shot across the plaza like a laser blast.

Maliera let out a terrified scream as the crazed gladiator leaped forward, his spearhead prosthetic aimed straight for her heart. Chyra leaped. The gladiator screeched. The prosthetic flew forward.

Chyra couldn't feel anything for a moment. Time seemed to stop completely, leaving only Chyra's heartbeat pounding in her ears.

And then the pain came.

Chyra tried to pull away, but something was stopping her, holding her leg in place while she gasped and groaned in pain, grinding her teeth together in an attempt to staunch the shrieks that were threatening to spill out of her throat. She looked down and saw Maliera staring at her, tears of fear gathering in the corners of her multicolored eyes, but the young Olkari was okay.

Chyra, on the other hand, was not.

The berserker screeched, trying to wrench his arm out of the hole he had created when he had punched straight through the thigh of Chyra's right leg. The sudden movement caused arcs of pain to shoot up Chyra's spine all the way into the base of her neck, webbing out like fire in her veins to spread outwards from her spine. Purple electricity sparked from the jagged hole and glowing mauve quintessence leaked down from the opening, dripping down the gladiator's ensconced limb and onto the ground below. He scrabbled at Chyra's leg with his other three arms, panic showing in his fervent eyes. He was a trapped animal, and he was reacting in the only way that could be expected. Still, Chyra winced when his claws strayed too far upwards and sliced her skin where it melded with the metal of her prosthetics.

Acting on instinct as a response to the agony, Chyra's hand found the sword she had dropped and grabbed on, spinning it deftly and thrusting it forward before the gladiator could react.

Chyra didn't know how she moved so fast, the sword should have been far too heavy and cumbersome for her to mave as quickly as she did. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the lingering effects of that weird surge of energy she had felt earlier, but a slight twist was all it took to send the sword driving into the berserker's rib cage, the sharply pointed blade sliding effortlessly between the enemy's ribs. He let loose a rattling cry that pierced Chyhra's eardrums and fell backward, dragging Chyra a few inches along with him as he fell. Chyra allowed herself a pained cry as the movement caused another spike of pain driving up her back; her eyes closed to keep away the tears that pricked at the corner of her eye. She felt someone's hands on her shoulders and she opened her eyes to see the blurry outline of Maliera's concerned face. She blinked to clear her vision, seeing the concerned faces of the Olkari soldiers approaching. Maybe she was woozy from the damage to her leg, but Chyra though that some of her Olkari allies looked impressed.

As the Olkari came into focus, Chyra heard her say, "Scarred One, you... you saved me." There was a slight tone of disbelief, like she couldn't believe that Chyra had allowed herself to get hurt in order to protect the teenaged inventor.

Chyra scoffed halfheartedly. "I told your mom I'd keep you safe," Chyra justified, " and please, please just call me Chyra." She tried to grin, but the expression melted off of her face as she tried to move her leg. It wasn't responding.

"We need to get you to safety," Maliera said.

"There's more Imperial Soldiers around the way," Chyra refuted, gesturing to the alley from which the berserker had come, "we need to take down the rest of the forces in this sector before we leave. Plus," she looked down at the spearhead still lodged in her leg, wincing with distaste, "I'm not going to get very far with this thing in here."

Kivién stood straighter, speaking in an authoritative tone. "Maliera, you help our comrade with her injury," he singled out two more Olkari fron the group of fourteen, "you two stay here and keep them safe. The rest of us will dispose of the remaining Galra forces in this sector. When we've finished, we'll rejoin with you and help take our wounded back to the encampment." The Commander looked to Chyra then, his expression still firm, but slightly less unwelcoming than before. "Can you wait that long, Scar- Chyra?"

She nodded, but even the small motion pained her. "Good luck," Chyra said between clenched teeth.

With those parting words, the Olkari squadron formed back up, filling in the gaps in their formation left by the trio who stayed by Chyra's side. She leaned back, supporting her weight on her elbows and taking deep breaths to try and keep the world from spinning.

"You've really done a number on those prosthetics," one of the other Olkari noted, prompting Chyra to look up. The one who had spoken was a middle aged female with scars on her shoulders and a kind eye.

"I haven't done a thing to them, it's always guys like this who don't seem to understand that I need these to walk." Chyra joked, gesturing to the berserker whose limp arm was still lodged in Chyra's thigh.

The other Olkari, a scrawny young male who reminded Chyra unnistakably of Vrill, stifled a laugh.

Chyra couldn't help but smile through her pain. "What are your names?" She asked.

"I'm Tryval," the male answered, "and this is Sigor."

"Nice to meet you," Chyra replied, closing her eyes and breathing deeply once again. She was pretty sure people's faces weren't supposed to start warping when she looked at them.

"Chyra," Maliera's tentative voice chimed in, "we need to remove that from your leg."

"Yep."

"I can do it," the young Olkari offered, "but I doubt it will be pleasant for you."

Chyra's eyes flicked back open, her gold irises flashing with anticipation. "Well, when has anything in my life ever been pleasant for me?" she remarked dryly. Maliera only blinked in confusion, but grabbed onto the barbed metal arm embedded in Chyra's thigh.

"Prepare yourself." Maliera warned, talking almost to herself as much as she was to Chyra. The Galra squeezed her eyes shut, but was tapped on the shoulder gently.

"Here," Sigor offered, using her abilities to coax a sliver of wood out of the side of her shield. She handed it to Chyra, who replied with only a skeptically raised eyebrow.

"It's for you to bite down on, so you don't bite off your tongue."

"...thank you?" Chyra took the smooth piece of wood and wedged it between her teeth, more out of politeness than worry that she was going to bite her own tongue.

Chyra's entire body convulsed as Maliera suddenly yanked on the berserker's arm, and she couldn't hold back the scream that tore from her throat. Her back spasmed, driving spikes of pain through her spine that spread like shocks of electricity through her nerves. She felt a crack in her mouth as her vision went white and tears sprang to her thightly shut eyes. She fell backward, her arms giving out and refusing to support her weight against the street anymore.

Behind the ringing in her ears, Chyra heard Maliera saying over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Chyra held back her cries of pain, trying to take steady breaths as her chest tried to constrict tight enough to kill her. When she could finally breathe again, she forced her eyes open, still muffling her whimpers against the piece of wood in her mouth.

Speaking of which...

Chyra struggled upwards, supported by Tryval and Sigor on either side, and opened her jaw, letting three separate pieces of splintered wood fall out.

When her vision cleared, she saw Sigor staring at her with shock. "You bit through that?"

"Galra jaw- ah!" Chyra winced again, but not at her leg this time. "Therts a thplinter in ny tongue."

The Olkari exchanged glances for a moment, then Tryval snorted, and all of a sudden the plaza rang with laughter. Even Chyra had to chuckle through her pain at the absurdity of the situation, gingerly picking the splinters of wood out of her mouth. Chyra's myrth subsided first, however, asa wave of nausia swept over her. She blanched, her face going paler than usual as she closed her eyes and hunched forwards with a groan.

"Oh, are you alright?" Sigor asked, grabbing Chyra's shoulder to keep her steady.

"Fine," the Galra wheezed, "just fine."

"Just wait a little bit longer," Tryval urged, "the battle noise has died down, our squadron is likely to return very soon."

The next several doboshes passed in a blur. Conversation between the Olkari turned into indistinct background noide for Chyra, despite Maliera's frequent attempts to keep her engaged and lucid. There was a short period in which Chyra was actively conscious, and she was able to exchange a few words with Kivién before they helped her onto a stretched and started back towards the encampment, but those moments were lost in the haze of pain that followed.

Chyra's next lucid moments came about when the Paladins arrived.

She was shaken out of her daze in the most literal sense; by Lance grabbing her shoulders, wiggling her back and forth, and yelling her name. Chyra gasped in pain, lurching backward with a startled noise. She blinked rapidly, the world coming back into focus as the other Paladins approached. Pidge punched Lance on the arm, then immediately turned her attention to Chyra's leg.

"Holy shit! What happened?" the Green Paladin asked.

Chyra tried to form words, but her voice wouldn't cooperate. Fortunately, her Olkari escorts had stuck around, and Chyra registered about half of the conversation in which they explained the situation. She was glad to see all of the Paladins okay, and the Olkari nearby so jubilant. They must have won.

Next thing she knew, Shiro was leaning down in front of her, a hand on her shoulder and a concerned look on his face, which Chyra struggled to focus on in her pain-addled mind. When he talked, it sounded like Chyra was hearing him through a thick layer of glass, but his words broke through the fog.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you go off on your own yet, you weren't ready. I'm sorry."

That started to snap her out of it.

Chyra shook her head, blinkning away the fog that surrounded ehr vision. "No, m'fine."

Great, she thought inwardly, real convincing.

She took a breath and tried again, "I'm okay, really. See?" She raised a trembling arm and prodded at her right leg, wincing as she made contact. "I can barely feel it..." she mustered up the energy to give Shiro a shaky smile, "... anymore."

"Yeah, no," Keith cut in, crossing his arms, "numbness isn't really a good thing, Chyra."

Chyra listed sideways, her eyes fluttering. Shiro caught her and held her steady, bracing her shoulder on his chest. Still though, she tried to grin. "Saved Maliera, though. Glad it was me and not her."

"And I am grateful for your heroism," Maliera said, "but the Voltron Paladins are right, Chyra. You need help and healing. I retrieved my mother so she could help."

Chyra hadn't even realized Maliera had left, much less that Ryner had come.

"Maliera told me what happened." Concern danced in Ryner's oddly multicolored eyes, but behind the worry was a layer of gratefulness, of relief, because Chyra had saved her daughter. Because if it hadn't been Chyra's leg with a massive hole in it, it would have been Maliera's heart.

"I'm fine, just a little shaky." Chyra replied. The tremor in her voice and the paleness of her face must have given her away, though, because Ryner's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the fib. In trugh, Chyra wasn't suere how much longer she was going to be able to hold on. Her head had started to swim, and an eerie numbness had begun to creep into her lower limbs. She prayed to the ancients that the damage done to her leg wouldn't effect the supports inlaid in her spine.

"I do have some experience with Galra prosthetics, perhaps I will be able to repair your legs without damaging your nerves." Ryner offered, leaning over and inspecting the puncture wound in Chyra's thigh. "Yes, I should be able to reconnect the wiring and quintessence lines, as well as fix the structural damage. I may even be able to make some improvements if time and circumstances allow. Although I will have to interface with them, which means we could create an accidental mental link."

Chyra wasn't sure she liked the idea of Ryner rooting around inside her prosthetics, especially because she knew it could potentially irreversibly damage her brain, but not being able to walk was absolutely out of the equation. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place here, and the only option was to take a chance.

"No intentional brain-rooting, that's my only stip- stipulation." Chyra negotiated. She was losing too much quintessence fuel, she wasn't going to be able to hold onto conciousness much longer.

"I'll try. Here, quickly." Ryner commanded shortly, pulling out a small packet from her bag. "Eat this. It will put you in a meditative state so that I can repair your legs without you having to see or feel any of it."

"And try not to make it worse..." Chyra tried to protest, but her speech was becoming more incoherent by the second. Everything was blurring. It was hard to hear anything over the ringing in her ears.

"Chyra, I'm sorry but there's no time. If I do not repair your legs and stop your quintessence from draining, you could die." Ryner opened the package and pressed the green plant into Chyra's palm. Chyra sobered up momentarily and steeled herself, popping the small lump of compressed leaves into her mouth and chewing. She couldn't quite register the taste.

The world around her darkened further, and Chyra could feel herself physically retreating from her body. She could no longer feel the wooden platform beneath her, or Shiro's hand as it rubbed comfortingly over her back. Her sight was basically gone, and she didn't even know that she was being carefully lowered onto her back on the table so Ryner could access her legs.

Then everything slipped away. And Chyra was alone in the dark.

Chapter Text

Shiro hadn't stopped pacing since Chyra had fallen asleep. He couldn't help but worry, because he of all people knew what havoc Galra prosthetics could wreak on their own wielders. His nervous stomach was twisting itself into knots, making him feel uneasy and slightly sick.

He didn't exactly have any real reason to be so agitated; Chyra seemed perfectly fine. She was quiet and still, her breathing even and body relaxed save for the occasional twitch of her metal toes as Ryner fiddled with the wires in her thigh. Shiro ceased his anxious pacing and turned to look at Chyra as the gaping hole in her leg sparked feebly.

Her sleeping face was more relaxed than he had ever seen her during her waking hours: the perpetually worried or stressed expression she usually wore was absent, replaced by a emotionless and very relaxed mask. The slightly puckered skin that outlined the scar across her cheek wasn't pulled downwards into a scowl or a frown for once, and Shiro found himself smiling ever so slightly at Chyra's peaceful state. Maybe this would be good for her; she obviously needed the rest.

And Ryner seemed to be making pretty good progress. She had interfaced directly with Chyra's legs, and had assured the Galra that she would do her best to stay disconnected from her mind while Chyra was in the meditative state that the Olkari anesthetics had placed her in. With this intimate connection with the technology, Ryner could see exactly what needed to be mended and how to make the necessary repairs. She had promised that it wouldn't take more than a few vargas to reverse the damage done to Chyra's leg.

Still, something just felt... off, like they were fiddling around with a time bomb without knowing what it was or what could set it off. Every twitch of Chyra's foot or spark from her upper leg made Shiro jump, and he could tell the rest of his team was tense, too. Pidge was hovering over Ryner's shoulder, looking like it was taking great effort for her to not interject every couple of seconds as Ryner's lithe fingers worked to fix the inner workings of Chyra's prosthetics. Hunk was fiddling with his bayard while it wasn't in weapon form, twisting it between his large hands anxiously. Lance and Keith were sitting near each other, both watching the procedure with tension evident in their shoulders. Maliera was present as well, standing a couple of steps behind her mother and offering the appropriate tools when necessary, she didn't seem as perturbed as the paladins, but Shiro didn't miss the telltale shake of nervousness in her hands as she handled the tools.

Shiro knew something was happening as soon as Chyra began to twitch. Her face twisted into a look of discomfort and her fists clenched in their resting places at her sides. Her body began to go rigid, her muscles tensing as a quiet groan escaped her lips.

Shiro was next to her in an instant, a seed of panic taking root in his stomach and twisting it into even tighter knots as it grew. The other paladins were quick to move to Chyra's side as well, with looks of concern clouding their faces.

"Ryner, what's going on?" Shiro demanded, his voice sounding harsher than he intended. The Olkari recoiled from Chyra's now twitching form, her long-fingered hands moving upwards to clutch at her head as though she were in pain. Her multicolored eyes squeezed shut and a frown twisted the Olkari leader's lips.

"I... I don't know." Ryner sounded startled; her voice shook ever so slightly and remained at a quiet volume. "I was interfacing with her legs and... I felt her mind. It's in turmoil, and so very scared. I could feel her fear stronger than any other emotion."

Shiro felt anxiety clench his chest tightly. Chyra's movements became more frenzied, her breathing quickening to a frantic pace.

"What's going on? Why is she so afraid?" Hunk asked frightfully, fear seeming to take hold of him as well.

"It seems the Galra- that is, the Druids- had a defense mechanism in place that would allow them- only them- to make repairs or modifications to Chyra's legs." Ryner's statement was punctuated by a sharp inhale from Chyra. "In the brief moment that our minds connected, I felt... such horrible rage. But it wasn't directed at me, and it wasn't originating from Chyra herself. It wasn't intended to keep me out of her mind, I think it was intended to keep her in."

"What does that even mean?" Keith snapped, his indigo eyes darkening with impatience.

"It means her mind has turned against her, entrapping her inside the confines of her own psyche and forcing her mind to attack itself." Ryner clarified.

"Can you see if you can shut it off?" Hunk asked Ryner.

"I'll do my best." The Olkari general replied. She placed her slim hands back on Chyra's thigh and closed her eyes, interfacing with the prosthetic in an attempt to shut down the system. The Paladins lapsed into an uneasy silence for a few moments.

"But why would the Druids assault her mind?" Pidge asked, twisting her hands together nervously as Chyra's left leg gave a jolt. "They could have made them just shut down completely so they couldn't be modified."

Realization gripped Shiro with razor-sharp claws. "They didn't want to cripple her body," he realized, stopping to stare down at his own robotic prosthetic. His voice was quiet and tense, but all of the Paladins turned to stare at him.

"But they didn't care if they crippled her mind."

"What?" The paladins chorused, looks of bewilderment flashing across their faces.

"Think about it," Shiro rushed, "the Galra didn't care if their gladiators were mentally sound or stable- believe me, I know- they just wanted a spectacle. They wouldn't get a good show if she couldn't fight, but if she lost her mind it wouldn't really matter as long as there was a bloodbath."

A beat of silence, then Hunk murmured, "that's so sick."

Shiro shrugged sympathetically. "I know, but that's the only reason I can think of why they would make this happen."

Just as the paladins were beginning to look like they understood, Chyra screamed.

The sound sliced through the still air like a knife, shattering the tense silence that had settled over the Paladins. Pidge instinctively latched onto Shiro's left arm, and the Black Paladin saw Hunk leap backward as Lance grabbed onto Keith's shoulder.

Shiro's gut twisted with guilt. He should never have let her go it alone, this wouldn't have happened if he had insisted she stay, or better yet, taken her with him in the Black Lion. Then at least she wouldn't have been able to sneak off and get into trouble. He stepped forwards, but had to dodge a wild swing from Chyra's arm as she suddenly began to thrash violently on the table.

"Guys! Grab a limb and hold her down! She's going to hurt herself!" Shiro ordered. Hunk, Lance, and Keith each grabbed a limb, with Keith and Lance at her arms while Hunk and Shiro pinned down her legs. Chyra kept screaming, pausing only to breathe or cry out incoherent words into the forest.

"Ryner!" Pidge cried, panicked. She darted to the Olkari engineer as she recoiled from Chyra's thrashing limbs, worry and anxiety clouding her usually bright eyes. Shiro held tighter as Chyra tried to pull away, her panic demanding his full attention. Shiro held on and tried to rationalize the thoughts speeding through his brain at light speed. He had to do something.

He just didn't know what.

. . .

Pidge was stricken with panic, lurching towards Ryner with the vain hope that the Olkari could fix this. Pidge didn't want to know what would happen to her friend if Ryner couldn't fix this.

"Ryner! What's going on?" The green Paladin demanded.

"I don't know!" The Olkari general sounded just as panicked as the paladins were. "She's blocked me out, I can't get into her mind to try and snap her out of it!" Ryner pressed her fingertips against her forehead as if nursing a headache.

"Well we have to do something!" Shiro protested vaguely. His dark eyes were alight with worry, and it looked like he was barely holding back a panic of his own.

Keith butted in from his place at Chyra's right arm, "what can we do though? None of us can get in her brain, and if some random Olkari enters her mind I don't think it'll help much. That's probably why Ryner can't talk to her anyway." He flinched as Chyra almost jerked her arm out of his grasp.

Pidge furrowed her brows in deep thought, whipping up a quick strategy. "... I can." She realized. She could interface with Chyra, she could get into her mind and try to calm her down. She quickly calculated the risks in her head. They were high.

Hunk interjected, pulling Pidge out of her thoughts. "She said she didn't want any of us in her mind." He reasoned, obviously trying to dissuade Pidge from being so reckless.

A frown twisted Pidge's lips. "Someone has to help. We're losing her!" Nobody replied.

Ryner took the opportunity to add her input, still seeming to be slightly disoriented from Chyra's accidental assault. "I may not know Chyra as well as any of you, but I do believe she would be willing to sacrifice some of her privacy to preserve her sanity!" Ryner's voice rose in panic as Chyra's screams began anew, and she almost tugged herself out of Shiro and Hunk's grips.

After a moment, Shiro regained enough control of Chyra's thrashing limbs to be able to reply, "No, Pidge, it could be dangerous. She might not recognize you and possibly lash out, she could hurt you in this unstable state. Or worse, you could get trapped in the crossfire in her head and we could lose you too."

Anger bubbled up in Pidge's stomach. "Shiro," she said slowly, "Chyra is my friend, and I want to help her. I can't just stand by and watch her hurting like this, especially when I know I can do something about it. She'll let me into her mind, I'm sure of it. If I can help her in any way, I'm going to. And you can't stop me."

. . .

Shiro wanted so badly to say no.

He wanted to keep Pidge as far out of harm's way as he could, but she was nothing if not determined. Shiro knew he couldn't stop her from doing it. Plus, if there was any chance she could help Chyra, he was going to let her take it.

Shiro berated himself for those treacherous thoughts. Pidge was his teammate, she was just a kid, and she was under his care. Chyra was an adult, and no matter how damaged she was, she was strong.

Still, she couldn't fight this off on her own, and Shiro didn't know what he'd do if he lost her.

The Black Paladin physically shook his head, trying to banish those melodramatic thoughts. He didn't need to think like that, Chyra was just a teammate- not even that, she was really just a refugee that the team had picked up and taken a liking to. And sure, he should be just as protective of her as he was of the Paladins, but the fear bubbling up in his stomach was unreasonable in scale, almost... disproportionate to the problem at hand. He needed to get a grip.

Pidge snatched one of the Olkari headbands off of a nearby branch, squeezing it on over her wild head of fawn colored hair. The stone inlaid in the center of the band glowed slightly, and Pidge carefully hovered her fingertips over Chyra's temples. The Galra flinched even at the slight touch.

"Pidge!" Shiro called out once more. The young teen looked up at him, annoyance and defiance clearly evident in her hazel eyes.

"Be careful, and bring Chyra back to us." Shiro finished. Pidge nodded, determination evident in the set of her shoulders, the clench in her jaw, the fire in her eyes. She could do this, Shiro told himself. She would be fine.

Now if only he could make himself believe that.

. . .

The Green Paladin scrunched up her nose in concentration, muttering quietly to herself. "Come one, come on. Chyra please let me help you." Pidge scowled as the barriers around Chyra's mind remained firmly in place, deterring any attempt at entering her mind.

"Shit," the youngest Paladin cursed. This wasn't working. She opened her eyes only to see the other four paladins looking at her expectantly, worry glimmering in multiple expressions.

"I can't get in; it's like there's a wall around her mind or something." The Green Paladin explained. Lance and Hunk's shoulders slumped with disappointment, while Shiro's seemed to only tense even more.

Pidge looked to her right as she felt a hand on her shoulder, seeing Maliera standing next to her with a determined expression. Her multicolored eyes flashed as she spoke, "perhaps I can help. We'll interface together, and try to find a gap in her mental defenses. Maybe then we can get through to her," the Olkari teen said. Pidge nodded in agreement and closed her eyes once more, twining her fingers with Maliera's as the Olkari lightly touched Chyra's temple with her free hand. Pidge felt the din of the outside world fade away as she reached out to Chyra's mind, feeling Maliera's consciousness brushing lightly against her own, similarly to how the Green Lion was present in her head while they were flying together. As one, Pidge and Maliera wound their way across Chyra's mental barriers, trying to find a chink in her figurative armor.

They only succeeded thanks to an immense alien presence, which Pidge assumed belonged to the Grey Wolf. The being was also trapped outside of Chyra's consciousness, and was apparently trying very hard to get into her pilot's mind. She at first met Pidge and Maliera with aggression, but lowered her own defenses slightly when she sensed their intent: they wanted to help her bonded, not hurt her. So Pidge and Maliera's minds slipped into Chyra's own as Grey created an opening just large enough for them to enter the Galra's tormented consciousness.

Pidge suddenly found herself surrounded by darkness. She didn't know how she knew that her surroundings had changed while her eyes were shut, she just had the strangest feeling that things had shifted somehow. She opened her eyes and her jaw dropped.

She and Maliera seemed to be standing on a hard, reflective black surface suspended in a strange inky blackness. The din of hundreds of battles surrounded her and Maliera as they emerged into Chyra's mind, dwarfing them beneath the immense curtain of darkness that enveloped them. Flashes of light flickered across the black space, haunting life-size images drenched in a sickening purple hue dancing across Pidge's field of vision. The aura around them was sickening, like being trapped inside a torture chamber. Malice and fear mingled in a persistent buzz of energy that resounded through the space and made the hairs on the back of Pidge's neck prickle as she was set on edge.

Disoriented, Pidge looked down at her hands and saw only a ghostly image of herself, the bright green and white hues of her armor reduced to sad imitations of the real thing. The outlines of her form that were usually so sharp and defined now seemed dulled and blurry, like the was surrounded by mist. On her right stood Maliera, the green tint in her skin similarly leeched of color.

"Woah," Pidge muttered, wincing as her voice sounded hollow and weak amongst the cluttered noises of battle. Clashing of weapons and rattling of armor filled the space, the cheers of an immense crowd drowning out most of the other audible sounds.

"Welcome to Chyra's mindscape." Maliera said mournfully. "Usually the bonding of minds is a much more ceremonial and... joyous occasion." The Olkari jumped as an image flashed mere inches away from her face, a grisly picture of a tangled mess of metal and blood obscuring their vision for a moment. Pidge forced down a wave of bile. That must have been a memory from Chyra's time as a gladiator.

"Let's find that defense system and shut it down. Then we can get ourselves and Chyra out of this place," Pidge said, voice ringing with finality.

"Good idea," agreed Maliera.

Pidge tried stepping forward on the strangely glassy surface, reaching forwards into the darkness to try and find some kind of structure in the vast black landscape. She came up with nothing, and instead only served to trigger another image, this time of a snarling beast that had to be at least twelve feet tall. It towered over Pidge for only an instant, but it scared her bad enough to make her lose her balance and fall backwards with a shriek and a clattering of armor. Pidge felt Maliera's hand on her shoulder as the image faded.

Voice and body shaking, Pidge took the Olkari's offered hand and stood shakily, straightening her now crooked chestplate. She tried to slow her breathing and heart rate as she regained her footing. "It's no wonder Chyra is so panicked. If I had these things bouncing around in my head, I'd have a breakdown too." The green Paladin turned to face Maliera as she spoke, coming to a halt when she saw the expression on the other teen's face.

"Hey, you okay?"

The Olkari started, her already pale face looking a few shades lighter. "I... I don't like this. It reminds me too much of when I was captured by the Galra that invaded my planet."

"You can leave if you need to."

"But I want to help," the Olkari protested weakly.

"I've got this under control," Pidge assured her, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "If you ever need to... tap out, just let me know. You don't need to stay here if you're not comfortable."

"Thank you, Pidge." Maliera nodded and moved forward, leading Pidge deeper into the recesses of Chyra's troubled mind. The Green Paladin followed, trying to navigate the tangled web of images and sounds that clouded Chyra's mind. She felt like they were traipsing around in circles, never finding anything of value that might lead to Chyra's consciousness. Pidge wondered vaguely if this entire landscape was all part of Chyra's psyche, and they were wandering around inside her mind without any ability to get Chyra to snap out of it.

Timidly, Pidge voiced her concerns and confusion to Maliera. "So... what exactly are we dealing with here? Are we inside Chyra's mind right now or what?" Maybe they should have planned this out better instead of rushing in like this.

"I take it you have never been inside another's mindscape before?" The Olkari deduced. When Pidge shook her head, Maliera made a resigned expression, sidestepping a squadron of Galra sentry robots that flickered past them, bathed in an ominous purple glow.

"Well, as most Olkari are aware, there are several... layers of a persons mind. Any creature with a mind that thinks posses these different layers, but the intricacies change and vary depending on the complexity of the organism's mind. For example, an Olkari has a more complex and intricately layered mind than, say, a glowworm." Pidge nodded in understanding, prompting Maliera to continue.

"The widest layer of one's mind is the mindscape. This is basically the plane of reality where a person's mind resides. Everyone has a different mindscape, and we are able to access the mindscape of another by interfacing with that person. Interfacing creates an intimate connection in which two or more people can communicate on a plane separate from the physical world. This communication can come in multiple forms, such as how we are interfacing with Chyra's mindscape right now, or simply feeling one's mind and hearing one's voice inside your own head." The Olkari explained, continuing on their path through the vast black landscape- no, mindscape.

"Usually, a person can manipulate their mindscape when interfacing, but since Chyra's own mindscape is being manipulated by the programming in her prosthetics, she cannot directly control it. At least, I don't think she can."

"So what does that imply?" Pidge asked.

"Well, it means we should be relatively safe, considering we aren't the target of this mental assault and Chyra isn't in full control of her mindscape. She wouldn't be able to focus enough energy to harm us directly." That was a small comfort, at least.

"The next layer of the mind is the psyche," Maliera continued, "which is a sort of miniature mindscape within the larger one. Sorry, that didn't make any sense. The psyche is like... an area within the mindscape that contains the consciousness, the final and smallest part of a persons mind. The psyche usually appears as a place that a person has spent a lot of time in, or a place in which they feel the most comfortable. For instance, my psyche would probably take the form of my home or the forest. Within the psyche is probably where we will find Chyra's consciousness, the manifestation of herself that appears on this plane."

Pidge blinked in surprise, trying to process the rush of information that Maliera had just bombarded her with. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but my brain hurts." The green paladin remarked dryly.

Maliera nodded pensively. "That may be a result of interfacing with Chyra while she's in this state."

"No that- that was a joke. It's a saying on Earth, when something is really complicated you say-" Pidge stopped short as a giant mechanical paw crashed down in front of her, and a blue wolf mech about three quarters of the size of the Green lion loped across the darkened landscape, moving on a path diagonal to the one Pidge and Maliera were currently walking. Pidge watched as a garish purple beam from an ion canon appeared from nowhere and caused the mechanical wolf to explode into a smattering of debris that plummeted to the ground before reforming back into a giant spectral wolf. It continued on its path until it exploded and reformed again, repeating this sequence into lit had run out of Pidge's line of sight.

"Are all of these images... memories?" The green Paladin asked.

"Most likely." Maliera replied solemnly.

Pidge's hazel eyes widened in shock. That must have been how one of Chyra's family members died.

"Come on," urged Pidge, "we have to find Chyra and get her out of here. No wonder she's so scared; she's reliving all her worst memories."

Maliera muttered something inaudible, but continued to follow Pidge on her path, sticking closer to the Green Paladin's side as the flickering holograms around them became more frequent and ghastly. They had just passed their third emaciated corpse when Maliera gripped Pidge's shoulder tightly, the immense pressure from her slim fingers stinging even through the protection of Pidge's Paladin armor.

Pidge's gaze snapped upwards to follow the Olkari's, and she gasped when she saw a group of Galra Druids, their pointed masks and shadowy cloaks obscuring any hint that they were humanoid at all. Pidge felt Maliera's hand trembling in her shoulder and whipped around, only to watch as the Olkari stumbled and hit her knees, her thin arms wrapped around her shoulders and her entire body shaking violently. Pidge dropped down as well, planting her hands firmly on Maliera's slim shoulders.

"Maliera, hey, Mal. Look at me. This is all fake. Everything you see here is just pictures, pictures from a different time and a different place. Nothing here can get you, nothing here can hurt you. It's just you and me and Chyra here. Everything else is just an illusion, right?" Pidge tried to comfort the Olkari. She was never good at this kind of thing. But apparently her method worked, because Maliera nodded timidly.

"Remember what I said, any time you need to leave, you can. I can do this on my own, it'll be fine. I'm not going to force you to stay here."

"B-but you d-don't know-"

"Hey, don't worry about me. I'll figure it out. You, on the other hand, need to get somewhere you can take a breather. They probably need your help on the other side anyway." Pidge reassured her. Maliera nodded again, slowly starting to relax just a bit. With relief in her multicolored eyes, she met Pidge's gaze.

"Good luck, Paladin Pidge."

And with that, Maliera disappeared, leaving Pidge alone in Chyra's turbulent mindscape. Excellent.

. . .

Shiro nearly leapt out of his skin as Maliera's eyes snapped open, panic clouding them like mist on the surface of a lake. She gasped and stumbled backwards, falling away from Chyra's still thrashing form. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned back to brace against a thick tree branch behind her, chest heaving with her heavy breaths.

"Maliera, what happened?" Keith demanded.

"Where are Pidge and Chyra?" Added Hunk. He momentarily lost his grip on Chyra's right leg, and Shiro had to duck to avoid her foot as it swung towards his head. Maliera replied just as Hunk regained his hold.

"Pidge is fine, but she has not found Chyra yet."

"Why are you out here, then?" Lance blurted. "Wow, that's such a weird thing to think about considering they were inside Chyra's head."

Shiro saw Maliera shudder and curl more tightly into herself before replying. "Chyra is reliving her worse memories and watching as her nightmares seem to become reality. Some of the images in there..." she trailed off, unable to continue.

Shiro's gut twisted with sympathy for the young alien teen. Nobody should have to witness the memories that Chyra had obtained during her time as a prisoner, especially not Chyra. Shiro could understand why Maliera had to get out of Chyra's head, he just hoped Pidge would be okay.

...

Pidge scowled and fiddled with her bayard, on edge from the visions that were becoming more frequent and even more horrifying. It seemed as though the further she traveled into Chyra's mindscape, the more gruesome and startling the images became.

Wait... maybe that was it!

Pidge quickly looked at the hologram-like figure nearest to her, swallowing back a foul taste in her mouth as she realized it was a decimated corpse that had somehow been reanimated in the depths of Chyra's subconscious. She forced herself to keep her eye on it, looking at the path it was taking. A quick glance at the other visions surrounding her confirmed Pidge's theory: they were all moving in the same direction. And, knowing the nature of Haggar's mental attack and how it was likely to attack Chyra's consciousness directly, it was only reasonable to deduce that if Pidge followed the nightmares, she would find Chyra trapped in the middle of it all.

Pidge took off at a jog, running along the oddly glassy surface beneath her. Her boots pounded on the base of Chyra's mindscape, casting odd echoes off in every direction. She noticed the din of battle getting louder. The once flickering and faint apparitions that surrounded her now looked more opaque, more tangible and real than before.

Pidge wasn't sure whether to take that was a good sign or a bad one.

When she saw the colesieum, Pidge knew it was definitely, undeniably, a very bad sign.

It was a hideous thing. Not much more than a huge, incredibly deep pit with a flat bottom the size of a football field. Stadium seats rose up in layers around the edge of a dirt arena, surrounding it and allowing no chance of escape for the competitors in the arena. Hordes of enemies flocked to the center of the arena, crawling and leaping and surging over the otherwise empty seats like a tidal wave of horror. There were hardly any gaps in the throng, and they all swarmed to one certain point in the arena, far below the edge where Pidge stood.

Among the chaos down below, Pidge saw Chyra.

The Galra was obviously fighting hard to keep the seemingly endless tide of foes at bay, and even from far away Pidge could see Chyra's erratic movements and desperate lunges towards any open spaces she could find. Pidge had only seen Chyra fight once before, but she really hoped this wasn't how it usually was. Her movements held no finesse and no strategy, she was just obliterating as many opponents as she could by any means possible. Pidge had to get down there and stop this.

The Green Paladin steeled her nerve and pushed her way into the throng, shoving her way through a group of Galra sentries in the process. She mostly tried to squeeze through the gaps in the crowd, but occasionally had to use her bayard to slice through the beings that pressed in heavily around her. Chyra was so close.

Pidge had to pause for a moment as she entered the thick of the throng, located about halfway down the rows of seats. The images began to become more... obscure, now including not only prisoners and Galra soldiers, but some aliens hat seemed to be in formal or fancy attire. These individuals stood out amongst the crowd like sore thumbs, why would people like this be here if all of these were Chyra's memories from the arena?

Pidge shook herself out of her reverie. She would ask Chyra when she snapped her out of this.

She just had to get to her.

. . .

Chyra didn't know how long she had been fighting. She could feel her muscles aching with fatigue, her chest burning more fiercely with each breath that she dragged into her tired lungs.

They were all around her. She had to fight. There was no help coming, there never was, so she had to fight.

Chyra felt herself strike out at an opponent, clearly someone she had once fought in the arena due to their prisoner's garb. Her target crumpled to the ground and disappeared, only to be replaced by two more foes. Hands clawed at her, tearing at her skin and clothes as her enemies attempted to latch onto her and drag her towards them. Scrapes, cuts, and bruises littered her body, and she could feel them sting with every move she made.

It was getting hard to see. Chyra's surroundings were dark, and her blurring, fading vision only exacerbated the problem. With each passing second, each ragged breath and frantic attack, with each enemy that fell to Chyra's mechanized legs, she could feel herself slipping away. Time was getting confusing, the seconds seeming to speed up to a frantic pace or slow down to an agonizing crawl at random moments. Chyra's attention span was rapidly shortening, making it difficult to focus on any one enemy for even a moment. Because of this lack of focus, Chyra's attacks were sloppy, lurching and disjointed, like she was a broken marionette being controlled by a demented puppet master.

Even her thoughts seemed to be deserting her, words and memories drifting away like ashes on the wind. She couldn't hold onto one thought, one moment, one face; nothing she tried to conjure in her mind would stay for more than a split second.

Chyra was losing herself, and her motivation to keep fighting along with it.

She didn't even understand why she was here. Why she was thrown into this place and why she was fighting. The one thing she did understand was that she was so tired of fighting. She didn't want to do it anymore. She wanted to lay down and go to sleep, leaving her enemies to ravage whatever was left of her.

Distantly, as though she was looking through a spyglass at something far away, Chyra registered the walls of her surroundings dissolving, disintegrating into nothingness and drifting away into the empty black sky. She could no longer feel her limbs. The crowd of enemies seemed to be thinning, lessening gradually as the arena fell away and Chyra's attacks became little more than lunges in random directions. Her movements were now sluggish, it was a struggle to lift her limbs. Her feet tumbled over one another and she fell, slamming hard into the ground. She couldn't summing the will to try to move. The floor was no longer the coarse dirt of the arena. Instead, it was a hard, glassy black surface that was cold to the touch. Not that Chyra could feel it. The figures that had crowded Chyra had long since faded from existence, leaving her alone, trembling and numb.

Chyra's eyes slid closed, but nothing that she saw changed. Her vision had long since deserted her. She couldn't summon a coherent thought. She waited until she could fade away. She wanted so badly to just... disappear. To stop existing altogether. Her mind clouded over, a darkened fog hazing over any minute semblance of thought that may have been left in her head. A rattling, hissing voice crooned in her head, urging her to sleep. Sleep sounded so nice. Maybe she would.

Chyra felt herself falling, and she did nothing to stop it.

. . .

In the outside world, Chyra's body became still.

. . .

Pidge watched in horror as the arena disappeared and the horde of enemies faded away, leaving the Green Paladin alone with Chyra in the Galra's psyche. Pidge tried to reach her, she tried so hard. But the crowd was so thick, and once it disappeared, Pidge watched as Chyra crumpled, the motion agonizing to watch.

It almost looked like slow motion. Chyra stood there for just a moment, surrounded by vast nothingness, breathing heavily and staring blankly into the distance. Her chest heaved and her limbs trembled, her legs aglow with the purple burn of quintessence.

Then all of a sudden, she was falling. Her entire body just went limp, crumpled into a heap like an empty sack. She didn't move again. Pidge rushed forwards with a strangled cry, sprinting the last few paces to her friend's prone form. She fell to her knees and slid on the floor, coming to a stop right next to the once strong Galra. With trembling hands, Pidge tried to wake Chyra.

She cupped the Galra's sallow face in her hands, trying to elicit some kind of response from her almost lifeless friend. If not for the shallow, rasping breaths rattling in and out of her chest, Pidge would have thought that Chyra was dead. Her face was expressionless, her limbs limp and face deathly pale. Her skin looked more grey than purple.

Stammering, Pidge begged Chyra to wake up. She patted her cheeks, rubbed her arms and her back, trying to ignore how badly she was shaking. She had to wake up, she just had to.

"Chy, Chy please. Come on, you've gotta snap out of this! You've gotta wake up. Everybody is so worried about you, you've gotta come back. You can't give up." Pidge received no response.

Cold fear gripped her insides and refused to let go. Frantic, Pidge tried desperately to shake Chyra awake. Her throat tightened and she felt tears stinging her eyes as Chyra's face remained blank and impassive. The Green Paladin moved to lay Chyra's head in her lap, hunching over her unmoving friend desperately.

"Chyra, please! We all need you to come back!" Pidge's voice cracked. At this, Chyra's eyes seemed to flutter for just a moment. A hint of expression flickered briefly across her face. Pidge gasped and allowed a small bit of hope to alight in her chest. When Chyra didn't respond, the Green Paladin tried again.

"You've gotta come back. Grey will hate me if I don't snap you out of this." Pidge tried. She had no idea if this would work, but she had to try.

"Plus, Lance will be really lonely without you, and Hunk won't have anybody else who likes to listen to him talk about food. I wouldn't be able to joke around with you, which would be a shame because you have a surprisingly funny sense of humor. Coran would hate to see you go. Even Allura and Keith would miss you, although they'll never admit it." With each word, Chyra seemed to gain a little more consciousness. Her hands were twitching and her face had started to scrunch up with apparent discomfort. Enthused, Pidge kept going.

"And Shiro, man, I'm pretty sure he would feel the worst out of everyone if we lost you. I mean, he looked completely terrified even before all this started. When you were laying on that table and Ryner was working on your legs. He looked so anxious, and then you started freaking out, and he looked like he was about to have a panic attack. I think he really cares about you, Chy, but he might not want to admit it."

Chyra started to stir, her eyes fluttering to reveal their molten gold color before flicking closed again. She groaned quietly, her face showing an expression of slight pain. Noises began to ring quietly through the silence, growing louder with each passing second and accompanied by hazy, flickering images. Encouraged, Pidge kept trying, coaxing the entranced Galra out of her current state.

"And you have to keep fighting. You have to avenge your family, remember? You gotta help us fight the Empire, and keep gong so your family will be proud of you." Pidge's voice was strained and tight, she was holding back tears.

With each passing moment, color that had drained out of Chyra's face began to return. The sounds and images became louder, clearer, and more distinct. Pidge watched as they began to converge, as if they were being brought back into Chyra's head. They flickered and echoed around the pair, some of the memories containing images of smiling young Galra and laughter, others showcased the horrors of the arena. Some seemed out of place, images of ornate ballrooms and lively music, overlapped with poisoned vials and daggers hidden in the folds of flowing gowns.

One memory, in particular, seemed to strike a chord, and Pidge had to avert her eyes from the image that accompanied the voice. A tall, narrow purple torso, bare skin, strong arms, light colored hair, and a husky, possessive whisper of 'you're mine.' Chyra jolted, and Pidge willed the memory away. She tried to send comforting thoughts to the Galra to calm her down and bring her back to the real world.

After what seemed like hours, Chyra's eyes dragged themselves open.

The surfaces were glassy and dull, but some semblance of recognition ignited in them, giving them more light and color as the images and sounds faded away. Chyra's hand raised shakily up to press against her forehead, and she blinked in confusion.

"Q-Quinn?" She rasped. Her voice was quiet and shaky, but it was there.

"No, Chy, it's me. Pidge."

"Oh. Hey, Pidgie. What the hell happened? I feel like I've been chewed up and spat back out by a weblum." Pidge helped Chyra sit up, allowing the Galra to lean heavily against her as a support. They both say there, shaken and exhausted from the ordeal.

"It's a little complex." Pidge replied.

"Hey Pidge, where are we?"

"Well, technically, we're in your mind."

A beat of stunned silence. "...Wait what?"

"It's... a little complex." Pidge pulled her helmet off of her sweaty head and fiddled with her glasses nervously.

"So... can we leave?" Chyra asked tentatively.

"Yeah," replied Pidge, "as soon as I figure out how to get out of here."

Chyra moved off of Pidge and pondered this for a moment. She working her lip between her teeth as she thought.

"Well..." she began, "this is my mind, right? So to leave, wouldn't I just have to think up an opening?"

Slowly and with great effort, Chyra hauled herself to her feet. Pidge shot up and grabbed her arm to help support her, steadying her wobbling legs. Chyra scrunched up her nose in concentration, deep in thought. All around the bedraggled duo, objects started to materialize. Pidge's jaw dropped as their surroundings faded into existence, the blackened landscape brightening around them and transforming into a cockpit bathed in comforting violet light. The holoscreens around them were inactive, providing no illumination for the cockpit. Instead, the light came from outside the control center and washed in through the viewports, filling the cockpit with its radiance.

Amazed, Pidge looked up at the lanky Galra standing next to her. A comforted expression had taken over her face, softening her features with a rueful smile. "Is this...?"

"Grey's cockpit." Chyra confirmed. Pidge walked over to the viewports and looked down, surprised to see the green lion's hangar that Grey stayed in.

"It's in the castle." The Green Paladin noted.

"I just tried to think of someplace that felt like home. I ended up with two results." Chyra said, her voice soft.

Pidge, thrilled at Chyra's revelation, twined her arms around Chyra's thin waist. The Galra nearly pulled away from fright, but after a moment she relaxed and hugged Pidge back, the gesture made slightly awkward by the height difference between the two. When they pulled away, Chyra jostled Pidge's shoulder slightly and turned towards the opening to the cockpit, pressing a button on her dashboard that opened Grey's metal jaws. Light flooded the cockpit from the opening, and Chyra met Pidge's eye.

"I think it's about time we woke up." The Galra said quietly. Pidge nodded in agreement and together, they stepped out into the light.

. . .

Shiro was pacing when Chyra's eyes bolted open. She pulled in a huge gasp of air and sat up abruptly, pulling her functioning leg upwards to balance the sudden movement and dislodging Ryner from her damaged one in the process. She hunched forwards, breathing heavily. Pidge also opened her eyes, albeit much less theatrically, and Maliera stepped over to her side and placed a hand on the young Paladin's shoulder.

"Chyra!" Lance called, he and the others rushed over to the table, immediately crowding around their injured companion. Chyra's eyes shot upwards, fear filling her golden irises as she noticed was surrounded.

"Hold on, guys, back up." Hunk ordered, stretching out and arm and pushing Keith behind him. The others stepped back, albeit reluctantly, and Chyra began to relax and breathe normally with enough room. Hunk moved forwards, worry clouding his dark brown eyes as he approached the team's Galra companion.

"Chyra? You alright?" He asked timidly.

Chyra met his gaze, nodding weakly and taking in a shaky breath. "I-" she cut herself off when her voice cut out, taking a second to regain her ability to speak. "I'm alright." She rasped.

She took in her surroundings blearily, trying to process the setting sun in the distance, the halo of light just barely reaching into the darkened sky from over the treetops.

"How long was I out?"

"Almost three hours." Keith answered. "You went really still for a little while. What happened?"

Chyra didn't reply, only shuddered and shook her head mutely. Pidge answered for her, "a lot happened."

"Is my leg at least fixed?" The ex-assassin groaned, sitting back on her elbows.

"Almost," Shiro grimaced sympathetically, "Ryner says she can keep working on it though. But this time, maybe you should stay awake."

Chyra scoffed bitterly, her voice sounded rough and overworked when she replied with a tired, "that's the best idea I've heard all day."

Chapter Text

Chyra had been practically immobile for three days now, and she hated it.

Sure, she was handling herself around her room, she could hop and hobble to and from her bed and the bathroom, but she couldn't do anything. She had to relax and recuperate for a few days, as per Ryner's orders, since she had lost so much quintessence through the hole in her leg. Even if Chyra had been able to fully support her weight on her right leg immediately (which she couldn't, she had already tried), she wouldn't be able to visit the surface of the planet, or any of the other rooms in the far sections of the castle, in case she passed out from lack of energy. She hadn't regained her vigor yet, so she just sat in bed, read books, and tried to pretend like she wasn't bored out of her mind.

Grey was a comfort, of course. Once she had given Chyra an absolute earful about getting herself so seriously hurt, the wolf had calmed down and settled in alongside Chyra's mind to be her constant companion in recovery. And the Paladins stopped in frequently to check in on her progress, bring snacks and hydration and a little bit of company in between celebrations and diplomatic negotiations.

Sure, Chyra was miffed that she was missing the parties that the Olkari were throwing in Voltron's honor, especially since it had been so many years since she had attended a public event that wasn't also a fight for her life, but the delicious food that the Paladins brought her almost made up for missing the events.

She was most content when Shiro stopped by, he would always sit on the edge of the bed and ask Chyra how she felt first, then if she needed anything. Then he would ask about her book and Grey, then tell her what was going on outside. Slowly, the awkwardness between them had started to fall away, being replaced by a comfortable companionship.

Maliera had visited a couple of times, too. She said her mother Ryner was too busy with her new leadership position to stop by, but that she wished Chyra a swift recovery, and would make time to see her if her legs had any problems. Pidge had been in the room with Maliera while the young Olkari visited, and the pair of them kept exchanging smiles and excited looks, as though the two of them were in on some big secret.

In the morning on the fourth day on Olkarion, Chyra finally felt rested enough to leave her room.

She had woken up early, showered, dressed, and messed with her hair to try and get it to lay flat before leaving; she knew that it was their last day on the planet, and she wanted to visit with Ryner and her other Olkari companions before it was time to leave. Lance had also mentioned some big celebration that evening, where the Olkari would be sending the Paladins off for their next mission. She didn't really want to miss that if she was invited, although she didn't have anything formal to wear.

The kitchen was bustling despite the early hour, and when Chyra limped in, she was greeted by several voices. She waved a hello to the Paladins and grabbed a biscuit off of one of the plates of food on the island, plopping noisily into a chair as she took a huge bite.

"Glad to see you're up and about," Hunk said amicably, "and hungry," he added as Chyra grabbed another biscuit and smothered it in a sweet, jelly-like substance the Olkari had called thuriun. Apparently it was made from a local fruit, and Chyra was obsessed with it.

"I've had low quintessence levels for days, so lay off of my food intake," Chyra replied, smiling and gesturing with her utensil. Lance bumped her shoulder as he passed by, shooting her a lopsided grin.

"Careful, guys! Chyra's gonna eat all the jelly biscuits if we don't stop her."

"Yep," Chyra agreed, "that's me, The Conquerer of Biscuits."

Keith stifled a snort of laughter as Lance made a mock expression of distress. "No!" he cried, "not the precious biscuits!" Shiro smiled and let loose a slight chuckle, shaking his head and looking back down at his holopad.

Stars, Chyra had missed this.

"Say, where are the others?" Chyra asked, glancing around the kitchen. There were only four Paladins present, and Allura and Coran were missing as well.

"Pidge is in her lab with Mal, they've been spending most of the days in there, although I caught them in the armory yesterday," Shiro replied, taking a swig of his drink.

"Mal?" Chyra asked, quirking an eyebrow and swiveling in her seat to face the Black Paladin.

"Maliera," he clarified, "Pidge calls her Mal. Coran is probably in there with them, and Allura is likely still in bed. She got caught in some late-night negotiations yesterday, so I promised I'd take care of things this morning so she could sleep in."

Chyra reached across the counter to grab a glass of juice that the Olkari had provided with the rest of the food they'd brought in. "That's nice of you."

Shiro hummed in response, looking back down at his work.

The room lapsed into an easy lull, filled with clinking dishware and tapping feet and homey atmosphere. Chyra, for the first time in a long time, was content and happy just... being.

The doors to the room slid open with a whoosh, and Chyra's ears perked up at the sound of chatting voices. They came in on her blind side, but for once Chyra wasn't afraid.

"Morning, guys," Pidge called, moving into the kitchen.

"Hello, Paladins," Maliera's voice added quietly. "Chyra! How are you feeling?"

The Galra straightened and smiled towards the younger Olkari. "I'm better, thanks."

"How is the repair holding up? Need any modifications?" Pidge asked, walking over and looking at the repaired area on Chyra's right leg. There was a patch of lighter metal there in the exterior now, one that was just a few shades lighter than the original finish, but it held up just as well as the original metal. The interior had been completely repaired, and the slight glow of Quintessence between the armor plating had finally returned, although it wasn't quite as bright as it usually was.

"It's good," Chyra replied, "Ryner did a great job on it."

"Can you put your full weight on it yet?" Maliera asked.

"Not quite, but that weakness is in the knee, not the thigh. It's probably because my quintessence levels aren't fully replenished yet. But they're getting there."

"That's good to hear." the Olkari smiled and turned to Pidge. "I have to assist my mother with some preparations for this evening, but I'll see you all before the sendoff." She waved goodbye to the Paladins and showed herself out.

When the door closed, Chyra glanced over to Pidge, whose gaze was still lingering on the door through which Maliera had left.

Chyra raised her eyebrows and felt a smile slide onto her face. She shook off her burgeoning feelings of excitement in favor of a neutral mask.

"So, Pidge," she began, picking at the bowl of fruit in front of her as she barely held back her grin, "Shiro tells me you've been spending a lot of time in the lab with Maliera. What have you two been working on?"

Pidge straightened, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "Nothing!" She rushed, her cheeks flaring with a blush. The kitchen went quiet, and Chyra met Lance's mischievous gaze and returned it with her own.

"I mean, nothing super important. Minor upgrades to shielding generator prototypes, integrating Olkari tech with some Altean aspects, stuff like that. Little things." Pidge recovered, her face still rather red.

"Sounds to me like Pidge has a little crush," Lance teased, leaning over to put an elbow on Pidge's head.

"Yeah, right!" the Green Paladin retorted and gave Lance a sharp jab to the ribs.

"Ow!"

"Maliera and I are just friends, and we haven't been working on anything spectacular."

"Sure, sure." Hunk replied, an unconvinced look on his face.

"Well, I for one heartily approve of Maliera," Chyra chimed in, smirking down at the Green Paladin as Pidge gave her a mortified look, "she's very clever and polite, not to mention an excellent shot."

"Seconded," Shiro piped up from the table, raising his hand. Chyra grinned wide at him in response.

"Can we not talk about this?" Pidge retorted. Chyra and the other Paladins laughed, and Chyra blocked a halfhearted swipe from Pidge's fist with her arm.

"Geez, all this work to keep you safe next time you fight and this is the thanks I get?" Pidge muttered, disgruntled.

"What work?" Chyra asked curiously.

"Nothing! Just- I'm gonna go see if Coran is having any luck with the Teladuv, I can't be around you guys right now." Pidge replied, grabbing a bite to go and leaving the kitchen in a rush.

As the Green Paladin left the room, Chyra got a tad worried that they had taken the teasing too far, her ears drooping with concern. "Did we overstep just now?" she asked, glancing to the Paladins for reassurance.

"Pidge'll be fine," Keith replied, nonchalantly leaning against the countertop.

"Yeah, and maybe Pidge has earned some teasing with how often she talks tech to make the rest of us feel dumb," Lance added.

"That might just be you."

The Red and Blue Paladins started bickering again, their usual mock rivalry disrupting the peace in the most entertaining way possible.

. . .

The rest of the morning passed in relative calmness, Chyra stayed in the castle and relaxed with Grey, taking cat naps in between conversations with the Paladins and visiting Olkari dignitaries. When Chyra had asked Hunk why only small groups of Olkari were permitted in the castle at a time, she was regaled with the story of how early on in the war, the castle had been infiltrated by Sendak and his subordinate Haxus, both of whom Chyra was familiar with and deeply disliked. The castle had become infected by Galra-modified quintessence, poisoning it as though it were a living being. Chyra shuddered to imagine the homey silver-blue of the castle awash in Galra purple. What's worse, Lance and Shiro were both almost killed that day, so the Paladins refused to open the castle completely, even to their allies. As unfortunate as it was, openness had proved itself to be a security risk.

That Chyra understood more than any of the Paladins realized.

The day continued with meetings and negotiations that Chyra was decidedly not invited to, so she spent a large portion of the rest of the day lounging across Grey's front legs, napping on and off to try and recharge more of her lost quintessence. When it was nearly time for the Paladins to attend the ceremony Ryner and the Olkari had planned for their departure, Chyra was awoken by Pidge calling her name into the still air of the hangar. Chyra startled awake, almost falling off of Grey's paw.

"Sorry," Pidge said sheepishly when the Galra sat up, stunned. "But we have a surprise for you."

Chyra's gaze landed on Maliera, who was glowing with excitement and smiling widely, bouncing slightly on her toes.

Rubbing her tired eyes, Chyra stretched out her shoulders and cocked her head to the side questioningly. "What's going on, you two?" She winced; her voice sounded scratchy and rough from sleep.

"Come and see!" Maliera replied, gesturing for Chyra to come down. The Galra allowed herself a smile and slid off of Grey's paw, patted her wolf in farewell, and approached the pair of young inventors, who were dressed in newly polished Paladin armor and a formal-looking Olkari tunic respectively. As soon as she was within reach, Pidge gently grabbed Chyra's wrist and led her out of the hangar, grinning the entire time.

They approached the armory, and when they were outside the door, Pidge turned to Chyra and said, "close your eyes."

The Galra hesitated, glancing around her with trepidation.

"Right, nevermind," Pidge corrected. "Just, hang tight." The Green Paladin darted into the armory, and Maliera looked up at Chyra with an excited expression.

"Pidge and I... how did she say- put a little something together for you and we wanted you to have it before you leave Olkarion," Maliera said.

"Come on in! It's all set!" Pidge called from within the armory, and Maliera gestured for Chyra to enter ahead of her. Cautious but optimistic, Chyra moved through the door.

Standing inside, beaming and holding a round object, was Pidge. She was planted in front of one of the blue capsules that housed the Paladins' armor sets, all but one of which were empty.

"Tah dah!" Pidge cried, holding the object she was holding higher. Chyra blinked. It was a Paladin helmet. But it was grey, there was no-

Wait.

"Is... is that for me?"

"Duh! Why else would we be giving it to you?" Pidge replied, hopping sideways to display the contents of the armor capsule. Inside was an entire set of armor, set in shades of sturdy grey and stunningly bright white. It looked nearly identical to the Voltron Paladins' armor, down to the shoulder pads, the small glowing areas around the neckpiece, and emblazoned across the front in bright, gleaming silver, shown clearly for all the world to see, the symbol of Voltron.

Chyra stared at the piece of armor for a moment as she comprehended exactly what she was looking at. When reality sank in, she felt her chest swell with happiness. "This is... incredible. You didn't have to do this for me." The ex-assassin said haltingly.

"We know, but we wanted to," Pidge replied. "See, the visor can turn reflective and cover your entire face, so sentries won't be able to recognize you like they did during the capitol infiltration."

Maliera took over the explanation. "Paladin Pidge and I designed the armor as a gift to you, and to show my gratitude for saving my life. My mother helped with the construction and had some very helpful tips, and we modified the coding on the armor repair pods to construct a brand new set out of the same carbon fiber material as the original sets of Paladin armor."

"Plus," Pidge piped in excitedly, brandishing a black flight suit with a silver Voltron symbol on the front, "since we know you're back is a little bit eeh-" she waved one hand, teetering it back and forth- "we reinforced the area surrounding your spine with a thin but sturdy layer of carbon fiber armoring in the flight suit, so that your back won't be such a weak spot while you're wearing it!"

Chyra blinked again, processing. Grey's consciousness moved forward in her head, prompting her to action and snapping her out of her daze. A soft smile graced Chyra's scarred face, and she leaned down, wrapping the young teens in a hug. The first hug she'd had since Vrill, she realized with a shock.

"Thank you both. This means so, so much to me." She whispered as she squeezed the young teens. Pidge returned the hug with a small hum of satisfaction, while Maliera awkwardly wrapped an arm over Chyra's shoulders and patted her back.

"Of course," Pidge replied, her voice gentle, "we couldn't let you keep fighting without something to keep you safe and let everyone know you're with us."

Chyra felt tears prick at her eye, and she hugged Pidge just a little bit tighter for a tick before releasing, stepping back, and wiping at her eye with the edge of her thumb.

"We wanted to give this to you now," Maliera said then, her eyes glinting with pride, "so that you could wear it to the sendoff."

"Mal figured it might help some of the Olkari who weren't there for the battle feel a bit more at-ease, plus it would be a little more formal than your usual clothes."

Chyra hesitated. "Is the rest of the team alright with this? I don't want to be presumptuous-"

"They're all on board. Allura too, kinda."

"What do you mean by kinda?"

"Well... we said we would be making you some armor, and she agreed to that, but we didn't mention that we were making you Paladin armor. That she might get a little miffed about."

Chyra threw her head back. with a groan. "Pidge! Why would you make me have to deal with that? Allura is already fed up with me-"

"It'll be fine!" interrupted Pidge, "if she gets mad I'll come to the rescue and talk her out of it."

"Promise?" Chyra urged.

"Promise. Now, get dressed, the sendoff starts soon! Your new flight suit is in the capsule too. We'll meet you outside."

. . .

Chyra had no idea armor could be this comfortable.

She was no stranger to wearing it, but all of the armor she had worn during her time serving the Empire hadn't been built to her specifications or body type, since she didn't fit within the standard of how a 'typical' Galran female was shaped. She wasn't as bulky or as tall, so all of her previous armor sets had been just a little too big, and the issue had never been deemed serious enough for her to get a custom set made. Besides, it would have been inappropriate since she was lowborn.

But this armor fit perfectly. The chest plate melded to her chest and the belt fit nicely over her hips, despite the lack of muscle mass there. It wasn't too loose on her calves or too tight on her thighs, and the arm pieces fit perfectly even when she moved around. It was lightweight and somehow breathable despite the undersuit being airtight and suitable for spacewalks, end even Chyra's whiplike tail fit well into the modified flight suit. Chyra carefully tucked her ears into the helmet as she tried it on. It was snug, but they fit well enough if she flattened them against her head before fitting the helmet on.

Chyra caught a look at her reflection in the mirror. Even though she was wearing the armor of Voltron, even though she was still too skinny and too bony and too ragged... that was her.

It looked like her.

It was the first time she had really recognized herself in the mirror since before her imprisonment.

And it wasn't the armor. Not directly, at least. Something else had shifted in her appearance. She was standing just a little taller, no longer hunched over like a timid prisoner. The set of her shoulders was more even and square than it was slumped, her stance was more relaxed, and her eyes, even her blind one, had a newfound look of determination glinting within.

Chyra couldn't help the stupidly huge grin that slid onto her face.

She sent a mental snapshot of herself to Grey, inviting her to look through her eyes at the newest development. A feeling of pride emanated from the wolf's consciousness, and she reciprocated by sending a quick flash of a memory, one of Addiel in stunning silver armor. He looked regal, Chyra pondered, and Grey responded by asserting that Chyra did too, in that wonderful wordless way of the wolf's.

Blushing slightly from the compliment, Chyra pulled her helmet off, rustled her hair back into its place, and stepped out of the armory, meeting up with Pidge and Maliera outside. The Green Paladin bounced on her toes when she saw her handiwork, and said, "Chy, you look..."

At Pidge's lapse, Chyra quirked her head and asked with a hesitant smile, "badass?"

Pidge beamed and sent Chyra one of Lance's signature 'finger guns.' "Now you're catching on."

The pair of young inventors battered Chyra with questions the entire trek to the main hall of the castle, asking about the fit and maneuverability and various other minute aspects of the armor's design that Chyra struggled to keep up with. She didn't understand all of the technical gobbledygook.

They reached the castle's entry hall in a matter of minutes and started to head down the stairs. The room was brightly lit, with shafts of sunlight streaming in from the immense open doors at the front of the room. Beneath the castle were the Olkari, all gathered and cheering as the Paladins started to descend the steps. Chyra heard music start to drift up from the gargantuan crowd below. There must have been thousands of Olkari present to send the Paladins off.

Chyra hesitated; all of the other Paladins, Allura, and Coran were all heading down to the Planet's surface, moving down the stairs through the open door to greet the gigantic crowd of waiting Olkari. What if they didn't approve of her wearing their uniform? She was a Galra, their sworn enemy, and even if the Paladins were alright with it, there was little to no chance Allura would accept Chyra wearing it, no matter the Galra's intentions. Chyra shifted nervously at the top of the stairs, reconsidering her decision to attend the celebration. Pidge noticed her sudden hesitance and turned towards Chyra, her amber eyes softening.

"Hey," the Green Paladin urged, "it's gonna be fine."

Something in her tone made Chyra's confidence revive, if only just enough to help get her down the steps.

She was grateful for her tardiness just then, since she didn't encounter all of the Paladins at the same time. She simply followed the larger group down the steps, Pidge keeping pace with her as she hopped nimbly down the huge staircase, grinning and holding Maliera's three-fingered hand as they joined the rest of the crowd. The Paladins had started to mill about by the time Chyra, Pidge, and Mal reached the bottom of the stairs, and they had started to drift off in different directions. Pidge and Maliera split off at the bottom of the stairs, and Chyra called after them to let her know if they came across Tryval or Sigor.

And then she was alone in the crowd.

. . .

Chyra wanted to file a formal complaint with whatever cosmic entity had suddenly rendered all of her once-adept social skills useless.

Alright, it had probably been the multiple years of imprisonment that had done that, but Chyra found herself frustrated at her apparent inability to talk to anyone nevertheless. She had been milling about the huge crowd for several minutes, and in that time she had been completely incapable of starting up a friendly conversation with anyone. She became suddenly aware of the fact that out of the thousands of Olkari gathered to celebrate their liberation, she knew only five of them by name. Many of the others greeted her in passing with cold looks or hostile glares, their opinions of her rightfully soured by the atrocities committed by the Empire. Despite disliking the hostility of her reception, Chyra knew she couldn't blame the Olkari. The Empire had done monstrous things to these people, and the rest of the universe. They had every right to-

"There's Voltron's Warrior!" A voice snapped Chyra out of her musings, startling her as a hand landed on her right shoulder. She whipped her head around to meet her assailant, only to find a familiar face grinning up at her. She forced herself to relax, mustering up a smile in greeting as she smoothed down the hair at the back of her head.

"Hello, Kivién," Chyra greeted, "how are you?"

"I'm fantastic!" The Commander answered with more enthusiasm than Chyra had expected. She noticed he was holding a wooden mug full of some sort of light green liquid, which may have been responsible for some of his boisterousness. "Here, let me introduce you to some of my fellow officers. They already know all about your battle with the berserker, but they want to hear about it from you in person. Come on!"

Chyra chuckled nervously, but allowed herself to be steered through the throng of Olkari towards a smaller group of about ten gathered towards the edge of the crowd. They were conversing amicably, set slightly apart from the noise of the celebration, and when they saw Chyra coming towards them, she was surprised to see that none of them looked hostile. In fact, a handful perked up at her approach, appearing interested.

"This is the Galra I was telling you about," Kivién introduced as they came to the group, "the one who singlehandedly defeated an entire squadron of drones, and that berserker in the outer ring."

Chyra, suddenly bereft of all ability to speak, waved silently.

"Kivién has been singing your praises for the last few days, he says you fought very well during the city's siege," one of the Olkari, a slender, older-looking female complimented.

"Th-thank you," Chyra replied, then rushed to make it seem like she wasn't full of herself, "but it really wasn't that impressive, I just did what needed to-"

"Oh stop it," Kivién interrupted, "you fought like one of the ancient heroes, and saved the life of Ryner's daughter from an insane warrior, at no small cost to your own safety. I wouldn't call that unimpressive."

Chyra flushed and ducked her head, unsure of how to reply.

"How is the repair to your leg doing anyway?" a new voice sounded off from behind Chyra. She straightened and turned around to see Tryval and Sigor approaching with their arms linked.

"It's doing well!" Chyra replied to Tryval, eager to get the subject of conversation off of her battle skill. "I can't thank the two of you enough for helping me get back to safety, I really don't think I would have lasted much longer without help."

"That wound looked very serious," Sigor remarked, "but I am glad Ryner was able to repair it." She leaned towards Chyra then, smiling with a knowing glint in her multicolored eyes, "and don't sell yourself short. You fought very well."

Conversation resumed a little bit easier after that.

After a little while, Hunk found Chyra and told her that the team was about to depart. Chyra said her goodbyes to the group of Olkari, exchanging handshakes with Tryval, Sigor, and Kivién, and departed with promises to visit with the three of them again the next time the team was on Olkarion. Her spirits lifted by the camaraderie she had built with the Olkari warriors, Chyra felt a little bit of the nervous weight on her chest recede as they headed back towards the Castle in the center of the clearing.

"You look fancy," the Yellow Paladin remarked after Chyra had said her goodbyes to the Olkari, "is that the armor Pidge was working on?"

She nodded in reply as they made their way through the crowd and arrived at the steps to the Castle. "It is, I can't believe she and Maliera made it for me."

"I mean, you do need to stay a little safer if you're going to keep fighting with us, we don't want you to keep getting so torn up. You're gonna make Shiro go grey. Well, grey-er."

Chyra stifled a laugh, "what?"

"He was freaking out when you were unconscious, in that almost-calm way of his. You know how he gets just a little bit snappish and shaky when he's stressed out, but still seems almost calm?"

"Not really," Chyra admitted, "I wasn't really able to see how he was doing while I was trapped in my own head."

"Right, sorry," replied Hunk, slightly embarrassed. The pair reached the steps of the Castle, meeting up there with Allura, who was dressed in her royal gown for the celebrations. Chyra balked when the Princess laid eyes on her, the Altean's multicolored eyes flashing for a moment before she reined in her reaction.

"Hello, Princess," Chyra greeted stiffly.

Allura didn't reply. She just looked scrutinizingly at Chyra, looking her up and down and taking in the sight of her in grey Paladin armor.

"Listen, I-I understand if you don't want me to wear this, it's just- it was a gift from Pidge and Maliera and I-"

Allura interrupted by wordlessly raising her hand. "That armor suits you. Wear it with the pride it is due, and do it honor and justice. That is all I ask."

Chyra blinked in shock, processing the Princess's words for a few moments. Haltingly, she recovered enough to say, "I will." She saluted with a fist crossed to her heart as Allura turned back to the crowd with a neutral expression on her face.

Lance appeared suddenly at her elbow. "That went surprisingly well."

"Stars!" Chyra jumped sideways, her heart pounding. "Lance, why would you do that? On my blind side, too..." Chyra trailed off, muttering.

Lance made a placating gesture with his hands and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I keep forgetting about that."

She and Lance were still chatting when the other Paladins approached and regrouped at the top of the stairs. Chyra smiled in greeting as Keith and Shiro came towards them, standing a little bit straighter as their attention turned to her.

"Woah, hey," Shiro greeted, looking surprised to see Chyra.

"Hello," the Galra replied, suddenly very aware of the crowds below. "Enjoying the celebration?"

"Yeah, great. It's great. You look-wow. I mean- you look- it looks great. The armor. I like it." He shot a thumbs-up sign at Chyra, who only replied with a bewildered expression. She'd never seen Shiro that tongue-tied.

Keith made a face, scrunching up his nose as he looked up at Shiro with a weird expression. The Black Paladin cleared his throat and turned on his heel to face the crowd of Olkari, greeting Ryner and Maliera as they ascended the steps to meet the Paladins. Chyra glanced over at Pidge with a raised eyebrow, wordlessly asking what had just happened.

Chyra thought Pidge's face might crack from smiling so wide.

"What?" Chyra snapped, confused, "what are you smirking about?"

"Nothing," Pidge said, obviously fibbing.

Chyra didn't have time to try and decipher what that meant, as Allura composed herself, taking a deep breath before announcing clearly from the top of the stairs in her accented voice, "if I may have your attention," she waited for the crowd to quiet down and direct their eyes towards her, "I would like to thank all of you, our Olkari allies and friends, for all of your assistance and support to our cause. With your aid, I am positive that our movements against Zarkon will be successful." Her encouragement stirred a cheer from the audience.

Bold words, thought Chyra. She knew that it would take more than a couple of planets beneath a banner to defeat the emperor. But she would let them have this celebration, it had been a hard-won battle.

"However," the princess continued once the crowd quieted, "I'm afraid that we must now take our leave, and continue our fight against the Galra elsewhere."

This continuation received mixed responses, many of the Olkari grumbled and groaned at the prospect of the heroes of Voltron leaving them, while others shouted joyously at the news that they would continue to fight against the empire that oppressed the vast majority of the known universe.

"And so it is with great reluctance and great sadness that we bid you goodbye, but with happiness that we depart from a liberated planet of allies and friends. We wish you all the best, and hope to see you all again soon for one last battle against Zarkon." The Olkari raised their voices in support.

Chyra smiled, savoring the realization that she had done some real good. Maybe she wasn't part of Voltron, and maybe she would never be able to atone for all the terrible things she had done, but at least she could start trying. She could begin now, helping as many people as she could, just as she had here.

Well, preferably with less leg-destroying, but Chyra would take what she could get at this point.

Ryner came to Chyra, her time-worn face softer and more contented than Chyra had seen it before. She smiled, putting her hand on Chyra's shoulder and bowing her head. "May the universe guide your path, and bring you the answers and redemption that you seek," Ryner said. Chyra balked, suddenly remembering that Ryner had seen inside Chyra's head. She had been in her mind, what if she knew who she was, what she had done-

No, if she knew she would have mentioned something to the Paladins, and everything would have come crashing down by now. Chyra's secret must have been safe. It had to be.

"Th-thank you," Chyra replied, bowing her head in response despite being completely unsure of what to do.

Ryner looked up, her multicolored eyes glinting with wisdom. "The Olkari will not forget what you have done for us. I for one am especially grateful. Thank you again for saving Maliera. She wishes to bid you farewell. For now, my friend, I bid you goodbye."

Friend.

Chyra almost cried. As it was, she tried to blink away the stinging in her eye as she clasped Ryner's hand in farewell before the Olakri leader turned to say goodbye to the remaining Paladins.

Maliera stepped up in front of Chyra, beckoning Pidge over to say goodbye as well.

"I cannot hope to thank you enough for what you've done for my home, and what you've done for me. I hope to see the both of you again soon." She turned to face Chyra then, smiling up at her. Chyra recalled how terrified Maliera had looked when she had first set her eyes on her, and had to hold back tears once again after realizing how far she and Maliera had come.

"Chyra, I cannot possibly express my gratitude, but I will try nonetheless. Thank you, for saving me and helping to save my people."

"It was my honor," Chyra smiled and bowed, crossing her fist over her chest in respect.

"Mal, you know how to contact me. Stay in touch and keep us posted on reconstruction efforts, okay?" Pidge wrapped an arm around Mal's shoulders briefly, then held out her fist, to which Maliera grinned and bumped her own trio of knuckles.

"I can't thank you enough for the armor, for giving me a chance, for everything. Take care of yourself, Mal," Chyra said.

"I will," promised Maliera, "try not to do anything too reckless. Remember to think about your wellbeing, too," the inventor advised, seeming suddenly wise beyond her years. Chyra nodded and turned away from her newfound friend, retreating a few steps towards the castle doors with Pidge at her side.

The team waved goodbye to the Olkari one last time as the doors sealed shut. Then the castle door descended, and the rumble in the floor told them that the staircase was retracting into the side of the castle, where it was stowed during flight. The jubilant cries of the Olkari were abruptly silenced, and the euphoria that had held Chyra in such a tight grip slipped away, leaving a dull ache in its stead. Chyra deflated. She hadn't realized how tired she was.

Turns out she wasn't the only one that was tired, as the happy masks gradually off of the Paladin's faces as the ship began its liftoff sequence. Pidge's shoulders drooped and she leaned on Lance, who was almost bent double. Keith leaned against the wall next to Hunk, and even Shiro seemed to deflate somewhat, although much less noticeably than everyone else. Only Allura still stood erect and poised as ever, but Chyra could tell from personal experience that even the princess was losing her momentum. They all needed to rest.

"Man, who would have thought that socializing would be so exhausting?" Lance grumbled.

"Welcome to my world," Pidge responded.

"This entire mission has been one of the most draining experiences of my life," Hunk agreed.

"No kidding," Chyra remarked quietly, feeling the fatigue of overexertion dragging at her limbs.

"Alright team, now I know we're all tired," Shiro began, "but let's get this castle moving towards our next target, then we can all get some much needed rest." The others nodded in agreement, propping themselves up and moving towards the hallway that led to the bridge.

The next step of the journey was officially underway.

.  .  . 

6129 words 

Chapter Text

Space travel without teleportation technology was agonizingly slow.

Chyra hadn't realized how helpful and essential the teladuv had been until it was broken, and the team had been floating out in space for two movements. The lenses in the teladuv had been working in overdrive for too long, and had started to take damage from the overuse, so the castle had to travel by means of regular, tedious movement. They were on their way to a location that Coran swore would have the discontinued Skaultrite lens stones that they needed for the repairs, but there wasn't even much to break the monotony aside from training, making repairs to Grey, and stargazing as the constellations changed around them.

Chyra spent most of her free time either in the library or on the bridge when it was empty, watching the stars as the castle wove between the cosmos. It was strangely peaceful, being surrounded by the void and the stars. It made Chyra feel a little more content and a little less alone. Not that she was exceptionally lonely all the time, Chyra had actually noticed herself slowly becoming more outgoing towards the Paladins. They reminded her inescapably of her family, mostly in the way they interacted with one another. She couldn't help but draw comparisons, and every time she noticed a similarity it sent a stab of pain driving into her chest.

That's why, even despite how much she liked the Paladins, she often sought solace in solitude. Seeing the great cosmic scene laid out before her like a hyper-realistic hologram was soothing, Chyra liked to count stars and planets and asteroids and any other cosmic object she saw during the artificial night cycle of the ship. The perpetual night outside was still and dark, and everything about the openness of space calmed Chyra. It helped to think that in the grand scheme of things, her issues were only a tiny nuisance, barely a bother to any other being in the entire universe. It made her problems seem smaller somehow, less important, less life-threatening.

And it was always peaceful. Chyra didn't usually like silence, but when she was in the control room watching the stars, it didn't feel stifling. It just felt... comforting. And it almost wasn't a true silence. It wasn't like the intense quiet of the library or her bedchambers. Up there, among the stars, Chyra could almost hear the universe moving and changing. It was a strange sensation that she had never felt before, but it somehow felt right, like she was in-tune with everything around her. It brought her a sense of peace, and Grey encouraged her to go up to the bridge whenever she woke up in a panic.

She woke up panicked often, because yes, her nightmares were still severe.

They came about almost every night, no matter how tired she was from training, forcing their way into her mind. Her nights were spent lying awake, suppressing the memories that plagued her every moment, the ones that soaked her pillow with tears and made her chest constrict, the ones that sent her staggering onto her knees and clutching at her head, the ones that made her cry out in the night from fear and longing and loss, choking out the names of the family she had let down. She couldn't escape the nightmares on her own.

What Chyra saw in the night was always varied, containing everything from watching her family die before her eyes, to being trapped in the arena while a never-ending mob of living corpses assaulted her from all sides, to frantically sprinting through a Galra prison ship, pursued by twisted, monstrous versions of herself that led a horde of Galra scouts and sentries straight to her. Sometimes she would relive the experiments to druids performed on her, writhing and thrashing and gasping on the bed until her struggling made her fall off of the bed and snapped her out of the nightmare she was trapped in.

It was on one of these nights that Chyra awoke with a start, breathing heavily and sweating from her vision. She thrashed for a few moments more before realizing that she wasn't strapped to an exam table, and was in fact safe in her bed in the castle of lions. She sighed, started detangling her legs from the mess of blankets, and checked her clock to see that only an hour had passed since she had fallen asleep. Chyra groaned and flopped back onto the pillow, willing her mind to be still for just a few hours so she could sleep. She closed her eyes, only to see Quinn's face, gaunt and bloodied and accusing, his appearance startlingly similar to Chyra's when she first arrived at the castle of lions. 'It's your fault that I'm gone.' He mocked, 'it's your fault that we're all gone. We died for you, and you didn't deserve it.'

Chyra laid her hands over her eyes, pressing over her eyelids with the heels of her hands until stars crept across her vision and blocked out Quinn's accusatory glare. Her chest constricted, and she shook her head, taking a shuddering breath to try and steady herself. Grey pressed comfortingly against her mind, replacing the mental image of Quinn with that of the stars. Chyra nodded, resigned, and exited the room, shivering when her bare arms met the chilly air of the hallway.

Shrugging off the cold, she started off at a jog, heading down the now-familiar path of winding hallways and elevators that would take her to the bridge. She crept silently into the darkened hallway, the only source of light was the dimmed blue lamps that ran off of the ship's main power crystal, which in turn was powered by Allura's Altean energies. The lighting was minimal, but it was just light enough for Chyra to navigate the hallways that she had started to become familiar with. Tonight wasn't as bad of a night as many others, but Chyra knew she wouldn't be able to sleep no matter how hard she tried, so she wanted to take a walk.

The stillness was unsettling; she quickened her pace.

Chyra crept down the hallway, past the Paladins' bedrooms and towards the bridge. She climbed a few staircases, passed the training room, and navigated past the kitchens and up a flight of steps to the bridge. She pressed her hand to the keypad, expecting to enter a perfectly quiet room.

Only tonight, Chyra wasn't the only one who had sought solace amongst the stars.

The holomap was activated, a lanky figure standing with his back to Chyra as he stood surrounded by unfamiliar constellations and planets. Lance whirled around at the sound of the doors opening, eyes wide and expression shocked. "What the- holy crow!" He stuttered, clutching at his chest like he was having a heart attack. "Chyra?" Two more heads popped up from behind their seats, one fluffy and fawn-colored, the other dark and shaggy.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Chyra held up her hands, looking to placate the trio of Paladins.

"I wasn't scared." Lance shot back defensively. They lapsed into a period of awkward silence, a few moments where nobody moved or spoke, and tension hung heavy between them. Pidge and Hunk stood up and moved to join Lance at the central platform, all looking extremely awkward.

"It's really late, guys," Chyra began tentatively, "what are you doing up?"

"We're just..." Hunk started to answer but trailed off, looking up at the three-dimensional map around him with a pensive expression. "Just thinking. Calming down maybe- I don't really know." He shrugged noncomittally and looked down at his feet, shifting his weight awkwardly.

"Me too," Chyra muttered. Lance looked back at her, a look of understanding in his expression. Chyra, suddenly unsure of how to respond, looked at the holomap, taking in the unfamiliar constellations and solar systems that surrounded the Paladins.

"Are you three doing some exploring, or..." Chyra looked to Lance's right, where a small, green and blue planet hovered, rotating slowly. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing!" Lance rushed, waving his arm and sending the star map spinning wildly. "I mean, we were just looking around, finding some cool new planets to visit after the war is over, and all. Because, y'know, we're gonna be universally famous and all that."

"Right," Chyra said skeptically and put her hand out, stopping the map's frantic spinning. She scanned the area, looking for the little blue planet, but it had been sent reeling away and out of sight. "What was that one you were looking at? Some high-class luxury planet to vacation on? It looked a little like Canto-Bight with the water."

"What, that little one?" Pidge snorted, "Nah it was nothing, some primitive-"

"Are you sure it wasn't Earth you were looking at?" Chyra cocked an eyebrow and tilted her head, very much onto the Paladins' cover story.

Lance deflated. "Fine," he conceded, maneuvering the holomap back to its original position. "We were just... visiting home."

Chyra's ears perked and she stepped further into the room, taking in the sight of the planets surrounding Earth. She liked the one with the rings.

"Is this your home solar system?"

"Yeah, that one you're looking at is Saturn," Hunk replied.

"Is it... gaseous?" Chyra mused, poking her finger through it to test its hardness as though it weren't a hologram that she ould phase through whether the planet was gaseous or not.

"Yup, gas giant." Pidge

Chyra's ears pinned back as she registered the atmosphere in the room. The Paladins were subdued, rather stiff, and judging by their short, clipped responses, Chyra had accidentally intruded on something. She started to back out of the room.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was interrupting something important. I can go find a different spot to-"

"Hey, no," Lance interrupted, "it's okay, you can hang out here if you want."

Chyra paused hesitantly, but moved forward again, her gaze settling on the blue and green planet near Lance's pilot seat.

"...So this is Earth, then?" She tilted her head with curiosity, her ears perking and pupils dilating with interest. When the Paladins didn't respond, Chyra circled around it, investigating the landmasses and oceans that covered the planet's surface. "It's smaller than I imagined."

Lance laughed, but it was halfhearted and lacked any real joy. "Yeah, well..." he didn't finish the statement.

Chyra was going to go mad if this tension didn't ease up soon. It was one of the most awkward atmospheres she had ever encountered, and unspoken words hung heavy in the still night air. She knew that if she said a wrong word, made the wrong impression, this moment could drive a wedge between her and the Paladins. But she persisted, wanting to know why the three youngest Paladins were all gathered here, looking back on their home with this heavy, pervasive sadness ringing between them.

"And you said it was the only planet in your system that sustains life?"

"Yeah," Hunk replied, "I can't believe that just a few months ago we thought we were the only people out there."

Silence reigned again, and Chyra couldn't stand it.

"Tell me about Earth," she said suddenly, straightening from her hunched position and looking Lance dead in the eyes. "Please," she added, more quietly, glancing then to Pidge and Hunk. The light reflected off of Pidge's glasses, obscuring her expression, but Hunk looked to the holomap and Chyra thought she could see tears shining in his eyes.

"There's really not much to say, it's our home," Pidge replied quietly, looking down. "We try not to revisit it too often but..."

"I wanted to see it. Just for a little while." Lance continued the thought, zooming out from the map and jerking Earth farther away. Chyra stepped back, disoriented by the spinning of the galaxies around her. "But if you need some space up here we can just-"

"Lance," Chyra interrupted gently. She took a step towards him and put a hand on his shoulder, looking down at him with what she hoped was a comforting expression. She leaned down a bit to make sure she didn't seem imposing.

"Please, can you tell me about Earth?"

Lance blinked, glancing to the side for reassurance from Hunk or Pidge, but the other Paladins said nothing. He looked down then, avoiding Chyra's mismatched gaze. "Why do you wanna know?"

Shit, Chyra thought, she had made him uncomfortable now. "I want to know about your homeworld. Not in like an 'I want to conquer it' way," she rushed in addition, "but because I'm curious about where you came from. I understand if you don't want to share, but if you want to talk about it I would be glad to listen."

The walls came down. Lance sighed, shrugging Chyra's hand off of his shoulder as he brought Earth back into view. Chyra shut her eyes against the motion this time, earning her a curious look from Lance when she opened her eyes again.

Chyra grimaced with embarrassment. "Moving the map around that much makes me dizzy, I think it's from the uneven depth perception." She waved her hand around in her blindspot as if to punctuate the point.

"Sorry," Lance said before turning back to Earth with a far-away look in his eye. "I don't even really know how to start..."

"What's this?" Chyra pointed to a landmass at random, the end of a large continent in the northern hemisphere.

Pidge let a little smile grace her face. "That would be Europe."

"And where was that one place you mentioned Lance?" Chyra looked down, trying to remember what Lance had said when she had first spoken to the Paladins, "what was it... Gremny?"

The Blue Paladin snorted, smiling for the first time that night. "You mean Germany?"

"That was it!" Chyra smiled, snapping her fingers and pointing at Lance. "Where is that?"

Lance snickered and pointed on the map, just to the right of where Chyra had prodded. "Just here, a little East," he replied.

Hunk and Pidge joined in, and they made a sort of game out of it. Chyra would point to a spot on the map, and the Paladins would tell to the best of their knowledge what the place was. Sometimes they would throw in little factoids, telling something that they knew about some of the locations. Chyra was especially intrigued by the mention of Greek Mythology, which Pidge promised to tell her more about later. They went on like this for a while and never ran out of places to list; it turns out Hunk was really good with geography. Eventually, Chyra pointed to a little island off the coast of what Pidge had labeled Florida.

"What about this one?"

"Mi país nativo!" Lance exclaimed with a grin. Chyra blinked and tilted her head in confusion, her ears swiveling at the unfamiliar words. She had never learned that in her language lessons.

At her look of confusion, Lance elaborated. "That's Cuba, where I was born. My family moved away when I was five, but we visited family there pretty often. It's great."

Lance got a faraway look in his eyes as he sank into memory. His sun-freckled face split in a smile, and his whole countenance lit up. Chyra softened, this was a genuine smile, not one that he had put up hastily to cover a darker emotion.

"Hunk," Lance suddenly looked up and grinned wide at his friend, "when we get home, I'm gonna take you to Veradera beach and we can surf. We can bring everybody, and maybe we'll get to see Keith wipe out on a big wave. And we can all eat garlic knots and hang out on the beach and relax for a while. You guys are gonna love my brothers and sisters."

Hunk smiled, but his eyes were sad, like he wasn't convinced the day would come. "I'd like that."

"What's surfing?" Chyra asked, her ears perking with interest. Lance launched into an explanation, a long, excited, train of thought kind of explanation that Chyra found extremely difficult to follow. She gathered there was something to do with a board that floated, and apparently you stood in the water? She wasn't really following. Still, she let Lance talk excitedly at her without interruption. It was doing its part to cheer him up, and a quick glance at the others indicated that their spirits had been raised as well, if only slightly.

"-and the water!" Lance exclaimed, running a hand through his brown hair excitedly, "man, it's so crystalline and blue, you can see straight down for forever. And when the sun sets and it hits the water just right, and the sky lights up all gold and purple... man, I wish you guys could see it." The excited light faded from Lance's sea-blue eyes just then as reality started to sink back in. He seemed to realize then that he wasn't on the beach, he was in a spaceship, thousands of lightyears away from his homeworld. He looked again at the map, forlorn once again. He tried to summon up a smile, but it didn't reach all the way, and he gave up almost immediately.

"I wish I could go back home."

The words hung heavy, and Chyra turned to face Hunk, who had uttered them. His big brown eyes were glossy with tears, and he looked at the hologram of Earth as though if he wished hard enough, he could bring the real planet closer to him. Pidge took a step over and put a hand on his shoulder, her shoulders starting to shake.

"Me too," she said almost inaudibly.

Chyra didn't need to ask why they couldn't return to Earth. Aside from their responsibility as Paladins to protect and liberate the universe, they couldn't go back, even for a short visit. As it was, Earth was on one of the fringes of the Empire, and within a few deca-phoebs would be at risk of being overtaken due to the constant expansion of Zarkon's territory. And with them being the biggest threat to the Empire in thousands of years, if the Paladins were to return to Earth for even a short time, it was possible that Zarkon could track them there and hold their home planet ransom, or worse. They couldn't bring the threat of the Empire bearing down on their planet, not when it was as unprepared for interstellar conflict as Shiro had said it was. It would be too much of a risk. They couldn't send any signals to contact Earth either, as the planet's technology wasn't strong enough to receive signals from deep space, and the communication could be traced to reveal the castle's location as well as Earth's relation to the Paladins. As it was, the Galra either didn't know or didn't care about Earth, as they hadn't made any move on it. No matter the situation, contacting Earth was too dangerous. It was clear that the Paladins wouldn't be able to go home until the war was over, if ever.

Chyra looked down at her quartet of metal toes, feeling like an invader in the space. She shouldn't be here, this was a gathering between close friends, a time where they reminisced and mourned their separation from their homes and loved ones. Chyra was an outsider, an alien, and with nothing of the sort to call her own, she felt a sudden and immense pressure to leave the room, but didn't in fear of disrupting the delicate atmosphere. So she stared at the ground, wishing she could sink into it instead of continuing to invade the Paladins' space.

"We're gonna get back."

Chyra's drooping ears perked and she looked up again, seeing an expression of newfound determination on Hunk's face. He looked past the holographic planet to his fellow Paladins, his brow set and a glint of ferocity in his teary brown eyes. His resolve was infectious, even though Chyra could tell he was still afraid beneath it all. "We're gonna win this war, we're gonna beat the bad guys and go home. We'll see our families, and eat our favorite foods again. Pidge, we'll find your dad and Matt, and we're gonna bring them home with us."

Pidge smiled warmly, dabbing at her eyes beneath her glasses, but Lance scoffed humorlessly, his expression listless as he looked at the floor. His voice was strained and shaky as he whispered, "they don't even know if we're alive-"

"Lance," Hunk said, sitting up straighter and commanding his friend's attention. Lance looked up with glossy eyes.

"We will."

Chyra was mortified. Here they were, having an emotional moment. And Chyra was just sitting there. She stared at her clawed hands and she clenched them in her lap, trying to ignore Lance's sniffling and the sound of the Paladins moving together in a hug. Lance was crying. They were having a moment and Chyra was just sitting there and listening like an absolute freak- how was she supposed to handle this situation?

On instinct, Chyra shot to her feet and started to move in order to escape the situation. She was just going to walk out and leave the Paladins alone to their grief, she just was going to leave. What she didn't plan on, however, was the gigantic CLANG that resounded through the room as she stood up too quickly, lost her balance, and promptly banged her metal knee directly into the control panel in front of her.

Chyra's eyes went huge and she went completely still, the sound of her leg thrumming from the impact still carrying through the still air. She smacked a hand over her thigh to try and stop the reverberation.

"Stars damn it all," she whispered, besieged. Her ears burned with embarrassment, and she could feel the Paladins staring at her.

Someone snorted.

Chyra balked and looked up at the Paladins, who met her mortified, wide-eyed look of embarrassment with grinning faces and barely concealed laughs.

"I am so sorry-"

Lance started laughing. It was a little shaky and tenuous at first, but it evolved into real, genuine laughter. "Are-are you okay? That sounded like it hurt!"

Chyra stammered incoherently for a second before recovering enough to answer. "Yeah, I can't feel anything like that but I... I don't need to be here. I'll go if you don't want me here, I didn't mean to intrude or-"

"How about this?" Lance asked, wiping his eyes. "What are your plans for after the war?"

Chyra paused a beat, blinking in surprise. "Me?" she asked, "my plans?"

"Yeah," Lance prompted, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"I don't really..." she trailed off. Chyra had never really thought of it. She didn't look to the future anymore. Ever since she was captured, since she lost her family and woke up as the lone survivor of their escape attempt, the future didn't seem like a possibility at all really. She had never expected to wake up after hitting that water, and she still really didn't expect to see the end of this war. It had been going on so long, she had been pushing so hard past her own limit for such a long time now, she could barely believe she had made it this far. It would be a miracle if she managed to stay alive much longer. "... I don't have a plan. I guess we'll just have to find out when we get to it."

"That's a nice way to look at it," Pidge mused, "I like it. Keeping your options open."

"Right," Chyra agreed, half convincing herself that she had meant it that way to begin with.

The Paladins lingered only a few more minutes, then Hunk and Pidge declared that they were heading off to bed. Lance declined their offer to head back with them, and sat down in front of Shiro's control console, saying that he wanted to stay on the bridge for just a little while longer. Chyra agreed with him, hoping that she could have the room to herself for a little while. She sat down near Lance, her eyes glued to the cosmos around her as the holomap flickered off. She smiled as silence reigned, and the peaceful atmosphere resumed.

Eventually, Lance once again broke the stillness and silence. "You know, I like it up here. It's peaceful."

"It sure is," Chyra agreed, smiling softly at the stars around her.

"Man, I remember looking up at the stars from the roof of my house with my brother Luis. I was always so... captivated by them, and I promised myself that I'd do anything to get here."

"And here you are, among the stars," Chyra replied, smiling. But Lance didn't look happy. He was instead staring out at the lights that shone through the depths of space with a hapless expression on his face.

"Yeah, I am. And I thought that this was exactly what I had always wanted. I worked so hard to get into the Garrison. I had my sister Veronica help me study and train to get accepted to their flight programs. And when we found Blue, I thought this is my chance. I'm going to see the stars. I did whatever it took to get up here, including hijacking an alien spaceship." He laughed breathily, then looked down again, pausing.

"But now... now that I'm here, away from my family and my home, now that I'm seeing it, and it's all up-close and real..." he trailed off, blinking and swallowing hard as his voice abandoned him.

Chyra leaned forwards into his field of vision, a sympathetic expression on her scarred face. Her tail curled around her and she pulled her metal legs into a cross-legged position, trying to keep herself from looking intimidating. She asked softly, "it's not as freeing as you thought it would be?"

Lance met her gaze with a surprised look, but quickly processed the question and answered. "Yeah." He looked back to the stars, his eyes once again watery. "Now that I don't have the option to, all I want to do is go home."

Chyra nodded in understanding. She knew all too well about missed opportunities and wishing for just one more chance. Just one chance to hug a loved one, to say something kind to someone she was about to lose. I was all she had wanted since the second she woke up in the castle. She just wanted to say goodbye, to tell them that she loved them.

To apologize.

Chyra hadn't taken her chance to speak back then. But maybe she could now. So even though she didn't know what to say, even though she spoke haltingly and without confidence in her words, she spoke. And she let her sorrows guide her voice.

"I-if it's any consolation, I know how you feel. Kind of. I mean, I never had a place to call home, really. The Galran homeworld, Daibazaal, was destroyed ten thousand years ago. But I sort of know how you feel, that homesick feeling you're talking about. If it counts..."

Lance gave her an encouraging look and prompted her to continue, so Chyra replied, "...can you be homesick for people? I mean, I only really ever felt at home with the others, my family, that is. They weren't even really my family, we weren't related, and we were all of different classes and blood statuses. But when I was with them I felt... it was just... and I never got to say goodbye-" she stopped, choked up and at a loss for words. Then, with great effort, she managed to force out from behind the lump in her throat, "I miss them."

Lance was staring at her now, and Chyra looked away with embarrassment as her eye fogged up and her vision swam with tears. Her chest hurt again, and she had to force herself to breathe normally with the pressure that was squeezing all the air out of her lungs.

"Chy, I'm really sorry about what happened. Nobody should have to go through what you did."

"I'm on a tangent," Chyra replied shortly, sniffing and wiping at her eye, "my bad. The point I'm trying to make is that I know how you feel. I know how it feels to miss someone so much it hurts every day. I would give anything- do anything to see them again. Family, people you love, it hurts to miss them and be apart from them. But you," Chyra gave a watery smile, "you have a chance to see your family again, after the war. And I know you'll see them again."

"Right," Lance said softly, unconvinced. Determined, Chyra put a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to face her.

"I mean it. I know you're going to go back to Earth and see them again. I just... I have a feeling."

Lance smiled, his eyes welling with tears. Suddenly he pulled Chyra forward, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Chyra tensed before realizing she wasn't being attacked or held down. Her chest convulsed and she tried to pass it off as a laugh.

"Okay, we can- we can hug if you want to, that's fine." She said, hesitantly reciprocating the gesture.

"Shut up, you need a hug just as much as I do," Lance replied, but it came out a little muffled because his cheek was smushed against Chyra's shoulder.

"Alright," Chyra said, relaxing and squeezing Lance just a little tighter.

She decided right then and there that hugs were a very good thing. She had never been a touchy-feely person in the least, but two years of a total lack of physical displays of affection had made her crave contact, and she hadn't realized that she needed a hug until this very moment. Hugs were the perfect cure, they were soft and warm and comforting for both sides, and they came with a feeling of safety and love that Chyra might just have a chance to get used to assuming these strange embraces continued.

And what was even better was that for once, she didn't feel like an outsider. Even though she didn't share any common history or home or story with the Paladins, she wasn't an outcast anymore. She wasn't part of Voltron itself, but she still had ties to the team by virtue of loss, homesickness, and her drive to see an end to this seemingly endless war that had plagued the galaxies for so many eons. She wasn't from Earth, and she would never be a human, but at this moment, she felt connected to the Paladins more closely than she had before, even when Pidge had been in her head, among her memories.

And she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could get used to this feeling after all.

Chapter Text

Chyra took a breath, fighting against her growing nerves and Grey's own impatience. She shifted her weight back and forth, her tail lashing furiously and her heart beating hard against her ribs.

Are you absolutely sure you're ready for this? Chyra asked in her mind, prompting an immediate affirmation from Grey. The wolf was ready, and she wanted Chyra to get over her trepidation and get going already.

"You look like you're about to pass out," Keith remarked dryly from Chyra's left, a skeptical look on his face. "You sure you can handle this?"

"Yes!" Chyra retorted way too quickly. If anything, her hasty answer only served to increase Keith's suspicions. Scolding herself, Chyra looked down at the Red Paladin sheepishly.

"Sorry, it's just been so long." Chyra tried to remedy the situation. But that really wasn't all that was causing her nerves.

Images flickered around in the back of her head: asteroid fields and laser blasts and rubble floating aimlessly in space filled her mind's eye despite her best efforts to staunch them. She shook herself free of thoughts of the past. She didn't have time to dwell on that now. She didn't need to think about her less-than-perfect record of flying with Grey, or the outcomes of her two previous flights, or how she always seemed to invite disaster upon herself and others whenever she flew-

Stop it, she scolded herself. This time will be different. It has to be.

Grey reinforced Chyra's positive affirmations with a soothing feeling, although she couldn't disguise her growing impatience and eagerness to get moving.

"Okay," Shiro joined in, approaching from the hangar doors in that smooth-moving way of his. His long strides carried him over to where Chyra and Keith were standing near Grey and the hangar's exit. "You've got clearance from Allura, albeit reluctant clearance." He looked at Chyra ruefully as he said this, his dark eyebrows quirked. "You ready?"

Chyra looked up at Grey, who was standing tall and eager, her bladed metal tail swishing back and forth in anticipation that fed off of and amplified Chyra's own excitement. A smile curled Chyra's scarred lips.

"Yes," she said, suddenly ecstatic, "I think I am."

Shiro beamed, which made the scar across the bridge of his nose crinkle just a little bit. "Then let's fly."

Chyra couldn't help the thrill of anticipation that ran up her metal-plated spine as she entered Grey's cockpit again.

There was something about it; the scent, the soft violet lighting, the wraparound windows, the smooth metal plating, and the soft glow of the control disks that was immensely soothing. Chyra felt her chest get lighter as she entered through the elevator, as though her proximity to Grey was easing her anxieties and taking some of the weight off of her shoulders. Chyra took a deep breath and walked further into the cockpit, letting Grey's mind press excitedly against her own. She hesitated before stepping onto the raised dais in the center of the chamber, her memories flashing across her mind. The last time she had stood here, she had lost everything.

Grey's mind brushed Chyra's own, soothing her with steady reassurances that transcended words.

Chyra stepped onto the podium, and was surrounded in violet light.

Her eyes slid closed, and her clawed hands moved on instinct to rest on top of the control disks on either side of her. Chyra felt her mind expand, joining completely with Grey's consciousness. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

It was weird to have a full range of vision.

She blinked a few times to try and orient herself, using Grey's eyes as her own to look around the hangar. As Grey shifted her weight in preparation for launch, Chyra felt it in her own limbs. Every moment of Grey's me3chanical muscles Chyra could feel as an extension of her own body, and She sank into her connection with the wolf, feeling her mind meld into Grey's. Chyra looked out the open doors at the depths of space laid out before her. The stars were bright.

A rush of exhilaration made Chyra's chest swell with excitement.

Grey was running before Chyra could think. Her powerful legs sent her launching forward, and when she leapt out of the bay doors, Chyra felt the weightlessness of space and the cold of the void around her. She whooped in elation, and Grey's thrusters ignited, sending them shooting off into space. A laugh bubbled out of Chyra's chest, and Grey replied with a rush of emotion, one that sent Chyra reeling as she grew even more ecstatic.

Chyra became suddenly aware of a static crackling coming from her comm lines. She momentarily disconnected from Grey's vision to flick on her communication links and open up the incoming channel.

A flurry of voices greeted her. Most prominent was Allura's concerned voice asking, "what in the name of the Ancients is she doing out there?"

"We're right behind her, Allura," Keith was answering, "we'll keep eyes on her."

"Sorry," Chyra called, "I got carried away. I'll circle back to the castle." She placed her hands back on the control disks, letting Grey's vision take over her own limited sight. They banked sharply to the left, turning back to the castle. The Red Lion was hovering just behind Grey, its yellow eyes flashing intently as it hung tight to her trail.

Moving towards the pair at a slower pace was the Black Lion, and Chyra heard Shiro scold her over the radio links. "Chyra, stay close. We need to keep eyes on you."

"Right, sorry." Chyra couldn't even muster up the energy to be angry about being micromanaged like this, she was just so ecstatic to be flying again. Grey circled back, drawing even with the Red Lion and pulling up to meet the hulking form of the Black Lion as it departed from the castle. Even with her senses connected to Grey, Chyra marveled for a moment at the sheer size of Shiro's lion. There was something imposing about its size, something automatiallly intimidating, but that sensation was quickly disarmed by the non-hostile emotions that flowed from him. The Black Lion was no longer hostile towards Chyra since she had flown with Shiro, but there was in that moment an air of trepidation about him. The keen yellow eyes had that sheen of intelligence, of alertness that made Chyra think that not only were the Paladins keeping tabs on her while she flew, but the lions as well.

"Just stay close by, if your ship loses power we need to be able to tow you in," Shiro admonished gently. Chyra made a noncommittal noise, letting the team leader know that she wasn't going to believe his cover story. They wanted to be able to catch her in case she made a break for it; she hadn't gained the team's trust just yet.

But she was out here, flying and free enough to feel the hum of the universe around her, for once unobstructed by the castle's thick walls. She was flying with Grey again, out among the stars where she could just... be. Be free, be herself, what the appeal was she wasn't entirely sure. All she knew was that this feeling of lightness, of absolute ecstasy, was unfamiliar by now. The last time she had felt this invincible, she had lost everything.

A memory flashed across her mind, bringing her soaring spirits crashing back down to reality. She had lost everything. And maybe she couldn't let herself feel like this, it only ever seemed to bring about suffering and loss. Maye she wasn't meant to feel this way. Maybe that privilege was reserved for good people, people who hadn't killed and connived and done all the horrible things Chyra had. Maybe she didn't deserve to be happy, to feel like she wasn't being suffocated beneath the weight of her wrongdoings. Maybe she didn't deserve this. Maybe she never would.

Two things happened at once.

Grey, with a passionate growl, shoved her way into the forefront of Chyra's mind and thoughts. Her resolve shoved down the pressing sensation of Chyra's darkened musings, carving a path of brightness through them. In the wonderfay wordless way of hers, Grey made Chyra feel better by sending her intangible things. Not memories or visions, but snippets of emotions, comforting feelings that Chyra couldn't quite place or assign memories to. But Grey made Chyra feel so valued, so loved and cherished, she couldn't help but allow her spirits to be lifted by the affection of her bonded partner. Grey embraced her mind, surrounding her in a flood of emotions that cleansed the negativity from Chyra's psyche. This moment wasn't for mourning, although that still had to be done. This moment was for joy, for freedom, for feeling like nothing could stop Chyra and her partner for anything. They were going to be okay, and Grey wanted Chyra to feel that so intently in that moment that the ex-assassin's chest felt lighter, like the rush of caring emotion from Grey was tangible enough to make all of the horrible worries and memories and trauma fall away, even if it was just for a little while.

And Shiro said her name. "Chyra? You okay?" The genuine care in his voice jarred Chyra from her thoughts, bringing her back to reality. She saw the Black and Red Lions turning to face her, she had fallen behing them while she was trapped in her own head. But when Shiro called her name Chyra was back, shaking her head free of her dark thoughts and letting her wolf's positivity flow in to take their place. Chyra straightened, looking through Grey's eyes at the lions before her. There was something glinting in the Black Lion's eyes, something that was hard to decipher because of his emotionless mask. Chyra recovered, letting Grey's confidence in her bring a smile to her face.

"Yes, I am." She breathed, looking up to the stars with Grey's eyes. They seemed to shine brighter just then, filling Chyra's vision with their soft, radiant light. "I really am."

"...cool," Keith remarked, clearly uncomfortable with the level of emotion Chyra was giving off. The Galra shook her head, coming gradually back to reality. She smiled, turning Grey to face the Red Lion.

"Say, Keith," she said, a hint of mischief seeping into her voice, "you said your lion was the fastest, right?"

"Yeah."

"What do you want to bet that Grey and I can beat you in a race?"

Keith paused, seemingly surprised at Chyra's challenge. But then he recovered, and Chyra could practically feel his grin from across the void.

"I like my odds."

"Well then, how about we take a lap around the castle, see if you have the speed to back up all your tough talk?"

"You're on!" Red moved over towards Chyra and Grey, the propulsion jets on his limbs flaring with bright blue light. The lion growled in challenge, and Grey returned with a competitive snarl. A determined and competitive feeling bloomed through Chyra's bond with Grey, one that said we'd better not lose this or else the cat will never let me live it down.

"Shiro, can you call the winner? You can serve as the finish line," Chyra asked, looking to the Black Lion. The Paladin laughed, but agreed, backing up to give the smaller ships more space.

Shiro counted down from three. Grey readied herself, her mechanical muscles bunching in preparation for acceleration. Chyra widened her stance, her hands gripping the control disks tighter as she stood steady, ready to brace against the leap forward she was about to take.

Three.

Two.

One.

The stars blurred.

Grey surged forward, leaving a trail of violet light in her wake as she accelerated in an instant. She turned tight around one of the castle's spire, and Chyra saw out of the corner of her eye the Red Lion twist sharply in the sky to cut behind her. The Galra laughed with exhilaration, beaming as Grey threw her head back and howled into the void, whipping around a corner and dodging one of the castle's huge spires.

"Oh no you don't!" Keith shouted, putting on a burst of speed and starting to slip forward to pass Grey.

Chyra felt a swell of competitiveness and leaned forward, urging Grey to accelerate and regain the lead that they had lost. Grey growled and increased the output on her thrusters, fueled by Chyra's resolve and determination to win.

The wolf and lion passed the control room neck and neck, both jostling for a position in front of the other. Then they turned a corner, and the Red Lion pulled ahead just slightly, using its tail to balance out and make the turn just a hair sharper than Grey made it. The wolf snarled as Shiro and Black came back into view and Keith was holding his slight lead. Chyra bared her teeth, pushing Grey forward.

A surge of energy passed between Chyra and Grey, and suddenly the stars turned to streaks across the sides of Chyra's vision. It was like when the Galra ships would enter hyperspace, and their surroundings would fall away and everything would go white for a second until they emerged from hyperspace at their destination.

Grey slipped past the Red Lion, and passed the Black Lion just ahead of the smaller feline. Grey felt triumphant, her exuberance contagious as Chyra hollered with excitement.

"YES! That was amazing!" The Galra cheered, throwing her hands up as Grey slowed, turning to face the Lions as they pulled up next to her.

"You sure can fly," Keith said.

"You're not too shabby yourself, Red." Chyra replied, smiling softly at the young Paladin.

"That," Shiro said, pulling his lion up even with Chyra and Keith, "was very impressive."

Chyra flushed with embarrassment at the compliment. "Thanks."

She felt newly content, surrounded by her wolf and the stars and people she could trust. She felt like she had broken her curse, that flying with Grey no longer meant loss or sorrow or death. It meant freedom. It meant exhilaration and lifted spirits and true peace, even in the throes of speed and adrenaline. For that moment, everything seemed to be right.

Until a shadow loomed on the horizon. 

Chapter Text

Chyra's reverie faded the instant that penumbra cloaked her in shadow.

The massive form reared out of hyperspace with a flash of purple light, looming above the quartet of Altean ships with a surge of energy that left Chyra trembling beneath it. The massive, jagged spired gleamed threateningly, and swarms of drones suddenly flocked out of the ports in the sides of the ship, whirling around Grey and the Lions like insects.

The Empire had found them.

And they had brought the entire armada.

A lot happened at once. Shiro was shouting, the Lions were moving, and Grey was trying to get back to the castle before the drones reached her.

But Chyra couldn't move.

She was enraptured in the worse way possible, her memories filling her mind and sending bolts of panic shooting through her chest as she started to tremble. The tension was palpable and suffocating, filling the atmosphere with the sharp tang of fear and stress. Chyra stood, frozen, staring openmouthed at the Central Command ship she had been imprisoned on for so long. She couldn't form a coherent thought or force her limbs to move, she couldn't even force herself to breathe properly. She just froze, standing in Grey's cockpit with petrified eyes and trembling limbs, her clawed fingers digging into her scarred biceps hard enough to draw pinpricks of blood from her shaking arms.

Her vision darkened and tunneled, narrowing to focus on nothing but the ship, her sight overtaken by the spires and support beams, and that awful, ghastly purple that sent her heart rate spiking. The nightmares that had been plaguing her for so long were suddenly entirely too real, and entirely too much. She staggered back, breaths pulsing in and out of her tight chest in rapid and frenzied huffs. All she could hear was her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Not the commands of the princess, not the frenzied voices of her friends, nothing. Chyra had disconnected from the world, trapped in her shock and terror as the Empire grew closer and closer.

And then something hit her.

Chyra staggered from the impact, and Grey was sent spinning slightly into the stars before stabilizing and whirling to face the source of the impact. She realized it was the Red Lion, and Chyra's hearing suddenly returned.

"What are you doing? Snap out of it, Chyra, we need to get inside to wormhole, now!" Keith shouted. Chyra heard everyone else's voices chattering over the comms, chaos reigning over the castle's small crew.

"I'm coming!" With a shake of her head, the ex-assassin urged Grey forward, leaping towards the castle and heading towards the spire that housed the Green Lion's hangar. They slipped through the doors, and the voices over the radio became suddenly clearer.

"Zarkon!" Allura snarled, the anger clear in her voice, "how did he find us?"

"His generals must have radioed him from Olkarion!" Keith replied.

"We need to wormhole, now!" Shiro said. Chyra could hear running footsteps coming from his comm link, he must have been heading to the bridge as fast as he could. "Everyone to your stations, we've got to put some distance between us and Zarkon!"

Chyra moved out of Grey's cockpit, reassuring the wolf as much as she could. She hurried out the hangar doors in the direction of the control room, her mechanical legs powering her through the hallways. She needed to help in whatever way she could, despite her fear of the battle to come.

The ship shuddered suddenly, taking heavy fire from the fighter drones sent out by Zarkon's fleet. Chyra lost her balance from the shaking, but regained her footing and redoubled her efforts to reach the control room. She wasn't sure what she needed to do, but she had to help somehow.

She got to the doors just as Shiro was running in, with Keith hot on his heels. He turned the corner at a dead sprint, careening into the control room and reaching his pilot station in record time. Chyra ran in behind him and moved to the front of the room, near Coran's station. The older Altean nodded at Chyra as she arrived, sending a holoscreen her way so she could regulate the boosters and stabilizers in the castle while he reinforced the particle barrier.

"Allura," Shiro called as he pulled up his controls, "can you evade these fighters? We can't have them following us through the wormhole!"

"I can try," the Princess replied, her accented voice ringing with determination. The castle banked sharply, trying to duck out of the path of Zarkon's fighter drone fleet. The automated drones remained hot on their tail despite Allura's skillful maneuvering.

Shiro, Lance, and Keith sent out and piloted a trio of defense drones, shooting down the automated Galra drones indiscriminately to try and get them off the castle's tail. Pidge called out the locations of the fighters at Shiro's request, but it was no use. They hung tight, prickling the particle barrier with purple blasts of weaponized light.

"Shields are at seventy two percent," Hunk called out, "when are we getting out of here?"

"They're still too close," Coran replied, "we need to gain more speed!"

Allura widened her stance on her control podium, a look of concentration overtaking her face. "I've got an idea. Hold on!" The castle turned sharply, making everyone strain to remain seated. Chyra staggered and grabbed a hold of the control console, and Pidge was almost thrown from her seat from the force and speed of the turn. Allura redirected the castle towards the nearest planet's largerst moon, heading straight for it.

"Allura, what are you doing?" Pidge asked, scrambling back into her pilot's chair.

"I'm going to use this moon's gravity to gain speed and put sone distance between us and Zarkon!"

The gravitational pull of the moon yanked against the castle, causing it to shudder from the effort of resisting the pull. Chyra struggled to steady herself. then added power to the main engines, making the output of the jets greater than usual.

As they rounded the side of the moon's surface, gaining speed despite the intense gravitational pull, Coran called out, strained, "we're clear to wormhole!"

The pillar of light surrounding Allura brightened, and Chyra felt the crackle of energy in the hangar as a light blue wormhole opened up in front of the ship. The swiring vortex within looked intimidating, but Allura drove the castle straight through it, entering the void within the portal. It was close, but the wormhole closed just before the fighters made it in.

But something was still wrong. Bright blue electricity crackled around the castle within the wormhole, flashing brightly across the sleek metal of the ship. The engines shuddered, and the whole ship started to list to the side. Chyra was pretty sure none of those things were supposed to be happening. She braced herself and asked, "what's wrong with the wormhole?"

"We seem to be having a malfunction!" Coran answered, "The Teladuv's lenses are off, we're about to exit this wormhole a lot sooner than we planned!"

The castle gave one last shudder befoer exiting the wormhole. They emerged into a field of large ice crystals, a wide belt of huge pieces of space debris that glittered in the light of the nearest stars. The wormhole closed behind them, and Chyra breathed a visible sigh of relief, slumping forward at her controls as the tension started to leach out of her shoulders.

"Woah, where are we?" Lance asked, "it looks like some sort of iceburg graveyard."

"Not, sure," Allura answered tiredly, "Coran, what's the status?"

"We didn't make it to our exit point, but we're several galaxies away from Zarkon's fleet. We should be safe for now, but I'm worried about the wormhole generator." Coran stepped sideways and turned to the princess, wiping his brow. Maybe it was the aftermath of Chyra's adrenaline rush, but the Galra thought Coran looked... shinier than usual.

"I'll go down to the main turbine and see what's going on." Coran left the room, slipping a bit on his way out.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the realization that they had escaped sunk in.

"Alright," Shiro turned to the rest of the team, "since Zarkon has no idea where we are, this is the perfect time to focus on our next step."

Chyra's ears swiveled and she resisted the urge to snicker as she heard Hunk mutter discontentedly, "Oh yeah, good job, team. Time to relax now."

"Maybe we could find that secret group, the Blade of Marmora." He looked over to where the Green Paladin was sitting, looking dazed. "Pidge, where are the coordinates that Ulaz gave us?"

Pidge groaned as she snapped out of her daze. "Wait, hang on." She dragged herself into an upright position, typing halfheartedly at her screen. Clearly the kid was exhausted, and Chyra guessed it was because of her renewed efforts to find her brother after the events of Olkarion. Pidge had probably been pulling all-nighters the last couple of days, which Chyra had been told were very bad for humans and their weird natural sleep schedules.

"I'm so tired my brain's not working. I've gotta find the file, gimme a sec..." Pidge trailed off, squinting at her dashboard as a notification from Coran popped up on the castle's main holoscreen.

"Hello, all-WOAH!" The mechanic slid suddenly out of frame, his sweaty face disappearing for a moment befoer he scrambled back upwards.

"Woah, are you okay?" Lance asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. I've checked all the engines-"

"That was fast," Pidge remarked.

"Well I slid right down to the engine room. Lots of slick spots in the hallways today, we'll have to have the cleaning bots go through again and mop everything- YIKES!" Coran slid on the floor again, and Chyra winced as a squelchy kind of thud echoed over the system.

"You're sweating, Coran, you may have a case of the slipperies." Allura remarked, smiling ruefully.

"What?!" Coran snapped back. He gesticulated wildly, lost his balance, and barely managed to regain his footing before he continued. "No! No, that's an old person virus, and I'm not old. I'm young!" Coran argued, holding up his hand, which by now was sopping wet with a shiny looking liquid. He quickly tucked his hand behind his back, looking sheepish. "Well, young-ish."

"What are the slipperies?" Keith asked, his eyebrow quirked and a grossed-out look on his face.

"It's a common Altean virus that occurs... later in life." The Princess tilted her head, smiling wider now at her advisor's uncomfortable expression. "It's not harmful in any way, and usually only lasts a couple of days, but it causes one's body to secrete an extremely slick fluid."

Everyone made expressions and sounds of disgust, leaning away from Coran's holographic iage despite themselves. "That's... kinda gross," Chyra noted. Pidge looked like she was going to be sick.

"Yes, it is gross. So it's a good thing I don't have it!" Coran objected.

Allura tried to placate the older Altean. "It's nothing to be embarassed about."

"Im not embarrassed, because I don't have it! Now, as I was saying-" Coran slid sideways and had to catch himself again, but recovered quickly. "The good news is that the Galra fighters did minimal damage. I flushed the turbine and it's fine. The bad news is, the teladuv is in bad shape. Several of the scaultrite lens-stones of the magnifying beam generator are cracked." Coran launched into an elaborate explanation then, of which Chyra didn't quite catch the details. She got the main idea though: if the lenses were cracked, they wouldn't be able to wormhole away if the Empire found them again. Fortunately, Coran siad he could realign some of the lenses to alter the beam trajectory. With enough power diverted to the teladuv turbine, they would be able to make small quantum jumps until replacement lenses could be found.

"Anyway, it's going to take at least a quintant." Coran estimated, wiping a bunch of slippery grossness off of his face.

"Alright," Shiro conceded. We'll get some rest, and hide the ship while Coran comes up with a work-around. Tomorrow we'll be sharper and refocused." The team split up as Allura moved the castle into a little bunch of ice crystals, cloaking the ship in the frozen debris.

Chyra headed to Grey's hangar to check for potential damage from their earlier flight. Her wolf reassured her that she was fine, and expressed her condolences that their flight was sho short-lived. Chyra reassured Grey that if she had any say in the matter, the two of them would by flying out soon to bring some real hell to the Galra Empire.

Grey liked the sound of that very much.

Placated by her wolf's intact state, Chyra ventured to the kitchen. She knew it was fairly late into the Paladins' sleep cycle, but she had caught a couple hours of sleep earlier, so she would be able to manage for a while yet. It was difficult to sync up her cat naps with the Paladins' set schedule, especially since Chyra's insomnia kept her from sleeping when she wanted to and made her lose energy quicker than she used to, but she had been managing alright as she became more accustomed to the ship's routines.

Because of the late hour, she hadn't expected to see anyone in the kitchen, but she came across Hunk making food and Pidge hanging about. She talked to them for a moment while she filled up a bowl of leftovers from the Olkari feasts they had attended, accepting Pidge's request of lessons in basic Altean and declining Hunk's offer of something called a 'cookie.'

Chyra had asked Hunk after he nearly broke his teeth on one of his baked goods, "Are they supposed to look and feel like pieces of glass?"

"No, but-"

"I'll pass, thank you."

Chyra brought her heaping bowl of Olkari delicacies to the common room, where she had left her book earlier. She entered expecint git to be empty, but instead saw Shiro sitting on the couch, typing away at a holopad that hovered over his lap.

"I thought everyone was supposed to be resting," Chyra remarked awkwardly, beginning to sidle out of the room. When Shiro only looked up at her and didn't reply, she grimaced. "I know I'm probably not supposed to eat in here, I'll just go."

"I don't think there's a rule against it, you can eat here if you want," Shiro said nonchalantly, looking back down at his work.

"Ookay," Chyra relented, moving to the spot on the couch where she had absentmindedly abandoned her book.

She flipped mindlessly through the pages for a few minutes, trying to focus on the words she was reading, but she kept getting distracted. Shiro was still wokring diligently, but everynow and again he would hum thoughtfully, or make a noise of frustration, or tap his metal fingers against the side of the couch a little too loudly. For some reason the slight noises were making it hard to concentrate on what Chyra was trying to read.

The next time Shiro audibly scowled with frustration, Chyra straightened, put down her fork, and tilted her head questioningly at the Black Paladin. "What are you working on?"

Shiro was staring at the device's screen, his dark brows furrowed in concentration. At Chyra's question though he looked up, seeming surprised. "Sorry, what?"

"What are you working on?" Chyra asked again, trying not to seem like she was interrogating him. Shiro glanced sideways, then answered.

"This is a dataset that I've been working on for a while now, I'm trying to gather info and make a map of some of the weakpoints in the Empire."

"So you're looking for possible targets to hit?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

They lapsed into silence for a moment, neither one of the sure of how to proceed. It was inherently awkward, Chyra supposed, since she was from the Empire that they were now trying to dismantle. While she obviously had no remaining loyalty to the regime, she guessed that maybe Shiro thought it would be uncomfortable to talk about.

"Want me to help?" Chyra asked suddenly. There she went again, her voice getting ahead of her brain. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

Shiro did a double take, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Can you?"

Chyra pondered it for a second, considering if she actually had the ability to fulfill her offer. "I mean, I went on a lot of reconnaissance and intelligence-gathering missions back when I was part of the Empire." That wasn't a lie, actually. Chyra had done a lot of scouting during her years in service to Zarkon, she just conveniently left out the fact that most of the intel-gathering was in preparation for assassinations, not perusing planets to gather data.

"Most of the places I looked into were on the fringes of the Empire, since the strategists needed intel to have a good chance of taking over the planet."

Shiro made a face, but quickly covered it up with an indifferent mask. Chyra shrunk back from embarassment. While she had been in the Empire, she hadn't much questioned her job or the methods the Galra employed to take over planets. She knew that some of the things they had done were morally reprehensible, but it had all been under the guise of 'bringing order to the universe,' and she had been conditioned to be loyal and unwaveringly supportive of the Empire, so she hadn't questioned it much. Now that she had seen what horrors the Empire was capable of, she felt immense guilt for every mission she had successfully carried out. So if she could help at all, even a little bit, by assisting Shiro in the making of this data set, she was going to. She had to start atoning for what she had done.

"That is to say, I mean- well, what I'm saying is that most of the planets I'm most knowledgable about are likely to be newly-conquered, so the Empire's grasp on them might be tenuous. And I worked for a while in resource management, so I have a rough idea of how different bases and strongholds are constructed based on their surroundings. Like, for example," Chyra paused, digging through her memoreis briefly, "if a planet is mostly aquatic, but their most intelligent forms of life exist on or close to land, the Galra will build rigs in the ocean so the planet's inhabitants can't easily infiltrate the offshore bases. There are exceptions to this system, of course, and every planet is different, but generally base design relies on what materials are readily availible, what kind of terrain the planet has, and how advanced the native inhabitants are."

"So you could help find weak spots in the base designs depending on the conditions of each planet?" Shiro asked, now intrigued.

"Yes, and estimate which kind of structures, installations, and reinforcements would be availible in some certain systems."

"Huh," Shiro looked down at his holopad, considering for a few moments. Then he looked up, a thoughtful look on his face. "Chyra, what exactly did you do in the Empire?"

Chyra tried not to let her nerves show. She had expected to be asked a question like this eventually, and had already prepared and practiced an answer to it. Still, that didn't stop jher voice from wavering as she responded. "I did a little bit of everything. I was a- what did Lance call it? A... jack something?"

"A jack of all trades?" Shiro offered.

"That was it!" Chyra pointed at him with a smile, grateful that he had caught her meaning. "I worked in a lot of different fields during my training, but ended up specializing in recon and ground combat."

"How did you get so knowledgable about things like navigation and base design, though?" Shiro prodded, looking curious. Chyra scanned his expression, analyzing how suspicious he was. She thought for a moment that maybe he was trying to get her to break, to slip up and reveal her secret (although she was pretty sure there was no way he could have known it), but he seemed genuine. Maybe he was just curious, and had no ulterior motives.

Still, she proceeded with some caution. "Most of the navigation and flight training is compulsory during Basic, but most of the other things I blabber on about are the result of me getting briefly but extremely interested in one specific topic and focusing solely on that for a number of phoebs before moving onto the next interest." That was another truth, one that Chyra was a little embarassed to talk about. She flushed, but continued, "That's how I know so much about things like base design and obscure cultures from remote planets and ancient Galra myths and religions and things."

"Woah," Shiro said, looking a little impressed. They lapsed once again into quiet, losing the flow of conversation. Chyra shifted her weight, tapping her hands on her legs awkwardly.

"So," she began hesitantly, "did you want help on that map?"

"Right!" Shiro regained his train of thought, "here," the Black Paladin said, fumbling for a moment. He stood up, walked over, and handed the holopad over Chyra, then sat down a comfortable distance away from her on the couch, sticking to Chyra's left, where she could see him. Althought she didn't say anything on it, Chyra was grateful Shiro was aware of which side she felt comfortable with him on, since she got uneasy if someone lingered in her blind spot.

Chyra took the holopad and started to scroll through the data, opening up the map and reading the information Shiro had gathered. All in all, it was very well researched, Chyra could tell that from the variety and amount of data contained within the file. Mostly it was a map, but there were smaller file sets attached to many of the planets, which, if selected, would display statistics, data, and potential strategies for infiltrating the Galra installations on the planets. There were potential plans of attack that were extremely in-depth, and analyses and blueprints of structures, terrain, and rebel activity of the individual planets in entire systems.

"Shiro, this is... really impressive."

The Black Paladin looked askance, a hesitant smile growing on his face. "It's really not all that great, I've just been digging through some old Altean records and cross-referencing them with the intel we've gotten by Pidge hacking some Galra databases."

"Don't downplay your effort, this is some extensive research. How long did you say you were working on this?"

Shiro tilted his head, thinking for a moment before replying, "about four months now."

"And in normal person time measurements that would be..." Chyra prompted.

"Roughly two and a half phoebs."

"No way," Chyra sat back in disbelief. "You've logged all this data in that little time?"

"I mean, I really just work on it between missions and when I have trouble sleeping."

"Well, you've done extremely well with this, I'm very impressed." Chyra said with a grin. Shiro ducked his head and uttered a thanks, to which Chyra replied, "let's see if we can give the Empire a little more trouble with some insider information. Where do you want to start?"

. . .

The pair of ex-gladiators spent the next couple of hours strategizing, using Chyra's knowledge of the Empire's inner workings to augment Shiro's already extensive research. They had worked out several tentative plans of attack for some recently-occupied systems, as well as some remote scouting bases and supply outposts. They were working well together, Chyra realized, and they often came up with similar strategies to overtake the Empire's forces. Chyra did have a tendency to get off on tangents, but Shiro did a good job of keeping her more or less on task, despite seeming genuinely interested in the subjects of Chyra's frequent topic offshoots.

Chyra pointed out a small planet on the fringe of a system with an active rebellion. "See, this planet has constantly shifting tectonic plates, and an acidic base underneath. Which, you know, is shockingly common among planets that have orbits that pass through nebulous clouds. We're not sure exactly why that is, but it's an intereting continuity in the galaxy that really should be looked into-"

"Chyra, planet please." Shiro redirected politely, looking back at her over his shoulder.

"Right, sorry. Anyway, because of the permanently shifting surface, the Empire wouldn't waste the resources to build a terrestrial base, it would be too risky. So this planet, Fenvorel, would have between two and seven orbital stations to monitor the planet. This one is kinda large, but there aren't many inhabitants or resources of value to the Empire on the planet, so it probably wouldn't be very well-guarded."

"Uh huh," Shiro affirmed, typing his notes into the holopad rapidly.

"Fenvorel is most likely just used as more of a checkpoint, to make sure no one is entering the system without authorization. It'd be used as a defensive position to keep the rebels from getting reinforcements from that flank of the system."

"Right, which means it would be lightly-manned," Shiro continued, excitement growing in his voice.

"And if we gain control of the orbital stations without Central Command finding out..."

"We could use Fenvorel as a waypoint to get rebel reinforcements into the sector!" Shiro realized with a smile. "That one deserves a high five." He held up his left hand as an offer, and Chyra accepted with a smile, tapping her palm against his gently. Shiro looked back down at the holopad, and added the potential plan to the file he had open on the small planet.

Chyra swished her tail contentedly, looking down at the holopad from the top of the rec room's couch, where she sat cross-legged on the floor behind Shiro. She had relocated up there so they could both see the device at the same time, and they wouldn't have to pass it back and forth. It was a helpful system, althought Chyra had to invade Shiro's personal space rather often to point out new features on the map. The Black Paladin had insisted multiple times that it was okay, but Chyra was still a little bit nervous about potentially making him uncomfortable.

Shiro's typing stopped suddenly, and he groaned lightly with exasperation. "Oh come on," he muttered, hunching ever so slightly as his prosthetic tapped fruitlessly against the screen.

"What's wrong?"

The Black Paladin looked over his shoulder at Chyra, who moved down onto the cushion of the couch so he didn't have to crane his neck to look at her. "Sometimes it doesn't pick up my prosthetic, since it doesn't have the texture or heat of skin," Shiro answered

"Really? The fingers and palm look malleable enough," Chyra remarked, leaning over to look closer at the metal prosthetic.

Shiro made a noncommital noise and held his metal hand up, shrugging his black-clad shoulders. Without thinking, Chyra reached over and gently brought his metal hand closer to her, looking intently at the material it was made of. The silver metal was unyielding, but that stopped at the wrist. Instead of the dark grey, gleaming metal, Shiro's palm was made of a more malleable black material, like that of the synthetic, flexible, carbon-based material that comprised Chyra's knees, ankles, and the soles of her feet. Chyra turned his hand over briefly, inspecting the joints of his fingers. They were made of the malleable material as well, with the joints of his knuckles protected by thicker pieces of grey metal. His thumb was completely metal aside from the second joint, and it was stiffer and less flexible than the others. Turning his hand back over to bring the palm on top, Chyra felt the texture of the palm. It wasn't cold, but it lacked the warmth and siftness of skin. It wasn't surprising that the holopads didn't easily pick up on it, althought Chyra thought of that as a serious design flaw.

"This is actually a very high-quality prosthetic," Chyra remarked, still studying Shiro's hand. The Paladin didn't respond, so Chyra continued, pressing her thumb into the palm of his hand lightly. "I know the more armored parts are porbably too thick to have feeling in, but on the malleable parts, it seems like it would be a little more sensitive. Can you feel anything other than intense temperature or pressure? Because on mine I can't feel anything on the metal areas unless its extremely hot or cold, or I get hit or stabbed by something. On the carbon-fiber joints on my knees and ankles, and on the bottoms of my feet, there's a little bit more feeling, but it's still really dulled. Is your hand the same way?"

"Now you sound like Ryner," Shiro said. Chyra chuckled a little bit in response.

"And uh, yes, I can feel that." Embarassment was evident in his tone of voice, and that prompted Chyra to straighten and look at him. When she saw the trace of redness on his cheeks she stopped drawing her claws over his palm, her ears flicking backwards in apprehension as her gold eyes widened.

"Sorry!" She apologized hastily, releasing his prosthetic hand immediately. She had overstepped and made him uncomfrtable, she was sure.

"That's okay," Shiro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away for a moment.

"A-at least it's not all bad, you still have some sensory abilities in your hand," Chyra tried to find a silver lining, even thought she knew better than anyone how awful it was to have a limb replaced with technology from the Empire, althought she had, in a way, earned it through her betrayal. Shiro had been captured despite doing nothing wrong, so it was probably harder on him emotionally to have lost his arm to the Empire.

"That's true," the Paladin answered back hastily, jumping onto the topic of conversation hurriedly. "Keith and I were actually talking about it a while back, and he pointed out that if I ever wanted to commit a crime back on Earth, I could totally get away with it because, you know, no fingerprints. Although of course I'm not the type to do anything too unlawful."

Chyra tilted her head, her ragged right ear flopping over slightly. "Fingerprints?"

For some reason, Shiro looked away again, and the redness in his face wasn't yet fading. "Yeah, the little swirls on the pads of your fingers? They're different for every human, so they can sometimes be used to identify people." He held out his organic hand this time, pointing to the pad of his pointer finger. Chyra squinted, and did actually see faint, odd little swirls on the pads of his pale fingers.

"Weird," the Galra remarked, sitting up straight and looking back down at Shiro. "We don't have those, actually."

"What? Let me see," Shiro prompted, gesturing for Chyra to let him see her hand. She hesitantly offered it to him, and he squinted down at her fingertips, peering at them intently.

So... this was much more embarassing than Chyra had thought it would be. Shiro was looking scrutinizingly at her clawed fingers, moving her hand around to get it in better light. Chyra felt her own face grow a little warm, and her ears heated up to accompany it.

"Huh, that's weird. You have little horizontal lines instead of swirls."

"Y-yeah," Chyra agreed. At the sound of the tremor in her voice, Shiro released ehr hand and sat up immediately. He smiled at her then, his brown eyes soft.

"It's the little things, huh?" He asked, flashing that rare, slightly crooked smile of his.

"I suppose so," Chyra answered, curling her fingers and holding it to her chest, the warmth of Shiro's hand still lingering.

They took a few more moments to regain their concentration, and Shiro opened the map back up, using his left hand to open a new file. "So, this planet is alled Glyturne, and-"

Alarms blared through the castle.

Chyra shot to her feet, startled by the sudden onslaught of sound. Shiro leapt upwards, too, his stance defensive and eyes alert.

Allura's frantic voice rang over the intercom, "Paladins! They're back! The Empire has found us!"

Chyra and Shiro met eyes, and with a sudden sensation of mutual understanding, took off at a dead sprint through the rec room doors. 

Chapter Text

The pair of ex-gladiators made it to the bridge in record time, arriving prepped and ready to fight despite being tired from sprinting through the expanses of the castle. The viewports of the control room were almost completely obscured by the swarms of Galra fighter drones that whirled around the castle, firing volley after volley of laser blasts at the particle barrier.

"We're several galaxies away, how could they find us so soon?" Allura shouted as Shiro and Chyra careened into the room, moving to their stations and booting up their systems.

The ship shuddered from an especially strong shot, and Chyra turned to face the Princess from where she stood at Coran's usual station, her eyes wide.

By the stars, what if it was her?

What if they were tracking Chyra, following some sort of signal she gave off? Her hand moved to cover her right arm, and she traced over the scar from when she had sliced her own arm open. She had removed that tracker chip during the escape, so they couldn't be using that, but what if there was some other factor? Some other device implanted somewhere among all the metal in her body that led the Empire straight to her? Maybe when the rogue Galra soldier on Olkarion had spotted her and run off, he had told one of the higher-ups that Chyra was alive? It was possible they had gotten Haggar to track her...

Chyra's heart twisted and clenched in her chest. What if she was putting the team in danger?

"Coran, are you there?" Allura sent a signal to the Teladuv Turbine room, where Coran was still sliding wildly around, just as shiny and unbalanced as he had been earlier.

"I'm here!" He shouted, slipping into view from the left side of the screen.

"Zarkon is back, what's our status?" Allura asked, growing increasingly concerned as the fighters continued to bombard the particle barrier.

"Wormholing will be a problem, the lenses haven't been readjusted yet. I don't even know if the Teladuv will generate enough power!"

"Do everything you can!" Allura declared, her silver brows furrowed with worry.

Lance and Keith ran into the room just then, and Chyra did a double-take. They were in... swimwear, maybe? What had they been doing while she and Shiro were researching?

"They found us again?"  Lance asked, skidding into his pilot seat as Keith practically dove into his. "How is that possible, is that possible? That doesn't seem possible!" Pidge and Hunk followed closely at the other Paladins' heels, jumping to their stations quickly as well.

"We can deal with the how later, for now, we just have to get out of here," Shiro reassured the younger Paladins. Gone was the quiet, contemplative voice Chyra had heard in the rec room, instead, Shiro's tone was authoritative and stern. It was strange to see the switch flip in his demeanor when the situation became dire.

"Or we could stay and fight," Keith suggested, aggression seeping into his tone. "Now is our chance to form Voltron, enough running!"

"It's too dangerous!" Allura shot back, her eyes alight.

"If we go up against the entire armada on our own, we'll be crushed! They'll take us down in doboshes!" Chyra agreed with the Princess, agitation making her ears pin back and her tail thrash with anxiety.

"They're right," Shiro added, "remember what happened at Zarkon's central command. We wouldn't have escaped if the Blade of Marmora hadn't shut down the shield."

Coran's image popped back up on the central screen. He slid into view and shouted "the turbine is up! Still working on the worm-ACK!" He fell again, sliding across the floor on his belly just within the frame. "Uh, guys? I think I'm realizing now that I do, in fact, have a case of the slipperies."

Everyone made moderately disgusted faces at the mention of the Altean disease. Chyra had almost forgotten about the rampant grossness that was happening belowdecks while she had been talking with Shiro, but the reminder of it was unwelcome. She didn't really want her potential last thought to be of Coran's sweat glands.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier, Pidge. I may need your help after all."

"I'm coming down," the Green Paladin said resolutely, running out of the room and heading to the lower decks.

"Let's clear a path," ordered Shiro. His defense drone shot off from the castle, closely followed by Lance's and Keith's. "Chyra, you keep tabs on the shielding systems in Coran's absence. Let us know when we're clear to move out of here."

"Affirmative," Chyra replied sharply, slipping into her old ways in the throes of adrenaline.

The castle moved forward, breaking through the ice it had been hiding behind and surging out into the fleet of Galra ships. Lance, Keith, and Shiro kept hot on the defenses, shooting down fighters with their small but powerful defense drones.

Suddenly the controls in front of the Paladins flickered, and the drones went completely offline.

"What's happening? I've lost control of my defense drone!" Lance exclaimed.

"I've got you covered," Keith answered just before his system shut down too. "Uh, I don't got you. There must be a system failure."

"That was us!" Interjected Pidge, "we're diverting power from non-essential systems to get the wormhole generator working."

"Shooting down bad guys is pretty essential!" Lance stood up and waved his arms in objection.

"We've lost secondary controls," Hunk said worriedly, "thermal regulators offline!"

The shield surrounding the castle flickered out of existence, leaving the entire ship open to attack.

"And there goes the particle barrier," Chyra added, starting to resign herself to death at this point.

Then, from deep within the castle came the telltale whir of the wormhole generator activating.

"Okay, try it!" Coran called. "We should be able to make one very small jump... I hope."

Chyra didn't say anything, but she did too. Desperately, fervently, she hoped they would make it out of there. She held her breath as Allura started to concentrate, waiting for the inevitable purple blast that would end them, but hoping intensely that it wouldn't come anyway.

Instead, a blue light appeared in front of them.

Chyra released her pent-up breath as the castle darted forward as fast as it could, slipping into the wormhole just before it closed. It seemed like they were only inside the wormhole for a few moments this time before they were emerging into a wide expanse of open space. Just before them stood a swirling vortex of yellow and brown dust, one that was immensely large and whipping around violently in a sort of cosmic storm that made Chyra apprehensive just looking at it.

The control room was filled with stunned and exhausted silence, and Allura slowly lowered herself to the ground on her control podium, looking shaky and a bit clammy.

"Are you alright, Princess?" Chyra asked, turning to face the Altean fully.

"I'm fine," Allura answered quietly, "it's just a lot of energy to operate the Teladuv this much at once." Her voice was shaky but determined, and she fixed Chyra with a resolute expression as she reassured the rest of the team that she was alright.

"Zarkon keeps finding us," Shiro muttered, but his voice carried through the entire room, garnering everyone's attention. "It's like... like he knows exactly how to track us down. Maybe he planted some kind of tracking device."

Allura brought herself to her feet and pulled up a holoscreen, running a quick diagnostic before disputing Shiro's theory. "Well, it is nothing on the ship. The castle would have detected any tracking devices planted on the castle's surface. A signal broadcasting from inside of it, on the other hand..." The Princess trailed off, and Chyra felt her multicolored eyes boring into her metal-plated back like lasers.

Chyra steeled herself, looking the Altean in the eye from across the room. "Princess, I swear to you, I am not sending signals to the Empire. I would never alert them of the castle's location, I have no loyalty to them anymore!"

"We lost contact with you while you were flying in your wolf, and then minutes later, Zarkon's entire fleet shows up! It's too convenient to be coincidence." Allura spat, her posture tense and expression twisted. Chyra took a step back, looking to the other Paladins for reassurance. The only thing she got in response was unsure looks and sideways glances.

"No, please, you have to believe me, I don't even think they know I'm alive!" Chyra tried to appeal to them, but the Paladins' trust in her had been shaken. Chyra's breaths shortened. She felt her chest get tight and her eyes start to sting. She forced herself to take larger breaths despite her lungs protesting. No, she couldn't cry. Stop, a voice in her head scolded, you look weak. You look guilty. They weren't going to believe her, she would be kicked out. They would probably keep Grey and she would never see her again and Chyra's one chance to be genuinely good would be gone-

"Look, I know we're all stressed out and worried, but we can't start turning on each other. If we lose trust in one another, then we've already lost the battle itself." Shiro cut in, sparing Chyra from having to answer and expose her oncoming anxiety attack.

"Shiro, you can't possibly be defending Chyra when she's so clearly the one giving away our location!" Allura snapped back, aghast.

"Until we figure out exactly how Zarkon is keeping tabs on us, we have to assume that he could show up at any minute. We need to stay alert and on top of things." Shiro said, making steady eye contact with the Princess. Allura looked away first, albeit reluctantly and with an audible scowl. Chyra turned back to her screen, leaning heavily on her arms and trying to disguise the trembling she couldn't quite seem to stop.

Shiro pulled up the image of Coran and Pidge in the turbine, and asked, "Coran, what's our status? Any good news?"

The scene on the comms was so comical Chyra's frayed nerves almost caused her to burst out laughing, but she managed to conceal her mirth despite how hilarious (and a little bit gross) Coran looked skating across the floor on a trail of his own slime.

"There is a bit of good news, actually. I'm finally gettiong used to these slipperies! My mucus glands are working at an incredible rate!"

Shiro deadpanned, his facial expression speaking of acute exasperation and the effort it was taking not to explode from having to manage it. "Any good news about the teladuv?"

Coran stopped skating. "I'm afraid not," he said, sobering up, "the last jump overloaded the lens stones. Now, even more of them are broken. I'm going to try some readjustments to change the beam trajectory, but until then wormholing will be impossible."

"Hey, there's a giant metallic storm in front of us," Pidge piped in, pulling up a scan in front of her. "I think we can hide in the eye of the storm. It should give off enough interference that we can't be tracked."

"It's worth a shot," Shiro conceded, and Allura wordlessly directed the ship into the center of the vortex. The stars surrounding them slowly disappeared and were replaced by a swirling storm of dust and debris. Chyra found it extremely claustrophobic.

"Brilliant, Pidge," Allura said, "we're essentially invisible to any radar, radio waves, universal scans, or any other known technology."

Chyra didn't even get to breathe before the alarms were blaring again. The tiny sliver of starlight that was visible through the top of the storm was suddenly darkened, and the only means of escape from the storm was then blocked by a gigantic mass of purple and grey. Central Command, Chyra realized, was trapping them inside the storm.

"No!" Allura breathed, distraught.

Pidge's face popped up once again onscreen. "Okay, I don't know how he found us, but it definitely won't with normal instruments!"

"I have a theory," Allura said, looking disdainfully towards Chyra where she stood at Coran's usual post. The Galra bristled, she could once again sense the Princess' scathing gaze before she even turned to see it. She turned, barely concealing her fear and anger.

"How would I have even contacted them this time if I were the culprit?! Princes, I swear on the ancients that I'm not the one doing this!"

"Lies!" Allura interrupted angrily, "Ever since you've arrived, Zarkon has been able to track us with remarkable ease! You're the only common factor, you must be the reason he's finding us so quickly!"

"I'm not, I swear!" Chyra rose from her seat, her expression pleading and frantic. She couldn't let this happen, she had to convince them that she wasn't to blame for Zarkon tracking the castle.

"It doesn't matter right now!" Shiro interrupted, also standing. "What matters is we need to escape. We're in this together, and we'll get out together!" Chyra sent Shiro a grateful look, even though his attention was fixed firmly on the storm outside.

"How? We're trapped!" Hunk asked.

Shiro turned to face the rest of the team, a resolute expression on his face. "We need to form Voltron and go through the storm."

Lance shot to his feet. "The storm? What are you, nuts?"

Hunk babbled out a nearly incomprehensible objection, waving his arms as he stammered out a request for clarification. "Why would we do that?"

"It's risky, I know," Shiro conceded, "but it's our only chance. We have to go through the storm, then lure Zarkon's ship away, giving Allura some time to get into open space."

"Then what?" The Princess asked.

"Then we wormhole away. Coran, remember how you said getting this castle to wormhole would be impossible? Well, I need you to do the impossible. Do anything you can, give it everything you've got. We're counting on you. Allura, stay alert, and take the first open spot you have to get out of here. The rest of the team, get to your lions. It's time to fly."

The Paladins moved to rush out of the room, and Chyra hesitated before following.

"Where do you think you're going?" Allura snapped, making Chyra look back over her left shoulder.

"I'm getting out there to fight," Chyra responded resolutely, not breaking stride.

"Absolutely-"

"Let me prove my loyalty to you, Princess." Chyra interrupted, keeping eye contact with Allura as the doors started to close behing her. "I won't let you down, I promise."

Chyra skidded into the armory and dressed in her armor at a speed she hadn't thought herself previously capable of, then rushed to Grey's hangar. The wolf greeted her with an air of nervousness, and an unspoken question.

Was Chyra really sure about this?

If she flew out those hangar doors, the lie that she had been living would be over. The Empire would know she was alive, if they somehow didn't already, and the little game of pretend she had been playing would be done for. They would know she had survived the escape. She would be relentlessly hunted down if she showed herself.

Then she dismissed the uncertainty with reasoning. She was already part of a team that was actively being hunted down with extreme prejudice at this very moment. She was already in the life of fire, she may as well make herself useful.

Grey launched out of the hangar doors just as the Lions had finished forming Voltron.

"Let's draw those fighters out!" Shiro called, and Chyra flanked the massive humanoid mech on the right, feeling the force of the astral strom whipping around her. She kept her flight path straight until Voltron shot directly upwards, drawing the fighters after it. Chyra followed up from the rear, firing blasts of violet light from Grey's jaws to thin out the ranks of Galra fighter drones.

"Chyra?" Hunk asked, surprised, "what are you doing out here?"

"Shiro didn't specify my job, so I took the liberty of assigning myself to cover duty. I've got your back!" She brought down another handful of fighters by dragging Grey's bladed tail through the swarm. Fire from the destroyed drones crackled over the wolf's metallic skin, but the heat was nothing to Grey or Chyra.

"Great, keep our back protected as we fly through! Then when the top opens up, you can fly out with the castle so your ship doesn't get damaged in the vortex," Shiro ordered. Chyra nodded in affirmation, grabbing a fighter in Grey's jaws and sending it spiraling off into the storm. Voltron flew forward into the vortex of swirling wind, leading the fighters into an area that was moving at such a speed that the small ships couldn't withstand it. They started to get torn apart by the combined force of the winds and Grey's wrathful destruction of as many fighter drones as possible. Voltron navigated through the storm's most violent areas with relative ease and shot straight upwards, leading the few remaining fighters into the debris field that tore them violently apart. The robot emerged from the storm far above Chyra, who had turned and started monitoring the status of the exit, waiting to let Allura know the second it was clear.

The gigantic form of Central Command shifted, and Chyra called out a head up.

"Princess, get ready to make an egress!" Grey led the castle upwards, and the pair of ancient Altean vessels navigated out of the metallic storm and into the openness of space.

But they were far from safe.

Voltron suddenly glowed with purple light and convulsed, thrashing in space without moving. Chyra rushed towards the mech, and the hair at the back of her neck raised with apprehension as Shiro cried out in distress.

Chyra heard shaky breathing on the other side of the commlink, then winced at Shiro's pained growl.

"Zarkon."

Keith took control as Shiro struggled to regain his control of the Lion. "Zarkon is trying to take the Black Lion again. Fall back!" The Red Paladin ordered, and the team tried to comply. But the Emperor's hold over his past bonded partner was too strong, and the team couldn't break free of it no matter how hard they strained.

Chyra snapped out of it. She knew where the Emperor was: near the bottom of the ship, centered between the four spires of the Command Center. She could stop him before he tore Voltron apart.

With a surge of protective energy, Grey and Chyra blasted towards the ship she had once called home, and shot a brilliant beam of purple light towards the chamber that housed the Emperor. With a savage roar, Chyra reached out with Grey's paws and ripped a gash in the siding of the ship, trying to break the airlock seal near where Zarkon was located. At the same time, the castle swooped in with two powerful blasts to the Command Center's pillars, causing a ripple of explosions to tear across the larger ship's sides.

"Nice shot!" Chyra cheered, raking Grey's claws down the side of a weapons bay. A chain reaction of explosions resulted, and the metal groaned under the stress of the damage Grey and the Castle were doing.

"Paladins, now is your chance! Get out of there!" Allura called, urging the Paladins to move away from the ship and in turn, Zarkon's influence over Shiro's lion. Zarkon's hold on it broke, and Voltron slipped out of range with a blast of bright blue light, regaining its balance just far enough away from the Command ship to be out of Zarkon's sphere of influence.

"I forgot how intense Zarkon's connection to the Black Lion is," Shiro panted, drained from the effort of resisting Zarkon's control. "We have to keep our distance or risk losing Voltron. Let's disband and get back to the castle while the fleet is recovering."

Voltron split into its respective lions, and Chyra followed close on Pidge's tail as they reentered the hangar. The castle split away from Zarkon's ship at an intense speed. They continued putting distance between themselves and the Empire's forces, but they still hadn;t wormholed out of the metallic storm. Instead, they were struggling against the currents, trying to didge flying debris, and keep the Galra off their tail. Chyra imagined that Allura was expending a lot of energy trying to keep the castle out of harm's way. She hoped hte Princess would have enough left to get them out of there.

"Why haven't we wormholed yet?" Keith asked impatiently.

Coran snipped back, "because we can't! We're missing several scaultrite lens stones! They've shattered! Gone! Don't exist! Sloven-day-ho! That's Altean for gone."

"Wait, did you say scaultrite? I've seen that before..." Pidge cut in, thinking. "I think Hunk was making some terrible cookies with that stuff!"

Hunk's growl echoed over the comm links. Chyra would've thought it funny if they hadn't been worrying about dying.

"Paladins, get down to the turbine, and bring those cookers!" Coran commanded.

"Cookies-"

"COOKIES!"

.  .  . 

Chyra was a huge proponent of personal space, and this was not it.

Allura had managed to temporarily hide the castle among the storm, so Chyra, Coran, and the Paladins were all shoved together in the turbine that powered the teladuv, leaning in and inspecting one of the cookies Hunk had for some reason made from a very inedible material sourced from the stomach of a giant worm. It didn't help that at this distance, Chyra was acutely aware of Coran's... slippery condition. It was taking everything in her not to be sick, but she didn't want to say anything to the mechanic about it for fear of being insensitive.

Pleasant.

"Unbelievable!" Coran remarked, "these cookies do have trace elements of skaultrite in them!"

"Could they work?"

"They have be able to hold for one jump, Shiro, but we'd still need several people actually physically holding them."

Nobody like that idea, but they were out of options.

"How many people do we need in this thing, exactly?" Chyra asked, shifting her weight from foot to foot nervously as she stood inside the wormhole generator, holding a handful of impromptu lens stones.

"The more lenses the better, so hang tight while I position all of you." Coran instructed, posing Keith like a mannequin, much to the Paladin's dislike.

"Great," Chyra muttered, somewhat regretting her decision to survive the crash on Corrida.

Coran bustled everyone into the generator, muttering to himself the entire time. "Okay, here, and this one here-check the angle... oop! That would be bad! Okay, and this one there- Chyra can you hold one of these with your tail?"

"I- um, maybe?"

"Good enough for me, take this one too!"

After a couple more doboshes of frantic fenagling, Chyra and the Paladins were all situated. They were also extremely precarious and uncomfortable, but they were at least situated. Coran had promised it was in a manner that wouldn't kill anyone, but Chyra could tell by the general atmosphere that nobody was really sure about that. 

The Galra was hanging from the ceiling, held in place by her mechanical legs. She had a lens balanced on the end of her tail, which she was really struggling not to drop, three in her hands, and one tucked under her armpit.

"Hang on, why do I have five of these things and Keith is only holding one?" Chyra griped despite herself.

"Trajectory, angle, pitch and yar, port and starboard and all that!" Coran answered dismissively.

"More than half of those aren't even relevant in this context!" Chyra retorted, trying to keep herself as still as possible. She really didn't feel like being the one to get roasted alive by a magic laser beam.

"It just warms my heart that people are enjoying my cookies," Hunk said happily, unfazed.

"Okay, there. Now, nobody move if you want to live!" Coran called out from the door to the turbine.

A shot from outside rocked the whole ship, making the Paladins strain to hold their positions.

"I think I moved, I think i moved!" Lance cried, distressed.

"Well, then move back to where you think you were!" Coran shouted in response. He used his slipperies to skate in a tight circle, leaving the turbine and heading back into the monitor room. "Okay, now, i'm going to monitor the beam from out there."

"Wait! Coran!" Hunk shouted before the mechanic closed the doors, "how dangerous is this?"

Coran slid to a squeaky stop. "Honestly, this is the most dangerous thing I've ever seen, or heard of, but since we're probably going to die anyway, what the heck! Let's give it a shot!"

Coran saluted as the turbine door closed. "Good look gentlemen and gentleladies. I'ts been a pleasure. Don't toucht the lasers!"

The door closed, and Chyra came to terms with her most likely soon-to-be-ended existence.

The energy crystal within the turbine began to glow, illuminating the disks of skaultrite within the turbine and in the Paladins' grasp. Lance started frantically repeating, "we're gonna die! we're gonna die, we're gonna die, we are so gonna die!"

"Hold tight, Lance!" Pidge encouraged him, but her voice was shaky too.

Chyra grit her teeth as the crystal shined brighter, and braced herelf to get roasted alive.

What happened was actually worse. Sort of.

The laser just stopped. It his the disk that Lance was holding and just... stopped.

"Well, that's it, we're dead. It was nice knowing all of you Earthlings," Chyra said.

The next thing she knew, Coran was sliding into the turbine, and wiping his slipperyness all over the lens stones.

The light fired up again, everyone screamed, and Chyra squeeed her eyes shut against the brightness of the lasers as they approached her.

Chyra's ears were ringing, so she just barely managed to hear Allura as she congratulated everyone on making it out safe. She felt like a chunk of charred klanmürl. And by the looks of it, everyone else did too. Everyone was frozen in fear, adrenaline pounding through their veins. Lance groaned and fell from his place hanging from the ceiling of the wormhole generator with a loud clatter of armor. Chyra was a little more graceful in her descent, although her arms still felt like jelly. If her legs hadn't been metal, she would have fallen just like Lance had.

She stood, watching as everyone started to shift carefully, testing and making sure none of them had been thoroughly baked. Chyra was pretty sure she smelled something burning, but only one thought crossed her mind.

A massive grin split her face. "We're alive!" She cheered, pumping her fist into the air. "We're ALIVE!" Chyra crowed once more, startling the others out of their daze. She dropped her lenses and hauled Hunk to his feet, then helped Coran maneuver his way out of the crevices he had tucked himself into to avoid the beams of light as they shot through the wormhole generator. She didn't even mind how slimy he was to the touch.

Keith shimmied carefully down from the wall and helped Lance regain his footing. "That sucked," he said, but was unable to hide his grin of sheer relief.

"Let's never do that again."

Chapter Text

The next couple of days were fraught with anxiety.

Everyone on the ship was on high alert, unsure of whether or not Zarkon would show up at any moment. They hadn't seen the Central Command ship since their escape from the metallic storm, but Chyra could sense that something was off. Grey could feel it too, some sort of darkness clinging to the edges of the castle like a parasite. Chyra couldn't quite place what it was, it wasn't so much of an actual presence as it was a feeling, one that Chyra somehow managed to pick up, despite the other Paladins not really seeming to notice it.

But Chyra couldn't really focus on the intangible, she needed to focus on the tangible, very possible reason why the castle was being actively tracked.

After training on the second day after the team's most recent escape, Chyra found Hunk in his lion's hangar, messing with some sort of combustion engine he had constructed. She sidled up to him, trying to get his attention, but he was intensely focused on his work, which Chyra couldn't see from her vantage point. She cleared her throat, but when the Yellow Paladin didn't respond, she called his name.

"Hunk, could I-"

"WOAH!" The flighty Paladin leaped backward, spinning on his swivel seat to face Chyra with a look of surprise on his face. Chyra stepped back, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender to he wouldn't think she was attacking him.

"Sorry!" She apologized swiftly, her ears pinning back and her shoulders hunching up from apprehension. She had been on thin ice since Allura had placed suspicion on her, and Chyra was extra jumpy too.

"How are you so sneaky with those metal feet? It doesn't make sense!" Hunk recovered, shaking off his surprise and starting to smile. His disarming demeanor helped put Chyra at ease, but only for a moment.

She shifted her weight anxiously, tension evident in her rigid posture and inability to fully meet the Paladin's eye. "Hunk, I didn't mean to scare you, but I have something to ask of you."

"Uh, sure? What do you need?"

Chyra took a steadying breath. She was about to reveal her suspicions to someone, even though she had insisted adamantly that it wasn't her that was alerting the Empire of their every move. She didn't want to admit that she was afraid she was the culprit behind their current plight, but she had to know. She had to be sure.

"Can you scan me for tracking devices?"

Hunk leaned back, looking surprised. Chyra scrambled to elaborate, so he didn't get the wrong idea.

"I mean, it's just that I want to make sure I'm not the reason why we're being followed. I don't think I have any trackers in me, but I don't- I need to know if I'm what Zarkon is locating. I don't know how he would have been doing it, I don't know why he wouldn't have done it until now, but... I need to know."

"Hey, it's okay." Hunk stood up, making a placating gesture with his large hands. "I get it. But we already did a scan on you when you first got here, we didn't find anything."

"Well, could you try again?" She didn't mean to come off so snappish, but Hunk's wince at her sharp tone made her immediately apologize.

"Sorry, but I just..." She scoffed humorlessly, her hand moving to cover the activation chip at the back of her neck. "There's so much metal in me, maybe you missed a tracker the first time."

"I don't think so-"

"Please, Hunk. I need to know if I'm the one putting all of you in danger."

The Yellow Paladin softened, his shoulders slumping and an understanding look in his brown eyes. "Okay," he conceded. "Okay, we can check again. But when I find no trace of a tracker in you, I get to say I told you so, okay?"

He smiled, and Chyra knew he was trying to lighten the mood for her sake. She appreciated the gesture, and his efforts to help her be more comfortable, but she couldn't manage to muster up more than a terse nod and the barest hint of a smile. "If you find anything, I need you to be honest with me," Chyra asked softly. "Because if there's anything in there, anything that could put anyone here at risk, I'll be gone. Immediately. You'd never see me again if it meant keeping all of you out of the Emperor's hands."

Hunk, unsure of what to say, went and retrieved his tools, keeping an eye on his obviously shaken companion. He hadn't seen her like this in a few weeks, not since she had first started getting comfortable in the castle. It was worrying to see her revert back like this; the chase with the Empire must have taken a larger emotional toll on her than she had let on.

The scan took only a few minutes, and while it detected the mass of wires, quintessence lines, and metal plating along Chyra's spine, there was no trace of any tracking device in her body.

"Like I said, nothing to worry about," Hunk said nonchalantly, showing Chyra the negative results of the scan on his handheld device. Chyra thought she should have breathed a sigh of relief, but despite the concrete proof that she was tracker-chip-free, she couldn't shake the ominous feeling that clung to her mind. Something was still wrong, she was sure of it.

"I guess the only one that I had was the one I cut out before I left," Chyra said thoughtfully, her hand moving to cover the scar on her forearm next to her Executioner's brand, both of which which were concealed by her long sleeve shirt.

"Wait, what? You cut- what do you mean you cut it out?" Hunk stammered, looking fretfully up and down Chyra's arm, as though he could see the scars through it.

"I mean, yeah?" Chyra responded, unsure. She pulled her sleeve back to reveal the thin, vertical scar up the inside of her forearm next to her Executioner's brand, then pantomimed cutting it open with a clawed finger, removing a make-believe object, and throwing it away.

Hunk looked like he was going to be sick. "You know, sometimes I forget how many awful things you've had to go through," Hunk said, looking down. He looked back up almost immediately, meeting Chyra's eye and saying, "then you say something crazy like that and I remember how much you've survived."

Chyra hummed in response, unsure of exactly how to reply. "Well, thank you, Hunk, for double-checking. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome." The Paladin answered. "One question, though, if you already cut out the tracker in your arm, why did you think you would have another one in you?"

"The Empire has some twisted methods, and they aren't very humane to their prisoners," Chyra replied, tracing over the remnants of the wound that had blinded her absentmindedly. "I just needed to be sure I wasn't the source of danger for you Paladins. I can't be the reason why people that I care about get hurt again." Chyra looked up and looked at the young Paladin with an expression of vulnerability that she had previously refused to display. "I can't, Hunk. It would break me if I was the reason why any of you got hurt or killed. I refuse to be the downfall of anyone else, especially the universe's last hope."

Hunk gave her a knowing look, and Chyra suddenly feared that she had said too much. She looked down, fighting back the ache in her chest that she hadn't realized had appeared. She flinched at the weight of a hand on her shoulder, but relaxed as she met the Yellow Paladin's eyes.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that. You are one hundred percent tracker-free."

"Thank you, Hunk."

Chyra so wished she could make herself believe him.

. . .

By the time the castle's night cycle had begun, Chyra had already made up her mind.

She steeled her nerve, donned her armor, grabbed the few things she had in case she never came back, and silently said goodbye to the castle of lions.

Maybe it wasn't really goodbye, she told herself, if Hunk was right, if she really wasn't to blame for Zarkon's tracking of the castle, maybe she could come back. Maybe she could have a place, somewhere in the universe where she could belong.

But if she was the reason Zarkon kept finding them, that could never happen.

Chyra slipped through the darkened hallways of the ship, her ears swiveling to catch any sign of the castle's other occupants. It was late in the castle's night cycle, so she was likely the only one awake, but Chyra was too well-trained to be foolhardy.

She made it to Grey's shared hangar with no obstacles or diversions, and the wolf perked up at Chyra's entrance, already acutely aware of what was happening.

Despite this, Chyra greeted her wolf by saying, "Hey, girl. Looks like you and I are going on a little vacation. Forever, if we have to."

Grey lowered her head to the floor, growling plaintively. Chyra felt a flood of reluctance and sadness from her partner, and she sighed, placing her palm against Grey's nose.

"I know, I don't want to leave either. But now might be our only chance to slip out without opposition. Or getting kicked out and accused of being spies," the Galra added ruefully. Grey relented, opening her jaws and allowing Chyra access to the cockpit.

Shoving down her reluctance, Chyra reassured herself that this was the best course of action. The team had discussed heading to the nearest Galra-occupied planet, an acidic little hovel called Taujeer. The Empire's forces were likely to be thin there, so the team probably wouldn't even need Chyra's help. If Zarkon found her in the depths of space, Chyra would never go back to the castle. If he didn't follow her and found the castle instead, she would try and stay close enough to come to the castle's aid if they needed it.

So Chyra and Grey slipped out of the castle doors and into open space, feeling more adrift and alone than ever. And for some reason, the stars Chyra so loved looked somehow duller than she had ever seen them before.

. . .

Chyra had dozed off at some point while she and Grey were drifting through some open space, but left her communication links on. That, she discovered, had been a mistake, since she had to bear witness to the entire conversation that occurred when the Paladins realized she wasn't the only one who had left.

Turns out Keith and Allura had had the same idea.

"Where are Keith and Allura," Shiro asked, his voice ringing over the radio links, "and has anyone gotten Chyra up yet?" The Galra stirred as voices echoed through the cockpit, getting up from her place in the back of Grey's cockpit and moving to the front where she could see her dashboard.

"I looked into Chyra's room on the way down, but she wasn't in there. She may have fallen asleep in the library again." Pidge remarked.

"No sign of the others, though?" Shiro sounded concerned. Chyra made sure her microphone was muted.

"Bad news," Coran said suddenly, "it appears like one of the pods launched in the middle of the night!"

"More bad news," Hunk added, "Chyra's wolf is gone too."

Silence reigned.

"We need to get ahold of them, now," Shiro said, his tone sharp from frustration.

Chyra hit the switch in her helmet and spoke before she could lose her nerve. "Yeah, I'm here already. Comm links were left on."

Shiro's voice was clipped when he spoke. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Princess, Keith! Where are you?" Coran interrupted, and Chyra was spared from replying to the seething Black Paladin.

"Exactly where we should be, far away from the castle," Allura replied, her tone intentionally kept even.

"What? Why?" Shiro snipped back.

"We must know if we are the ones Zarkon is tracking," the princess replied.

"Are you all three together? Are you safe?" Shiro asked with concern.

"No and yes," Keith replied, "Chyra, why are you out here too?"

Chyra piped in, "believe it or not, I left for the same reason as you."

"I already told you there were no tracking devices left on you!" Hunk objected, "why did you leave anyway if we know it wasn't you?"

"They're isolating the variable," Pidge realized before Chyra could respond. "Well, three variables, which you're not technically supposed to do. And not really in the most logical manner, why did you guys think this was a good idea?"

"If Zarkon finds you despite our absence, then we will know with total certainty that we are not the ones he's tracking. Now that Chyra has probably reported your location to the Empire, though-"

"Princess, with all due respect, would you stop trying to make me out to be the bad guy for like two doboshes?" Chyra snapped, massaging the bridge of her nose with her clawed hand. "I'm not reporting you to Zarkon, and I never have. I left because if he somehow knows I'm alive and is tracking me through my prosthetics like I think he is, Zarkon will find me, and all of you would be safe. I had no idea the pair of you had the same idea as I did."

"Hey, can we not refer to Keith and Allura as a pair?" Lance griped.

"Everyone stop," Shiro cut in, "splitting up the group makes us far more vulnerable. All of you come back to the castle immediately."

There was a pause, and Chyra was about to decline when Allura did it for her. "I'm sorry, Shiro, I cannot do that."

Keith tried to rationalize, as though he was sensing Shiro's anger grow. "If Zarkon does find us, I can pilot us to safety. We're in wide-open space with plenty of room to maneuver, plus we'd be able to outrun him. Pidge added that booster rocket-"

"That thing's still on there?" Coran asked with disbelief.

"And if Zarkon locates me, you won't have to worry about it again. I fully intend to bring him down with me if he catches me here alone." Chyra said, steeling her resolve.

"Chyra, that'd be suicide," Shiro breathed, shock ringing through his voice as it softened.

"Yeah," the Galra scoffed humorlessly, "I suppose it would be."

"This is ridiculous, we need you back here now! All three of you," Shiro said, as though he was aware that Chyra had intended to dispute him.

Suddenly, alarms blared. Chyra startled, slamming her hands onto Grey's control podiums and looking frantically around for a threat through Grey's eyes. It took her a moment to realize that the alarms were being broadcasted over the comms, rather than sounding from Grey herself. Apparently the Paladins were caught in a debris field surrounding Taujeer. The radio links started to crackle, and the voices of the Paladins were lost.

Chyra held her breath, waiting for the team's voices to crackle back to existence, but nothing came.

"Paladins," Allura called, "Paladins, come in! What's going on?"

No reply.

"I think they've lost contact, Princess," Chyra suggested carefully.

"Really? I hadn't gathered that." Allura snapped back.

So that was how it was going to be. Fantastic.

. . .

Chyra remained silent for the next several vargas, waiting for what seemed like the inevitable. She kept a sharp eye on her surroundings, making sure that she didn't see any sign of shadows on the horizon. Keith and Allura carried on the occasional conversation, but Chyra didn't participate and kept her outgoing signal muted. Even if Keith was open to chatting with her, Allura decidedly would not have been.

It was about four hours into the little group experiment when Keith and Allura started talking again. Chyra was reading a book while Grey kept watch as the pair of them drifted aimlessly in the void of space. The duo of voices on the other side of the commlink shattered the silence, making Chyra perk up with interest.

"We've been here for hours, and still no sign of Zarkon."

"Well, I'm glad I don't have to wait here alone," Allura replied, sounding tired and a little irate. She softened as she continued though, "You understand, I could never live with myself if Zarkon was finding us because of me." Allura said, and Chyra straightened with interest, wondering how someone like Allura could manage to articulate Chyra's own emotions on the matter so aptly.

"I must know if I'm what he's been looking for."

Keith replied, "what makes you think he's after you?"

"Zarkon only discovered the castle on Arus after I awoke, so maybe he's somehow keeping tabs on my Altean energy signature. Why do you think it could be you?"

Chyra perked up, intrigued by the topic of conversation. She hadn't realized Keith was out here because he thought he was being tracked, she thought he had maybe just offered Allura a ride out of courtesy.

"I don't know, I just have a bad feeling about it. I fought Zarkon all on my own back when we attacked Central Command, I thought maybe he like, imprinted on me or something."

"I don't think Galra can do that," Allura chuckled before growing more serious, "that's probably not one of their treacherous abilities."

Chyra curled her lip in distaste and looked out the viewports at the stars outside, but didn't turn off the radio. She was pretty sure Keith and Allura had forgotten she was on the other side of the communication links. A slight feeling of guilt bubbled up as she realized she was eavesdropping on their conversation, but she shoved it downwards.

"Okay, you always say things like that and make all those big broad statements about the Galra. And yes, sure, they're bad. No doubt about that. But, at the same time, couldn't at least a few of them be fighting for good?" Keith sounded timid, and like he was choosing his words carefully.

"Just look at Ulaz. He sacrificed himself to save us." Keith continued. Chyra stirred, intrigued. She had heard some brief mentions of Ulaz, and the Paladins' discovery of the Blades of Marmora. They had even asked her if she had heard of or been in contact with them, and Chyra had to admit that while she had heard of them, it had never been in a positive light. The Empire had painted them as a terrorist group bent on dismantling the Empire's version of peace, although Chyra knew now that they were really on the right side of this war. Still, it was hard to overcome the deeply-ingrained prejudice she had been taught to have towards the Blade of Marmora, although she was trying.

"For all we know, his sacrifice was a ploy. One life means nothing to Zarkon." Allura replied, a bit of venom seeping into her voice.

"It means something to me. It means some of them are actually willing to help. And we could use all the help we can get!"Keith disputed.

"Any offer of help from the Galra is merely a prelude to a trap. I know all too well how quickly they turn." Allura said, her tone darkening.

Chyra started pacing, agitated. Grey comforted her as best as she could, but it was difficult for her to hear Allura's real opinions of her and her species. Chyra knew the Princess had every right to hate the Galra for what they had done to her, what they had done to Altea and the universe, and she was well aware of Allura's stance towards Chyra personally. But it hurt to hear the vitriol in her voice. Chyra became suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that Allura hated her. She hated Chyra and everything about her because of what she was, and what her people had done. And no matter what Chyra did to try and fix it, that wasn't likely to ever change.

"And what about Chyra?" Keith disputed, "she's an enemy of the empire, and she's trying to help us, so not all Galra can be all that bad."

Allura scoffed, and the eavesdropping Galra could imagine the disdainful expression on the Princess's face as she did so. "That proves nothing. Everyone is well aware of my... distaste for Chyra's presence in the castle. I don't trust her in the least, and I know she's hiding something. She hasn't told us everything, and that story she's come up with, about Zarkon killing her family... I simply don't believe it. Or, at least, I don't believe that she's been entirely truthful about it. Maybe her family is dead, maybe she's just lying to our faces, but either way, I do not think she is who she says she is."

"Because she's Galra," Keith prompted, voicing the words Allura hadn't spoken but had strongly alluded to. He sounded uneasy, but Chyra barely took notice of his tone.

"That is a large part of the reason, yes." Allura's tone was sharp but measured. "Galra are treacherous and conniving by nature, that is evidenced by Zarkon's betrayal of my father and the Paladins of old. I wouldn't put it past Chyra to follow in her Emperor's footsteps and betray us as well."

Chyra smacked her hand against the dashboard, turning off the radio and cutting off the rest of Allura and Keith's conversation.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to rage and tear things apart and make Allura aware of just how much her words hurt. She hated everything about how Allura saw her, as nothing more than her race, as a monster who was naturally inclined to kill and deceive and betray.

She hated that deep down, she couldn't stop herself from thinking that maybe Allura was right.

Killing, deception, espionage, backstabbing... those were all the things that Chyra was good at. It was all she had ever been good at. Those were the skills that the Empire had cultivated in her. Those skills made her useful, made her valuable and worth something to the Empire. They made her a strong fighter, a clever strategist, a worthy gladiator.

A well-forged weapon.

Maybe Allura was right. Maybe Chyra's only worth in this universe was as a killer. Maybe she was kidding herself by trying to change her ways, trying to overcome the treachery in her bloodline. Maybe all she would ever be good for is what the Empire made her do. She could destroy, she could kill, and she could deceive people. She could analyze a person for weak points and target them in an instant, she could end someone's life in mere seconds. She knew who to take down to cripple an entire rebellion, or cause the downfall of a planet with one swipe of a blade. She was a murder, a gladiator, an assassin. That was what she did, and maybe Allura was right and that was who she was. Who she would always be no matter how hard she tried.

Chyra looked into her viewports, wanting to see the stars.

All she saw was her own reflection; her scarred face and ragged ears and dull, blinded eye staring right back at her.

She balled her fists so hard her claws almost poked through the gloves of her flight suit. Her breaths shortened, her chest tightening to limit the amount of air she could take in. Her surroundings blurred, and it took Chyra a moment to realize that it was from tears. She turned on her heel, pacing rapidly across the floor, her tail thrashing and ears laying flat against her head in distress. She gasped raggedly, clutching at the sides of her head as she strode back and forth, trying desperately to inflate her lungs while her brain screamed monster, killer, deviant, betrayer, murder, executioner. Over and over again, like a mantra. She couldn't escape it, it just kept playing on loop.

She held back a sob and tried to replace it with a full breath, her legs going weak at the knees as she lowered herself to the ground. She clutched her head so hard it hurt and tried to drown out the voices in her mind, to get them to quiet just a little, but her attempts were in vain. The voices and sounds of carnage and battle echoed and reverberated and magnified in her mind, drowning everything else out until-

Grey.

Her sudden presence in Chyra's mind was like a gust of fresh air, and she felt the wolf encompass her, enveloping her mind in a vast presence that rang with comforting emotions and calming sensations. The wolf stifled down the intrusive and violent thoughts that had buzzed around Chyra's mind, replacing them with overwhelming encouragement and soft strains of mournful music that echoed across the plains of their conjoined minds. Grey sent out a slightly exasperated emotion, one that scolded Chyra gently for blocking Grey out of her mind during her anxiety attacks. But it was quickly replaced by another torrent of encouragement and warmth and love.

Chyra found it a little easier to breathe. Her hands detangled from her hair and instead fell to her shoulders, where she still held onto herself, but with a much more lax grip.

"Grey," Chyra breathed, her voice shuddering as she called out faintly for her wolf. Grey reciprocated by tightening her mental embrace, sending a gentle warmth through the connection that resembled an actual, physical hug. "Thank you."

Grey's hum echoed in Chyra's mind, thrummed through her chest, and helped her clenched jaw and tight chest loosen, even if it was just a little bit. She encouraged Chyra to breathe slowly, to ignore the buzz of flashbacks in her head and let it sink off of her shoulders. The Galra's breaths steadied gradually, although she still gasped and hiccuped every now and again, her chest convulsing from the remnants of the adrenaline that had flooded her system. Grey began sending more complex sensations that Chyra could almost interpret into words, and accompanying them with images, and flashes of memories that Grey was retrieving from Chyra's mind.

Chyra saw herself snarling at the Emperor, her expression defiant and teeth bared in a rebellious sneer. If she was really what the Empire made her to be, she wouldn't have done that.

She saw herself laughing with her family before her world fell apart, sneaking out and causing mischief when they should have been sleeping. She saw flashes of mroe recent memories, destroying Galra cruisers, laughing with the Paladins, talking to Coran in the darkened library. Grey showed Chyra images and sent her emotions from when Pidge rescued Chyra from the trapings of her mind, from when Chyra stopped Maliera from being killed; from when she raced outside the castle with Keith, and hugged Lance when he missed Earth, helped Hunk clean up after dinner, and talked amicably with Shiro in between daring escapes.

She wouldn't have done any of those things if she had turned out the way Zarkon wanted her to.

Chyra let herself smile at the memories, and Grey felt triumphant. Somehow, without words, the wolf had told Chyra that everything her mind told her was wrong. She could be more than what the Empire wanted her to be--Stars, she already was. And maybe she always had been.

And she wasn't perfect. She was about as far from perfect as a person could be. She had still done awful things, things she knew she could never truly fix, no matter how hard she tried. But she wasn't Zarkon's weapon. Not anymore.

And she never would be again. She wouldn't be a weapon against innocent lives, innocent civilizations and planets who dared rise up against Zarkon's regime, as she had been once. She would never again be a weapon against peace, or the Paladins.

"Grey," Chyra breathed with a shaky little laugh. She wiped her eyes, ridding her face of the tears that had marred it. "You wonderful, wonderful wolf. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Grey sent a rush of pure love cascading around Chyra. Somehow, wordlessly, the wolf replied through a rush of complex emotions: nothing. You were always deserving of love.

And something about the way Grey assured it with such confidence and earnesty made Chyra believe it too.

Chyra brought herself to her two-toed metal feet, her expression becoming resolute despite the trembling in her limbs. She straightened, stretching her wire-wrapped spine from its hunched position with a whir of metal and gears. Her radio beeped, alerting her of aninoming signal from the Castle of Lions. She took a deep breath, steeling herself and hoping ehr voice wouldn't be too ragged when she answered. She cleared her throat just to make sure.

She opened the frequency and heard Coran speaking on the other end of the line. "Allura, Keith, Chyra, come in!"

"We're here," Keith answered.

Chyra nodded in affirmation, although she knew nobody could see her. "Me too."

"Well, the good news is we know that Zarkon is definitely not tracking us through any of you," Coran said, distress becoming clearer in his accented voice.

"Oh no," Chyra muttered, stepping onto Grey's central podium and placing her hands on the control disks.

"Oh yes," Coran disputed, "they've sent a fleet to Taujeer, and we're getting blasted! We need you all here, now!"

The authoritative tone returned to Allura's voice, the one that she used on missions and when speaking to the delegates of foreign planets during negotiations. "Don't worry, we'll be there in two doboshes."

"Even faster than that," Keith assured, "let's see if Pidge's booster rocket works."

It... decidedly did not.

For a heartstopping moment, all Chyra heard on the other end of the radio was screaming, then a loud blast and the sound of tearing metal. The signal from Allura and Keith's pod went to static, and Chyra broke ot in cold sweats. She had to keep herself from getting sick from how similar the sound was to her family's dying moments.

"ALLURA!" Coran cried, but there was no response from the pod. "No, no no, please-"

"Coran," Chyra interrupted, making the mechanic quiet down for a moment, "I'm opening a hailing signal to Keith's personal radio. If they're okay, he'll answer."

She tried to keep her voice even, and use a comforting tone. It must have worked, because Coran answered with a staticky mutter of "okay."

A few presses of the buttons on Grey's holographic dashboard opened the signal, and Chyra breathed a sigh of relief when Keith's voice crackled into existence.

"Chyra," he said, relief coloring his voice.

"Oh thank the Stars," the Galra breathed, patching the signal through to Coran and the castle. "Are the two of you okay? What happened?"

"We're alright," the Red Paladin answered, "but the booster fuel... was not a good idea. The pod exploded from the fuel overload, and now we're free floating. We're turned around, I'm not sure how we're gonna get to Taujeer, or even where we are in relation to it."

"Don't worry. Just hang tight and stick together," Chyra instructed, "Grey and I will be there to pick you up shortly."

"Okay," Keith said in affirmation.

Grey, chyra asked in her mind, can you find them?

The wolf growled an affirmation, a feeling of determination flowing through their bond. The wolf banked, turning sharply in the direction from which she had come, and put on a huge boost of speed, leaving a long trail of violet light in her wake.

After just a few doboshes, Chyra saw the pair of teammates on the horizon, floating freely with linked arms. Grey slowed in her approach, opening her jaws wide so the Paladin and the Princess could enter. Keith used his jetpack to propel them inside, and they joined Chyra in the cockpit moments later.

"I am so glad you're here," Keith said, relieved. Allura was clearly less-than-thrilled at Chyra's arrival, but she didn't make any remarks. Instead she thanked her, albeit a little reluctantly.

"Yes, thank you."

Chyra tried not to let her cliped tone betray the fact tha she had eavesdropped on their conversation earlier. "Anytime. Now let's get to Taujeer before it all goes to the snarflax."

Grey blasted off, heading towards Taujeer's location on Grey's compass at incredible speed. they were just about halfway there when a flash of red popped into view in front of them.

"Look, it's the Red Lion!" Allura exclaimed, "it must have come to find you, Keith."

"That's my girl," Keith said fondly, looking at his lion with a smile.

"Alright, Keith," Chyra said as her vision separated from Grey's and she met the Paladin's eye. A look of mischeif blossomed on her scarred face. "Time to switch rides." Grey opened her jaws again, and the elevator in the back of the cockpit lit up, signaling tha it was ready to descend.

"Hell yeah," the Red Paladin grinned, then turned and stepped into the lift. Moments later he was blasting through space, and the Red Lion caught him as he floated in the void, enclosing him in its jaws

"Now let's get back to the castle!" Keith turned in his lions and took off, making a surge of competitive energy bubble up in Grey's mind. Chyra smirked, and urged her wolf forward in pursuit of the Lion.

Chyra didn't think Grey had never flown quite that fast.

The scene when they made it to Taujeer was chaotic: the castle and a Galra cruiser were exchanging laser blasts while a large, grounded ship was sinking slowly into what looked to Chyra like a lot of very potent, glowing acid (Taujeer's orbit must have passed through at least two nebulous clouds to be this acidic). Chyra became worried when she didn't see the lions immediately, but in fact became even more worried when she realized that all four Lions were currently underneath the ship that was slowly sinking into the sea of acid beneath the small chunk of rock that it was balanced on. And what was worse, the Galra ship's ion canon was pointed directly at the ark.

Chyra's heart slammed to a sudden stop. The ship's commander was going to bring them all down in one fell swoop.

Chyra started to call out an instruction "Keith-"

"Ion canon, on it!" The Red Paladin cut in, sending his Lion speeding towards base of the the canon mounted on top of the ship. He summoned Red's jaw blade, slicing the base of the canon in a full curcle around it, removing it from the ship itself. Chyra knew what was going to happen next if she didn't redirect the canon's fall: it would flip end over end and crash into the ark and the lions below. So she and Grey dove forward and pushed off of the canon's front end, sending it crashing straight down and narrowly missing the ark. The weapon landed in the acid with a sickening sizzle, and Chyra shuddered to think of what would happen if that acid touched Grey's metal coat.

A chorus of cheers sounded from the Paladins below.

"Good to have you back, guys," Shiro said. Chyra could almost picture the smile on his face.

"Good to be back," answered Keith.

Lance butted in. "Is the Princess with you?"

"I've got her in Grey," Chyra answered, peeking back at Allura briefly. The Princess looked relieved, but when she saw that Chyra was looking at her her expression hardened and she stared straight ahead out of Grey's viewport. "She's unharmed," Chyra added, trying not to let her tone become as icy as she wanted it to.

"A little help down here, please maybe?" Hunk asked, sounding strained. Keith and Chyra rushed forwards, bracing their ships' shoulders against the base of the ark and helping to shove it out of the way. Chyra and Grey growled with the effort of moving the immense ship, but persisted anyway. Once it was safely out of reach of the acid, Chyra breathed a sigh of relief.

The Lions flew upwards and intwined in the air, forming Voltron. Again Chyra marveled at the sight of it, the intricate flight patterns and the transformations of all the lions as they converged, and the sheer wight of Voltron hovering in the sky, standing tall against their foe.

The Galra ship turned to face the ark and started moving forwards.

In response, Voltron formed its sword, wielding the weapon in the jaws of Keith's red lion as the robot's right arm. They headed up to meet the cruiser, and as they did so, the sword that Voltron held glowed brightly, its blade extending and reshaping itself to form one that was at least twice the height of Voltron itself, with a curved blade like a scimitar. The robot surged forward, holding the immense sword out in front of it, and sliced through the Galra cruiser's hull like it was butter.

The cruiser's explosion lit up the sky like a second sun, and Chyra couldn't help but be awed by the sheer power of Voltron.

"Pretty amazing, itsn't it?" Allura asked.

Chyra straightened in surprise, disconnecting her sight from Grey's and turning to look at the Princess. Allura's expression was one of joy and determination as she looked up at her father's creation, at the beacon of hope that the Universe had come to so desperately need.

"Yes," Chyra agreed, studying the resolute expresion on Voltron's face as the Paladins within cheered in celebration, "it really is."

From there, the rest of the mission was easy. Grey and Chyra helped voltron lift the ark to the safety of Taujeer's nearest moon, using every last bit of strength they possessed to help get the giant ship out of Taujeer's dense atmosphere. It was like swimming upwards with weights tied to her limbs, and the strain on Grey's engines was intense, but they got the ark to safety, and saved the Taujeerians before their planet was destroyed.

The Paladins returned to the castle triumphant, and reconvened in the control room.

"Well done, everyone," Shiro congratulated as Chyra and Allura entered the bridge. "That was a difficult mission, and we pulled it off with no casualties or damage taken."

The Paladins high-fived, congratulating Hunk in particular for unlocking a new ability with his Lion.

"And at least now we know that Zarkon is tracking us through the Black Lion," Pidge added. Chyra winced. Why did she have to bring that up?

Shiro straightened, as though Pidge's comment had made him remember something. He turned to Keith, Allura, and Chyra, who stood atowards the back of the goup.

"Now, you three..." He crossed his arms, shifting his stance into a defensive one, "that stunt you pulled?"

Chyra grimaced and ducked her head, her ears flopping downwards as she rubbed at the back of her neck with embarassment. She saw Keith and Allura shrink back too, preparing themselves for a scolding. Shiro's expression became serious, his brows furrowing and his shoulders going rigid. He was either shifting into disappointed dad mode or unhappy commanding officer mode, and Chyra really wasn't sure which one she should be more afraid of.

"That was incredibly stupid." 

Chapter Text

"That was incredibly stupid," Shiro said, giving the most exasperated stink-eye in history to the trio of teammates that had run away, leaving the rest of them hanging on such a dangerous mission.

"I don't understand why any of you thought it was a good idea to leave in the first place. You all just disappeared, we had no idea where you were; do you know how worried we were about you? All of that on top of a mission where Hunk almost fell into acid, I can't believe you thought it was smart put us in a position like that." Shiro continued, gesturing at Hunk as he brought him up. The Yellow Paladin waved awkwardly, looking at the team Leader with apprehension.

"We had to know if we were putting everyone else in danger," Keith disputed, uncomfortable with the reprimand.

"And in order to do that, you were all willing to put everyone else in jeopardy? What kind of teamwork is that? We weren't able to form Voltron when we needed it, and because of that, we had multiple close calls. We put the Taujeerians at risk because we didn't have the entire team there."

Keith spoke up, trying to ease the tension between Shiro and the rest of them, "we know now that leaving was a reckless decision, and we shouldn't have snuck out, especially without telling anyone. But we really thought that we were doing what had to be done."

"We just wanted to keep you safe," Allura added.

"Look, I know that you all thought it was the right decision, that you were doing what needed to be done," Shiro reasoned, clasping his hands together and taking a breath. He looked only at Keith and Allura when he next spoke, and Chyra thought that maybe she would be off the hook. "But I need you to realize how ill-advised and dangerous it was that you left us hanging like that. We had no Voltron, and no backup against the Galra fleet when we needed it."

Allura and Keith nodded, "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"The two of you had better be thankful to Chyra for picking you up before something bad happened and-" Shiro interrupted himself, apparently coming to a realization. "Speaking of which, why did you think leaving was a good idea?"

"I left to see if I was involuntarily acting as a threat, and to ensure your safety," Chyra argued, her frustration thinly-veiled. She had never been good at taking criticism or discipline, and she could feel her frustration grow. Her hackles raised, she clenched her fists tightly, and her tail started to whip back and forth as she continued. "You Paladins don't need me, you managed fine in your battles before I started acting as backup, I'm sure. So the options were simple if my suspicions were true: stay here and put all of you in danger for the sake of my own comfort, or leave and play my part in ensuring the safety of the universe's last hope for peace. I chose the only logical option." Chyra's tone was blunt and filled with an air of defensiveness.

"Despite knowing you had no tracking devices anywhere on you or your ship?" Shiro disputed. "We could have used your help today. It would have minimized multiple risks that we had to take because we didn't have the players we needed to keep the battle in our favor."

Hunk tried to step in. "Guys, maybe we should-"

"Do you think I didn't analyze the risks I was taking?" Chyra snapped, not even acknowledging Hunk's attempted interjection. " I had no idea Keith and Allura were leaving as well, I didn't know that you would have needed my help that badly!" Chyra bowed up against Shiro's argument, pinning her ears back. She barely resisted the urge to bare her teeth in a gesture of aggression, as she had had to do so often when facing off against the more intimidating Galra commanders.

"All I'm saying is that what you did was reckless. You can't strike off on your own again like that. You're part of a team now, which means we work together and communicate. This isn't like the Empire. We work as a unit and we don't take unnecessary risks that could cost lives. We don't abandon our teammates and we don't intentionally put them in danger."

"That's precisely it! I left because I thought I was putting all of you in danger by staying here and potentially being tracked. I couldn't allow myself to be the reason anyone got hurt; I was trying to protect you!"

"You're not here to act as our protection, Chyra," Shiro's voice had softened, but it did little to lessen Chyra's agitation.

"Well then, by all means, Shiro, please enlighten me on exactly why I'm here."

The Black Paladin stepped back, sensing the hostility emanating from Chyra in waves. "Because you wanted to help us fight the Empire, and because we saved you when you needed help."

"I didn't ask you to save me," Chyra snarled back on instinct. Shiro didn't respond, his combative expression turning to one of surprise, then sadness. The bridge went quiet, and Chyra straightened from the defensive position she hadn't realized she had taken. The air was rife with tension, and the Paladins all looked extremely uncomfortable.

Chyra's chest was heaving, her temper out of line and her emotions too tightly wound. She was about to break and say something even worse, something she was sure she was going to regret if she didn't leave now.

She forced her face into a mask of calmness. "I'm leaving the room now," she said evenly, "is that okay with you?"

She didn't wait for an answer before striding out the control room doors.

. . .

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Chyra paced back and forth across her chambers, taking off her armor piece by piece. Even though she was frustrated and in distress, she didn't resort to throwing her armor, it was too precious to her. Instead, she pulled the pieces off aggressively while she was pacing, and then placed them on the bed with surprising gentleness considering her emotional state, then went immediately back to pacing.

"What was that?" Chyra muttered out loud, addressing both herself and Grey, who was nestled up against Chyra's mind, watching her pilot beat herself up mercilessly and keeping her opinions to herself.

"How could I have been so stupid? Yelling at Shiro like that- I mean, he was being insufferable but- no, he was right, though," She interrupted herself, having a one-person argument.

"I couldn't have known I was going to put them at risk, though," Chyra reasoned with herself, "it wouldn't have been an issue if Keith and Allura hadn't left too. Ugh, I don't know anymore!" Chyra exclaimed, running her hands through her hair and scowling when it turned out to be tangled and damp from sweat. She needed a shower, not just to washe her hair, but to clear her head and help her relax. She dug through her drawers, pulling out a tank top and leggings that Coran had dug out of storage for her to wear, then turned to the bathroom attached to her room.

Chyra scowled at the extremely small space. She was already agitated, she didn't need to lock herself in a tiny, claustrophobia-inducing shower too. So she grabbed her materials and left, heading in the direction of the training room showers, which were in a large, open room that was sectioned off into stalls on either side. It was centrally-located in the castle, but Chyra was pretty sure nobody else used it since it was so far from the barracks, and the individual shower stalls were secluded and private enough that she could feel comfortable.

She made it to the showers unopposed, which she was immensely grateful for. She picked a stall towards the back of the room, undressed, and stepped into the steamy water. Gradually, as she scrubbed the grit and sweat off of her, she began to relax. The stresses of the night and early morning started to fall away, and Chyra felt the tension start to slip from her shoulders. Grey reemerged from her resting place, sending a questioning emotion towards Chyra, as if to ask are you okay now?

Chyra sent back an affirmation, to which Grey reciprocated with a reproachful feeling, scolding Chyra gently for how she had reacted to Shiro's criticism.

"I know," Chyra replied vocally, pushing her dripping purple hair out of her eyes, "I overreacted. I was just-" Grey cut in with a mechanical hum that echoed in Chyra's ears. I know, she seemed to say.

Chyra smiled and went quiet, grateful that her bonded could understand her without words. she wasn't sure she was able to verbalize how she was feeling just yet. She felt better after some more washing up and a little more time under the water. Refreshed and significantly less anxious than before, Chyra dried off, dressed, and started to leave, toweling off her hair in the process. She pulled the towel off her head, shook the water out of her hair, and ran straight into someone who was rounding the corner.

Something clattered to the floor, and Chyra reached out and grabbed the nearest appendage to keep the other person from falling. Her hand met cold metal, and Chyra froze. She was supporting Shiro, essentially holding him diagonally to the floor and keeping him from falling backwards the rest of the way. Shiro looked up at her with an expression of surprise, his dark eyebrows arched and grey eyes wide as he grabbed Chyra's forearm for stability. Chyra's ears pinned back and she cleared her throat, looking away as Shiro righted himself and released his hold on her. She drew her arm back towards her body, grabbing it with her opposite hand and looking away.

"Are you alright?" She asked, risking a glance at the Black Paladin.

"I'm fine, thanks." Shiro was looking at her intently, but he didn't say anything more. Chyra saw a bottle of shampoo on the floor, Shiro must have dropped it when she bumped into him. Chyra swept it up with her tail, grabbing it and handing it off to him stiffly.

"You dropped this."

Shiro nodded, his mouth forming one straight line as he pressed his lips together and grabbed the bottle. "Thank you."

Chyra glanced to the side and cleared her throat, hyper-aware of the painfully awkward atmosphere.

"I'll just go," she muttered, ducking out of Shiro's way and starting down the hall. The Black Paladin watched her leave, Chyra could feel him staring at her back. Grey gave her a mental nudge, and Chyra stopped, turning back to face him with a steadying breath.

"Actually... I owe you an apology." Chyra walked back towards him, preparing herself for another reprimand.

Instead, Shiro said "I'm sorry."

Chyra's mouth opened and closed again, and she tilted her head questioningly, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Shiro's expression shifted to a gentler one, and he said "I lost my temper, and I got after you even though I knew you were just trying to help. I should have been more understanding. I'm sorry."

"No, you don't get to steal my apology," Chyra held up a hand, trying to recover some semblance of momentum. She faltered at Shiro's slight smile but recovered after a moment. She weaved her fingers together and continued, "I'm sorry I got so... aggressive. I wanted to be nothing but relieved at the fact that Zarkon wasn't putting you in danger through me, but my nerves were already frayed and I didn't keep myself in check." She was talking rapidly now, her embarrassment and overwhelmed state making her get ahead of herself. "I overreacted, and didn't listen to you even though you're clearly right and I shouldn't have left and-"

"Woah, cool down." Shiro said, stepping forward cautiously and putting his hands on Chyra's exposed shoulders, "you're alright."

"See, that's the problem. I'm not, and I lost my head with you and I'm trying to apologize." Chyra leaned away, bringing a hand up to cradle her forehead in exasperation. "I just... I'm not good at this."

"Take your time, here." Shiro lowered himself to the floor, guiding Chyra down as well. He was gentle and cautious and he made sure she was comfortable with his careful maneuvering, and Chyra immediately felt just a little bit more at ease.

She sat and crossed her legs in front of her at the ankles, drawing her metal knees up to her chest and resting her arms on them. "I didn't mean what I said," Chyra began shakily, and Shiro nodded, signaling his understanding and prompting her to continue.

"I mean, all of those things about the logical choice and me leaving being the only way. It's just- ever since Zarkon started tracking us so relentlessly, I've had this sneaking suspicion that maybe it was me. Maybe I was the reason why you were all in danger. Even though I knew that likely wasn't the case, I couldn't shake the guilt I felt for potentially leading the Empire straight to you. Unintentionally, of course, like I said I would never help the Empire fight against you, but the feeling was still there. I thought I had no other options when that guilt didn't go away even after I talked to Hunk about trackers. I just felt like... like I was going to get you all killed."

Shiro's expression was thoughtful, but he didn't speak. Chyra took another breath, keeping her nerves from flaring and making her so agitated. "I couldn't live with myself if I was putting all of you at risk like that, I just couldn't. So I left. I thought it was my only option."

She lowered her gaze, staring hard at the silver metal of her legs and the scars across her arms. She became acutely aware in that moment that she was wearing a tank top, and the entirety of her scarred arms and most of her metal-plated back were exposed. She looked up, and saw Shiro glance breifly at her Executioner's brand before meeting her eye.

"I understand why you left, and I'm sorry I pushed you so far. I should have been understanding back there in the control room, where it mattered."

"I shouldn't have snapped at you," Chyra reasoned, "you had every right to be upset with me for not being there when you needed me, especially after I made a promise to help in any way I could. The fault lies in the way I reacted when you called me out on it. My words and actions were inexcusable and embarrassing, and i hope you can forgive me."

Shiro smiled. "I do. Now how about we both just admit that we didn't handle the situation well instead of trying to out-apologize one another?"

"Alright." Chyra couldn't help but grin in reply, especially now that the weight had been lifted off of her chest somewhat. She was finally able to feel the relief that came with the realization that she wasn't under watch by Zarkon or Haggar, that she was really and truly free from the Empire's control.

She let that peace settle over her, and she immediately felt immensely better, like the dark clouds that had been swirling in her head since they left Olkarion were finally gone.

"I do have one thing to ask you, though," Shiro said carefully, his tone of voice ringing with earnestness. That worried little crease reappeared on his brow, and he shifted, leaning back to look fully at Chyra's scarred face. The eye contact made Chyra mildly uncomfortable, but she held it steadily nonetheless, kept in place by the Black Paladin's concerned gaze.

"Go ahead," her voice was full of trepidation, and she braced herself for some sort of hidden acusation. Something along the lines of did you contact central command or how have the Galra really been finding us.

Instead, Shiro simply asked, "are you okay?"

Chyra balked, blinking in surprise and leaning away, breaking her gaze with a off-put chuckle. "What?" she tried to play it off as a joke, as though it were an impossibility that she wouldn't be okay.

"I mean, really. Are you okay? You've been acting kinda... weird these last couple days. Since we left Olkarion and Zarkon started tracking us like this." There was something in his voice that told her weird wasn't the word he had wanted to say. Worrying, confrontational, irritant, maybe, but weird didn't quite seem to catch his meaning. Shiro brought Chyra's attention back to him by putting his left hand gently on her arm. She flinched minimally, looking a little bit too long at the point of contact before answering.

"To be honest, I don't know," she replied, still staring at Shiro's hand on her upper arm. She looked up at him then, and saw an expression of such genuine concern on his face that her defenses were slowly lowered. "I think I was initially just worried that I was being tracked, but now... I don't know." Could she tell him about what Allura had said? About how negatively it had affected her back there, and how it was likely part of the reason why she had been so tightly wound back on the bridge? Chyra hesitated, unsure.

"Well, whenever you're ready to tell me, I'll be here," Shiro comforted. He moved to get up, taking his hand off of Chyra's arm. Suddenly, Chyra's hand reached out and grabbed it again, holding on for just a moment before she dropped it out of discomfort, pulling her hand back towards her as she spoke.

"Wait," she took a steadying breath, preparing herself to be honest with him. "I overheard a conversation that Keith and Allura had while we were drifting. I think they forgot that their comms were still connected to mine," Chyra admitted shakily.

Shiro settled back down, giving Chyra a look that encouraged her to go on. "They um- they got to talking. About Galra. And about me."

A look of realization dawned on Shiro's face, shifting rapidly from an expression of concern back to his mask of interest. She could still the the dark clouds in his eyes, though, and they made her anxious. Instead of continuing, Chyra locked eyes with him and asked, "I thought she was coming around when we spoke back on Olkarion but... Allura hates me, doesn't she?"

Shiro didn't answer, he just looked forlorn.

"She really, genuinely hates me for what I am."

"I don't think -"

"Come on, don't lie to me." Chyra intterupted sourly despite herself. "Allura said it out loud: she wouldn't put it past me to follow in Zarkon's footsteps and betray you Paladins, just like he did. She made her stance very clear."

Shiro took a breath and seemed to mull over his answer, choosing his next words carefully. "Allura is knowledgeable about a lot of things," he began tactfully. "She's clever and quick-witted with a brilliant mind for strategy. She's notoriously good at helping people, and she can settle disputes well. I care about her like I would a sister, just like I care about all the Paladins."

Chyra looked down sullenly, fighting against tears. She couldn't look weak now, not when she was feeling so lighthearted just a few moments ago.

"I trust her judgement on so many things, but I think Allura may be wrong about you."

Chyra's gaze shot upwards, and she looked at Shiro with surprise, shocked that he would say his teammate was wrong. Especially with someone who stood as a leader, Chyra's training screamed that it was insubordination. Her heart, however, cried out in relief that she was seen. Someone believed in her, and was confident enough to say it out loud.

"You've earned my trust," Shiro said with a gentle smile, "which I don't give out lightly. I know you'll be able to win hers too."

Chyra tried to will her eyes to remain dry. She gave the Paladin a hesitant grin, and whispered through a breaking voice, "thank you, Shiro."

"Of course," he answered, his voice soft. "Now, I'm going to shower, and I think you need some rest." Shiro got to his feet, then offered his prosthetic hand to help her up. Chyra accepted it without hesitation, allowing Shiro to help pull her to her metal feet.

"Let's just agree though," Chyra said lightly as she regained her footing, "that next time we need to vent some frustrations, we'll just go to the training room. Because a shouting match in the control room isnt' really productive."

"Yeah, that was objectively not the way to go," Shiro laughed, bringing a light atmospere back into the conversation.

When their laughter died down they started to part ways, but Shiro paused and added one more thing.

"Chyra, we both said some things we didn't mean earlier, but I did mean what I said about you not having to protect us. I appreciate you wanting to take on the responsibility, but it doesn't always fall to you, even though I kinda made it seem like it did back on the bridge."

Chyra tilted her head questioningly, her ears tilting along with it. "If that's not my duty, then what should I do? How should I help you?"

Shiro answered with a determined smile. "Work with us. Because you're strong on your own, and so are we. But we're always going to be stronger together."

"You mean that?"

"Of course." 

Chapter Text

Once Chyra had made amends with Shiro, apologizing to the rest of the team was less intimidating. She did it the next day when they convened to talk strategy. It went over well, although she left out the part about overhearing Allura and Keith earlier. From there, they worked on their next step.

"Now that we know for certain that Zarkon is tracking us through the Black Lion, we have to find some way to stop him," Shiro said, authority ringing through his voice. He stood at the front of the bridge, hands on his hips and expression resolute.

"How are we going to do that, exactly?" Pidge piped up from the edge of the group.

Everyone looked to Allura, the resident Lion expert, but she shrugged. "We've never had this situation before. Two paladins battling for the same lion, it's unprecedented."

Shiro considered it for a moment while the rest of the team went quiet in thought. "Well," he began, "unless we want Zarkon taking control of Voltron every time we get close. I'll have to forge a new bond with my lion. One that's stronger than his." He stood tall, his shoulders squared and jaw set in determination. Chyra got the feeling that he would get done what he set out to do no matter what struggles he had to overcome.

"I think that would be best," Allura agreed, "I wish you the best of luck, Shiro."

Coran turned to the Paladins then, no longer shiny from his brief bout of slipperies, and said, "well, while you're working on that, the rest of us need to find some new teludav lenses otherwise we won't be able to travel via wormhole."

Hunk interjected with a raised hand, "Is that something we have to mail order?"

"Does anyone even make those anymore?" Keith added more bluntly.

"I don't know," Allura replied, looking down in thought, "only a few Alteans could use the teludav ten-thousand ago. The lenses may not even exist anymore."

The team lapsed into silence until Coran spoke up again.

"I think I may know where we can find some." Coran flicked a couple of buttons on his control station and set back on his heels as some images started to appear on the screen. Pictures of small, cramped, cluttered-looking shops full of a random assortment of items, from furniture to weapons to building materials to some things Chyra thought looked very illegal. All of them were manned by the slight-of-build, four-armed species called the Unilu, with whom Chyra had had several dealings over the course of her assassin career.

"Coran!" Allura said scoldingly, crossing her arms and giving Coran a sideways glance, "You're not suggesting going to one of those filthy swap moons! The last time you went, those space pirates took you for everything you had."

"Space pirates?" Lance asked bewilderedly. Chyra nodded at him, confirming that yes, he did hear correctly. Space Pirates.

"Those places are few and far-between now since the Empire started cracking down on black market trading, are you sure you know where to find a legitimate one?" Chyra asked.

"I know of one of the most backwater, underground, secret Unilu swap meets this side of the delterian belt!" Coran boasted, "it'll definitely still be around!"

"I'm still confused, where are we going now?" Lance asked.

Coran went on to elaborate, "The Unilu were traders and pirates that roamed the galaxies and dealt in black market goods. Umvy spice, by-tor water, little bottles of infinity vapor," as Coran listed off the materials, they appeared on the screen, picked out from the photos Coran had taken ten thousand years ago.

"All of those things are incredibly illegal," Chyra remarked, shooting the Altean man a knowing look.

"They weren't back in my day," Coran said winking. Chyra pressed her lips together, holding back a grin. She hadn't taken Coran to be the type to like by-tor water. Although he drank nunvil at almost every meal, so she really shouldn't have been so surprised.

"Anyway, we'll have to get ready to bargain. Nobody can Bargain like the Unilu. Last time, I ended up giving away three-quarters of my shipment of Lango in exchange for a used pogo oscillator." Coran laughed, and Allura joined in with her own fond chuckle.

"Father was not pleased about that."

Lance sidled over to Allura, a flirtatious look on his face. "Well, while Coran is picking up his lenses I'll take you shopping for something sparkly." His voice was purposefully deepened and he made a 'finger gun' under his chin, flashing a smile at the Princess, who leaned slightly away from the gesture.

Coran popped up between them, his voice stern. "This isn't shopping! You're not wandering around saying 'Oooo What a lovely pink hat! This is so becoming.' No! I can't allow Allura to get anywhere near those filthy, lowballing Unilu hoodlums."

"If the situation is that bad, it sounds like you need some backup in the intimidation department," Chyra grinned, sensing her chance to get back into what was once her element: backstreet deals, underground gathering places, and sketchy situations. "I could keep the pirates off your back, and probably help get you a better deal on those lenses."

She did not receive the reaction she was hoping for.

"Aren't you, like, a wanted criminal?" Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hunk agreed, "Yeah, this swap moon seems like the kind of place where there'd be a lot of wanted posters."

"Not to mention people who are looking to make an extra buck, and would be willing to turn you in for it," Keith added bluntly.

"Oh, I could take care of myself," Chyra answered airily, trying to wave off the team's reluctance.

"They're right, you can't come with us. Places like this are hives of scum and villainy, and bounty hunters looking to catch an unsuspecting outlaw. You wouldn't want to run into something like the Zeron Brotherhood, would you?"

Chyra crossed her arms and growled quietly in her throat, reminded once again of exactly how many people had it out for her. "Ugh, fine. I'll stay here."

The group got ready to leave, the Paladins racing to the pod bay while Coran went to gather the supplies they would need for the trip. Shiro, Chyra, and Allura were left in the bridge, and that number quickly dwindled down to two once Shiro left to bond with his Lion.

Chyra shifted on her feet anxiously as she was left alone with Allura for the first time since she had arrived on the castle. The Princess wasn't talking, and the silence was palpable enough that Chyra thought she could slice her hand through the air and feel the tension that hung heavy between her and Allura.

Chyra didn't know how to overcome what she had heard Allura say about her, but she had been encouraged by Shiro. Cautiously, she tried to break the icy atmosphere with some levity. "I can't believe they didn't let us go with them. We probably could have helped."

Allura hesitated, as though the polite action of replying was going to exasperate her. "Well, it is unwise to be wandering around such a dodgy place as a couple of the most wanted people in the Galra Empire."

"I guess," Chyra conceded, "but I bet you could have used your diplomacy skills and charming demeanor to got the shopkeeps to be a little nicer and drop the prices if you went."

The barest hint of a sassy look slipped onto Allura's face, seemingly despite her best effort to remain stone-faced. "Is that what you were planning to do?"

Chyra grinned and rubbed at the back of her neck, encouraged by even the slightest hint of acceptance on the Princess's face. "Well, I was actually just planning on scaring them into submission, but your method probably would have worked better."

"And gotten everyone in less trouble," Allura added.

"Most likely," Chyra agreed with a slight laugh. Then Allura seemed to realize once again who she was talking to, and she went quiet, turning back to her workstation. Chyra, discouraged, started heading out of the room.

"I'm... going to go train. Let me know if you need anything, Princess." She slipped out of the room without another word, heading towards the training room.

. . .

"Begin training sequence level nine- single combatant," Chyra announced, standing in the center of the training ring. The Gladiator bot descended from its port in the ceiling, taking up a battle stance as the countdown began. Chyra took a deep breath, willing herself to remain where she was, and to keep a clear head. She had been struggling with the training sequences in the upper levels since the moment she had progressed that far since they always managed to send her into her arena mentality, as she called it. That attitude, that front, that long-instilled sense of bloodlust that the arena and her training had programmed her for was a curse at this point, and Chyra had resolved to keep trying, keep training and working to keep herself grounded until that primary fighting instinct that called her to obliterate everything in her path was quenched, and no longer darted to the forefront of her mind every time she was in combat.

The countdown number lowered, and Chyra's eyes opened, her senses sharpened and focus intense. She took up a defensive stance, watching the gladiator's form as the clock struck zero.

Even though she had been prepared, the robotic warrior's speed still caught her slightly off guard.

Chyra blocked a swing of its staff with her forearms, grunting from the blow but pushing the gladiator off of her with a growl that was startlingly reminiscent of Grey's. The robot recovered with inhuman speed, rebalancing and coming in for another blow. Chyra feinted to the right, keeping the gladiator within her line of sight. The good thing about these robots was that they didn't target her blind side, although Chyra had to be even more careful now that she was in the upper levels. Ever since she had hit level six, the gladiator's staff had been electric.

She dodged another swipe, using the opening after the attempted attack to dart in and send a swift kick to the gladiator's knee. It buckled, and Chyra made to finish off the bot with another swing of her glowing prosthetic, but the robot bent over backward and rolled, popping back to its feet before Chyra could recover. It landed a swipe to her shoulder, making Chyra gasp in pain and scramble backward. And the staff wasn't even electric that time. That had been a warning shot.

The gladiator didn't let up, it wasn't programmed to. It kept charging at Chyra, forcing her to dodge and duck out of the way of its advances without giving her an opportunity to retaliate. She skirted the outer edge of the arena, trying not to let the robot force her out of bounds and end the training sequence. She couldn't lose.

Chyra bared her teeth, dodging a swing to her midriff and lashing out with her claws towards the gladiator's single blue eye. She missed the swing, then snapped back to reality. That had been her arena instinct, to go for the eyes and take her opponent out by blinding them. She growled and shoved down her aggression, striving for a clear head.

She ducked away, disengaging from combat for just a moment, barely long enough to skirt away and get back to the center of the ring. The gladiator met her in the middle with a rapid swipe, which Chyra blocked by bringing up her leg to stop the bottom of the staff from moving on its intended arc. The impact sent a CLANG ringing through the air and a sudden vibration thrumming through Chyra's leg, but the impact didn't hurt. She grinned and lunged to take the gladiator down with a sweep of her leg, but Chyra caught a glimpse of color out of the corner of her eye.

Four little splotches of color were running across the arena floor, and as they drew closer Chyra realized it was Allura's quartet of Altean mice.

"Wait, don't get in here-"

Chyra missed the swing because of the distraction, and the gladiator went for her knee. It hit hard and she staggered, but scrambled upwards and turned to disengage again so she could get the mice out of the battle area. She darted over to where the mice were standing and watching, moving to scoop them up and remove them from the ring so they didn't get hurt.

A shadow fell across her vision.

The gladiator swung its staff down in a savage arc just as Chyra reached the mice. It was too close, the electric staff would hit the floor of chyra dodged it, possibly electrocuting the mice. She dove down and curled around them, taking a charged blow to the ribs as a result. Chyra grit her teeth and cried out against the electric shock, but she had felt worse. The moment her muscles relaxed and the electricity was gone, she rolled onto her back, ignited her legs, and sent the gladiator flying with a two-legged kick, putting all of her effort into flinging the robot away. It hit the nearest wall of the arena with a clang and slumped to the floor, its glowing blue eye giong dark as it deactivated.

Chyra slumped, panting from the aftereffects of the electric shock. She rolled onto her side, looking down at the group of mice tucked between her arm and her chest, checking to make sure they were all accounted for and unhurt.

"Are all of you okay? I didn't land on one of you, did I?" Chyra struggled to lift her torso upwards, her trembling muscles protesting. The Mice shook their heads, looking as cheerful as ever.

"Good," Chyra panted ad propped herself up on her elbow, "you four need to be more careful, Allura would be heartbroken if anything happened to you little ones!" Stars, Chyra thought inwardly, she was starting to sound like Grey.

As if on cue, Allura came into the room, calling for the mice. Chyra struggled upwards, hissing from pain, before pointing down at the mice beside her. "They're over here," she called, wincing at how strained her voice sounded.

Allura came in, taking in the gladiator slumped against the wall, Chyra struggling into a standing position, and the mice squeaking cheerfully at her feet, and grew visibly concerned.

"What happened?" The Princess asked, her multicolored eyes landing on Chyra.

The Galra leanded down with a pained groan, letting the mice crawl quickly into her cupped hands. She straightened, wincing as the residual tension in her muscles from the electricity started to fade. "They wandered onto the floor while the gladiator was out. Little guys almost got stepped on," Chyra explained, handing the mice over to the Princess. Her hand moved to cover the area on her ribs that still smarted from the burn, baring her teeth breifly in response to the pain before adopting a more neutral expression.

Allura looked down at the quartet of little Altean creatures scoldingly. "That was very irresponsible of you, you know better than to get in the way of training."

The mice squeaked a few times, and Allura smiled down at them, laughing at whatever they had said to her. "Well, I'm sure she appreciates the thought, but next time maybe ask befoer jumping in."

Chyra tilted her head sideways questioningly. "What?"

"They wanted to help you," the Princess chuckled.

Chyra smiled in response, looking down at the mice with a tired but grateful expression. "Thanks, little ones."

Allura seemed to notice Chyra's strained demeanor and hunched posture now that she knew the mice were alright, and she raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What happened to you?"

Chyra shrugged, playing it off. "Eeeeh, I got hit by the gladiator while I was getting the mice out of the way. Minor..." She peeked under the hem of her shirt, confirming her suspicions, "no, moderately serious electrical burn. It's fine." She waved her clawed hand dismissively, dropping her shirt back down to cover the wound.

Allura's multichrome eyes widened, her expression surprised at Chyra's nonchclant manner. "Moderately serious?" The princess asked, skeptical.

"It's not bad, I'll just go... clean this up." Chyra said, sidling away and trying not to wince. She turned towards the door and made to leave, but after a short bout of squeaking from the mice, Allura called out and moved to catch up with her.

She sounded a little reluctant, but Allura offered, "I'll help you. As a sign of gratitude for keeping the mice out of trouble." Her tone made it clear that she was doing this only as a thanks, and not because she wanted to, but Chyra knew if she declined it would be rude.

Plus the burn was in a heard to reach spot on her blind side...

"I'd appreciate the help, Princess, thank you."

"Here, the supplies are in the medbay."

The walk to the lower decks of the castle, where the medbay was located, was silent, tense, and painfully awkward. Neither Chyra nor Allura spoke, except for when Chyra took a wrong turn and Allura had to tell her that she was heading to the airlocks, not the medbay. Chyra was tempted to try and make a joke about it, but she held back, unsure of how to proceed. Allura's words from back near Taujeer hung heavy in the air between them, forming a barrier that Chyra wasn't sure she was ever going to be able to breach.

They made it to the medbay in just a few minutes, and Allura quickly went to work, the mice balancing comfortably on her shoulders as she grabbed some old Altean salve for burns and a large gauze pad. Chyra stood uneasily in the doorway, shifting her weight back and forth anxiously. The Princess looked at her expectantly, and Chyra scrambled for a moment to reply.

"You know what, its fine, really. I can do it, you don't have to help-"

"Sit," the Princess pointed to one of the gourneys in the room, her voice commanding but not overtly aggressive. "I've already agreed to help you, and it won't take but a dobosh. Now stop being childish and let me help."

"Okay," Chyra relented, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. She entered the room and sat down, pulling up the hem of her shirt to expose her ribs, where the gladiator's staff had struck and sent electricity arcing through her. Fortunately the shock had been fairly low-voltage, or else the electricity could have traveled up her metal-wrapped spine and done some serious damage. As it was, the burn wasn't too bad, and needed minimal care.

Still, Allura looked surprised as she moved behind Chyra, looking at the right side of her ribs where the burn was located. "This is an actual burn! How high of a level was the training bot set for?"

Chyra shrugged and replied, "level nine."

"Nine?" Allura asked, surprise coloring her accented voice. Chyra flinched away from the sudden rise in volume and pitch, craning her head around to try and keep the Princess within view.

"Apologies," Allura apologized at seeing Chyra's distress. She lowered her voice, but still sounded incredulous. "Out of all the Paladins, only Shiro has gotten to a level that high and been successful. I was just surprised you could manage that so soon after escaping the Galra."

Chyra only shrugged in response, unsure of what to say. Allura rifled through the med kit at her side, then dressed the palm-sized wound on Chyra's ribs. The ex-assassin couldn't keep herself from flinching at every move the Princess made behind her; every rustle of bandages and sound of Allura leaning towards her made her tense. Allura's elbow brushed against her side as she prepared the bandage, and Chyra nearly jumped out of her skin.

The Princess's mildly exasperated voice came suddenly, eliciting another small spook out of the Galra. "Would you stop squirming?"

"I'm sorry! I can't see you and you keep... moving around," Chyra snipped, uncomfortable with the Altean lingering on her blind side.

Allura went quiet, but her demeanor changed with her sudden understanding. She had softened a bit, and instead of being abrupt, she moved more slowly. "I'm going to put the bandage on, it'll be just a second."

Chyra nodded, and this time didn't flinch when Allura pressed the gauze to her side and secured it with tape. Allura took a step back, examining her handiwork. Then her voice came again from behind Chyra.

"Your back..." the Princess muttered. Chyra straightened and pulled her shirt down rapidly, her ears pinning back from apprehension. She had hoped Allura wouldn't look at where she was most vulnerable, but she supposed that had been too much to hope for.

Chyra didn't answer, and instead looked down at the seams where her thighs met her prosthetics. They were visible even through her pants as a slightly raised edge, and she ran her thumbs across them, suddenly sullen.

"Is... is that what hit the wall? That day in the Green Lion's hangar, when I shoved you?" Allura asked, moving slowly back around to Chyra's left side, where she could see her. Chyra looked at the Princess out of the corner of her eye. The mask of aloofness and aggression that she usually wore in Chyra's presence was gone, replaced by a sad look that made Chyra feel like she was being pitied. It wasn't a feeling she appreciated.

"Yes," she answered reluctantly, keeping her gaze averted so she didn't have to see that pitying look on Allura's face.

"I can see why you reacted the way you did when you hit the wall. That looks... painful." Allura empathized, moving in front of Chyra to try and let the Galra feel more at ease.

Chyra glanced upwards, meeting the Princess's multicolored eyes with her singe golden one. "It is." Allura looked to the mice on her shoulders as they squeaked, and her eyes saddened. Chyra stood up and straightened her shirt, pasting onto her face a neutral expression as she squared her shoulders and tried to give off an air of confidence. "But, it can't be helped," she smiled ruefully, but it didnt meet her eyes, "it's just another battle scar."

Allura looked at her contimplatively, as though she were seeing Chyra in a new light. "You've seen unimaingable hardships," she said. Maybe she intended it as a question, but it came out as more of an observation than anything.

Chyra turned to face the Altean fully, standing up tall in an attempt to look like she wasn't about to break.

"As have you," Chyra rebutted, "and I would like to be optimistic and say 'oh but they made us stronger,' but stronger wasn't really what we needed to be, was it?"

Allura's eyes filled with a multitude of sadness and understanding. She sighed, folding her arms across her body. "You and I are so different in so many ways," Allura began, looking up at Chyra, "and yet here we are, talking about things no one should ever have to experience, all because of the Empire."

Chyra wasn't comfortable saying what she did next, but she felt it had to be said. "Allura, the loss of your planet, of Altea, was a tragedy for all the universe. I've studied Altea's history in an attempt to learn more about Grey, and the technological and cultural advancements that your people made helped so much of the known universe. Zarkon can never be forgiven for what he's done, to your people and the rest of the universe." Allura's face was fraught with shock, and she didn't answer for a few moments. Chyra's chest went tight with anxiety, and she feared she had grossly misstepped.

Then Allura spoke. "You understand, Chyra, it's hard for me. Having you here as a constant reminder of what happened to my home."

"I know," Chyra said quietly, contemplative, "and I could never ask you in good conscience to put that aside. I'm part of the plague that has wrought so much havoc on the universe, and I know forgiving me for my heritage would be going against so much of the anger and hurt that you so rightfully deserve to have. But I hope that someday we can move past what I am. I don't want us to be enemies because of Zarkon's actions, but I understand if we never become friends. What my people have done is too awful to be forgiven by anyone, most of all you."

Allura nodded and looked down, her eyes clouding with unshed tears. "Everything, my home, my people, my culture... its all dead."

"That, at least, I can relate to, to some extent. See, Galran culture is dead, too."

"I find that hard to believe, your kind has proliferated for centuries!" Allura shot back, looking up at Chyra accusingly.

"Yes, our species survives," Chyra relented, "but our culture is dead. The traditions laid down by our long lost forefathers, the values and stories and mentalities that allowed the Galra to once make peace with Altea... they're all gone. All relics, records, and remnants of the time before the Empire have been wiped from existence, and all of it replaced by Zarkon's twisted and barbaric ways. All his talk of blood purity and universal domination and endless quintessence... none of it honors the way our forefathers wanted the Galra to live."

"And what makes you say that?"

Chyra searched for the words, and once she found them they flowed freely. "In the days before Zarkon, before the bloodlust and the conquering that the Galra now stand for, we prioritized different values. Honor, chivalry, and yes, battle prowess, but only in the context of fighting for justice, not power. When my namesake, Enchyron, was king of Daibazaal, he made decrees about this sort of thing. He wanted written records to hold himself and future rulers of the Galra accountable for their actions. Pretty much all traces of Enchyron's Decrees have been destroyed now, but I found some a long time ago when I was serching through some off-planet records, the ones no one is really allwed to read even if they do somehow find them."

"How do you know all this if Zarkon never teaches the new generations of Galra their true history?"

"I'm a bit of what Pidge calls a 'history buff,' meaning I really enjoy learning about the past. I did a lot of digging for old records that survived Zarkon's purges in the early years of the Empire. They were hard to find, but I had some help from someone who somehow knew exactly where to find things he shouldn't have."

Allura made a quizzical face at the bitterness that took over Chyra's voice, but didn't press on the matter. Instead, she followed a different line of questioning.

"If you could change one thing about the way the Empire was right now, what would you change?" Allura asked, the hypothetical hanging heavy in the air.

"Just one thing?" Chyra asked, her eyes widening. Allura nodded, and Chyra started mulling it over. "Well, aside from the obvious: taking down Zarkon and stopping the planetary conquering, I think..." Chyra paused, trying to phrase it correctly, "I think I would change the mentality and the belief that the Galra way is always the right way."

Allura looked surprised, but prompted Chyra to continue explaining with a motion of her hand and an expectant look.

"There's a lot of things wrong with the Empire, but we wouldn't be able to start changing any of it unless we got the Galra to see that they aren't the prime example of how people should be. Unless we eradicated the mentality that Galra equals greatness no matter what, we couldn't make a difference at all. Someone else just a bloodthirsty would step up and take Zarkon's place with the exact same mentality, and we would be right back to square one."

"So you're saying we have to defeat Zarkon, and then completely restructure the Empire so it wouldn't keep destroying and conquering planets?"

Chyra crossed her arms and leaned back. "If we don't, nothing will get better, and the Galran race will continue to be a scourge on the universe," Chyra replied, a new determination in her eyes. She hadn't really had any sort of goal aside from defeating Zarkon up to this point, but now she had a solid grasp on the sheer magnitude of what Voltron and its allies would have to do if they made it to the end of this war. The Galra wouldn't just have to be defeated, they would have to be shown the error of their ways and made to believe in something other than Zarkon, who was the only thing the Galra had been allowed to be loyal to in ten thousand years. It was going to be a hard, long, uphill battle no matter what. Chyra wouldn't be able to do it on her own, especially now that she had been stripped of her name, rights, and very identity as a Galra by the Empire, but maybe she could do it with the help of the Paladins.

If they made it past the whole 'defeating a functionally immortal dictator with few to no weaknesses' part, that is.

Allura let a smile onto her face. "Well, Chyra, you either really, wholeheartedly believe in this cause," her sigh smile turned into a sassy grin, "or you're laying it on extremely thick in an attempt to gain my favor."

Chyra laughed, shaking her head adamantly in response to the Princess's jibe. "I assure you," she chuckled, meeting Allura's eye, "it's the former."

Something in Allura's smile let Chyra know that for the first time, the Princess believed her.

. . .

The rest of the time that Chyra and Allura spent waiting for the Paladins to return was fairly lighthearted, since the mice insisited upon putting on a show to celebrate the fact that the two women no longer wanted to kill one another on sight. There were still some awkward moments that occurred, but Chyra and Allura could both agree that the mice were, in fact, very talented on the mini-trapeze. They also made a show of doing up Allura's hair in a very... intiricate looking updo. Chyra politely refused when they offered to do her hair, citing the fact that she didn't have much hair to work with in the first place. The mice continued their little show for a while, until they got tired and Allura busied herself getting them some tiny mouse refeshments.

Coran and the Paladins entered a little while later, looking tired and a little worse for wear, but successful. They were also carting in a large... something on a hovering platform, which Chyra eyed with apprehension as it entered, scrtinizing it to make sure it wasn't a threat.

"We got our lenses!" Coran cheered as he entered first through the door. He jumped in the air and clicked his heels together as Allura clebrated.

"Wonderful! Now we can get the Teladuv up and running."

The other Paladins followed suit. Hunk, Pidge, and Lance were chatting amicably amongst one another, holding a colorful box and the weird creature as they entered. Chyra stood up, eyeing the animal, but it seemed unphased. There was also a significant lack of claws or sharp teeth, so she was put slightly more at ease, although the sheer size of the thing was a little concerning.

"Where's Shiro?" Keith asked upon entry, and as if on cue, the Black Paladin came through the doors almost immediately afterward.

"What did you do for all that time," Allura questioned the tired looking Paladin, "take a nap?"

"Something like that," Shiro answered with a sideways glance. He did a double take, looking with surprise at the creature on the other end of the rope lance was holding. "Is that a cow?"

"Mmm-hmm," Lance answered smugly, "his name is Kaltenecker."

"How did you get a cow in space?" Shiro asked, bewildered.

"Long story," Keith answered before Lance could, "believe me, he tried to explain it to me earlier and I was totally lost."

Lance objected with a sharp exclamation of "hey!"

"More importantly," Keith continued talking to Shiro, "did you find a way to bond with your lion?"

"Yes, and Zarkon's connection is growing weaker the more time I spend with Black, so I'll be soending time iwth him more often. I think everyone should dedicate some time to getting closer to your lions, stronger bonds would be beneficial for everyone going forward."

"I agree," Allura said sagely, "the Paladins of Old had years to bond with the Lions before they had to face any extreme threats, but you lot haven't had that same kind of opportunity in the months you've been bonded to your Lions. I encourage you to grow closer to them as well, it could very well mean success or failure in the future."

"Exactly," Shiro agreed, "and here's some good news: you can all do it while we're en route to our next destination: the Blade of Marmora's headquarters."

The room went quiet as the realization that they were one step closer to defeating Zarkon sunk in. Coran broke the silence by snapping his fingers and announcing, "I'll start repairs on the Teladuv immediately."

"I'll plot a course for the coordinates Ulaz gave us," Allura agreed, jumping to her feet and gathering up the mice before moving to her pilot's station. The telltale light of the Castle's arcane energy blossomed around her, and the journey was underway.

"While you guys are doing that, I'm gonna set up the video game Lance and I bought!" Pidge announced excitedly.

"Yeah! Let's get this baby set up," Lance agreed, unpacking the box and puling out a bunch of neatly folded electrical cords.

Pidge looked around gleefully, holding a controller and another set of cords with yellow, red, and white tips on one end. "Now, where can we-" She kept looking around, processing and taking in the sight of the sleek, cordless Altean technology around her. Simultaneously, she and Lance came to the very same conclusion.

Pidge's wail could be heard three galaxies over, Chyra was sure.

"Nooooooo!"

Chapter Text

It took two days for the Teladuv to be fully operational and able to bring the castle within range of the Blade of Marmora's headquarters. Those two days should have been relaxing for Chyra, especially now that she and Allura were on good terms and they no longer had to worry about Zarkon tracking them from such a vast distance thanks to Shiro's growing bond with the Black Lion. But Chyra was anxious about meeting with the Blades for one significant, gigantic reason.

They were going to recognize her.

The Blades had been a thorn in the Empire's side for ages now, always hacking into databases and sending in spies to infiltrate and sow discord within Zarkon's ranks. Chyra had always secretly been awed by their efficiency and means of gaining the information they wanted without fail and usually without detection, but now it posed a huge threat to her personally.

Because they were bound to know who Executioner was.

Chyra was well-known within the Empire and had been since her assassin days. But since her exile to the arena, she had become all but infamous among everyone who knew anything about the Empire. Her story had been turned into one that discouraged rebellion, that fact had been rubbed in Chyra's face multiple times by some of the more upstart guards in the arena and cell blocks. The tale of how the infamous assassin Enchyron had fallen from grace and turned into the Executioner, a mindless killing machine in the gladiator arena, had been used to scare subordinates into submission for two deca-phoebs now, and they had only gotten more severe after she had lost her legs. She shuddered to think of her reputation now that she had escaped and was known for certain to be causing even more trouble for the Empire.

And if her suspicions were correct, the Blades of Marmora would know all about her.

Up to that point, Chyra had been able to continue her ruse with her secret intact because of the fact that everyone they had been around since she had arrived had been disconnected from the Galra. The Olkari, the Taujeerians, the rebel groups they had met with, none of them knew about her, so Chyra could continue pretending she wasn't in nearly as much danger as she actually was.

She had to play her cards right going into this mission. If she didn't keep everything under wraps, she risked losing everything.

"Coran," Shiro called out from his pilot station, "how soon will we get to the Blade of Marmora's base?"

The Altean replied from his place next to Chyra at the front of the bridge, "based on the coordinates Ulaz gave us, we should be arriving in just a few doboshes."

Pidge and Hunk started talking about folding space and something called a calzone, whatever that was, but Chyra was too out of it to take part in the conversation. She was busy running through scenarios of what might happen when she met the Blades. What she would do if they exposed her to the team immediately or if they started planting the seeds of sedition within the Paladins to get her secret revealed. Her mind was racing as she tried to come up with backup plans for her backup plans, but she was dragged out of her musings by Keith snapping and Lance mocking him immediately afterward.

"We need to focus!" Keith snapped, and Lance crossed his arms, pulling a face.

"wE nEeD tO fOcUs," the Blue Paladin mocked, making his voice really nasally and snide in an exaggerated imitation of his teammate.

That wasn't the way Chyra would have imitated him, but it seemed to do its intended purpose of making the Red Paladin frustrated.

"The base is in range," Coran called out. Chyra turned back to the viewport, and her jaw dropped at the celestial phenomenon before her.

"Take us in slowly," Shiro advised.

"See, that may be a bit of a problem," Chyra replied, pointing to the cluster of supermassive objects that loomed in front of the castle.

Ahead of them, a gigantic blue star gave off huge amounts of light, making the entire bridge awash in blue light. The fire surrounding it was unpredictable, snapping out at random intervals in bright blue solar flares that left searing imprints on the back of Chyra's eyelids as they flashed in and out of existence. On either side of the intensely-glowing star were two completely black voids, surrounded by swirling halos of light and color, as well as bits of debris that spun wildly around the openings. It took Chyra a moment to process the fact that she was looking at two black holes and a supermassive star all practically on top of one another.

"Is that a black hole?" Hunk asked, his voice tinged with worry and fear.

"No no, no no no," Coran answered rapidly, shaking his head but keeping his eyes fixed on the celestial body ahead of him, "it's two black holes and a giant blue star."

Hunk replied with a hint of snark in his tone, "that's not better."

"No kidding," concurred Pidge. "Just inside a black hole, the temperature is one-millionth of a degree above absolute zero. But, just outside of that, it's hundreds of millions of degrees Celsius. The fact that the Blade of Marmora has a base here is unbelievable!"

"Unbelievable is right," Allura said, agitation clear in her accented tone. "Is the base even here, or was Ulaz just trying to lure us into a trap?"

The castle screen zoomed in on a small asteroid hanging suspended between the gravity fields of the black holes and the blue star and encircled it with a crosshair and a series of flashing Altean runes.

"Scans say that this is the headquarters that Ulaz meant to send us to," Coran answered.

"That just looks like a rock!" exclaimed Lance.

"Yes, but the fact that it hasn't been drawn in by the black holes suggests that it has some sort of stabilizing system," Pidge began muttering about gravity wells and suspensory rockets but refocused herself in a matter of moments. "That base is located in the perfect defensive position."

"Or the perfect trap," Allura disputed, her tone icy.

"Yeah, I'm with Allura on this one," Hunk agreed, "Maybe we shouldn't, like, go in there at all?"

Keith was a little too quick to answer, his tone full of outright aggression and, Chyra could tell from experience, shaking with hastily-concealed nerves. "What are you talking about? We have to go in! This is the whole reason we came out here! There is no other option!"

The team all looked to Keith with surprise, a little on edge from his outburst. "Okay, jeez," Lance said, levering his hands up and down in a motion that very clearly told Keith to lower his energy. "Calm down."

Keith crossed his arms and looked away with a scowl. Chyra glanced at Shiro, whose brows were furrowed with concern for the younger Paladin. He met her eye with a worried glance, and Chyra shrugged in response. She didn't know what was going on with Keith, but he was certainly more tense and anxious than usual.

The Black Paladin looked like he was about to broach the topic when a notification took over the castle's holoscreen, and a mechanical voice rang through the room, its tone high and clear despite being robotic.

"Identify yourself," the notification demanded, the words on the screen flashed through a series of several different languages including Galran, Galactic Common, and even some of the rarer ones Chyra didn't recognize.

Shiro stood straighter, his demeanor immediately changing to become one of determination and poise. Chyra watched the shift closely, fascinated by how the Black Paladin could switch between modes so quickly. She supposed she could do it too, Chyra realized with a startle. After all, her personas had been part of what got her through the arena when it really counted.

"Open a hailing frequency," Shiro instructed, and Coran followed through with it immediately. A series of symbols popped onto the screen, indicating that contact had been made.

"We are the Paladins of Voltron, sent here by Ulaz," Shiro said clearly, his voice even and strong.

A few moments passed in a silence that was wrought with tension. Everyone was holding their breaths, seeing what the mysterious Blades would do next. Eventually, the letters flashing upon the screen changed, and the mechanical voice spoke once more before going silent.

"Two may enter. Come unarmed." The signal shut off abruptly and the bridge was plunged into quiet again.

"Why would they insist we come unarmed?" Allura asked, that defensive barrier breaking into her voice again as she crossed her arms over herself. "Shiro , this doesn't feel right."

The Black Paladin took a steadying breath, looking out at the Blades headquarters with dark clouds surging in his storm-grey eyes. "We've come too far to back out now," he said. Then he turned to face the rest of the team, and his expression was shielded from Chyra once more.

"They've just sent us a route to the base," Coran said, pulling it up onscreen, "but we'll have to move quickly. Because of the solar flares, it's only open for half a varga, then it will close for another eight."

Lance sidled up to Shiro, looking smug. "So, any thoughts on who's gonna join you on this little mission? I'm thinking things might get a little hot, so you're gonna want someone who can stay cool."

Shiro looked to Lance and agreed, "You're right." Then he turned away and addressed the Paladin next to him. "Keith, you're coming with me."

"What?" Lance snapped, "Keith's a hothead! He's probably going to shoot first and ask questions later! And they're not gonna be able to answer his questions because they'll be dead!" He leaned close to Shiro, staring him down indignantly. Chyra could tell he didn't like feeling like he was second best to Keith, it was part of the strange dynamic going on between the two Paladins.

Shiro, however, handled it with a level head as he reasoned with the frustrated teen in blue. "We haven't yet completely severed Zarkon's link with the Black Lion, so he has to stay here." He put his hands gently on Lance's shoulders, pushing him backward as he explained his reasoning. "And the Red Lion is the only other one who can withstand the heat from that sun. So yes, it'll be Keith."

Pidge added her two cents to the conversation. "I don't know, Shiro. Do you think Chyra should go on this mission with you? I mean, she is Galra, and she may know how to deal with these guys better than any of us."

"Hard pass," Chyra replied, holding up a hand to decline.

"Okay, why?" Hunk asked, deadpan.

"No matter what, I'm pretty sure these guys are not going to like me. If I go in there with you, I doubt we'll be making it out."

"That didn't clear anything up," Coran remarked, giving Chyra a side-eyed look from his place next to her.

"Well..." Chyra balked, rubbing at the back of her neck sheepishly as she admitted, "I may have... foiled some of their plans a while ago. You know...back in the day when my job was rooting out rebel activity."

"Oh no, these guys have a personal vendetta against you?" Lance asked.

Chyra rushed in reply, holding her clawed hands up in a placating gesture. "No! Well, possibly. It'll probably be fine if I meet them on our terms, but I know for sure I will not be welcome on their base. So it's a no from me."

Shiro turned back to the Red Paladin, looking suddenly uneasy for a moment before recovering his poise. "Okay then. Keith, armor up and I'll meet you in the Red Lion's hangar."

"You got it." The dark-haired Paladin left the room, leaving behind him a confused and concerned atmosphere. He was acting strange, more short-tempered and snappish than usual, which was really saying something. Chyra's gaze followed Keith out of the room, her ears betraying her worry by flopping downwards with concern. She caught Shiro giving Keith a similar look, and she put a hand on his shoulder.

The Black Paladin looked over and up at her, surprise making his eyebrows raise just the slightest bit.

"Be careful in there," Chyra advised, but it was more of a request. "Those Blades are known to be pretty ruthless."

Shiro nodded, returning her concern with a determined smile that made his stormy eyes glint for just a moment. "I will," he promised, then he strode out of the room. 

Within minutes the Red Lion had launched from the hangar and was entering the gap between the blue star's gouts of flame and the freezing pull of the black holes. The team watched closely until Keith and Shiro landed safely on the asteroid. They breathed a collective sigh of relief, then set about waiting.

They had eight vargas, about ten Earth hours, as Lance elaborated to Hunk, until Keith and Shiro could exit the field around the Blade headquarters. During that time, communication was cut off by the interference around the trio of celestial bodies. So the team could only sit, pace, and hope that the Black and Red Paladins were alright.

Chyra was uneasy for more reasons than one now, and she was doing a fairly bad job of hiding her anxiety. She would go to her pilot's station every couple of minutes and check the monitors of the Red Lion's activity, then go back to pacing around the room like a caged animal.

"Chyra, could you stop doing that?" Lance asked gently after about half an hour, "you're making me stressed out."

"Sorry," Chyra looked down apologetically at the Blue Paladin, who was lying sprawled across Allura's control podium as he looked out the viewports. "I'm just..." she trailed off, bouncing on her metal heels and clenching her hands rapidly from agitation.

"I get it," Lance said, making a gesture of surrender, "but you're like, even more amped up than Keith was today."

"Yeah, speaking of which," Hun piped in, "is it just me, or was Keith acting really weird and like, hostile?"

Pidge retorted from her pilot's seat at the side of the room, "I'm sure it didn't help that you were baiting and mocking him, Lance."

The Blue-clad teen shot into a sitting position and shouted an objection. "I was trying to add levity!"

The argument brought a little bit of a lighter atmosphere into the room, and Chyra allowed herself a slight laugh, grateful for the momentary distraction that the conversation provided. "I appreciated the effort."

"Thank you, Chyra," Lance said, giving Pidge a smug look.

"I thought it was clever when you did the whole-" Chyra prepped herself, feeling the weird sensation in her throat that appeared whenever she mimicked someone else's voice; she hadn't done this in a while. "That little, wE nEeD tO fOcUs-"

Lance fell off the platform.

"What the heck?" Hunk exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in his seat.

Lance scrambled for a second, his long limbs waving as he righted himself with the biggest, most dramatic expression of shock on his face that Chyra had ever seen. The sight elicited a real, genuine laugh out of Chyra, and she grinned

"How did you do that?" Pidge asked, an excited and curious glint in her eye.

"What, this?" Chyra asked, this time using Pidge's voice against her.

Lance waved his arms around, "stooooop! That's so weird!"

"Sorry," Chyra chuckled, reverting to her normal voice, "I was trying to 'add levity' to the situation."

"Seriously, though," Pidge remarked, unphased by Chyra's imitation of her, "how did you do that?"

"I don't really know," Chyra considered, "I've always been able to mimic, but I don't do it often since it tends to freak people out."

"No kidding," Lance remarked, but there was no vitriol in his voice. He was slightly off-put, but not angry.

"It's been useful in the past though, helped me break into a lot of restricted areas back in the day."

Allura made a weird face and asked, "That's not an ability typical of Galra, is it? Most of them can't do that."

"No," Chyra confirmed, "but I'm only half Galra, so I've always thought maybe it came from my mother's side."

"Wait, what? You're only half Galra?" Allura asked, surprised.

"Well, yes," Chyra said, quizzical. "I've definitely mentioned that before. I'm lowborn?"

"Is that what that meant?" Hunk asked. Chyra raised an eyebrow at him and he elaborated, "I thought that was just, like, a... yeah, I didn't know what that meant."

"Just out of curiosity," Allura began, holing up an index finger, "what's the other half of your bloodline?"

"Oh, I don't know," Chyra answered quickly, shrugging off the question before she allowed herself to dwell on it. "Nobody told me who my mother was, and my father was Galra, so I assume I take more after him in terms of appearance."

"Weird..." Pidge said thoughtfully, then she snapped back to her excited demeanor. "What other voices can you do?"

The team spent some time messing with Chyra's mimicry capabilities to distract them from the worry that they felt for their teammates, but it gradually became less engaging as more vargas passed without any contact with Keith or Shiro. Slowly they became anxious again, and Pidge started collaborating with Hunk to try and reach the Paladins on the base.

After working on regaining communications for a while, an alert popped up on the screen.

"The Red Lion is on the move!" Allura exclaimed, running to her pilot's station and opening the holoscreen display. Red had started to stir and immediately leaped into action, tearing at the side of the base with her claws. Rock flew off in massive chunks, and the Red Lion's snarls could be heard echoing through everyone's minds, felt by their Lions and transmitted to the Paladins through their mental connections.

"Why would the Red Lion attack?" Hunk asked, frantic. Then his face went slack with dawning realization. "Unless..."

"Keith," Lance breathed, worry flooding his voice. "Keith must be in danger, we have to get down there!"

The castle started to move forward, scanning for the entrance where Red had entered several hours previously. The Red Lion froze, then turned and lowered its head before leaping out into space just as the entrance opened up.

Keith and Shiro's commlinks appeared on the screen.

"Guys," Shiro said, his voice ringing with the confidence he had when he was trying to impress some foreign dignitary, "we're coming back, and we're bringing someone you should meet."

"Thank the stars," Chyra muttered, the tension in her shoulders relaxing as the confirmation arrived that her teammates were alright. The atmosphere in the room immediately went from frantic to much calmer, although there were still traces of anxiety lingering at the prospect of meeting one of the Blades.

"They did it," Pidge said, relief making her shoulders slump. The Red Lion entered the Castle, and everyone made their way to its hangar to greet the Blades operative that had arrived.

It went about as well as Chyra had expected.

Shiro and Keith exited the Red Lion with a tall, bulky Galran figure dressed in bluish-purple in tow. They stepped out and the Blade took one look at Chyra before drawing his sword, holding it in line with his arm in a defensive position. He looked to Keith and Shiro, who had stepped backward in shock but quickly recovered, moving in between Chyra and the Blades Leader as soon as they saw him get aggressive.

"Woah, hold on!" Keith said holding up his hands.

"What are you doing?" Shiro demanded, igniting his hand in response to the Blade's outright aggression.

The Galran man's deep voice came in a snarl, and he fixed his masked gaze on Chyra from across the room. "You Paladins never said anything about Executioner being here."

"Who, Chyra?" Lance asked, pointing his thumb in the ex-assassin's direction.

Chyra, who had absolutely expected this, nodded in affirmation and crossed her arms to seem nonchalant, although in truth her nerves were on fire, and Grey's defensive snarls were echoing in her head and through the castle. "Oh, here we go..." Chyra remarked, curling her lip to expose her fangs as she tilted her chin upwards and fixed the Blade with a challenging stare.

"Now hold on," Shiro said, his defensiveness in response to his surprise giving way to a more diplomatic approach. His hand extinguished itself and he held it up in a placating gesture, "you need to put the sword away. Chyra is a member of our team, she's proved her loyalty to us, and we won't have you coming in here and threatening her like this."

"I would never have agreed to come here if you had told me Voltron was allied with that monster!"

Chyra couldn't stop herself from hissing with disdain, her hackles raising and her ears pinning back. "Okay, enough training yard taunts," she spat, the venom in her tone startling the other Paladins around her. "We're all here for the same reason: to stop Zarkon."

"You have gotten dozens of Blades killed through your interference with our efforts. We will never trust you."

"That's fine," Chyra replied, snappish, "you don't have to trust me, but trust the Paladins enough to shut up, put the oversized knife down, and listen to what the Princess has to say. I promise I won't raise a hand against you unless you do so to me first." She tried to regain her composure, but she found she was still snarling and baring her teeth by the end of her sentence. Chyra took a breath, trying to steady herself, and Grey aided her by sending emotions that evoked calm through their bond.

Okay, maybe insulting the man's weapon had been a step too far. It was really an exquisite blade, and Chyra was frankly a little jealous of it. The dark gleam of the flat of the blade and even the pommel spoke of luxite, an exceptionally rare metal that she had heard possessed special properties. The Blade snarled again from beneath his mask, and Chyra knew she shouldn't have been purposely pressing his buttons, but he had started it. He had called her Executioner, he had called her a monster. There was no faster way to get Chyra riled up, except maybe insulting Grey.

"If I may interject," Allura stepped up, gently urging Shiro to move aside and moving forward to face the much larger Galra man with a mask of calm and composure on her face.

"I am Princess Allura, and you are a guest on my ship. I wish to form an alliance with you and your organization, but if you continue to threaten my crew members, that will not be an option." Her voice went cold, and Chyra looked to the Princess with surprise. That had been a remarkably fast turnaround for her, but Chyra was immensely grateful to finally have Allura as an ally.

Shiro blinked in surprise, looking to Allura with raised eyebrows at the complete change of opinion towards Chyra. The rest of the team wore similar expressions, but Chyra just smirked, giving the Blades leader a smug look. She had the Princess on her side, and if he made a move against either Chyra or Allura, there would be hell to pay for it.

The Galra sighed and straightened, sheathing his sword in its scabbard across his back.

"Very well." He drew back his hood and his mask fell away, revealing a stern-looking face beneath it. Maybe it was the residual aggression directed towards Chyra, but this Galra looked like no joke. He had a wide jaw and large ears, with red and light purple markings across his face. a long white braid hung from his head, and Chyra noticed that he too had a scar crossing his right eye, although with his pupil-less yellow eyes, it was hard to tell if he still had vision on that side. The Galra was only a handful of units taller than Chyra, however, she noticed with satisfaction, and while he was much wider in stature than her, she was emboldened by the knowledge that she could almost measure up to him in height. He may look down on her figuratively, but at least he wouldn't be doing it literally.

That was at least a slight comfort.

"Princess Allura," he said, kneeling down in a gesture of respect before the Princess, "I am Kolivan, the leader of the Blade of Marmora. It is good to see that the rumors are true; you're still alive after all these years."

"So is Zarkon," Allura remarked sternly, looking down her nose at the Galra. "Can we consider you our ally in the fight against him?"

Kolivan hesitated, and his gaze met Chyra once more. She was still giving off an air of defensiveness and challenge, but she forced her expression to become at least neutral since she couldn't exactly manage to look friendly towards him.

"Yes, but we have little time to discuss this," Kolivan rose from his kneeling position, his gaze flicking back and forth between Allura and the rest of the team. "I just received word from our spy inside the Galran hierarchy. They have become aware of our presence, so the timetable for our plan has been moved up."

"How soon do we need to begin?" Shiro asked, his gaze still lingering mistrustfully on Kolivan. Chyra got the feeling from Shiro's tense demeanor and Keith's quiet, contemplative look that something else had happened in that rebel base, something that had made the usually open-minded leader of Voltron more closed off to this Galra than Chyra had seen him before. She decided not to press, but resolved that she would ask Shiro about what happened later.

"Now," Kolivan replied sternly, his voice echoing through the hangar and making a tremor of apprehension run up Chyra's metal-plated back.

It was time to take the fight to Zarkon.

Chapter Text

Adding the Blades to the usual motley crew of the castle created an all-new set of challenges and problems, most of which revolved around cultural and behavioral dissonances between the Paladins and their new allies. For Chyra personally, however, the problems mostly involved outright hostility from the Blades and the constant concern that she was going to get stabbed in her sleep.

She had been tempted as of late to sleep in Grey, since she wasn't sure how well her door would hold against the Blades, who were well-trained in espionage, especially considering her specific door's history of just randomly shorting out. Grey had declined politely but had promised wordlessly to keep her senses focused around Chyra, and warn her whenever she was about to encounter one of the Blades. Fortunately, the Galra rebels usually stuck to the pod bays and the bridge as they worked with Team Voltron to organize a large-scale attack on Zarkon's Central Command.

That, at least, Chyra could help with.

She had some of the most up-to-date information on Central Command, as well as the best idea of its inner workings since she had spent most of her life there, so she could help advise the team on how best to lay siege to it without getting anyone killed.

Kolivan was proving to be a problem in and of himself.

Out of all the Blades, he spent the most time on the castle, although he returned to the Blade headquarters after every meeting concluded. Because of his ever-present nature, Chyra had very few chances to relax or let her guard down, since the Blade Leader and his right hand, Antok, were always keeping an eye out for her.

Not to mention Kolivan had been purposely trying to sow discord between Chyra and the Paladins. He kept bringing up Chyra's history in vague terms during conversations and planning sessions, alluding vaguely to Chyra's 'long history of murder' or her 'experience in the field' when they were talking about infiltrating the Command Center. Every time he brought up hints of Chyra's past, it stirred confusion among the Paladins, and Chyra had to brush it off as nothing more than a snide remark rather than let on to the fact that Kolivan was actively trying to ruin her life.

Lastly, Chyra had grown concerned about Keith.

Over the course of the four days after they had initially met with the Blades, he had become more withdrawn, more self-secluding, more short-tempered, and less lighthearted than he had once been. While Keith had always been somewhat of a serious sort, he had always had that mischievous side. The side that bantered with Lance and challenged Chyra to sparring matches over the last slice of plokoon bread, the side that let him laugh even despite his serious demeanor.

Chyra hadn't seen that side of him since before they had encountered the Blades.

She asked Shiro about it over an early breakfast one morning, when they both were exhausted with dark circles under their eyes from a long, sleepless night on both sides of their shared wall.

"It's strange having the Blades on the ship," Chyra had remarked to broach the topic, "they're not the most pleasant houseguests, although I suppose I'm not really one to talk."

"It's taken some getting used to," Shiro agreed, glancing up from the schematics he had pulled up next to him, "but everyone has done a really good job of adjusting to the change. Even you," he added with a smirk, "despite the fact that Kolivan is trying to make your life difficult."

"Ugh, tell me about it," Chyra lamented, pressing the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She took a moment to steady herself. Shiro's comment had shaken her a little bit, but there was no way he knew about her secret. If he had realized that there were multiple meanings behind Kolivan's words, he would have confronted her about it before now, she was sure.

"Except," Chyra brought up carefully, "I've noticed Keith being more... distant than usual. Do you know if he's alright?"

Shiro's face darkened minimally before he recovered, that flash of emotion so brief that after it disappeared, Chyra couldn't help but wonder if it had really happened at all.

"He's... figuring some things out right now," Shiro answered cryptically. "He just needs some time and he'll be alright."

"Did something happen when you first met with the Blades?" Chyra pressed, her worry for the Red Paladin overtaking her normally tactful nature when it came to asking questions.

"I mean, kinda. It's not my place to explain, but just trust that Keith will be alright." Shiro stood and took his breakfast plate to the kitchen, but paused in the doorway and looked back at Chyra.

"Although I think if you talked to him, he would appreciate it."

"What?" Chyra asked, surprised and caught off guard. "Why me?"

She realized how insensitive that sounded after she had already said it. She scrambled to recover. "Not that I wouldn't be more than happy to help him, I just- how do you know I could do it?"

Shiro smiled slightly, his expression going a little softer than Chyra had seen from him before. "I just have a feeling. Now don't be late for the meeting or Allura will be upset." He ducked out of the room, leaving an off-put Galra in his wake.

Said meeting was almost akin to torture for Chyra.

Between Kolivan's monotone presentation voice and repeated digs at her, Antok's constant hovering over her shoulder like some sort of stalker, and the batshit crazy plans everyone kept coming up with, Chyra was about ready to tear her hair out by the time it finally ended in the evening. They had made significant headway, at least, and had started compiling a list of planets to contact for assistance during the siege on Central Command. Most of the planets who would be providing aid they had already met with, but a few of them the team was going to have to meet and negotiate with before they would help with the war effort.

And apparently, Chyra wasn't the only one who was struggling to stay engaged.

Hunk had been dozing on and off for some time now, his occasional snores disrupting the atmostphere of the meeting room, but nobody had had the heart to wake him. He hadn't really been contributing while he was awake either if Chyra was being honest. Kolivan had snapped at him the day previous, and since then Hunk hadn't been saying much during the strategy meetings, despite the fact that Chyra had stepped up and told Kolivan to shove off when he called Hunk a 'cowardly lump.'

The Yellow Paladin startled awake, asking frantically what he had missed.

"Oh, nothing important," Lance answered with a smarmy grin on his freckled face, "we just figured out a way to defeat Zarkon!"

"Really? I dozed off for ten minutes, and you guys figured out how to defeat the forces of evil?"

Everyone looked at him incredulously, but it was Pidge who replied, "you've been asleep for three hours," in a more irate and sassy tone than she had probably intended.

Hunk smiled sheepishly, and Chyra shook her head with a small smile. She marveled for a moment at how this group of kids had grown on her so quickly.

"I think we've got something here," Shiro said next to Chyra, his voice tinged with excitement and trepidation that were held in check. He looked to the schematics and plans and 3D renderings of Zarkon's central command that hovered around the display with wide eyes, encouragement and determination flashing in his storm grey eyes. "It's dangerous and there are a lot of moving parts, but if we can gather everything we need and coordinate everything just right, then-"

"Zarkon's reign will be at an end, and the savagery that's poisoned our universe can finally be cleansed," Kolivan said, directing a meaningful sneer at Chyra as he did. Chyra, from the other side of Shiro, replied with a snarl and a slight hiss of her own, to which Antok reciprocated with a low growl that rumbled deep in his throat.

Shiro nudged Chyra gently with his elbow, giving her a pointed look that said, please stop. This is embarrassing to yourself and others.

Chyra crossed her arms and muttered venomously under her breath, "he started it."

She looked to the side and caught the tail end of an eye roll from Allura, who was not only uncomfortable with the amount of Galra on her ship, but also fed up with the animosity between Chyra and the Blades. She had asked the ex-assassin to try and settle things with their new allies, and Chyra had admitted that while she was trying, it was unlikely to happen since Kolivan held her personally responsible for a lot of the Blade missions and operatives she had rooted out while she was in service to the Empire.

Next to Allura, Keith was staring hard at Chyra and Kolivan as they exchanged snarls, watching the exchange anxiously and with a jaw and posture that was tight from anxiety. Chyra concealed her teeth and tilted her head gently at him, asking him wordlessly what was wrong.

He just looked away, seeming discontented.

Chyra resolved right then and there that she needed to talk to him, one way or another.

"So, what is this miracle plan?" Hunk asked, standing from his seated position as Lance launched into an explanation.

The plan was simple in theory, but in reality, it was exceedingly complex and risky. There were altogether too many different allies and chances that the team was going to rely on for it to be a sane plan, but if everything played out just right, they might just be able to pull a victory out of it after all.

The Paladins needed to do a lot of things to get ready to face Zarkon. They had to rescue an engineer from a Galran prison, gather skultrite to manifacture a teladuv of elephantine proportions that they could use to transport Zarkon's central command away from the bulk of his fleet, and gather the support of several planets to aid them in the upcoming battle. It was going to take a long time to get everything together, Shiro had projected that it may take up to three months after they started work on the teladuv, even with the help of the Olkari. There were several other factors that added risk to the equation, including the spy that Kolivan had stashed within the Galran ranks.

The Blades informant within Central Command had to remain anonymous, despite his reports of ongoing investigations conducted by Haggar and her druids that were threatening to root him out and expose him for double crossing the Empire during Voltron's last siege. That was one of the riskiest factors in the battle at that moment. If he were discovered and the plan continued without the Coalition knowing of it, there would be no way they would make it out of there alive.

"One more thing," Shiro said pointedly, looking to the Blades and his teammates. "In order to keep our movements from raising the Empire's suspicions, we have to make it look like we aren't planning anything big."

"That would be wise," Kolivan concurred, nodding pensively. Chyra glanced around the room, seeing expressions of agreement around the room.

"We should keep liberating planets like we were before. Fortunately," Shiro continued, "we have a list of potential targets and attack plans that we can use to fill up the time in which the Teladuv is in development." At this, he grinned up at Chyra, making her previously stony countenance crack with a smile. She knew that map would come in handy somehow.

Chyra returned his smile before looking to the others, taking this chance to speak. Maybe she could gain some traction with the Blades here. "If we make a plan of attack on these other targets, one that resembles the beginnings of a plan with a different goal, we can mislead the Empire, make them plan for something that will never come. It'll divert their attention to areas where it isn't needed, thus making them more vulnerable to our actual plan when the time comes to assault Central Command."

Allura stepped forward, looking like she was considering Chyra's suggestion. "That might just work," she said, musing, "if we play our cards right, we could get the Empire to focus on something far away from our real efforts."

"It's at least worth a shot, isn't it?" Keith spoke up, "it'll help keep Zarkon off our tails long enough for us to prepare our main attack."

"And it would weaken the Empire's other regions as well," Pidge added. "that might also make other sectors easier to annex into the coalition after we get rid of Zarkon. Not to mention the added allies and information we could get from the other planets we liberate."

"Precisely," Chyra responded, her confidence growing with every moment she stood in the limelight. This was a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time, one of knowing she was capable of doing what she set out to do, and not just in the context of fighting. She knew she could fight, but it was comforting to know that her skills in strategy hadn't disappeared completely.

"So where do we start? What do we need to hit first after we get what we need for the main attack?" Lance asked eagerly.

Chyra looked to Shiro, waiting for confirmation to continue. If he wanted to pitch this part of the plan they had devised, she was going to let him. But he nodded at her with a look of confidence, and gestured for her to continue with a motion of his metal hand.

Chyra grinned with determination and replied, "supply lines."

"Why not just keep on freeing planets?" Hunk asked, raising his hand to ask the question as though he were in class.

"We will, but think about it," Chyra replied, excited to share the plans she and Shiro had been working on, "if we isolate various planets within the Empire by taking down their supply systems and then free them, we'll be breaking up the key components that the Empire needs to function, which means we'd be talking them on from two fronts- literal and tactical- without spreading our forces any thinner than they already are. Voltron can liberate planets in the limelight while the Blades and our coalition allies work in secret to prepare for the frontal assault. It'll make us appear like our plans are of a much smaller scale, while simultaneously weakening the Empire at a structural level."

"That's brilliant, actually," Allura said, and Pidge nodded enthusiastically, her eyes glimmering with newly forming plans behind the flashing lenses of her glasses.

"These strategies we delegate to you Paladins," Kolivan declared, "the Blades will work to prepare the other aspects of the plan while you maintain the front to distract the Empire."

The others nodded in agreement, and Chyra stepped back, feeling about eight feel tall and much more confident than she had in a very long time. She had all but forgotten that this had once been her element: planning great attacks and taking down planetary and intergalactic powers from their very core. It was how the Empire had made her to be. It seems only fair now for Chyra to turn the skills they had given her against them.

"I guess the only question is, when do we strike?" Pidge asked, her voice becoming authoritative in an admiring imitation of Shiro's own command voice. Chyra smiled at the Paladin's determination and drive, she knew that Pidge was raring for the battle with Zarkon to be over so she could redouble her efforts to find her father and brother.

Coran stepped up, pulling several charts onto the holoscreen in front of them. "It may take a while, but we will be able to strike as soon as we have a teladuv large enough to wormhole Zarkon's ship."

"Am I sensing another trip to the space mall? We'll need more scaultrite, right?"

"I'm afraid not," Coran disagreed, "This is gonna take a lot more scaultrite than we can find at any Unilu shop. For this plan to succeed, we're gonna need to split up."

A silence settled over the room as they realized they would be separating to enact and prepare for this plan.

Shiro broke the quiet. "Alright, let's delegate tasks and play to everyone's strength."

It took some debating, but everyone had their jobs by the time the meeting wrapped up that evening. Hunk and Keith would make the perilous trip into the belly of a Weblum to collect enough scaultrite to create a massive teladuv. Shiro, Lance, Chyra, and Pidge would break into the high-security prison that held Slav, a genius engineer that had worked with the Blades before being captured. The Blades would start scoping out and building relationships with the planets the team needed to ally with, while Allura traveled to the Balmera to get a crystal and Coran went to Olkarion to begin manufacturing the teladuv.

It would take a while, and most of the missions would be fairly hazardous, but they would be able to cover all the bases within the next few movements. They had two days to prepare and coordinate, which Chyra was relieved about. She needed some time to prepare emotionally for a trip into a Galra prison, and she needed to talk with Keith before they split up. She didnt want him to be distracted or off his game when dealing with the Weblum.

The Blades and the Paladins separated, each going their separate ways to start preparations for the siege plan. Chyra decided to visit Grey for a time, leaving the room and taking an alternate route to the hangar in order to avoid Kolivan and his Blades as they left.

It did not work.

Chyra practically ran into Antok as he walked silently around a corner, followed closely by a pensieve Kolivan. She scrambled back, startled, and bared her teeth, taking up a defensive position on instinct. Antok returned the gesture by growling and reaching for his blade, which was strapped in a wide sheith across his back. Kolivan remained emotionless, but raised one thick eyebrow, his gaze full of suspicion and contempt. Chyra recovered immediately, straightening and forcing herself to relax despite the telltale fluff of the hair at the back of her head.

"Kolivan," Chyra greeted stoically, placing over her nerves a mask of indifference and professionalism.

"Executioner," Kolivan replied icily, his expression breaking into a look of contempt as he practically hissed out Chyra's formal name, the one given to her by the Empire after her betrayal.

Chyra loathed that name. It had defined her identity to others for years, making her out to be some monster who killed without second thought or remorse. Identity was important to Galra, it always had been. The emphasis on names and how they correlated with one's personal identity was carried forward from ancient times, which was why Galra were allowed to choose, alter, or change completely their names at different points in their lives. The first name she had picked, Enchyron, had been given to her by someone she had seen as a father, and it mattered so much to her she had vowed never to formally change it. Harlow, Vrill, Quinn, and Corinth had shortened that to Chyra as a term of endearment, and she had chosen to remain with that name after their deaths in a way to honor and remember them. But when Chyra had betrayed the Empire, Zarkon had forcefully changed her name to Executioner. It wasn't just a way of identifying her in a new manner, it was a calculated move. The Galra did it with many of their prisoners of war, they had even done it with Shiro, dubbing him Champion. It was a tactic to make people lose their very identities, become detached from why they used to be.

Every time someone used that name, Executioner, to address Chyra, she was reminded sharply of the fact that she wasn't seen as a person anymore. She was a figure, a monster, a threat.

And Kolivan wouldn't stop using it.

Chyra forced herself to relax, putting her hands on her hips to appear bigger and leaning forward just a little, putting on a hopefully less aggressive front than before. Begrudgingly she sighed, resigning herself to a long, uncomfortable conversation.

"It's Chyra, you know," she tried. At the lack of response from Kolivan, Chyra tried again, pasting a grin onto her face to cover her frustration. "My name? It's Chyra, not Executioner."

Kolivan's arched eyebrow increased in angle, but his expression otherwise didn't change. He uttered two words that made Chyra frizz up from anger.

"Is it?"

The ex-assassin straightened abruptly, glaring intensely at the pair of Blades as they stood in the hallway. She felt her hands start to shake from anger, and she clenched her fists tightly to conceal the trembling. She kept her face as emotionless as she could, and took a deep breath. Depite her efforts to calm herself, her words came out in a scathing bite.

"Yes, it is. My name is Chyra, first of all. Second of all," she continued before Kolivan had a chance to interrupt or add more combative commentary, "can I speak with you? Privately?"

The Blades Leader didn't reply, but reached for his blade instead, his solid yellow eyes lcoking onto Chyra with no small amount of suspicion and defensiveness.

Chyra rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. "Oh, calm down! If I was going to try to kill you, I would have done so already. You've been on this ship for the last four days and I've not made a move against you. I really just want a word with you."

Kolivan and Antok locked eyes from beneath the larger Galra's mask, seeming to have a silent conversation for a few moments. Then the Leader turned away from his suboordinate and looked back down at Chyra.

"I will agree if Antok comes as well."

Chyra answered with an antagonistic grin before her brain had time to think through her response. "What, scared you couldn't beat me if it came down to a fight?"

Kolivan didn't rise to her taunt. "I've calculated my chances against you in hand to hand comabt," he said coolly, "you'll go down easier if I have backup."

Chyra rolled her eyes. Couldn't the guy take a joke?

"Fine, Antok can come. I don't need to fight you, I need to talk with you."

"Very well," Kolivan conceded, and allowed Chyra to accompany him to the hangar where the Blades' shuttles were docked. They entered the empty room, and after the doors closed behind them, Chyra leaned against the wall, bracing one metal foot against it and crossing her arms as she looked hard at Kolivan, her mismatched eyes flashing with apprehension.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Kolivan beat her to it.

"What are you playing at, Executioner?"

Chyra couldn't stop herself from hissing under her breath and jutting her chin out at Kolivan combatively.

"Call me that again and we're going to have a problem," She threatened lowly, a growl seeping into her words. She recovered, dragging her patience upwards from the corner of her mind that it was quickly receding into.

"And what do you mean by what am I playing at?" She resisted the urge to mimic his voice as she quoted him, not wanting to complicate a matter that was already going to be challenging enough as it was.

"What is the reason for this ruse you're upholding? Pretending to change your ways, acting like you're against Zarkon when you so adamantly stood by him for so long? Why are you trying to decieve the Paladins? Do you plan on betraying them from the inside?" Kolivan was staring to get aggressive, his posture had tensed and his eyes were narrowed dangerously. Chyra could feel the waves of apprehension rippling off of him, the energy in the room going rancid from the aggression that was rapidly growing between herself and the other Galra in the room. Chyra had to ease the tension, or something was going to snap under the pressure.

She spoke with a measured and placating tone, careful not to rile up the Blade any more. "Listen, I'm telling you now that there is no ruse. I am genuinely, wholeheartedly in support of the Paladins, and want nothing more than to destroy Zarkon. I broke free of his control, and now I want revenge. It's as simple as that."

"Why? After spendig your entire life as a staunch servant to him, why now are you acting like you've changed?"

"Beause I have!" Chyra rebutted, swinging her arm wide in a gesture of exasperation. "Zarkon killed my family, so I came to my senses and now I'm fighting against him, trying to help the Paladins bring him down. And you are threatening my place here."

Chyra readied a retort, preparing for the quick-witted response, but Kolivan went quiet. He looked her up and down, taking in her defensive stance and wide-eyed expression. He sucked in a breath between his teeth, seeming to come to a realization. His solid yellow eyes locked onto hers.

"They don't know what you are, do they?"

Chyra paused, swallowing the scathing argument she was about to bring up as it was replaced with a cold, solemn feeling.

"They know who I am, and that's all that matters," she tried to argue, but Kolivan stepped cloer to her, his normally stoic face flickering with ill-concealed anger.

"They don't know what you are!" he growled, his tone rising with aggression for the first time since Chyra had met him.

"They know me!" Chyra shouted in response, moving forward as well. "They know who I am, not what I've done, and I intend to keep it that way."

Kolivan's eyes narrowed again, and he stared hard at Chyra, straightening and regaining his icy composure. "Tell them."

Surprise rocketed across Chyra's features. "Um, no?" she answered, quirking an eyebrow. "I'm leaving my past where it belongs. I'm a different person now, and the Paladins don't need to know about my earlier... occupation," Chyra said tactfully, trying her hardest to keep her anger in check.

"Having you on these upcoming missions without the Paladins knowing of your past, especially since the stakes are so high, is a serious security risk. I will not allow you to continue putting my Blades in jeopardy. Tell the Paladins about your past as an assassin."

"No," Chyra said adamantly, fixing Kolivan with a hardened stare. "I will not."

Kolivan approached, and Chyra felt the wall at her back. Why had she backed herself against it in the first place? That had been stupid of her, she was losing her edge.

The Blades Leader stood over her, his solid yellow eyes flashing in the light of the hangar. Chyra felt the wall press harder against her metal-plated spine as she leaned away from Kolivan, and she unintentionally ignited her legs, casting a glow that radiated up from her legs and spread to her spine as the quintessence inbued in her veins charged with energy. Kolivan's words were quiet when he spoke, but they carried with them the weight of a death sentence for Chyra.

"Tell them, or we will."

He backed off immediately, and Chyra felt the pressure on her chest lessen, if only a little bit. Kolivan turned and left without another word, leaving Chyra to recover. Antok, after a glance in Chyra's direction, followed his leader into the shuttle, which launched in a matter of moments.

The ex-assassin hunched over as soon as the Blades had left, trying to drag in breaths to calm her racing heart and scorching nerves. She braced herself on her metal knees, the glow of quintessence fading as she started to calm down. She hadn't wanted that to be the outcome of that conversation at all.

She couldn't do this.

She couldn't tell the team about what she had done, what she had been in her past. If they knew she had committed murders the way she had while in service to Zarkon, she didn't know what they would do. They would never trust her again, that was for sure. She would be kicked off the ship, they would hate her, and she would likely never see the Paladins again. She couldn't do it. But if Kolivan were to bring it up, she knew that whatever retribution she was going to recieve would be a million times worse. Not because Kolivan refused to pull any punches on the matter, but because the team would be hurt that Chyra wasn't the one to tell them. It would be a terrible betrayal, although Chyra supposed she had already committed one of those by keeping her secret under wraps this long.

Chyra felt a sliver of comfort as Grey brushed against her mind to try and soothe her, but it did little in the moment. She was going ot have to come clean, one way or another.

But not yet.

Maybe after they had stopped Zarkon, after they had successfully ended this ten thousand year long war, after Chyra had completely and undeniably secured the team's trust, she would tell them. She would mention it casually, and act like it was no big deal. Then maybe they wouldn;t be so upset. Maybe she could bring it up in the interim between Zarkon's defeat and the next step of their plan, when they were all celebrating their victories and in jovial moods.

All she knew was that she couldn't tell them now. Not when tensions were high and everyone was fraught with anxiety. If the truth came out before the siege on Galra Central Command, it would be catastrophic for her.

So she decided she would wait.

As Chyra re-entered the castle, however, she rembered that something else could not.

She stopped a few doors down before she reached her room, pausing outside the Red Paladin's room in the barracks, where the Paladins slept. She steeled her nerve, solidifying her resolve. Shiro wouldn't have asked her to talk to Keith if he wasn't sure she could help with...whatever the problem was.

She tapped her knuckles against the door.

Keith's voice came from the other side, a hesitant call of "come in!"

Chyra pressed the keypad on the outside of the door, causing it to swing open and reveal the inside of Keith's room.

It was sparesely furnished, with only a few more things inside than Chyra had in her room. Keith was standing in the center of the room, twirling a throwing knife between his fingers as he paused with surprise, turning away from the target board set against the back wall to face Chyra more fully.

"Chy? What are you doing here?"

Suddenly, Chyra remembered how bad she was at this.

Sure, she had acted as a big sister for her family for a long time, but that didn't mean she was any good at helping with emotional problems. She could barely handle her own issues, how did she expect herself to help with someone else's?

"Um..." She stiffened, glancnig to the side before looking back to Keith, who looked thoroughly confused.

"I mean, I wanted to talk to you." She deflated, discouraged, and put her hand on her forehead in exasperation. "Can we talk?"

"Uh, sure?" Keith replied, nonplussed and a little uncomfortable.

"Great, awesome." Chyra wanted to kick herself so hard she got another hole in her leg. What was she doing? She sounded like an idiot!

Keith paused, looking at her expectantly with his dark eyebrows raised. His indigo eyes, usually so intense and focused, were sending nothing but questioning looks Chyra's way as she inwardly berated herself.

"So... talking? Are we talking or are you just gonna... stand there?" Keith ventured, and Chyra snapped upwards, grimacing despite herself. She took a clarifying breath, trying to calm herself, then began again.

"I've been worried about you," she started, then caught herself, "We all have been. Everyone's noticed that since we met the Blades you've been... closed off and stressed out. I just wanted to check in and see if you're okay."

Keith scoffed, putting on a look of false confusion, but Chyra saw through his mask. "Yeah? I'm fine, if anything you're the one who's being all jumpy around the Blades."

Okay, deflecting, that was fine. Chyra responded with as much tact as she could, "well of course I'm jumpy, Kolivan hates me. I just wanted to know if there's any way I can help you. You know, with whatever you need me to. Or want me to, if that's more accurate." Chyra stumbled, then resisted the urge to face palm. She was somehow worse at this now than she had been before her imprisonment.

Despite her awkward delivery, her words seemed to have reached Keith more acutely than she thought. His expression darkened and he looked down, grabbing his right arm with his left and pulling it into his body in an attempt to put up a guard. "There's nothing you need to help with. I'm just... figuring stuff out."

"That's what Shiro said, too."

Keith narrowed his eyes minutely. "Were you talking about me behind my back?"

"Only to see if you were alright," Chyra said with a placating tone. It caused Keith to relax, if only minimally. But he did't say anything, so Chyra continued.

"Are you sure there's nothing I could do? Shiro seemed to think that if I talked to you about it I could-"

Keith cut her off with a scoff. "That sounds like him," he remarked, "always wanting me to talk it out. 'Work through it,' he says. I love Shiro, he's the best brother I could ask for, but he doesn't get that sometimes I don't need to 'talk it out' with him."

Chyra felt a rush of understanding. Sometimes she struggled to articulate her emotions as well, and having someone to redircet the topic every few sentences or interject with frequent questions often made it even more difficult to do so. She smiled softly and offered her attention, rather than her input.

"Do you want to just... get it all out there?" She asked, gesturing broadly with a vague motion. Keith shot her an exasperated look, with his eyebrows furrowed and his face deadpan.

"I told you I don't want to talk through it with you-"

"I won't say a word if you don't want me to." Chyra promised. "I'll just be here to listen. I know its hard to put everything into words sometimes, and having someone try and talk to you while you're figuring it out can make it worse, but sometimes you just need to vent. I do it all the time with Grey."

Keith blinked in surprise, mulled it over for a second, then sighed, reaching behind his back. He drew the knife that he always carried with him.

Chyra scrambled backwards, her metal feet clanging against the floor. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry! I'll leave," she reached for the door to open it, but stopped when Keith laughed abruptly.

She tilted her head questioningly as the Red Paladin looked surprised at her frenzied state, holding the blade in a lax grip as he said, "that wasn't- I wasn't threatening you, Chyra. I was going to... you know. Talk."

The ex-assassin straightened, her ears flopping with embarassment. "Oh," she said quietly, "carry on then." Keith laughed just a little once Chyra had relaxed.

With the tension broken, it seemed like it was just a little bit easier for Keith to get started. He told Chyra about how he had had this knife since he was a kid, and his father had always told him it belonged to his mother before she had to leave them. Chyra listened patiently as he strung together his thoughts in a more or less comprehensible manner, although she tried to make sure he knew she wasn't trying to pressure him into elaborating on anything he didn't want to. Eventually, Keith reached the point in his story where he discovered the blade wasn't of Earthly origin, and he unwrapped the handle to reveal a sigil inscribed on the luxite blade: the symbol of the Blades of Marmora. Keith said he had taken it to the Blades base to try and get some answers, that he had been made to fight for the knowledge he sought after. He pulled aside the collar of his shirt to reveal a scar one of the Blades had given him, then gave Chyra a stern look when she made a move to comfort him. He wasn't finished, and she had promised to stay quiet until he was. She quieted her inner rage at the Blades for putting a child through trials like that and nodded for him to continue.

He told her about the trials he endured, how Shiro had tried to stop Kolivan from making Keith finish them, and eventually, how the knife Keith had had his entire life somehow 'awoke' at his resilience in battle.

Chyra's eyes widened as she came to a sudden, stark realization.

"What I'm trying to say, I guess, is I think..." Keith trailed off, trying to muster the courage to say the words out loud that he had been penning up for days now, "... I think I'm part Galra. I wouldn't have been able to awaken the Blade if I wasn't."

Chyra kept her lips sealed, like she had promised, even though there were so many things she wanted to say. Her thoughts were racing. If he was half Galra, how had his mother made it to Earth? Why had she disappeared, and if she was a Blade, why hadn't Kolivan spoken to Keith about it? And she guessed that yes, Keith was indeed half Galra despite having few to no Galra traits, as his father was human, and Galra hybrids tended to take after their fathers in terms of appearance.

But none of that was important right now.

What mattered was Keith.

He had his indigo eyes trained on the floor. His fists were clenched around the handle of his dagger, and he was trembling ever so slightly. After a few more moments of tense silence he glanced up, bracing himself.

"You uh, you can talk now."

Chyra looked comfortingly at him, trying to find the words she wanted to say. She had experienced this rush of emotion when Keith had told her the truth, and her desire to comfort the Red Paladin through his struggles was overwhelming, but in the moment, Chyra couldn't really find the words to say. So she just placed a hand on Keith's shoulder and smiled.

"Thank you for telling me," she said.

"Really? That's it? That's all the sage advice you wanted to dispense earlier?" Keith snipped, looking nervous and raising his guard back up in response to Chyra's unclear reply. He pulled away, backing up a few steps and taking a more defensive stance, as though his discomfort was making him uneasy.

"Well, do you want me to make a big deal out of it? Because I can if you'd like, but I don't really think I need to overreact the way you're expecting me to." Chyra replied, her tone of voice even and steady. She needed to be supportive, but she also wanted to put Keith a little more at ease.

"You wouldn't understand, you've always known what you are," Keith almost growled, fixing Chyra with an accusatory stare.

She retaliated a little snappishly before regaining her composure. "Okay, first of all, that's wrong. I'm half Galra too, and I have no idea what my mother was, so you're actually further along there than I am. I understand this is a lot to comprehend since you always thought you were fully human, but I can assure you, you're not alone here."

"That's a nice sentiment, but-"

"Hey," Chyra's voice softened, taking on that sisterly tone that she had always used when she was talking to her family about their troubles. She put her hand back on the Paladin's shoulder and leaned down to his height. "It's going to be okay."

Keith's eyes clouded with tears, and he blinked hard, looking resolutely away. "You can't guarantee that. You can't-" his voice cut off from emotion, and he shook his head, still staring hard at his boots.

"I can, actually," Chyra said softly, filling her voice with as much encouragement as she could muster. "Because there's lots of people out there like us. Half Galra, considered lowborn by the Empire and unnatural by the rest of the univese. But still we survive. I've made it this far. Not without hardship of course, but there's a couple benefits to being part Galra. Resilience is one of them."

"I don't want this, I never wanted this." Keith said, and Chyra saw tears drip down his nose that he hastly wiped away. She didn't comment on them. "I don't want to be Galra."

"You don't have to be like the Galra just because you have Galra blood. Knowing your bloodline doesn't mean you have to change who you are. You're still you, Keith. You're still the Red Paladin, still a member of this team, this family. Your blood isn't going to change that now."

Keith looked up, blinking back the moisture that fogged up his dark eyes. He looked a little unconvinced still, but at least somewhat comforted.

Chyra continued, "and yes, there are going to be a lot of people who judge you for your blood and dislike you because of your heritage. Most Galra will think less of your because of your mixed bloodline. A lot of inhabitants of Galra-occupied planets won't like you much if they find out you're half Galra, although you do have the luxury of looking human, which means you won't have to deal with any immediate hostility since most people can't tell you're a hybrid."

"I don't like that term, hybrid. It makes me feel like some kind of weird specimen."

"I mean, there are lots of terms for people like us, but not many of them are meant to be pleasant or complimentary."

"Allura is gonna hate me now," Keith said, and Chyra knew that had been on his mind since the beginning. She went quiet, trying to figure out how to carefully address the topic. Eventually, she relnted, she had to agree just a little bit.

"She's going to have to adjust to this news, but I think she'll come to terms with it more quickly than you would predict."

"I don't think so," Keith disagreed, looking forlorn. "We got to talking while we were drifting near Taujeer. She said some things... I don't think she'll ever really be okay with either of us."

"I know. I heard that conversation."

Keith snapped his head up, meeting Chyra's eye. He looked mortified. "What?"

"You left the comms on. We were still connected, I heard everything"

"I am so sorry, believe me I wasn't trying to make you out to be the bad guy or anything-"

Chyra cut in with a slight smile. "I know. I'm actually very grateful that you stood up for me as much as you did. But even since that, Allura and I have been making some progress. She seems to be a little more open and accepting now, and I think she'll come around a little more quickly to you than she did for me."

"I hope so," Keith whispered, just barely loud enough for Chyra's sensitive ears to pick up. She released him and took a step back, letting the Paladin have his space back. He had deflated somewhat, looking tired from the effort of bringing his secret to light.

Chyra ventured a reccomendation. "You should tell the rest of the team. I know it's frightening, but-"

"No," Keith insisted, his expression hardening as he became guarded once more. "I can't tell them, not right now. It's hard enough now that you and Shiro know, but if I drop this bombshell on everyone right now, they won't be able to focus on the mission and... I just can't."

Chyra sighed, suddenly very much reminded that she and Keith were in very similar positions. Holding onto secrets that could drive a wedge between themselves and the team, both too afraid to bring their revelation to light. Here Chyra was, encouraging Keith to reveal his own secret when she was too cowardly to admit to her own. She felt a rush of self loathing from the realization that she was being hypocritical. Who was she to encourage honesty? She was harboring a secret she should never have created in the first place.

Unhappy from this realization but still wanting to be a comfort to Keith, Chyra went for a more blunt approach.

"Keith. Do you think I care that you're part Galra?"

"No," the younger halfling relented, glancing up at her with the barest trace of a relieved expression.

"Do you think Pidge or Hunk or Lance will care that you're part Galra?"

"Well Pidge-"

"I'll tell you right now, she will not. She's too intelligent and sensible to associate you with any of the Galra that took her family. She will not hold it against you."

"But Allura-"

"-Will warm up to it eventually," Chyra cut in, keeping the topic purposefully light. She didn;t want to delve into Allura's deap-seated hatred for Galra now that they had made some headway in destigmatizing it for her. "It might take her a while, but hey, she's more or less fine with me, so there's hope."

"And Shiro... man, I've become the one thing that he hates most."

"Ouch." Chyra replied dryly, hiding her genuine hurt beneath a layer of sarcasm. It genuninely worried her that Keith said that; she wasn't sure why, but the thought of Shiro disliking her even a little bit made her stomach go sour.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Keith, once again, Shiro is okay with me. He knows you. He cares about you a lot. And believe me, that man will get a strong talking-to from me if he suddenly decides to dismiss you just because you're part Galra."

Keith was silent. He stared at his hand, as though he expected it to turn purple and sprout claws and fur.

"Listen, I'm not saying you have to do it right now, but there's no use in holding it in for too long. The team will find out one way or another, and I know you want to be the one to tell them, not someone like Kolivan or Antok."

"I guess you're right," Keith relented, looking comforted and more resolute about bringing up his heritage to the team.

He met Chyra's eye, and a smile slid onto his flushed face.

"Thank you, for listening."

Chyra couldn't help the soft smile that lit up her face. She hadn't realized how much she had missed being the big sister in the wake of her family's loss.

"Of course. Believe me, this problem will have it place. And any time you need me, I'll be here."

Now if only Chyra had the courage to follow her own advice.

Chapter Text

The next two days of preparations passed in a hazy blur of action, planning, and last-minute prep. The Paladins and their Marmoran allies really had their work cut out for them, and with the preparations for the upcoming attack on Central Command, everyone was wound especially tight. The team was set to split up the next morning on their respective missions, and had spent some time together during the day before they had to leave one another. The group was tense, but staying together that afternoon had helped them, if only minimally. They had worked on team dynamics in training, doing joint and teambuilding exercises despite being about to split up. It helped, Chyra supposed, to comfort them in the face of their inevitable separation.

Everyone was feeling the effects of stress, but while she knew she had it no worse than the others, Chyra felt she was suffering more acutely. Just when she had started to feel at home, like she had a family again, they were about to separate. She had tried to conceal her roiling nerves and disjointed emotions, but she saw the concerned looks the others sent her way when they didn't think she was looking. They were onto her anxiety, despite her best efforts to appear unfazed by the prospect of her secret being revealed by the Blades and potentially leaving the team for good.

Chyra had been losing considerable sleep over it. The dark circles beneath her eyes, which had breifly started to fade, had returned in force, making her countenance look haunted once again. Despite looking healthier and more vital overall, she had been more sedate over the last few days as a result of stress and lack of good rest. She often found herself drifting off during conversations, her concentration lacking for a few moments as she zoned out of the topic. She dozed off at mealtimes, her face resting against her hand, only to awaken with a startle when someone next spoke. She laid at night in her bed awake, staring at the ceiling and willing her mind to shut down. But her thoughts raced constantly with thoughts of disaster, of saying farewell to the Paladins and never returning, either as the result of a failed mission or her own cowardice in continuing to hold onto her secret.

It had taken a toll on her, and Chyra numbly sat up in bed, her eyes flicking around the darkened room as she wondered how much longer she could go on like this.

It didn't help that added to her stress was the fact that she and Shiro had taken on the shared responsibility to act as a pillar of support for Keith in the wake of his admission to the team about his bloodline. Most of the Paladins were shocked and confused, but not altogether upset.

Allura was the exception. As expected, the Princess was unhappy to say the least. She felt it had been a betrayal of trust, despite Keith not knowing about his heritage until very recently. Allura had been angry, upset, hurt, and offended, and Keith had felt awful for disrupting the dynamic of the team.

Fortunately, Allura had calmed down after a little while and a conversation with Shiro. She had apologized for her reaction, citing her shock and frayed nerves as part of the reason why she had reacted so harshly. Keith had still been shaken, however, and the team felt slightly strained from the tension that resulted from the conversation.

Chyra had been equally unsettled. If Allura had reacted to Keith that way, how was she going to feel when Chyra revealed her secret?

The exhausted Galra sighed and ran her hand down her weary face, groaning and pulling her blanket up over her bare shoulders to guard against the cold of her bedroom. The castle was always just a little too cold, she mused as she stared at the wall for a few seconds, her acute night vision picking out the texture of the metal in front of her as her racing thoughts slowed.

She wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight, she was too nervous about embarking tomorrow on the mission to the Empire's high-security prison: Beta Traz.

As she left her bedroom to clear her head, the white walls of the castle seemed to stretch and contort and darken, taking on the appearance of the gloomy halls of the Galra mothership. Chyra shuddered, her hackles raising and her anxiety begining to bubble violently in the pit of her stomach. She shook her head, as though she could dislodge the flashbacks of her imprisonment from her brain, but the dark, cool hallways were still haunting and bringing her heartbeat to a crescendo in her ears. She drew her shoulders upward to guard against the chill that had sunk into her bones from the icy atmosphere in the castle. She walked faster.

Every step seemed to draw her closer to panic, despite her efforts to slow her breaths and steady her heartbeat. Her metal feet started pounding against the floor, and she realized she was running. Her lungs burned, her gasping breaths quivered and adrenaline was rushing through her brain at a hundred miles an hour. Her legs ignited and she powered forwards at a dead sprint, her eyesight fogging with tears that she refused to let fall. The cold air stung her lungs, and her legs burned a furious purple to combat the chill.

Suddenly, her footsetps weren't the only things ringing through the air.

A riot echoed in her head, and the sounds of battle seemed to make the air around her thrum with the fervor of conflict. The sharp scent of fear filled Chyra's senses, and she careened around a corner, her lungs gasping for a breath of clearer air. She ran into a shaft of light that slanted out of a large doorframe in her path and froze, her surroundings instantly shifting back to reality.

A loud, metallic clang crashed through the air and Chyra's gaze snapped up, her hair ruffling and ears pinning back from fright. The figure in the training room straightened, black-clad chest heaving from striking down the gladiator, but his eyes went wide with concern as he met the gaze of the trembling, clammy, and thoroughly panicked Galra in the doorway.

Shiro let his glowing hand fade instantly, took a step forward, and spoke as his soft voice echoed across the space betwen them.

"Chyra? What-"

The Galra staggered back, her breaths short. She clutched at her head, which felt like it was about to split open from the blood pounding through it and hunched forward, staring at the floor to try and reduce the noise that sounded like static in her head.

A voice broke through the chaos, soft and careful and concerned. "Hey, hey, what's going on? What do you need?"

Chyra flinched as footsteps approached, bracing for an attack but unable to raise a hand against it in her current panicked state.

"Chyra," Shiro said softly, getting closer but keeping some distance between them in case the Galra lashed out, "I want to help you, what can I do?"

A sob pressed against Chyra's throat, but she was determined not to let it out. She was weak, she was falling apart at the seams and she wanted to do it alone, where no one would see or judge her for being so fragile. But at the same time, she didn't want to leave. And as Shiro's voice came again, whispering comforting words to her as he inched closer, she wanted to let herself break. Because for the first time, she felt safe to do so.

Her knees hit the floor, sending a resounding CLANG echoing through the castle's hall. Shiro flinched at the noise, but didn't waver. Instead, he knelt down and kept talking, trying to help ground Chyra back to reality.

The Galra curled inward, choking out a curse in a language Shiro didn't know. Tears spattered the floor, and she released a strained cry, her throat sounding tight and closed off from the sobs that wracked her prone form. Shiro inched closer cautiously.

"Chy, it's alright. Just breathe, you're safe and you'll be okay."

Chyra tried to follow his advice, she really did. But her chest was so tight she felt like her ribs were sqeezing her lungs, compressing them into nothingness that couldn't hold any air at all. Her head started to buzz, she felt like she was going to pass out.

"Here, with me," Shiro said, his hands hovering over her tense arms. He went to touch her but hesitated, not wanting to make anything worse.

"In," he urged, drawing in a huge breath. Chyra tried to follow suit, and succeeded in forcing in a slightly deeper breath than before. "Hold, and out," Shiro continued, and watched as Chyra's shaky breath left her.

"Good, again." Shiro urged, placing his hand gently on her arm and keeping to where she could see him clearly.

Gradually, Chyra began to be able to think again.

The tensions in her muscles ebbed away slowly, her shoulders relaxing and the shuddering of her breaths begining to even out as she and Shiro focused on steadying it. Her golden eye peeked out from her disheveled hair, meeting Shiro's concerned gaze with a look of quiet apprehension. She braced herself for a mocking before realizing that she probably wouldn't hear one from her present company.

"Any better?" Shiro asked from where he knelt in front of her, sitting back on his heels with a soft expression. His dark brows were tilted upwards, his stormy eyes filled with worry. Chyra slowly began to straighten, hesitantly meeting his eye with a terse and shaky nod. She didn't dare use her voice, she was too afraid that if she spoke she wouldn't be able to stop, and every stupid, pointless, heartwrenching emotion she had been concealing would come rushing out of her like a flood.

"Good. What else can I do for you?" Shiro asked gently, leaning down to better see Chyra's face. She wasn't sure why, she wouldn't havewanted a better look at her own clammy, sweaty, panic-stricken face, but she didn't make a move to conceal it.

She pondered her answer for a moment; nobody had ever asked that before. Usually, her panic was resolved by running, or training, or spending time with Grey, who never needed to ask how to help her. Haltingly, as though she wasn't sure, she answered.

"Just... stay. Please," she whispered, her voice cracking from strain. She looked down, staring at the seam where her prosthetics met her skin, but stiffened and looked back up when Shiro started moving.

He scooted across the floor to be closer to her, his hand resting on her shoulder. "Okay," he said. It sounded like a promise, ringing wihth earnesty and weight. "Just keep breathing for me, and I'll stay right here until you're ready." His touch receded, and he leaned back against the wall beside her, his eye trained on Chyra's form with a watchful type of worry within.

Chyra nodded and pulled her knees up to her chest, the light material of her sleep pants riding up to reveal her metal ankles as she placed her arms on her knees and rested her forehead against them. She looked down, trying to breathe as deeply and slowly as possible, and waited for her calm to return.

As her thoughts cleared, she realized several things.

Foremost was the cold, the chill of which had first helped send her into a panic. It was chilly in the hallways tonight, and the cold sent shivers rocketing up and down Chyra's exposed arms as she sat hunched against the frigid metal wall. Second was the embarassment that had started to creep in underneath her receding panic. It was bad enought when she panicked on her own and had to seek consolation from Grey, but she hadn't wanted the rest of the team to see her in such bad shape. She hadn't exposed this timid, flighty side of herself to them since her early days in the castle, despite struggling with anxiety, nightmares, and flashbacks on a very frequent and regular basis. She had done a fairly good job of projecting an image of strength up as a barrier between herself and the Paladins, but that barrier had just fallen, and Shiro was now aware of just how damaged she really was.

Although, Chyra realized vaguely, he would probably be the only one to truly understand her brokenness, considering their shared experiences in the arena.

When she finally felt she had the strength, Chyra cleared her throat and raised her head, looking to her left where Shiro leaned back, his gaze fixed on a point high up on the training room wall. He looked over at her, prompted by Chyra's movement, with a little flicker of relief dancing in his eyes.

Still, his voice was tinged with worry when he spoke. "Are you alright?"

Chyra shrugged, looking askance as her ears drooped from exhaustion and embarrassment. "I... I don't know." She trailed off, looking back to Shiro's face. His hair was messy from sparring, the white fringe splayed haphazardly across his forehead. She focused on that instead of his dark, worried eyes as she continued. "I don't think so."

"Care to talk about it?" he offered, a hint of a comforting smile tugging at his lips. Chyra hesitated, suppressing a shiver from the icy temperature.

"I don't know," she said, unsure if she could put everything into words.

"That's okay," Shiro said, unwavering in his resolve to help her calm down. "You don't have to."

Chyra sighed, resting the back of her head against the wall behind her and closing her eyes for a moment, considering whether or not she wanted to talk. What would Shiro think if she told him how weak she felt?

Eventually, she steeled her nerve.

"I'm afraid, Shiro."

He didn't answer right away, and Chyra cracked her left eye open, peeking at the Black Paladin's expression as discreetly as she could. He looked pensive, seeming to consier her words thoroughly before responding. Faltering, Chyra continued.

"I just... I'm afraid that this sort of thing is going to happen tomorrow. When we're in the thick of it. When I'm... back in an Imperial prison again."

Shiro nodded, looking sympathetic. "I understand. I'm not looking forward to it either. I was up training because I couldn't get to sleep."

"What if I freeze up like this? If I get us all caught? I don't think I could-" her breaths started hastening again, and she gripped her forwarms so hard it hurt.

"Woah, hey," Shiro interrupted, moving in front of Chyra to capture her attention. "It's gonna be alright."

"No," Chyra disputed, tangling her hands in her hair again. "I feel... I feel trapped in these hallways, but when I'm there, in it again-"

Shiro took Chyra's hands gently, guiding them downwards. He tapped his fingers on the backs of her hands, drawing her attention back down to reality.

"Let's get you somewhere you don't feel so trapped. Any suggestions?"

Chyra hesitated, blinking in surprise before replying, "th-the bridge."

"Okay," Shiro answered simply, helping to pull Chyra to her metal feet. She was unsteady, and Shiro worked as a pillar to steady her shaky limbs as her strength that had abandoned her slowly returned.

Slowly, with Shiro walking next to her, the pressure on Chyra's chest decreased. They drew nearer to the control room, and as the doors opened with their telltale whoosh, Chyra saw the stars outside the castle and immediately started to feel more at ease. The pair of them moved to the front of the room, sitting with their backs leaning against the station that Coran operated during flight. Chyra leaned carefully back against it, feeling the pressure against her sensitive spine. The slight twinge of pain helped to ground her again, keeping her thoughts from wandering with its presence.

She sighed, looking out at the stars.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, directing her words at Shiro but refusing to look his way. "That was stupid of me."

"What?" The surprise in his voice threw Chyra off, and she glanced to her left, where he sat next to her. He looked confused, and slightly incredulous.

"I freaked out over nothing," Chyra reasoned, "and it was stupid."

Shiro's expression darkened, and his eyes looked saddened. He looked back towards the stars outside. "I don't think it was stupid."

Chyra's ears flicked upwards in interest, and she tilted her head questioningly.

Shiro, prompted by Chyra's gesture of confusion and interest, let a smile flicker across his face for a split second. "Do you have any idea how nervous I was the first time I had to go back into a Galra ship after I escaped?" He met Chyra's eye with a rueful look, then admitted, "I was terrified. Every heartbeat felt like it was going to be my last, and I couldn't stop thinking that I was never going to get out of there. I even had a flashback while we were still on the ship."

"You got trapped in a memory?" Chyra asked, and Shiro nodded, then continued with an embarrassed but sympathetic expression.

"And I didn't even have any time to dwell on it, we just went in there on the fly. I can't imagine how badly the anxiety would have festered if I'd had two days' notice like you did."

"It's all I've been able to think about," Chyra admitted, looking at her bare arms. The scars that crisscrossed across her skin almost glowed in the starlight, stark white against the rest of her pale purple complexion. Each one was a reminder, a remnant of her time as a prisoner. She couldn't escape them, just as she couldn't escape the thoughts that plagued her and the memories of her time in the arena that just wouldn''t die.

Shiro smiled, humming in thought.

"Then let's change the subject."

It was, as Lance would call it, a 'cheesy' tactic, but Chyra appreciated Shiro's effort to help her. So she smiled slightly, laughed through a shaky breath, and with a roll of her eyes, accepted.

"Sure. What would you like to talk about?"

"Something happy, any ideas?"

They paused, and neither one answered, but Shiro had this expectant look on his face, like he wanted Chyra to pick up the conversation.

"Well don't look at me!" Chyra exclaimed, laughing despite herself. "Happy memories is not my area of expertise at the moment."

"What, you don't have any recollection of some time in your childhood when you were happy or having fun? I find that hard to believe."

"None that I'm willing or emotionally prepared to share, really." Chyra answered, her eyebrows raised in an expression that asked Shiro to stop prying.

He didn't let the remark dishearten him. Instead, he leaned back, looking upward in thought. "Well, what about family? Aside from your siblings, if you don't want to talk about them," he added quickly when he saw Chyra's uncomforatble expression. "What about your parents?"

Chyra was so unsure of how to reply that it came out as a laugh. "No?" she said, trying to figure out how to respond. "I never knew them, very few Galra children actually know their parents. I was raised by a Dayak and a handful of instructors."

This was a safe topic, Chyra decided. She could be rational about this, she could keep her emotions in check and it was early enough in her life that she wouldn't need to worry much about revealing her secret.

"Oh. What's a Dayak?" Shiro asked.

"Sort of like a nursemaid. They raise a group of Galra children at a time, usually divided by blood status," Chyra added with a look of contempt, "and then when the children are old enough they leave their Dayak and begin training, That usually happens at about ten years old, although I left my Dayak at seven."

"So your Dayak... she was kinda like a mom to you?"

Chyra snorted derisively, "a Dayak is not a mother. They're not nurturing or kind, they just keep us alive and take on the early stages of our education until we move on. Mine was terribly strict and pretty harsh, mostly because I was in one of the lowborn wards."

Shiro looked to the side, his expression both pensive and discontented. Chyra felt bad, so she continued to try and make it a little better.

"I had something of a father figure, though." Her eyes clouded over with nostalgia and a warm feeling blossomed in her stomach as she remembered him fondly: a surly, dark-haired Galra who was shockingly empathetic for his status and position. "He was a General in the upper echelons of Zarkon's armada: Vetrul."

"Was he cool?" Shiro asked, a little smile slipping onto his face. Chyra allowed herself a grin, her fangs glinting in the starlight.

"He was the best. I don't know why he liked me so much, but I was his favorite. Of course that means he pushed me really hard because he wanted me to succeed, but he was always so supportive. I would've taken on the entire armada at twelve years old for that soldier," Chyra reminisced, looking up at the stars.

"You talk about him in the past tense," Shiro observed, and his look of curiosity was replaced by one of hesitance. "Is he...?"

"Dead? Yes." Chyra finished his question for him, her tone becoming blunt and slightly defensive. She noticed this however, and forced herself to lower the barrier for a few moments. She felt like she could be open about this, even though it felt sort of like reopening an old wound.

"He was executed for sedition when I was thirteen. I was heartbroken, he was the first person to really care about me, you know? He was a huge influence on me."

"I'm sorry," Shiro said. "He sounds like a good person, it's nice to know that there are some Galra in the Empire that aren't so loyal to Zarkon."

"It's all in the past, those wounds have healed," Chyra remarked airily, although she couldn't stop the pang in her chest. Wound left scars, as she knew all too well, and the lacerations across her heart pulled painfully at recalling Vetrul so vividly. She really had lost everyone, hadn't she?

Shiro, upon noticing Chyra's change in demeanor, tried raising her spirits once again."So we have Vetrul to thank for your rebelliousness?"

Chyra laughed a little, her face softening from fondness. "I suppose we do. If it weren't for him..." Chyra trailed off, considering her next words carefully. She couldn't let slip that Vetrul had been the one to see the potential in her, had taught her the ways of assassins and told her the stories that had first made her love the old tales that she now treasured. She didn't want to say that Vetrul was the one who had given her her name: Enchyron, after the assassin king who upheld the values of the Empire that the soldier had imparted to Chyra from a young age.

"Well, I wouldn't be here today. Vetrul is definitely up there, in the stars where he belongs."

Shiro cocked an eyebrow, intrigued and curious. "In the stars? What do you mean?"

Chyra immediately clammed up on instinct, her mind flashing briefly with panic before she remembered she wouldn't be thought blasphemous. In the Empire, taking about the stars in a spiritual way, as the Galra had believed in the days of old, could get someone killed.

"I..." Chyra looked away, staring at the cosmos. "It's complicated, there's a long history there. I don't want to bore you."

Shiro hummed in thought, following her gaze to the pinpoints of light that decorated the void outside. "I don't think I'll be bored," he said encouragingly, and a surge of warmth rushed into Chyra's chest.

She blanked, stammering over her words a bit. "W-well, I'll try and keep it, uh- keep it brief anyway."

She remembered the stories she had dug up from the depths of the archives, with the help of the only other person she knew who had loved the old tales as much as she had. Shoving down the memories that now ran sour, Chyra refocused.

"Over the last ten thousand years, Zarkon has erased all traces of the old religions so that his subjects won't have faith in anything except the Empire. He wants their undying loalty, and in obtaining it, he's erased the beliefs of our entire culture." Chyra's voice took on a mournful tone. She hated what the culture of her people had become, all of the positive aspects of it had been so diluted and thoroughly erased by now, Galra culture was a shadow of its former self.

"Like our original home planet, Daibazaal, little remains of the old beliefs. But some aspects have survived, in secret. Like the belief that the stars house our worthy ancestors, who watch over us and influence our destinies." Shiro's eyes widened, and Chyra gauged his reaction. He didn't seem judgemental, just curious and intently listening. She felt her ears grow warm and averted her eyes from him.

"That's what we believe is the next life. Your soul kind of... carries over, and becomes a star if you've done well in your life. Of course, no one can be sure, and this type of existential thinking is not only discouraged, but harshly punished by the Empire, but it's a nice thought. I like to think that my family is up there. Maybe my mother and father too, if they're dead like I was always told."

Shiro grew quiet, contemplative. He looked out at the galaxies, as though if he stared hard enough he could see the remnants of Chyra's family and ancestors among them. "Do you think you'll get to see them again eventually? Up there, I mean."

Chyra looked down, her eyes clouding. "I... I don't know if I'd deserve it. I've done too much wrong, committed too many heinous acts to be worthy of a place up there."

"Why? Everything you did in the arena was for survival, why wouldn't you-"

Chyra's eyes flashed then, and she moved her right arm upward, turning it towards the light and exposing her brand. Executioner, it said, the mark stark against her skin, shining prominently in the starlight.

"Because you don't get a name like Executioner by being morally admirable. I killed people, Shiro. A lot of them. And what's worse, I was good at it. I didn't just fight for my life, I was ruthless. I was famous for my animosity, for killing without showing remorse. I'm not- I don't deserve-"

"Did you enjoy it?"

Shiro's words sent a shock jolting up Chyra's metal plated back. She sat bolt upright, stiffening with surprise and dropping her arm back to her side.

"What?"

"The fighting, the killing..." Shiro elaborated, then went deadly serious. "Did you enjoy it?"

"No," Chyra asserted, meeting the Black Paladin's eye with the resolution of someone who had so much to lose. "I never enjoyed it. I took pride in my ability to survive, and maybe I felt a sense of accomplishment when I took down a challenger, but I was only doing what I was told, what I needed to do to keep myself alive. I never wanted to kill, no matter how much the Empire made me do it."

It had taken Chyra a long time to reach this conclusion, but she had finally figured it out. When she was young, when the Empire first saw something in her that made Zarkon and the officers take an interest in her training, she had been nine years old. Nine. They taught her to be an assassin, to kill people, by the time she was twelve. She had done everything she could to make the Emperor proud, to make Vetrul proud, because it was the only thing she could do that was of any worth to them. Success meant attention to her as a child, it meant she was going to be praised and rewarded for her efforts. So of course, as a child, she had wanted to be seen. Even more though was the fact that she was lowborn. She had killed in the name of survival, because her blood was diluted. She barely qualified as Galra. If she hadn't made herself useful from the start, there would have been no room for her. She would have been culled like so many other half-blooded young.

So she worked hard, killed often, and allowed herself to be crafted into a weapon.

Even though Vetrul had done so much for Chyra, sowed so much of her rebellious attitude and kept her from being killed due to her blood status, she couldn't help but feel a little bitter. He had helped make her a killer, no matter what his motivations had been. Sure, it had helped keep her from a life of discrimination because of her half-breed status, and had offered her chances at freedom, but she had become a murderer because he saw the potential and the fighting spirit within her.

But he hadn't been the one that encouraged her past that. Zarkon had been the one to harness her abilities for evil. He had made her kill rebel leaders and the heroes of other planets, now long subjugated by the Empire.

Vetrul, in teaching Chyra ways tp survive and be useful, had unlocked the door. Zarkon had taken that opportunity to rip it off the hinges.

Chyra shook herself free of her musings, realizing suddenly that Shiro had spoken and she hadn't comprehended it. He was looking at her, and she grimaced from embarrassment.

"What did you say?"

Unexpectedly, Shiro smiled. "Lost in thought?" He asked good-naturedly.

"Sorry," Chyra said, sheepish.

"It's okay," Shiro dismissed the apology, but his tone was earnest. "What I said was, that's all that matters. And at the rate you're going, I think the stars would be lucky to have you."

A solid minute of stunned silence ensued, and then Chyra's face was on fire.

She was pretty sure she was short-circuiting; her ears went limp, burning dark purple from the rush of blood to them. Her cheeks felt like they ignited, and Chyra was shocked that they weren't glowing like her legs did when they were active.

She was pretty sure that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.

Chyra stared hard at the Black Paladin, who looked at her embarrassed flush with an air of sincerity and self-assuredness. She got the impression that he had really meant that, but she didn't know how to process that knowledge.

"I- now hold on." Chyra covered her burning face with her hands, the heat in her face increasing and her embarrassment growing as Shiro laughed, the bright sound filling the space with a warmth that combated the chill of the castle.

"I didn't know Galra could blush!"

"I'm not blushing," Chyra snapped back, peeking out from between her fingers. "I just- gimme a tick. Shut up."

Shiro's laughs turned to smaller chuckles as Chyra recovered. She gave him a pretty spectacular rendition of Keith's infamous stink eye, to which Shiro just grinned.

"Changing the subject," Chyra resolved, "your turn to share something."

"Sure," the Paladin conceded, although he was still smiling and looking at Chyra's burning cheeks. "What do you want to know?"

"Well I just told you a big chunk of my backstory," Chyra admitted, "tell me something about yours. How did you get into space?"

A mischievous look flashed across Shiro's face before his expression went serious. He answered with the absolute confidence of someone who was absolutely convinced their joke was going to land.

"I went to prison," Shiro said, trying and failing to appear serious.

Chyra smiled and rolled her eyes, leaning back and resisting the urge to smack her own forehead and the Paladin before her in rapid succession.

"Shiro- ugh," Chyra faltered as Shiro's grin returned. "But you were already in space by the time you ended up in prison. Please, just- we just had a moment here!"

Another one of Shiro's bright laughs rang through the air. "Okay, okay sorry." He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and Chyra felt herself smile.

"Come on," she said, allowing a small chuckle of her own to pass her lips. "Serious talk."

"Okay," Shiro said, still smiling. "Serious time. Shifting into serious mode."

Chyra was hit by a realization. "Oh my stars, are you deflecting?"

"What?" Shiro asked.

"You're completely avoiding the question!" She exclaimed, "I just exposed a bunch of my old wounds to you, what do you have to be reserved about?"

"Nothing," Shiro said lightly. "I'm not deflecting."

"You absolutely are," Chyra argued, "Lance said it's customary for your people to have parental units, you do have a family, right?" Chyra said jokingly. Then she realized how insensitive that was. If someone had made that assumption about her, she would've slapped them.

"Shit," Chyra cursed, looking mortified. "You... you do have a family, right? Oh stars, I'm sorry. That was presumptuous, I didn't mean to-"

Shiro's grin returned in full force as he eased Chyra's anxiety. "Hey, it's okay," he said. "Yes, I have parents. Two of them, actually."

"Oh thank the ancients," Chyra said, relief flooding her. She was so glad she hadn't said something offensive. She needed to be more careful, she wasn't usually so loose-lipped, this was weird.

Shiro smiled and continued, his expression fond as he reminisced. "My mom and dad split up when I was ten, but they're both great people. I lived with my mom most of the time until I enrolled in the Garrison, but I'd spend weekends with my dad. It wasn't too bad," Shiro said. Chyra nodded, interested but content to let Shiro just say what was on his mind.

"After I went to the Garrison, I didn't talk much with Dad, he kinda had his own thing going on with my stepmom, but I talked to my mom almost every day. She was so excited when I went on my first mission, and she always wanted to know what space felt like. She always had so many questions; I think she was a little jealous that I got to go to the stars," Shiro let a soft, breathy laugh leave him, the sound prompting Chyra to examine him more closely. He looked happy from recalling the pleasant memories, although an air of sadness clung to his shoulders like a shroud, darkening his countenance despite his attempts to remain bright.

"She always wanted me to succeed, and never be limited or held back by anything. She worked so hard to get me into the Garrison, and I wouldn't have gotten far without her support." He went quiet then, pensive and a little sullen.

"I haven't talked to my mom in two years." His voice broke just a little as he said it, and Chyra realized with a rush that this- being in space, fighting this war- had been hard for him in so many ways. He had another life that he had left behind, just like the other Paladins, but he couldn't let the side of him that longed for home be displayed out in the open like the others could.

"I wonder if she's doing okay." The words were hardly a whisper, but they carried with them an indescribable weight. Chyra leaned towards the Black Paladin on instinct, wanting to comfort him but unsure of how.

"She sounds wonderful," she said quietly, prompting Shiro to look up at her. His eyes were misty, but he smiled nonetheless, his face softening from happiness.

"She is. I hope... well," he paused, collecting his thoughts, "she was battling cancer when I left. It was another reason why I wasn't supposed to go on the Kerberos mission, but she told me she she didn't want me to limit myself for her sake. So I went anyway. I remember what she said like it was yesterday," Shiro said, a slight laugh creeping into his tone. He straightened, holding up a finger as he said, "Takashi, never hold yourself back, even for your mother. I want you to see every star in this universe and the next, and tell me all about them when you get home."

Chyra smiled at the fond way he talked about his mother, wondering what he had been like as a kid, before the stress and the battles and the hardship had shaped him into a soldier. Then his face became downtrodden again, and Chyra grew solemn. "I can't imagine how she felt when they thought everyone on the Kerberos mission had all died. I hope... I hope she's doing okay." Shiro repeated, as though he could will it into existence if he wished it hard enough.

"She was ill?" Chyra asked, seeking clarification. She wanted so badly to comfort him, but didn't have the words to.

"Yeah," Shiro said, a little twinge of bitterness coloring his voice. "She didn't deserve to have to go through that, but Keith kept in touch with her after the Kerberos mission went wrong. He said that at the time I landed back on Earth, she had been seven months cancer-free. I really wanted to see her when I got back, but obviously that didn't work out. Not a day goes by where I don't miss her."

Chyra nodded in understanding. She knew that feeling all too well. She felt her chest constrict with sympathy.

Shiro's next words rang through the still night air despite their quiet volume.

"I just hope I can make her proud."

There was something about his face then, some aspect of the stoic mask he held onto at all times that seemed to just... slip away. As he turned away, as the starlight shone against his scar and that startlingly bright shock of white hair, as just a little hint of a smile curled his lip and a saddened look came into his strong brown eyes, Chyra realized what it was.

He looked lonely.

That was it. There was a profound look of lonliness in the Black Paladin's eyes, in the cut of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. He seemed to relax, just minutely enough for Chyra to catch a glimpse of that intensely lonely feeling that she had come to know all too well. It was the loneliness that came with leadership, with having no one to confide in because you had to be stronger than the others, for their sake, no less. She blinked, peered closer, and saw a glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes.

And suddenly, Chyra wanted nothing more than to make that feeling go away. She wanted to make him smile, make him feel like he wasn't nearly as alone as he had been forced to be for so long by virtue of his challenges and position. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him he was wonderful, that he was the strongest person Chyra knew, that she was sorry he ever had to feel alone because out of anyone Chyra had met, he was the one who least deserved to ever feel lonely.

But she couldn't.

So she punched him in the shoulder instead.

"Ow, hey!" Shiro leaned away, laughing as Chyra smiled in his direction. "What was that for?"

Chyra let herself grin in a way that she hadn't in a long time. "Because I wanted to cheer you up. And because from what you've told me, I think if your mother knew what you were doing up here, all the good things you've done and people you've helped and how heroic you've been, she would be the proudest woman in the universe."

It was Shiro's turn to flush, a red tint dusting his face. He ducked his head, his smile contagious. But he looked back up, and Chyra felt a weird sensation in her stomach when he did.

"Wow, that is... incredibly sappy of you, Chyra."

"Don't think about it too much, I'm tired and there's no filter from my brain to my mouth."

"Good to know those are your honest words then," Shiro replied, and Chyra shot him a playful glare, to which he responded by bumping his shoulder against hers.

"Yeah, sure. Mister the stars would be lucky to have you. But I'm the sappy one."

Laughter filled the still air, and Chyra felt like the weight that had been pressing on her chest had lifted, at least for the moment.

"Well, thank you," Shiro said. "And I think that if Vetrul could see you now, see how strong and resilient and amazing you've become, he would know that he did a fantastic job."

"Stop that," Chyra said, feeling her face heat up again. But her chest swelled against the sadness that had pressed against it, filling with a rush of positive emotion that unsettled her stomach.

"I will not," Shiro laughed, and Chyra felt herself smile wide. The stars were shining bright that night.

They lapsed into comfortable, companionable silence after that, interrupted by small, lighthearted conversation. Chyra wasn't sure how long they sat there in the bridge, talking and laughing and telling stories, but she felt like every second was better than the last. She felt like she could be real with him, like she could expose sides of herself that she usually had to keep hidden, even though she kept herself in check so she didn't reveal too much. She wanted to be open with Shiro, but not so much that it would make her past clear. She wasn't ready for that yet.

After a while, they both agreed that they needed to get a least a little sleep before the mission in the morning. So they got to their feet and left the bridge, the bright glow of the stars fading behind them. But this time, as Chyra walked through the hallways with Shiro at her side, the castle didn't feel imposing. It felt like home.

Shiro walked with her to her room, pausing outside her door to say goodnight. She moved slowly inside, about to let the door close behind her, but paused.

The assassin stopped, her pulse pounding in her chest as the deep purple flush in her ears crept downwards to her sharp cheekbones. Her stomach squirmed, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. "Shiro," she called quietly.

"Yes?"

"Thanks for talking with me, it feels much better to dwell on pleasant memories than, well, the other ones."

Shiro's smile was softer that any Chyra had ever seen, much less had directed at her. "Anytime," he replied quietly.

Chyra looked away, suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze. She retreated further into the dark bedroom as her ears flushed purple.

"Goodnight, Chyra," the Black Paladin said softly.

"Goodnight," she rushed, ducking out of sight of the door. She strode quickly a few paces into the room before sinking onto her bed, her hand grasping at the heart that was still pounding out an excited rhythm in her chest. She took a few shuddering breaths, willing her pulse to slow as she tucked her burning face between the cool metal curves of her knees. She wasn't sure why, but she really liked the way her name sounded when he said it.

A groan crept out of her throat. She knew what this meant, although she hadn't felt this way in a very long time. She took a breath, pushed down the fluttering sensation in her stomach.

She didn't have time for this.

Chapter Text

The next morning came quickly, and Chyra hadn't slept much. Even though she felt significantly better after spending time with Shiro, she still hadn't gotten enough rest. She had spent the long hours of the night staring at the ceiling, trying to lull herself into sleep and succeeding only in making herself even more wound up about the mission on which she was about to embark. So when the castle's systems started to hum, the light flickered on and met a pair of tired yellow eyes that were open and ready to awaken.

Chyra dressed quickly, donning her armor and prearing herself mentally for the challenge ahead. She stared into the eyes of her reflection in her mirror as she brushed her teeth, resolving to be strong and brave and resilient, like Shiro said she would be.

The thought of the Black Paladin broke Chyra's concentration and made a slight warmth creep up her cheeks. She shook her head. She didn't have time for this kind of thing, and she needed to focus. She couldn't let herself get so... distracted. But still, he had seemed so sure of himself in trusting her, so confident that she would be able to handle the challenges of the mission ahead. It bolstered her spirits even as her nerves gnawed at her stomach. She felt like if Shiro thought she could do it, then there was no way she would fail.

Chyra straightened, a newfound sense of resolve filling her limbs, racing through her chest and making her feel emboldened. She left the room, heading at a swift clip towards the control room, where the Paladins were all meeting before splitting off on their respective missions. She entered just before Hunk and Keith did, nodding in greeting to her nervous teammates before steeling herself with a steadying breath. Anxiety filled the room, creating a heavy tension that crackled through the brightly lit chamber. Even Allura, who always appeared so composed under pressure, looked uneasy.

Shiro, exuding an air of confidence that empowered his teammates, opened the hailing frequency to the Blade of Marmora headquarters.

Kolivan answered promptly, a hologram of his visage appearing on the screen as he peered stonily at the gathered Paladins.

"Paladins," the Blade greeted, nodding respectfully.

"Kolivan," Shiro said brightly, his strong voice ringing with determination, "we're ready to start phase one. The missions to Beta Traz and the effort to hunt down a Weblum are about to be under way. Are your Blades ready to begin scouting the systems where we'll find our new allies?"

"Troubling news," Kolivan replied, his tone darkening. "We have received distress calls from Phyrrig, a planet that houses one of our reconnaissance bases. I fear that our informant in the Empire, and by extension, our plans, may have been compromised."

A ripple of shock swept across the room, bringing about a frigid silence that rang through Chyra's chest as her anxiety grew.

Shiro stepped forward. "What?"

"This base has remained undiscovered for decephoebs, and now, as soon as we begin our movements, it is under attack. I believe that Thace, our informant in the Galra ranks, has been discovered, and diverted the Empire's attention towards Phyrrig as a way of warning us. It is too dangerous to continue now, we must abort the mission." Kolivan declared, a grim finality in his tone.

"We can't just give up," disputed Keith "we've come too far!"

Kolivan shot back, his solid yellow eyes flashing, "It's too dangerous to continue your own missions while our base is under attack. If it falls and the Empire gains knowledge of our movements, all will be lost. We have to either secure or destroy Phyrrig base. I'll be diverting the Blades squadrons that are scouting allied systems now, but they'll need reinforcements from Voltron."

"I don't think we can do that," said Pidge. "The access codes to get into Beta Traz are only valid for a limited time, and if we don't use them now, we may not be able to break back in to get Slav."

"Perhaps then Hunk and Keith can assist," Kolivan said, his tone becoming short from impatience. "Our forces will not be able to overcome the fleet, despite its small size. The Blades on Phyrrig simply do not possess the raw firepower needed."

Shiro spoke, his expression contemplative. "Hunk and Keith can't stay behind either, its already going to take a dangerously long time to get the new Teladuv set up after they get the scaultrite from the Welbum. They need to get it as soon as possible. We're not going to be able to get on with our plan for central command if we have to keep diverting our attention like this. Let's contact the coalition allies and-"

"I'll go." Chyra didn't know what prompted her to say it, but her hand raised and her voice activated before her brain could catch up.

The Paladins all turned to face her, mixed expressions on their faces. Some were of surprise, others of trepidation. But Shiro smiled, his confidence spreading to Chyra as her resolve strengthened.

"No," Kolivan said suddenly, his voice tainted with acid. "The Blades will not work with Executioner."

Chyra tried and failed to resist sending Kolivan a look of contempt. Still, despite her frustration, she kept her tone of voice at least somewhat level. "Can't you just... tell them I'm there to help?"

Kolivan didn't reply, but his expression said it all. Chyra's hackles raised in anger and offense, and she stifled a growl under her breath. "Listen. I'm the only one availible, and I can handle a small fleet with Grey. You don't have the option to be picky about who helps you. Now send me the coordinates so I can get moving."

Kolivan's gaze was steely as he averted it from Chyra and back to the Princess. "Princess Allura, please contact your coalition allies. We will need their help to defend Phyrrig long enough to evacuate the Blades base and destroy any information the Empire might benefit from."

Allura leaned back in surprise, fixing Kolivan with a look of bewilderment. "If- are you sure?"

"Positive. Thank you, Princess." The video cut out, and a set of coordinates flashed on the screen in light blue script.

Chyra bared her teeth. "That absolute idiot!" She seethed, turning sharply on her heel and pacing across the front of the room. She could feel the Paladins' eyes on her, watching her stride back and forth in front of the windows. Her tail lashed frantically, and pulses of purple light shot up her spine from frustration.

"Chyra," Lance tried to bring her attention towards him, but she blew him off.

"What a stubborn, stuck-up, high and mighty-"

"Just go anyway."

Chyra stopped, her gaze whipping around to face Keith, who was standing at his station, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, and posture nonchalant. The Red Paladin looked nonplussed, and shrugged before continuing.

"As long as Lance, Shiro, and Pidge can manage on their own, there's no real reason why you shouldn't go help."

"He has a point," Shiro agreed. "The last thing we need right now is a crippling blow to be dealt to the Blades. We can handle the Beta Traz extraction mission, you should go ahead and provide backup on Phyrrig."

Chyra nodded, a quiet solemnity coming over her. This mission was on her, it was her first real trial as a full-fledged member of the team. The Paladins, the Blades, and the inhabitants of Phyrrig were all counting on her. Grey brushed against Chyra's mind, steadfast and determined in her demeanor. They could do this.

"I agree," Allura concurred. "And you should get moving immediately, Phyrrig is quite a long way away. I can open up a wormhole for you to get there, and you can meet us at the rendezvous point on Olkarion when you're done."

"Got it. Stay safe everyone," Chyra responded, nodding in farewell to her teammates and turning to leave the rom as Grey's presence resounded with excitement inside her mind.

She paused as Shiro pulled up beside her, glancing downwards to meet his eye. "I'll brief you on the way and help you grab some supplies for the trip. We still have some last minute prep to do before we leave for Beta Traz, and I'm not sure the Blades will offer you any provisions for your trip to Olkarion after the mission."

"Alright," Chyra said, smiling breifly before continuing down the hallway. The doors closed with a metallic whoosh behind her, cutting off the contact between Chyra and the other Paladins. She sighed in an attempt to calm her racing nerves, but only succeeded in bringing Shiro's attention to her frazzled state.

He looked up at her, his dark eyes clouding woth concern. "Are you sure about this?"

Chyra tucked her helmet beneath her arm and looked stonily ahead, trying to put up a mask that concealed her trepidation, but she couldn't seem to make one sturdy enough to convince Shiro. She anwered haltingly, unsure of what to say.

"I mean, sort of?" She sighed, looking down at her metal feet, concealed beneath her armor as her footsteps echoed through the hallway. "I don't know. What other choice do we have? We can't just leave the Blades to fend for themselves against the Empire, even if the fleet is small."

Shiro hummed in thought, his face softening to display an expression that hovered somewhere between acceptance and pride. "Well, don't worry about us, we'll manage just fine in Beta Traz."

Chyra balked, her posture going rigid for a moment as a realization hit her.

"Oh stars, Shiro, I- volunteering for this mission wasn't some haphazard way of getting out of the extraction mission, I legitimately just-"

"I know," Shiro interrupted simply, his tone speaking of understanding. Chyra relaxed, even if it was only minmally, and Grey's mind brushed against hers, the wolf's excitement evident in the energy she was putting off. Chyra's pace increased a little, and Shiro altered his stride to keep up with her.

They moved in silence through the remainder of the ship, leading Chyra to believe that the 'briefing' Shiro said he was going to give was a ruse. The thought made her stomach flutter, and she shoved down the feeling as best as she could. She didn't need to be doing this right now. She had a mission to focus on.

They stopped in one of the storage rooms, grabbing a hovercart and filling it with the supplies and provisions Chyra had planned on taking to Beta Traz. Chyra was going to need the provisions for her journey to Olkarion from Phyrrig, especially if the Blades were going to be adamant in their refusal to work with her. Once Chyra and Shiro had the boxes checked and loaded, they headed towards Grey's hangar, packed the boxes into Grey's cramped cargo hold, and stepped back out into the hangar.

The realization sunk in fully: Chyra was leaving the castle again.

When she had run off on the way to Taujeer, Chyra had been desperate, scared of the danger she may have been posing to her friends, so she hadn't lingered too much on the decision. Now, when she was leaving on her own, leaving the Paladins to face missions that they knew were hazardous and fraught with peril, her nerves lit aflame once more.

This was really happening.

Shiro looked over and up at her, noticing her stiff posture and besieged expression. Chyra was almost quaking with nerves, her ears pinned tightly against the sides of her head like a frightened animal as her whiplike tail slashed back and forth through the air behind her. The Black Paladin's expression changed then, although Chyra was too distracted to see it.

"Hey," Shiro said gently, startling Chyra from her thoughts. She whipped her head around to him, her expression still a little distraught. Shiro smiled comfortingly, putting a hand on the Galra's shoulder.

He said simply, "you can do this."

And with that, Chyra's spirits were brightened.

Maybe just a little bit, but it helped. She felt like for a few moments, some of the weight on her chest had been lifted. She took a deep breath, then another. She felt Grey's feeling of reassurance brush against her own, then met Shiro's encouraging look with a determined smile.

"Time to go save a planet."

"You're gonna be great."

Chyra's chest felt huge, but her stomach was climbing into her throat like it did when she was nervous or having a rush of adrenaline. Her smile wasn't forced, but she felt for a second like she couldn't speak. So she nodded firmly and started towards the entry hatch inside Grey's awaiting jaws.

She stopped when she felt a hand gently grab ahold of her wrist.

Chyra turned back around, her gaze questioning, and met Shiro's eye.

"Be careful," he said, his hand still gently gripping her wrist "please."

A smile grew on Chyra's scarred face as a warmth bubbled in her stomach despite herself. "As careful as I can be," she promised.

And with that she climbed into Grey's pilot compartment and started the journey to Phyrrig.

. . .

The trip through the wormhole was easy.

Chyra's emergence from it, however, was the exact opposite.

Apparently the Imperial fleet that had started to attack Phyrrig was on the move. Chyra found this out in the most unpleasant way possible: by teleporting directly into the center of it.

"Allura! Close the portal, now!" Chyra demanded over the commlinks, immediately ducking sideways to avoid the flight path of a Galra cruiser.

"What? What's wrong?" Allura replied, her signal staticky from the vast stretch of lightyears separating Chyra from the castle.

"I just popped up in the middle of the fleet surrounding Phyrrig, close the wormhole before one of their ships moves through it!"

"Understood," Allura answered resolutely. Then the wormhole shut, cutting off the glowing blue light that emanated from it and leaving Chyra alone among the Empire again.

Grey moved on her own, sending a gout of violet light shooting towards one of the singular ships in the myriad of fighters that buzzed like insects in a writhing halo around planet Phyrrig. The wolf struck out at another vessel with her claws, drawing fiery lines across its fuel tanks. Chyra snapped back into action as they ducked out of the way of the ensuing explosion.

Blaster fire from a swarm of automated drones spattered against Grey's back, sending an uncomfortable prickling sensation crawling across Chyra's own metal-plated spine. The bonded pair whirled around, and Chyra snarled as Grey released a laser blast from her jaws that obliterated the squadron. They used their joint vision to scan the scene, taking full advantage of Grey's complete range of vision. They needed to find an out, some sort of escape route so they could step back momentarily and assess the odds stacked against them.

That opportunity came alongside a small group of coalition ships, about eight in total, with six small Blade of Marmora battle cruisers on their tail.

A signal came in, and between dodging shots from an Imperial destroyer's laser canons, Chyra connected the call.

Before she could answer, the mechanically modulated voice of a Blades operative crackled into existence.

"Foreign craft, identify yourself or else be treated with the same hostility we offer the Empire."

Chyra resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but replied in a steady, resolute tone full of a confidence she didn't quite feel all the way.

"My name is Chyra, I'm with Voltron, and I'm here to help," she said, trying to keep her tone level and her voice authoritative like Shiro's. It may have worked for the coalition forces, most of which consisted of a gaggle of small shuttlecraft that looked like they had home-brew weapons systems integrated with the outdated ships' tech, but the Blades were familiar enough with her old name that Chyra couldn't scrape by without them knowing her identity.

"The Executioner!" The Blade's voice was full of surprise despite the electronic effect of their mask. "You need to leave, Kolivan specifically requested a Paladin, not you."

Chyra's lip curled to expose her fangs. The venom in that Galra's voice... it set her on edge. She had heard that kind of hatred and vitriol aimed towards her too many times, by too many people, followed closely by too many wounds. She would've put a stop to it immediately, if the Empire hadn't made a move.

A flash of purple light appeared off to Chyra's left, and she darted sideways with a burst of speed and a rush of adrenaline. She crashed Grey's shoulder into the Galra ship, redirecting the canon upwards as the cruiser went spinning off, no longer aimed at the small group of rebel ships. Chyra groaned, her shoulder smarting from the impact, and Grey returned with a pained growl in agreement.

"Listen," Chyra said through gritted teeth, turning back to the Blades squadron with a determined glint flashing in Grey's yellow eyes. "I'm the only one here to help, and you need help. Kolivan said so himself. So shut up, help me take down this fleet, and then I'll leave and we'll never have to speak again."

"The Blade of Marmora will not work alongside you."

"Well the Voltron Coalition will!" One of the rebel crafts' captains exclaimed as they whizzed past. "You can debate who's trusting whom after the battle! For now, Chyra, get these drones off our tails!"

"Got it!" Chyra replied, feeling smug. This was a little victory, getting support from the coalition pilots, but it was a victory nonetheless. She urged Grey forward and the wolf reciprocated the initiative with a rush of determination and an ignition of her thrusters. They bolted through the storm of ships to reach the coalition ships that were under attack. They made short work of the fighter drones; they were small enough that Grey could crush them in her jaws and smacking them with a giant mechanical paw would be enough to take down two or three at a time. Soon the swarm had been destroyed, and the coalition ships had just a few moments to breathe.

Chyra quickly maneuvered over to the next cruiser, and opened the comm line to the coalition and blades. "How do you think we should go about getting rid of this fleet?" She tried her best not to sound tired, but she hadn't fought like this in a long while. The exertion of flying and fighting was starting to show its first signs.

The Blades did not reply, only the slight crackle of static let Chyra know that they were listening, but refusing to answer.

Fortunately, the coalition forces were much more supportive. "There should only be one command ship for a fleet this size, but we don't know which cruiser it is. There's twelve in total, and-" an ion blast interrupted the signal, making Chyra and Grey dodge out of the way, steering a gaggle of coalition ships that were positioned beneath them out of harms way. The Galra felt the heat agains't Grey's spiked metal back, and she wriggled her shoulders in discomfort from the sensation.

"-it's position."

Chyra fired off a shot from Grey's jaw canon at the nearest clump of ships, the violet beam slicing through the larger ship's carapace like it was nothing. A blast of flame exploded into the void before it was rapidly extinguished by the absence of oxygen around it.

"Commander," Chyra said, scanning her surroundings, "I'm moving in on the center of the formation. I'll need covering fire. The command ship should have the strongest shielding system of the bunch, but I know a weak point just behind the main propulsion engines. I can get in and take the ship down, but someone has to guard my back while I do it."

"Copy," the commander said, and a group of five coalition ships moved into position around Grey, forming a barrier against the force of the Empire's fleet. Although the line was flimsy in comparison to the Empire's might, the fact of the matter remained: Chyra had backup and support from the rebels, something she never really thought she would receive.

Although they didn't know who she was, so it was little more than reassurance that her ruse was working in her favor.

Shaking off these distracting and downtrodden thoughts, Chyra urged Grey further into the fray and searched for her target. The Empire didn't usually outwardly denote which ship was which, but you could discern the command hub of any fleet by which ship had the heaviest defenses. In this case, it was one of the cruisers in the upper atmosphere around Phyrrig, which had an extra layer of shielding around its main turbines and control tower. Chyra bared her teeth in an anticipatory grin. She had found her target.

She and Grey destroyed as many squadrons of cruisers as they could on their way to the command ship, targeting specifically the clumps of automated drones that were trying to take down the Blade of Marmora's forces. They didn't receive any thank yous, but Chyra figured she should do anything that would make the Blades hate her even slightly less.

She reached the command ship, zooming past the command stations viewports and flipping them a hand gesture that Pidge called 'the bird.' Apparently it was very offensive on Earth.

She reached the ship's main turbines, searching for the telltale gap in shielding that the Empire could never seem to quite fill in on account of the afterburner effect of the turbines. She darted across the shield, dragging Grey's claws across it to try and find the gap.

When she found it her stomach went sour.

They had patched it. Somewhat, at least. The gap still existed, there was a hole just between the main turbines, where the shield didn't quite meet up with the rest of the particle barrier that was generated off the side of the ship. But instead of being big enough for Grey to slip through if she squeezed, now there was barely even room for the wolf mech's head to fit through.

Chyra scowled audibly and backed away from the Imperial cruiser to fire some shots off at the surrounding ships, stirring concern among the rebel commanders.

"What's wrong? Is the weak point gone?" Chyra could hear the worry in the coalition commanders voice. It made Chyra feel hollow.

"Not gone, just smaller," Chyra replied, placing player of feigned confidence over her voice. "I can't fit through, we'll need to figure out a different way to-"

"Are you saying you don't know how to take down the ships you boasted about being able to destroy?" One of the Blades cut in scathingly, cutting off Chyra's reply. She curled her lip in response, baring her sharp incisors as though the Blades could see the defensive gesture.

"I'm saying they've patched the shields since the last time I brought one of these things down." Chyra meant to elaborate, but she had to dart forward and destroy a squadron of fighters before they reached the coalition craft. She dove forwards, grabbing two of the small vessels in Grey's powerful metal jaws. They were crushed to rubble, and Grey spat the debris back out and sent a beam of concentrated violet light after the remaining few fighters in the squadron. They evaporated, and the Empire sent a volley of ion blasts skimming across the side of the command ship towards the rebels.

"Move, now!" Chyra ushered the coalition ships out of harm's way in the nick of time. A bright ion canon's blast shrieked past Chyra, blasting her broad side with a wave of uncomfortable heat. She gasped and recoiled, turning a sharp corner to send another laser blast from Grey's jaw canon towards the attacking ship. It glanced off the ship's shielding system, so Grey charged forwards, tearing viciously into the hull with her claws. The metal tore into ribbons, and the ship erupted in fire immediately after Grey pulled away.

"We're getting hammered, either we need to take out the fleet commanders or get out of here!" Another Coalition fighter exclaimed.

"Perhaps if the Executioner hadn't acted so rashly, the Blades would have evacuated our base by now rather than fighting this pointless battle."

Chyra started to retaliate, turning towards the nearest Blades fighter ship with a sneer. "Would you just-" she paused, cutting off the end of her own sentence (which was probably for the best, since it was about to become an insult). The Blades were in small ships, barely the size of the Empire's fighter drones. They were smaller than Grey's head, she could hold one in her jaws comfortably. That meant...

"We don't need to evacuate the base yet!" Chyra exclaimed, excitement growing in her chest at her realization. "Blades, one of you would be able to fit into the gap in the shielding, since your ships are so small. If you get in and take out the shield generator mounted on the side of the cruiser, we could bring the command ship down and from there, the rest of the fleet would either retreat or become easy pickings without a commander. Can you-"

"The Blades will finish retrieving our relevant data and supplies from Phyrrig base, and then it can be overtaken without loss of mission or life." The Blades officer cut in once again, their tone clipped and impatient.

Chyra turned sharply, Grey letting loose a snarl of frustration on her pilot's behalf. "We don't need to let the base be destroyed when you could help us bring the entire fleet to its knees!" Chyra retorted, her impatience growing as she leapt forwards to take down another cruiser. There were seven left now, too many for them to dispatch when they were still in such tight formation around their command ship. "We could force them into a retreat right now if you would just-"

"The Blades will not follow the orders of an Imperial assassin!"

Chyra's blood turned immediately to ice before her temper caught ablaze. "Ex-Imperial assassin," she corrected with an acidic hiss, her tone deathly serious and brimming over with fury. She had once taken pride in that title, but she never would again. Her time at Zarkon's right hand would forever haunt her, be a marred spot in her history. She refused to be defined by that position ever again.

"What?" The coalition force captain gasped, shock bringing a quiver to their voice. "Voltron sent us backup from a Galra assassin?!"

"I'm not an assassin!" Chyra corrected sharply, raking Grey's claws through space to smack away half a dozen Galra fighters. "Not anymore! Now if you want to keep your base intact and make it out of here without any more casualties, you Blades will get through the shields and deactivate the barrier generator." As if to punctuate her sentence, an ion canon sent a blast of searing purple light in the direction of the rebels, forcing them to scatter.

In frustration, Chyra snapped, "now!"

The Blades moved.

To Chyra's immense relief (and no small amount of satisfaction), one of the small fighters piloted by the Blades slipped into the gap Chyra had identified and pointed out earlier, slipping into the crevice between the Imperial Command Cruiser's main turbines. it wove carefully through the gap, heading towards the underside of the ship. Chyra and the Coalition laid down corvine fire, keeping the cruiser distracted so the Blades could fly under the radar and bring down the shield generator.

"Executioner-"

"Chyra," Chyra corrected automatically. The Blade leader dismissed her interruption.

"-where is the shield generator?"

"Should be located on the side of the ship," Chyra replied, swinging Grey around to face the Blades as she slashed the wolf's claws through another ship's left wing. "Large rectangular prism welded onto the main power source on the underbelly. The last time I saw one it glowed purple, and you can see where the shield originates. There's an interference field-"

"I see it, moving in to attack." The Blade said, tone clipped either from impatience or concentration. Chyra watched the small fighter move ahead and fire off three laser shots. All of them hit their mark: a prism shaped projection on the belly of the Empire's cruiser.

The purple shields flickered out of existence as the generator went up in a smattering of gunfire.

Chyra and the Coalition leaders cheered in unison, celebrating the step towards victory.

"Let's bring down that ship!" The Coalition commander said, and her modified cargo ship sped forwards, guns blazing.

Grey sent a questioning emotion towards Chyra. If she could speak, she would likely have said something along the lines of are we really going to let them have all the fun?

Chyra grinned in reply, and gunned it towards the cruiser.

She channeled every ounce of fury and contempt she held for Zarkon and his Empire into her next blows, letting her vision tunnel just a bit as that battle-hunger crept into the front of her mind. She had promised she wouldn't let herself get like this, but she just couldn't help it. She was raring to bring down some hell on the Empire, and here she was, about to deal a decisive blow. Even better- she had the support of the Coalition and, albeit begrudgingly, the Blades of Marmora.

Grey howled a powerful note into the soundless void as they launched forwards, claws extended.

The entire cruiser suddenly lit up purple.

It was the telltale sign of a fuel overload, an overabundance of quintessence flowing through the bulkheads of the ship, ready to blow. A smattering of escape pods launched out from the glowing cruiser.

Chyra's blood ran cold, and Grey pulled up short as the Galra grasped at words she couldn't seem to summon. They were abandoning ship, leaving it unguarded and overloaded with fuel. They were going to use the ship as a bomb.

"No!" Chyra found her voice with enough force to shout a hoarse warning to her allies, who were entirely too close to the ship in its easily combustible state.

"Don't- they're going to detonate the whole thing!" Grey rushed forwards, cutting off the path of the coalition craft that were about to attack the cruiser. They pulled up short, but Chyra couldn't block the ones that were already closing in on the ship.

They weren't stopping, despite Chyra's warnings. If they shot at the fuel lines, this would all be over. Sparks began to crackle along the metal carapace of the cruiser as the violent purple light intensified, stabbing against Chyra's eye as the light grew blinding.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Chyra roared suddenly, the force of her voice returning to what it once was, before the battles and the trauma and the stress muffled her words. The coalition ships scattered.

"What? We have this thing right where we want it!"

"That ship is being overloaded with quintessence fuel, one shot and that thing goes up like a fission bomb!" Chyra retorted. She looked around desperately, trying to gauge the potential damage. An intentional, fueled explosion of this caliber, the type that only the most powerful ships in the armada could produce, was enough to take out any living thing on the nearest hemisphere of the planet below, plus the entirety of the rebel attack team.

She couldn't let that happen.

So Grey, with a burst of speed and a rush of power, slammed against the cruiser, using her shoulder to shove the ship as hard as she could away from the field of battle. Metal groaned and creaked and screeched as the ship was forced out of its intended path by the intensity of Grey's thrusters, and the ancient wolf ship began to force the Galra-cruiser-turned-catastrophic-bomb away from Phyrrig.

Chyra felt the strain on Grey's power core echoed in the draining of her own energy. She leaned heavy against the control dials, her stance wide for stability as her limbs began to quiver. Exhaustion started to wear on her body and her resolve, her muscles straining against fatigue. And the ship wasn't far enough away.

Grey sent a feeling of concern towards Chyra. The wolf was tiring, but if Chyra couldn't hold out long enough to get the ship a safe distance away, Grey would get them out of there. The wolf made it clear through a rush of protective emotion that if it came down to it, she would save Chyra and herself above all else.

The Galra shook her head, gritting her teeth against the fatigue that dragged at her body. They needed to see this through, to prove to the Blades and the Coalition and themselves that they could to this. That they were worthy to be Voltron's allies in this war, that they deserved to be here, fighting against Zarkon even though their families weren't anymore.

With the thought of Harlow, Corinth, Quinn, Vrill, and the other wolves fueling them, Chyra and Grey felt a burst of energy course through their bond.

Something happened then.

If someone had asked Chyra what it felt like, she wouldn't have been able to describe it. There was that rush of sudden energy, of adrenaline and determination and fear, and suddenly nothing else mattered. The stars around Chyra and Grey went white, their surroundings blurring in a rush of golden light that encased Grey like a halo. Emotion welled in Chyra's chest, echoed and magnified and intensified by Grey's intense concentration. And suddenly they were moving. Quickly and with a streak of gold and purple trailing behind them like a comet's tail. The cruiser's armor groaned as Grey and Chyra shoved it away from Phyrrig, from the Blades base and their coalition allies who would be killed if the ship detonated. The stars warped, the cosmos echoed with a roar of fury, torn from the throat of the Gladiator with nothing to lose.

And the planet was gone, out of sight. Grey had launched away from it in an instant, powered by the rush of golden energy that surrounded her, streaked through with purple light from her thrusters as it danced across her silver hide. With one final shove, Grey sent the cruiser spinning off into the stars, boosters whirring and canon spinning as it destabilized and listed sharply to the side. Without thought, Grey opened her jaws and reeled backwards, putting distance between herself and the ship before it had the chance to right itself. They got as far out of range as they could while the ship was still off balance. Chyra hoped it would be enough.

A beam of purple light flew from between Grey's knife-sharp teeth. It struck the ship broad side, and an explosion made the dark void light up like a supernova. Chyra closed her eyes against the barrage of light, feeling a shockwave from the ferocious explosion rock against Grey's hull.

For a few moments, everything was light and sound and motion. They tumbled backwards, blinded by the explosion, ears ringing from the detonation of the cruiser-turned-bomb. Chyra felt herself go weightless for a moment as Grey's artificial gravity shorted out, the lights in the cockpit dimming as a wave of palpable exhaustion crashed like a tsunami over the ancient wolf and her weary partner. Chyra reigned her senses and scrambled to the control disks, reaching out with her mind to ask Grey if she was alright.

The wolf's reply was quiet and tired, but affirming. She was okay. Her systems, which had been overloaded from the explosion, started to reboot, and the gravity and lights flickered back on. As her metal feet touched the floor, Chyra had it in her to breathe a sigh of relief, then recalibrated her comms which had been all but fried by the feedback from the bomb's detonation. She heard a series of static crackles before the voices of her compatriots returned, all chattering and talking at the same time. They were nearly out of range, Chyra and Grey had moved so far away from Phyrrig so quickly that the planet was little more than a glint on the horizon. Chyra didn't speak, she was too exhausted, but she and Grey, with fatigue wearing on them, started moving to rejoin their allies.

By the time they returned, the fleet was all but disbanded. The loss of their command ship had sent them into disarray, breaking up their previous tight formation and making it easier for the rebels to pick off the few remaining fighters and cruisers. Grey fired off a couple shots to aid the Blades in dispatching the last cruiser, then rested for a while, free floating.

"Chyra, you're alright?" The Coalition commander asked, surprise coloring their gravelly voice.

"More or less," Chyra replied hoarsely, and a tired but satisfied grin grew on her scarred face, the marred slashes across her cheek stretching as she smiled. They had done it. "Phyrrig is cleared, right?"

"Affirmative," answered the nearest Blade, their mechanically modulated voice echoing hollowly in Chyra's pounding head.

"Good. Coalition forces, I want you to aid the Blades in reloading and securing Phyrrig Base. I'm afraid I can't stay and help, we have important plans in motion back at headquarters. But thank you all for your bravery and spirit today. We've done some good here that will aid us in the battles to come." Chyra felt her energy draining with every word. She needed a nap. But Shiro always said that part of warfare was diplomacy, so she would grit her teeth and bear it until she could get away and catch a rest on her way to Olkarion.

The Coalition Commander replied, "thanks for your assistance, we wouldn't have made it out of this without you." A rush of relief and gratefulness swelled in Chyra's chest, and she smiled in reply.

"Call on me whenever you need," the Galra promised, "and I'll do everything I can to assist."

"Same to you; remember Captain Olia if you're ever in need of reinforcements."

The rebels regrouped, the remaining Coalition and Blade forces heading planetside. Chyra split off from the group, maneuvering Grey towards Olkarion, where they would reconvene with the Paladins now that their mission was complete. She was bidding the rebels goodbye as she turned away, when one more voice crackled into existence over her comms.

The commander of the Blade of Marmora squadron spoke, their voice mechanical but ringing with earnest.

"You fought well, Chyra."

She wanted so bad to reply with snark, and she would have on any regular occasion. Maybe a mutter of 'of course I did', or an exclamation of 'did you expect anything else?' But she was too taken aback by the fact that one of the Blades had been kind towards her, Even more, they had given her a compliment.

She felt herself grin wide, and replied, "thank you."

The Blades split off without another word, and Chyra left Phyrrig far behind her. But something had shifted within her. She hadn't known that she could fight on he own; she hadn't needed to since she had joined the team in earnest. She wasn't sure if she could even do it anymore. Grey bubbled up in her consciousness, tired but invigorated by the thrill of winning the battle. Chyra wasn't alone. She and Grey had fought as a unit, and won. They could do it, and they would keep doing it until they didn't need to anymore.

Chyra withdrew her vision from Grey's, returning to her limited field of vision once more. She fiddled with her comms, calibrating and honing in on the castle's location. She had some friends to call, and a mission report to deliver.

Chapter Text

Chyra hailed the Castle of Lions, Grey's signal broadcasting through the void and reaching the ship after only a few moments. Allura's face appeared on the screen, her brows furrowed beneath her bejeweled circlet.

"Chyra," Allura seemed for the first time to be relieved to see her Galra companion. "What's the status on Phyrrig? Did you get out of the fleet alright? I'm sorry for sending you directly into it like that."

"Not to worry, Princess, Phyrrig base is secure. The Blades and Coalition forces are reloading it now," Chyra replied, taking a relieved breath as she did.

Allura leaned back, her face surprised. "That was it? It must've gone very well."

"If by 'well' you mean Grey and I almost got vaporized by an impromptu cruiser bomb then yes, it went well."

"Do I even want to know what a cruiser bomb is?"

"Not really," Chyra replied, sheepish. "We're on our way to the rendezvous point on Olkarion. Any word from the rest of the team?"

"None yet, but I expect to hear from them soon."

Chyra looked to the side, her stomach souring. She had lost track of time during the battle, but somebody should have gotten in contact with the castle by now. She was worried about the Paladins; Keith and Hunk were in the stomach of a planet-eating mega-organism. Shiro, Pidge, and Lance were in a Galra prison. The stakes were astronomically high. She took a deep breath, crossing her arms as she tried to re-center herself.

"Chyra, they're going to be alright."

Startled, Chyra's gaze snapped back upwards to meet Allura's multichrome eyes through the monitor. The Princess continued, "they're the bravest people I've ever met. They'll be fine."

"I know," Chyra rushed in return, "I just..." words escaped her for a few moments as she stared hard at the glowing surface of the control podium below her, and Allura softened with understanding.

"You worry," Allura said, finishing Chyra's thought.

Chyra went quiet, meeting Allura's eye with her mismatched golden gaze. "I don't want to lose anyone else to the Empire."

"Nor do I," agreed Allura, "but I have faith that the Paladins will be able to do this. I believe in them."

Chyra smiled, a feeling of warmth filling her as she thought of her newfound team. "You're right," she conceded, taking a moment to calm herself, "I'm getting upset over nothing. I'll let you get back to your mission. Good luck on the Balmera, Princess."

Then Allura did something that really surprised Chyra. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear from the others. I'll see you back on Olkarion."

Chyra smiled warmly, nodding in farewell to the Princess. The commlink shut off, and the cockpit of the Grey wolf was plunged into still silence once more. Chyra felt the tiredness that she had been fighting off pull at her, making her limbs heavy and her mood dour.

Grey, tired but moving resolutely forward towards their next destination, brushed against Chyra's mind comfortingly. She sent a flurry of emotions: encouragement and care and worry. Grey was urging Chyra to rest.

You'll be alright on your own out here? Chyra asked in her mind, and Grey responded with a rush of confidence and another strong encouragement for Chyra to rest. Grateful for her wolf's insistence, Chyra moved into the back of the cockpit, laying down on the wide ledge in the back. There wasn't anything to pad it- Chyra hadn't remembered to pack any blankets when she was rushing to Phyrrig- but she had slept in worse conditions. Slouching from exhaustion, Chyra shrugged off her chest plate and the bracers of her armor, placing them next to the shelf alongside her boots and greaves.

Peace was shockingly easy to find in that moment, the weariness from the battle she had just endured dragged Chyra down into a steady sleep within minutes.

. . .

A surge of worry woke Chyra with a start.

She sat up rapidly, thrashing her legs to strike out at whatever assailant might be attacking her while she slept. Blearily, she took in her surroundings. She was still in Grey's cockpit, flying through the void, but something was flashing on the display in the front, near the screens. It took Chyra few moments to compute what exactly that meant, and while her tired brain was struggling to catch up to what was happening, Grey took the liberty of patching the signal through completely.

Allura's voice clamored through the air, fear evident in her tone and the sounds echoing from outside the castle. "Paladins! You must return to the castle, I need you!"

Chyra stumbled upwards, suddenly much more awake at hearing the Princess in such a frazzled state. If Allura sounded scared, something was really wrong. As her nerves grew, she found it difficult to get all of her armor components fastened.

She made it to her control podium, straightening her chest plate as she moved into view of the holographic screens that projected Allura and the other Paladins. She felt a rush of relief at seeing the other teams, despite the circumstances. Chyra met Shiro's eye. He relaxed just minutely as Chyra felt herself smile at him, sending him an unspoken message of reassurance that she had completed the mission, and that she was alright. Then the Black Paladin's expression turned stony again, and he looked to Allura.

"What's wrong, Princess?" Shiro asked, his jaw tight with worry. Chyra could hear the tiredness in his voice. She guessed that for once her time to rest was a luxury the others didn't have.

"The robeast that attacked us on the Balmera has returned!"

The Paladins replied with exclamations of shock and worry, and Chyra took that to mean things had gone south very quickly for Allura's mission. The Altean continued, "there's something different about it this time, and I can't fight it off on my own!"

"We're on our way," Lance asserted, and Chyra saw him launch the Blue Lion forward with a thrust of his controls, making Shiro and Pidge stagger to regain their balance. In the back of the Lion's cockpit, a skinny, multi-armed alien squawked in surprise as he was flung sideways by Lance's maneuver.

"I'll be there soon," Chyra assured, and Hunk agreed.

Grey melded her vision to Chyra's and put on a burst of speed, changing their heading from Olkarion to the coordinates at which the castle was located. Allura hastened the process, however, by opening three wormholes. Chyra braced against Grey's controls as they entered the glowing blue portal.

They passed through, and immediately had to dodge a massive beam of sickly green laser fire.

The Castle of Lions was floating in the upper atmosphere of a large Balmera, its shields active and weapons firing profusely at the form that hovered off to its right. The creature was something eerie and chilling, an enormous, genetically modified monstrosity manufactured by Haggar. It had long tentacles for arms, and along the inside of its limbs ran a series of small canons, from which light was pulsing out to scrape against the castle's flickering particle barrier. Around it hovered two huge purple crystals, which spoke of quintessence poisoning. More of these crystals were growing from a hole in its chest plate, sprouting off into a wicked point the protruded outwards. Rhythmic flashes of sickly green light would flicker through the crystal like a heartbeat, making Chyra's hair stand on end. She didn't know how it could see anything, since its most... concerning and noticeable feature was its complete lack of a head.

Correction: that was its most noticeable physical trait. The thing that stood out the most to Chyra was the dark, savage energy that rushed her as soon as she got within view of the monster. The hair at the back of her neck immediately flared out in panic as she felt a wave of malice wash over her. Chills rocketed up her arms, and her legs pulsed with purple light on instinct as she resisted the urge to turn tail and dash away from this awful creature. She felt her breaths quicken, and suddenly Grey was surrounding her, acting as a shield against the monster's dark energy. Chyra sent a thankful sensation to her wolf, although her nerves were still frayed. She hadn't felt energy like that in a long time, not since she was last in front of Haggar, and it had never been that acute, that... all-encompassing. She had always been sensitive to weird anomalies when it came to the feeling of someone or someplace or something, but never had Chyra been so overwhelmed by something like that before.

She was snapped out of her musings by the Paladins as they spoke.

"Okay, how is that thing still operational?" Keith asked, his nerves making his voice unsteady.

Lance added frantically, "it doesn't have a head! It definitely had a head last time, right?"

"It probably has something to do with those crystals," Pidge guessed.

Shiro cut in, "We can't worry about that now, we just have to protect the castle." From behind Shiro, that multi-armed alien cried out, running frantically back and forth through the Blue Lion's cockpit.

"How did we defeat this thing last time?" Keith asked, the gears beginning to spin in his head as Hunk maneuvered away from the monster's floating crystal shields.

"We formed Voltron," the Yellow Paladin replied, "then I stuck in my Bayard and shot it with my blaster right in its arm lasers. But that didn't stop it so then we had to punch it." He was talking really fast, obviously nervous, as he usually got when faced with the prospect of a dangerous battle. But he wasn't backing down.

"So we're gonna need Voltron," Shiro said decisively.

That was going to be a problem with only two of the Lions currently outside the castle, but the team didn't have more time to deliberate. The monster set up for another shot, the purple crystals in its chest emitting a green glow as it fired off a highly-charged laser blast. The Blue and Yellow Lions dodged downwards while Grey rolled over the top of the laser's path. The green light instead raked across two of the Balmera's moons, which exploded in a bright barrage of light that seared at Chyra's eye. She closed her eyes tightly against the light, feeling the heat of the explosion blast against Grey's metal hide.

She tried to ignore the screams ringing in her ears as the rubble from the moons scattered across the atmosphere. It looked so much like the rubble of the wolves when they-

No, Chyra thought resolutely. Her blood turned to ice and she felt like she was going to drift away in the memories of her escape from the Empire, but grounded herself by sinking further into her connection with Grey. The wolf provided her stability and comfort even in the midst of battle.

Shiro sounded strained and worried when next he spoke, but he exuded confidence despite the situation. "That new laser is much more powerful, we're definitely going to need all the Lions." Blue slipped into Grey's field of view, and Chyra turned towards the lion, keeping the robeast within sight.

"Chyra, Hunk, you distract it so we can fly into the castle. Once we get our lions out we'll cover you so you can get Keith in for Red." Lance turned Blue towards the castle, bringing Shiro and Pidge in as Allura opened a small gap in the shield.

"Woah- wait, wait. We have to hold that thing off by ourselves?" Hunk stammered in protest. Chyra could practically hear his knees shaking over the comms.

"There's no other way," Shiro insisted, although regret colored his voice, "and there's no time to argue. We've gotta do this now!"

Chyra tried to reassure the Yellow Paladin, bringing Grey up beside his larger Lion. "We've got this, Hunk. We can do it. Just until the others get back."

"Oh, Quiznak!" Hunk exclaimed in frustration as the robeast approached, its arms outstretched and green light gathering in the canon heads along its limbs.

"C'mon, Hunk! Let's move!" Chyra said, sending Grey forward with a burst of speed. They dove towards the monster with Grey's sharp claws extended, but the purple chunks of crystal flew forwards and formed a shield. Grey's strikes glanced harmlessly off of them, and the wolf retreated a few paces, dodging a swipe from the creatures long arm.

Hunk came in from Chyra's left side, sending a barrage of blue lasers at the monster and screaming all the while. The attacks bounced off of the crystals, but the distraction gave Chyra and Grey enough time to get out of range of the robeast's melee attacks.

"The crystal is blocking all of our offensive moves!" Hunk exclaimed in frustration. The robeast flung its arms open suddenly, and a green laser blast flew past Grey and Yellow, striking the castle as it passed. That beam, that sickly green light capable of destroying multiple moons in one fell swoop, struck the castle. And the particle barrier flickered out of existence.

"No," Chyra exclaimed, her blood running cold.

"The castle's defenseless, you guys need to redirect those attacks!" Keith advised from his place in the Yellow Lion.

"Do you have any specific advice, or are you just gonna tell us things we already know?" Chyra asked, trying to weave between the huge, rotating purple crystals that were currently thwarting every move she tried to make against the beast.

"Out of the way!" Hunk bellowed suddenly, and Grey dove downwards and the Yellow Lion came barreling at the robeast, armored back exposed as it dove.

Had sound carried at all in the airless void of space, Chyra was sure the impact would have been deafening.

The Yellow Lion and its foe spun from the collision, and the pair of crystals floated momentarily away from the monster. Chyra took the opportunity to dart in, firing her violet lasers at the crystal growing out of the beast's chest. If she could get rid of the strongest weapon the creature had, she would be able to help keep any further damage from reaching the castle.

She only had a moment before the robeast recovered, spreading its arms like wings and taking off after the Yellow Lion. She landed a few shots, but didn't manage to do as much damage as she had hoped to. That thing recovered quick.

Grey tumbled away as the monster shot off in pursuit of Hunk, and as she regained her bearings Chyra saw a streak of blue on what was usually her blind side.

"I'll take over distracting it while you go get the Red Lion!" Lance said, "Chyra, we need to get at that thing and do some real damage!"

"Copy that," Chyra replied.

Hunk celebrated for a moment, exclaiming, "right on time, Lance!" Then the Yellow Lion turned sharply and blasted off towards the castle.

Blue darted forwards, prepping a beam of freezing light as Chyra advanced from below. If Lance could freeze the shields together then-

A bright green beam flew forwards, and Lance dove, narrowly missing hitting Chyra as he descended rapidly to avoid the laser.

Chyra recovered and watched in wordless horror as the beam struck the Yellow Lion.

The mech's silhouette was bathed in green light, searing at the Lion's metal carapace. Hunk and Keith cried out as the light engulfed them, and Chyra felt her heart slam to a stop in her chest. She couldn't breathe.

And suddenly that ship was Harlow.

The image of the Blue Wolf being engulfed in light, shielded by Vrill and his Red Wolf, shot to the forefront of Chyra's vision. They had been destroyed, vaporized, turned to rubble amongst the stars by the Empire and its monsters. Grey moved jerkily in the direction of the beam, unsteady in her movements due to Chyra's distress. Her voice wouldn't work, she just couldn't breathe. Her chest and throat constricted, wrapped around by a vicious serpent of panic that was squeezing the air from her lungs. Panic and fear gripped her like a vice. She had failed them, she had failed them again. After she promised nothing like this would ever happen again. She had promised if it had to be someone it would be her-

It was Lance that struck her out of her shock with a frantic cry. "GUYS!"

The beam receded as the monster lost power to its laser, and the Yellow Lion was revealed. In one piece, by some miracle, but glowing with residual green light and deactivated from the overload of energy it took from the robeast's blast.

Chyra was still trembling, but she had the faculties about her from the sheer relief of seeing Yellow in one piece that she could move quickly enough to steady the larger mech before it could fall into the Balmera's atmosphere. Grey positioned herself beneath the Lion, her boosters supporting it. The weight was tremendous and they were still descending towards the planet, pushed down by the Yellow Lion's larger, more armored form, but the burden was relieved in moments when the Black Lion swung in next to Grey, moving to catch Yellow before it could reach the atmosphere and be pulled in by the Balmera's gravitational pull.

"Hunk, Keith, are you alright?" Shiro asked, and Chyra heard a telltale tremor in his voice.

A groan sounded on the other side of the commlinks, and Hunk answered tiredly, "kinda. That hurt. Yellow's not working."

"I know, I'm gonna get you back to the castle." Shiro said, relief coloring his voice. Grey moved aside as the Black Lion moved to grab Yellow by the armored plates along his back. Chyra returned to the battle while Shiro brought the Red and Yellow Paladins to safety.

Lance and Pidge were in hot pursuit of the robeast, firing volleys of lasers at the creature to little avail. Its crystal shields moved to intercept the shots, and it wove deftly through the void, keeping the Lions at bay. Chyra dove downwards from above the beast, trying to squeeze in between it and the crystals, but it brought an arm up and smacked Grey away like an insect. Chyra felt the impact rattle her bones, sending shockwaves through both her and Grey's bodies. She grunted from pain as she recovered her balance, her limbs still trembling from adrenaline.

"I'm getting real sick of these crystals," Lance growled, "let's take 'em out!"

"Got it!" Pidge said, and in unison the Lions darted forward, latching onto the huge purple shields that blocked their attacks. They made a move to tear them away from the monster, but the creature retaliated by swinging the shields suddenly around its body, slamming the lions against one another with a tremendous clash. Pidge and Lance exclaimed sharply from the impact, and were sent spinning off into space.

The beast turned towards the castle, and Chyra felt another surge of panic. Without the shields, that ship would be torn apart by that acid-green laser. Without thinking, Grey launched herself in from of the beast, a mechanical snarl sounding from her chest as she assailed the crystal shields from every angle she could, diving and twisting to try and slip through a gap in the beast's defenses. It wasn't working as well as it was meant to, those shields moved too quickly for her to find any real opportunity to attack.

"Shiro!" Pidge called out as she stabilized herself, "that thing is getting too close to the castle!"

"I've got it!" Shiro replied, and the Black Lion came hurtling towards the beast, leaving Yellow hovering beside the Castle's spires.

Chyra stifled a curse, the beast had been pushing her backwards towards the ship, they were dangerously close now.

Something slammed into her, striking Grey's right shoulder with so much force that it felt like Chyra's shoulder had dislocated. She staggered, dropping to her knees on the control podium as she clutched desperately at her arm, crying out from the pain and squeezing her eyes shut as if that would help safeguard her against it. She was feeling the impact that had hit Grey through their bond, and it hurt like the seven hells.

She heard someone call her name over the ringing in her ears, but her awareness of the others was dulled from pain. Grey was still spinning through the void, unable to right herself from the momentum of the blow. Chyra grit her teeth and grabbed one of her control disks, hauling herself to her metal feet and bracing herself as she extended her wounded arm with a pained grunt.

Grey whined, her mechanical voice echoing through Chyra's head as worry flowed through their bond. "I'm alright," Chyra replied haggardly, and she felt a moment of relief as Grey responded in kind with an assurance that she was okay. Then Chyra bared her fangs, gritting her teeth with determination as she turned Grey back towards the monster that was facing off against the Black Lion. That thing had done too much damage already. It had hurt Chyra's friends and her wolf. It was putting the people she cared about in danger.

The ex-assassin snarled, "let's kill that bastard."

Grey put on a burst of speed despite her damaged leg, her vision narrowing in on the robeast as it faced off against the Black Lion. Shiro was trailing streaks of blue light behind him as Black's thrusters burned brightly, and he slashed at the monster with a purple blade that extended from the Lion's jaws. Chyra slipped into the fray alongside Black, weaving between the monster's arms as she sent a barrage of violet light surging from Grey's jaws towards the beast.

"Chyra!" Shiro exclaimed, "you alright?"

"Been better!" Chyra replied, swinging sideways to try and attack from the back of the robeast. It anticipated her attack, swinging one of its crystal shields towards her. She narrowly dodged, and Grey flipped backwards, snarling at the creature with renewed frustration.

"Keep the crystals busy," Shiro said, "I'll attack from the other side."

"Got it," Chyra replied, and grinned when Pidge and Lance pulled up on either side of her. Her spirits bolstered by the reinforcements, Chyra dove towards the creature, the Blue and Green Lions moving in sync with her. They surged around the monster, diverting its attention towards them so it moved its crystals into position and allowed Shiro a shot at its exposed back.

The four of them were making a little bit of headway, but the monster's defenses were too solid for them to breach consistently. One little shot at the monster's body every ten tries wasn't going to do them much good. They had to break through those shields.

Suddenly, from behind the monster came two blasts of light, one red and the other blue. Keith's fire blast arced across the monster's shoulders, making it stagger in mid air as it recoiled from the attack.

"Sorry I'm late, guys!" Keith said. Chyra could practically hear the grin in his voice.

Hunk added with a relieved shout "we're back!"

"Okay, let's form Voltron and take this thing down like last time!" Lance said, his Lion maneuvering deftly around the beast's flying crystals as the others aimed shots through the momentary gaps in its shields.

"I don't think this robeast is going to just sit around and watch us transform," Keith replied.

"Keith's right," Shiro added, "We're going to have to figure something else out."

"Hey, at least we outnumber those crystal shields," Hunk piped in, looking to the bright side.

"Yeah, he can only block two of us!" Lance agreed. He was right, the team was managing to land a lot more shots now that there were too many assailants for the robeast to effectively block.

The creature fired off another green blast, and the Lions dived away, dodging the blast as it moved in a wide sweep between them.

"If you need to form Voltron, I can keep this thing distracted," Chyra offered as the team regrouped and moved back into position to attack the beast.

"No need!" Pidge said, her tone brightening in that signature way it did when she had an idea. "I just need you guys to get me an open shot at its chest!"

"Got it," Shiro asserted. The team moved in unison, and Grey wound in between the larger mechs as they simultaneously moved in on the robeast, distracting it by coming at it from all angles. Chyra slipped down between the beast's ever-moving shields and turned sharply upwards, firing off a shot at the creature's exposed belly as it moved its shield to block a blow from the Yellow Lion. Blue froze the shields together when they met, holding the ice-covered crystals together at the creature's back.

Pidge dove forwards when the shields had stuck towards the back of the beast, using her Lion's plant beam to hit the crystal that grew out of the center of the beast's chest. The forest green laser overpowered the more acidic-colored light that emitted from the robeast, and struck the crystal with incredible force. Plants erupted out of the beast's central crystal, wrapping around its limbs and chest to entrap it in a natural snare. The monster thrashed silently, trying to break free, but it was stuck fast.

"Great job, Pidge," Shiro congratulated, "Chyra, cover us if that thing breaks free while we're transforming. Now let's form Voltron!"

The Lions pulled away to form their humanoid counterpart, but this time Chyra didn't have a chance to watch the process. She wound around the monster, shooting Grey's laser at every patch of exposed armor and skin she could see. By the time the Defender of the Universe had fused together, the creature was smoking slightly from Chyra's repeated attacks.

She backed out of range as Voltron swooped in and summoned its sword for a decisive end to the battle.

The monster broke free of its vines at last, just as Voltron dove forward, its blade extended as the Paladins shouted a battle cry from within.

The crystal shields moved, the blade plunged forward, a purple light engulfed the monster and the mech for a few moments.

And then the glow died, and Voltron's sword was lodged deep in the creature's chest. Shards of crystal exploded outwards to pierce the void, and a bright red glow started to emanate from the creature's open chest cavity. Voltron reeled backwards away from the beast's glowing form as it began to smoke, signs of combustion appearing. Chyra steered Grey as far out of range as she could, taking a moment to muse at the fact that this was the second exploding enemy in a single day that she was having to dodge.

The creature erupted in bright orange light, sending huge chunks of corrupted crystal flipping off into the depths of space. Chyra looked to the side, where Voltron hovered, standing strong and tall as it was bathed in the bright light of the explosion. She smiled upon seeing her friends in one piece, then receded from Grey's field of vision. She braced against Grey's control disks, gripping her right arm as it throbbed with a sharp pain. Grey surrounded her in a comforting feeling, and Chyra returned in kind. If she was feeling this much pain from a secondhand wound, she couldn't imagine Grey's discomfort. She promised her wolf that they would have her shoulder seen to as soon as they reached Olkarion.

Grey and the Lions settled into the castle, celebrating their victory. When they reconvened in the castle's bridge, Allura was arguing with the alien who had been in Blue's cockpit, whom Chyra figured was Slav, the prisoner Shiro and the others were sent to rescue from Beta Traz. As he spoke to the Princess, Chyra was inwardly glad that she hadn't needed to help in his rescue; he seemed a bit rude. Pretentious, maybe.

She entered alongside the Paladins, her relief immeasurable when she saw that they were all unharmed. Still cradling her injured shoulder, Chyra stood in line with the others, awaiting news from Allura, who was still bickering with Slav about hover technology and the zip lines that led the Paladins to their Lions.

"Allura, have you heard from Coran?" Keith asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Slav lounging across Coran and Chyra's control station like it was a recliner. The Princess turned to the Paladins looking exasperated, but brightened up when she saw the rest of the team.

"Yes, he called just before the Balmera mission 'went south,' as you humans say. The Olkari have begun work on the Teladuv's main structure. They're ready for us to bring the skaultrite to be reformed into lenses."

"I was hoping to get in a little visit with Shay while we were here..." Hunk mentioned quietly, looking out the viewports towards the Balmera with a longing expression.

"I'm sorry, Hunk, but the mission is too important. Once this is all over, once we've won, you can visit Shay." Allura said, her apologetic tone genuine and earnest.

"I get it, that's cool," Hunk conceded, looking deflated. Lance put a hand on his friend's shoulder to cheer him up. "Did you at least say hi to her for me while you were down there like I asked?" the Yellow Paladin asked the Princess.

Allura smiled. "Of course I did. She says she wishes to meet with you again soon." Hunk looked more satisfied, so Allura turned back to her controls and summoned the pillar of blue light around her, bringing into existence one of her bright blue swirling wormholes to take the team to Olkarion. Once they had gotten moving, Chyra moved to the nearest pilot's seat, easing herself downwards to sit as she cradled her still throbbing arm against her side. Shiro's eye caught on the Galra's movement, and he moved towards her, his face clouding with worry in a way that made his eyebrows furrow and his scar pucker across his nose as he frowned.

"Chyra, are you okay? Did something happen on Phyrrig?" He asked softly, approaching on her left but looking to inspect her injured right arm.

"It's nothing," Chyra said placatingly, giving the Paladin a slight smile of gratitude at his concern. He didn't look convinced. "Grey and I just took a hard hit from those crystal shields, there's damage to her shoulder and it's messing up the feeling in my arm. I'll have the Olkari make repairs when we land."

"And the damage to Grey is impacting you... how, exactly?" He asked, sitting down on the other half of the wide seat beside her. His dark eyes were alight with worry, and Chyra looked down to avoid his gaze so she could form a coherent thought.

"I feel what she feels through our bond. Right now she has a huge dent in her shoulder, so it kinda feels like my arm has a chunk taken out of it. There's a weird pressure on my collarbone too, one of the support beams in her armoring might be bent somehow."

Shiro looked confused, but accepted Chyra's explanation in stride otherwise.

The castle landed on Olkarion, and the Paladins disembarked with Slav in tow to check in on the Teladuv. Chyra and Pidge went searching for Ryner, and found her working alongside the other Olkari to complete the teladuv's inner support structure before laying down the skaultrite that was about to be refined. She was happy to see the pair of them, and while the most technically proficient Olkari were busy working on the Teladuv, Ryner agreed to send a group to help repair Grey's injured shoulder before the team began the next mission to prepare for the assault on Central Command.

Gradually, over the next couple of days of rest and preparation, the reality settled over the team that this was it.

If all went well, this would be the last battle they would ever have to fight against the Galra. This would be the last time Voltron would raise its sword against tyranny, and the last few days of Zarkon's over-extended lifetime. After this they would have to figure out how to move forward, and decide whether they wanted to stay in space or return to Earth. Chyra would have to figure out where she was going to go, and work on how to restructure the Empire before another tyrant swooped in and resumed control of the Galra. After she had helped end the reign of Zarkon, would Allura, Coran, and the Paladins still want her around? Or would she be dismissed, having served her purpose?

She shook her head physically, dislodging the thoughts that stuck to the gears within her head. They wouldn't do that, even if she did decide to reveal her past to them.They were too good for that, too loyal and kind. Chyra allowed herself to dream for a moment. Maybe she had found a family here. Maybe when they returned to Earth, when the fight was over, she could go with them. Make a new life somewhere she could help people once the galaxies had been returned to peace. Maybe things could be good for her. Maybe she could finally rest.

Chyra's thoughts of the future were brought to an immediate and abrupt halt that evening, when Kolivan opened a hailing signal to Chyra's comms channel.

The signal arrived through Grey, who patched it through to Chyra's helmet while she was cleaning her armor. The notification appeared on the reflective visor of her helmet. Surprised, Chyra answered the call and tried to ignore the trepidation that gnawed at her stomach, making her feel like her dinner was too heavy.

"Kolivan? Are you sure you're on the right channel?" Chyra asked as she answered the call, trying to keep her tone light and unbothered. In truth, she was unsettled by the Blades Leader calling her personally.

"Executioner," he said, his voice ringing in Chyra's ears. He sounded unhappy and short-tempered, a combination of emotions that never failed to set Chyra's nerves on edge from her time in the arena. It was the telltale tone of someone who's patience had run out.

Chyra scowled. "I told you not to call me-"

"We've given you enough time."

Chyra went quiet, grateful that Kolivan couldn't see her stricken expression.

"...what?"

"With the upcoming missions adding more and more stakes to our assault on Galra Central Command, we cannot allow you to continue deceiving the Paladins about your identity." Kolivan said, his tone blunt but threatening. "You have to tell them who you are."

"Kolivan..." Chyra tried to argue, but her throat was tight. She tried to clear it, then had to force the words out around the immovable block that made her voice sound strained. "Now isn't the time. With everything going on, I can't risk distracting the Paladins with this."

Kolivan made a sound to dispute, but Chyra continued, trying to bargain. She made her voice as steady as she could, but couldn't stop the telltale tremor of fear from slipping in. She used to be so good at this. She used to be able to conceal her emotions in even the most terrifying or stressful situations. Now she couldn't help but feel weak and scared as her voice wavered like a child.

"And I will tell them, I swear to you. Give me until after the main assault. Wait until the threat has passed, then I'll tell them."

Kolivan was quiet for a moment, and for those few seconds, Chyra allowed herself to hope. Maybe he was reconsidering.

"You have one day. One day to tell the Paladins and the Princess, or we do it for you."

Kolivan ended the call with a note of grim finality, and Chyra's world shattered.

Chapter Text

Chyra hated deadlines. She always had. It was always: kill this target before they do this, or get back to base with no detours so you can go on the next mission immediately. Or sometimes, in the worst cases, people would give deadlines like this one.

She had less than twelve hours to tell the Paladins everything about her past, to tell them the full truth that she had been hiding from them for too long.

And she felt like she was about to fall apart at the seams.

She hadn't slept at all that night, and while that wasn't unusual, she felt like the lack of sleep was affecting her even more negatively than it normally would. She was shaky, and every breath was a struggle to draw in. Her thoughts were scattered, she couldn't stop moving. She had paced all night.

Exhausted already, Chyra sank down onto her bed, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Her tail curled around her on instinct, and she bounced her leg from nerves, unable to sit still.

She muttered out a curse that would have made her old mentor Vetrul smack the back of her head.

This was going to be really, really hard.

Dawn broke, sending beams of light flooding over the golden sky of Olkarion. The sunlight bounced across the metal buildings and through the streets, rising over the ridge of tall mountains that protruded from the planet like a spine. The mountains turned golden.

Chyra went and sat outside, perched on Grey's wide back in her comfortable, everyday clothes. They laid silently in the morning sun, taking in the light of it from the platform in the city on which the Olkari had completed repairs to Grey's damaged forelimb. It was nice being on a planet again, with its sunlight and fresh, non-filtered or recycled air. She felt the light shine on her face and closed her eyes against it. The heat felt nice; it left in its wake a warm, soothing sensation that brushed lightly against Chyra's sharp cheeks. She hadn't felt the sun in... too long. Years, in fact. All that time on the Emperor's ship, trapped in the belly of the gladiator pits, she hadn't felt the sun. Not any sun, from any planet. And now she sat here, basking in the sunlight of a planet that wasn't her own, waiting for her chance to throw her life away.

She opened her eyes, blinking against the light. Grey pressed comfortingly against her mind, offering her strength to her pilot. Chyra accepted it gratefully. She was going to need it.

A large shadow passed overhead, and with the hum of huge engines and the sound of an immense weight settling heavily on the metal ground, the Black Lion landed beside Grey. The feline ship towered over the wolf, but Grey's tail began to wag as Black settled in. It was nice to see that they were on friendly terms nowadays.

Shiro emerged from the Black Lion's topside hatch, and the lion lowered his immense head so his Paladin could exit. Shiro hopped from his ship onto Grey's back to join Chyra, smiling in greeting.

"You're up early," he remarked, his tone light-hearted. It was a far cry from how Chyra felt. She was full of turmoil, a storming sensation that wouldn't abide until the thunderhead broke and the rain came down.

Even so, Shiro's attitude and presence made her lips twitch upwards in the closest thing to a smile Chyra could muster.

"So are you," she replied, watching the Paladin settle down to sit beside her. He patted Grey's metal hide as she hummed expectantly, and the wolf let a feeling of satisfaction flow through her bond with Chyra. Numbly, Chyra felt a slight tinge of relief that Grey had warmed up to the Black Paladin.

"Sleep didn't come easy last night, I've been up for a few hours now," Shiro replied, looking resigned to his fate.

Chyra scoffed humorlessly, turning back to look out at the steadily rising sun as she toyed with the cuff of her long sleeve. "I didn't sleep any. Last night was... rougher than most."

The pair of ex-gladiators met like this often in the mornings, usually inadvertently, solely as a coincidence that happened because of their issues with sleep. So Chyra wasn't surprised to know that Shiro was awake, but she was surprised to see him here. Maybe he had been on a morning flight or checking on the status of the Teladuv.

Chyra snapped out of her thoughts; she could feel Shiro looking at her, see his expression in her periphery. But she didn't dare look at him. She had a bad habit of oversharing when it came to Shiro, and with her nerves wound this tightly... well, she was afraid that if she looked at him, she would just start talking and wouldn't be able to stop.

"I'm sorry," Shiro said softly.

Chyra shrugged, dismissing his sympathy to build a wall between them. "It doesn't matter," she said shortly, then softened. "Who knows? Maybe I'll stop losing sleep once this war is over."

Shiro made a face, scrunching up his nose and smiling in a way that made this scar crinkle and his eyebrows quirk. Laughing just slightly, he said, "you're not usually this pensive so early in the morning."

The tension that was constricting Chyra's chest lifted for just a moment, just long enough for her to reply with some semblance of a light heart. "What? I'm always very pensive."

The Black Paladin leaned back and snorted derisively, pinning Chyra with a skeptical look that made the Galra smile despite her nerves. "Um, no," he said with no small amount of sass, "you're not. Not this early. I've come to realize that you rarely have any brain activity before 9 AM."

Chyra made a stricken expression, her motions exaggerated as she pretended to be hurt by Shiro's sentiment. "Now that's just simply not true!" she disputed, and Shiro laughed. For a moment everything was okay.

Then reality sank back in.

Chyra went quiet again, twisting her hands in her lap and staring hard at the battle scars that stretched across her wrists, bending and contorting as she fidgeted. Her smile faded, her shoulders hunched as the weight of her incoming confession settled down on her once again. She was being crushed by it, and she couldn't hold it aloft much longer.

As the tension settled back over Chyra's scarred and metal-plated shoulders, Shiro noticed her abrupt change in demeanor. Leaning into her line of sight cautiously, he  mentioned in a deliberately off-hand manner, "there it is again."

"W-what?" Chyra turned towards him, confused and suddenly guarded.

Shiro met her eye steadily, softly, and with a concerned tone asked simply, "are you okay?"

Chyra turned away, refusing to look at him anymore. Her guard went up. "You seem to be asking me that question a lot lately."

"You seem to need me to ask it a lot lately," Shiro countered.

Chyra sighed, trying to make it look like she wasn't falling apart. By the concern flickering in Shiro's stormy eyes, it didn't seem to be working.

"I..." she trailed off, hesitating. If she did this, there would be no going back. Chyra took a steadying breath, trying to swallow down her nerves. "I actually have something I want to discuss with the team. All together," she added hastily. She didn't want to tackle this one by one, everyone needed to find out at the same time. She didn't think she could come clean more than once, she didn't have the strength.

"Okay..." Shiro said, looking askance. He sounded like he wanted to press, to ask questions, and his tone itself was a request for Chyra to elaborate, but she didn't allow another word of admission to escape her lips. A hesitant and pleading smile tugged at her scars then, as she fixed Shiro with a look of trepidation.

"Can you get them all together? Not right this second, but... sometime this morning? Before we get into all of the planning we're working on?"

Shiro looked uncomfortable and concerned, his dark eyebrows furrowing and his face speaking of ill-concealed unease, but he nodded, his expression turning resolute.

"I will," he assured, but he leaned toward Chyra just slightly, his shoulders rising from apprehension. "But is something wrong? You're acting..." he lost the words, so Chyra answered with as much assurance as she could muster.

"Nothing is wrong," she said, "I just need to speak with the team."

Shiro's expression clouded with an emotion Chyra couldn't read, and she turned back to the sunrise, which was almost finished rising above the peaks of Olkarion's mountainous ridge. She couldn't stop herself from hunching forward, reverting back to her automatic response to anxiety, the one she had developed during her time as a prisoner. She curled her tail around herself, the shock of dark hair at the end of it swishing across Grey's hide as it moved. Chyra's hands traveled upwards to grasp her upper arms, her claws digging slightly into the already scarred skin through her black sleeves.

Absently, she registered Shiro moving, standing up and starting to leave. Then his hand came to rest gently on her shoulder, and she flinched away from it for a moment, her eye flicking upwards to look at him incredulously.

His smile was soft and comforting, more so than any expression Chyra could remember having directed towards her in a very long time. "It's gonna be okay. Just know that whatever you're worried about, we can handle it. 'Stronger together,' remember?" He left, casting one last glance over his shoulder before he climbed into the Black Lion's immense silver jaws and flew off towards the castle in the distance with a warm rumble of the Lion's engines.

Chyra wanted so badly to feel comforted, but the feeling of relief Shiro had wanted to give her wasn't appearing. Only the sickening sense of guilt and foreboding that had been gnawing at her stomach for the last several hours remained, ever-present like a disease. He was wrong, a small, wrathful voice in Chyra's head screeched, they weren't going to want her here anymore. She was going to have to leave, she would never have a home, never again have a family, she would-

Grey growled to interrupt Chyra's spiraling thoughts. The Galra jumped, the rumble of Grey's interjection thrumming through her body as the wolf encompassed her with her vast presence and her growl echoed out over the streets of the Olkari capitol. Every comforting emotion Grey could send surrounded Chyra: encouragement, peace, and support all bubbled up to form a shield against the world and her worries.

For the first time, it didn't work.

Chyra hauled herself to her tired feet, dread taking up residence in her stomach and lodging itself deep in her gut, heavy like an asteroid in her chest. She didn't want to go. This might be the last moment of peace and quiet and trust she ever received. She didn't want to go.

Shoving down that ever-pervasive feeling of overwhelming dread as much as she could, Chyra climbed into Grey's cockpit and launched towards the castle.

Grey gave Chyra one last lingering mental hug before she departed, trying to pass to her pilot every comforting and calming emotion she could muster. But Chyra could tell Grey was nervous too. There was a tension that clung to the edges of their bond, creeping through it and worming its way into both of their psyches. Chyra, wound just as tight as before, went to the rec room.

She normally would have grabbed breakfast of some sort, but she couldn't eat. Even if she had forced herself to eat something, it probably wouldn't have stayed down long. Her stomach was churning from stress, mixing and twisting like there was something alive in there. Alive and very agitated, constantly tying itself into angry, uncomfortable knots in her abdomen.

She tried sitting down on the couch but was too restless to stay still or seated. So she started pacing.

She felt trapped again, like a caged animal. Or maybe like herself, the version of her that had existed when she was stuck in a tiny, dark cell, left alone to fester in her own negative thoughts in between bouts of trauma and pain. So she kept moving as much as she could, striding back and forth, her gaze flicking from door to door in nervous anticipation. Her tail thrashed, snapping audibly as it whipped through the air. Her ragged ears pinned back and she kept tracing over the scars on her arms through her sleeves, unable to keep her nerves from growing more and more fervent with each passing moment.

Her nerves were contagious; even Grey, in all her constant mental fortitude, was agitated. Chyra apologized mentally, and her wolf returned with a sensation of comfort, stifling Chyra's concerns.

The doors opened, and Chyra froze. Eyes wide, like a frightened animal, she saw the Paladins walking in, looks of concern on their faces and in their eyes.

A sudden sense of calm came over her. This was it. She took a breath, nodded in greeting. She went stone-faced, her nerves quieting and becoming eerily still.

"Hey," Lance greeted, a little confused but still amicable. "What's going on?"

Chyra's voice quivered a little as she replied, "I have something to address before we continue with our missions."

She studied the Paladins' reactions, and Allura's narrowed eyes and downturned brow was cause for concern. Chyra had raised the Princess's guard.

Keith met Chyra's eye, concern dancing in his dark gaze. He raised an eyebrow for a moment, saw Chyra's determination falter, then his expression softened. Chyra felt a sliver of relief lodge itself in her chest. She hoped Keith would have her back; he understood how hard this kind of thing was.

Chyra sat down on one couch as the others situated themselves on the seats across from her like she was speaking to an audience. She supposed, in a way, she was.

Chyra took a breath, her chest shuddering as she drew the chilly air of the ship in.

Then she began.

"I've been meaning to discuss some things with the seven of you for a while now, but I could never find the right time," she began cautiously. "Opportunities never presented themselves, so I put it off. But I can't in good conscience continue to leave these things unsaid. Not with everything moving so quickly, and with the stakes so high."

"Chyra, what is this about?" Allura asked, a tumult of emotions hiding thinly-veiled in her accented voice; worry and aprehension and a tinge of slight fear.

"I've grown to care for you," Chyra responded, meeting Allura's eyes before looking to the others, "all of you. And you deserve to know the whole story." She looked back down at her hands, clasped together with a viselike grip as she rested her forearms on her knees. Her posture was hunched, and she didn't think she could sit taller if she wanted to. The weight of her secret was pressing down on her with an almost tangible force, and paired with the tension and nervous atmosphere of the room, Chyra thought if she tried to bear it alone, her strength would give out completely.

"I haven't been entirely, transparently honest with you about my past in the Empire. And as much as I want to leave my backstory in the past, where it belongs, I can't. Not if I ever expect to earn your complete trust."

Chyra took a moment to measure the atmosphere. The energy was tense and nervous, but the Paladins didn't look unhappy. Apprehensive, yes. Curious and cautious, definitely. But she was still in safe territory. For now.

"I need you to understand..." Chyra said, her voice quieting from sorrow. She saw Coran lean forward to hear her better, and forced her voice to be louder, to project a little more. Grey, sensing her pilot falter, brushed supportively against Chyra's mind. "Please understand that in the Empire, if you don't do as you're ordered to, you die. There is no room for those who don't wholeheartedly support Zarkon, and they don't allow space for you to question any of the Empire's beliefs. You're taught and conditioned and indoctrinated since birth, made to think in one very specific way, remain in one narrow mentality from the second you can understand speech. So growing up in the Empire, I was never allowed to consider what was right or wrong. I followed orders, I did as I was asked, and I did it with everything I had. It was a survival tactic. Especially for a lowborn, someone who barely counts as Galra, if you don't obey, there's no use for you.

"I had to do everything I was ordered to and more just to stay alive. I was expected to serve the Empire, carry out its goals from the second I was able to. They train you to follow blindly, to be unquestioning and unwavering in your loyalty. And I was. For a long time, I was. And now I look back on those days, those deca-phoebs, and I hate the person that I was. I hate the person that they made me to be."

Chyra felt a rush of warm emotion from Grey then, bringing a slight twitch upwards to her scarred lips. "But I'm proud to say I've changed, and that all of you have had such a significant part in it. If it weren't for you, I don't know where or how or who I would be. You've changed me," Chyra looked to the Paladins, her teammates, who were becoming like family to her, and felt herself relax. They didn't look so nervous anymore, so she didn't feel like a beast was trying to claw its way out of her throat anymore. "And for that, I can't thank any of you enough."

A sullen feeling returned, darkening Chyra's countenance. "Which is why I can't continue to mislead you. I didn't tell the whole truth when I told you who I was, the day I woke up after my crash on Corrida."

She paused, swallowed against the lump in her throat, tried to push it down. It didn't work. She continued anyway, taking a moment to find the words she needed to use.

"I told you I was a prisoner. That was the truth. I told you my family had been killed and that... that is painfully true. I told you I was a soldier, and that wasn't a lie. Not entirely. But I kept some things from you."

Chyra looked up and scanned the faces of her friends. They looked apprehensive. Allura looked like she was bracing against something. Shiro was looking down, watching her leg bounce with a pensive look. Chyra froze up. She had been talking too long, saying too much. She needed to get to the point.

She forced a steadying breath into her cramped lungs, and suddenly her rib cage felt too small. Despite her chest protesting the admission of her lie, Chyra straightened her hunched back and squared her shoulders.

"My betrayal of the empire was huge, and it came as a shock because I was one of the last people they expected to defect. I held a position of high honor, a position that I now regret with my entire being."

Keith took a step forward, his dark eyes shaded with concern. "We know you helped strategize to take down planets, and we know you regret that. What else-"

"I was an assassin. I stood at Zarkon's right hand."

The words flew forward, biting in their intensity and as heavy as a cargo ship. They rang through the air with the force of a ballistic blast, poisoning the atmosphere and making it sour, toxic to breathe and rife with shock.

Chyra set back, her blood turning to burning ice in her veins. She felt her spine shiver with apprehension, and Grey quickly rose up to press comfortingly against her. The Galra started to tremble, and braced for the incoming impact. She hadn't meant to say that.

Shiro looked down, his face hidden from Chyra's view by his shock of white hair. He muttered quietly, almost to himself, shaking his head a few times as if to clear it from a fog. "You were, weren't you?"

Energy rippled through the room, and the moment she saw the looks on everyone's faces, Chyra couldn't look at them anymore. She couldn't bear to see how she had just hurt them. Nobody spoke. It was too quiet, the silence strangling and making Chyra choke before she could force out an explanation.

Allura stood up abruptly. Chyra shrunk back.

The tremor in the Princess's voice told her everything she needed to know.

"What?"

The words Chyra couldn't summon before, the ones that would have explained everything before the reveal of her identity, suddenly flung forward, spilling out before she had a chance to organize them or recover from the shock of her outburst.

"I wasn't sent here by anyone, I swear. My arrival wasn't part of some mission or directive, it was pure chance. I told you I was just a soldier, and that was a lie, but everything, everything else I've told you up to this point has been true."

"You can't expect us to believe you now," Allura said sharply, and Chyra flinched, looking to the princess, who had anger growing steadily in her multicolored eyes.

"I know, I just-"

Pidge leaned forward, her face unreadable behind the flash of her glasses lenses. "Why are you only telling us this now? You've had plenty of chances to come clean."

"I... I wanted to leave my past behind me." Chyra admitted, looking back up but avoiding eye contact with everyone. She didn't think she could continue if she really saw what the others were thinking.

"I'm ashamed of who I was and the things I did. But please, believe me, I was just following orders. I showed an aptitude for what Zarkon wanted, so he shaped me into a weapon. And I hate myself for it. What I've done haunts me every day. And I swear to you, I want to try and make it right. My loyalty to you, to all of you and your cause, is true. I want to atone for everything I've done, including lying to you."

Allura was shaking her head, stepping back as her face contorted with disbelief. "I knew it," she breathed, her hand moving to her forehead. "I knew it."

Chyra moved despite herself, getting to her feet. "Allura, please, let me explain-"

The Princess responded in a roar that made Chyra want to bolt out of the room. "Don't, don't you dare act like you're not just another no good, lying, deceptive Galra!"

Chyra recoiled, and she felt tears stinging her eyes. She clenched her fists, her claws digging so hard into her palms that she felt she was going to break the skin.

"Princess," Coran said softly, moving towards his Altean companion and placing a hand on her shoulder. Allura didn't react, but Coran stood fast, and Chyra wasn't sure where he stood then. he had been one of the first to trust her, had she just ruined everything with him too?

Allura's voice went quiet, but the impact of those quiet words hit Chyra so hard it knocked the wind out of her. "I trusted you."

"I know now that I shouldn't have lied, but when I woke up I wasn't thinking straight. I thought... if you all knew who I was you would-"

"I trusted you, and this is what I get in return." The venom in the Princess's voice made Chyra's chest constrict.

"I thought you would kill me!" Chyra erupted, her tightly wound nerves finally snapping. Allura looked at her with shock, although the anger she felt still simmered beneath the surface of her visage. Quiet reigned for a few moments.

"Why would you think that?" Lane asked gently, careful not to disrupt anything or draw the ire of the upset parties. "We're the good guys."

Chyra's gaze leveled with Lance's before she looked for the first time to the others. "I was scared" she admitted. "I had just woken up from a coma, I was alone without Grey, my family was dead, and suddenly I was standing in front of the biggest threat the Empire had ever faced. I thought that if I told you the truth, you would have killed me. So I lied. And I regret that lie, because now that I know you I know that wouldn't have been the case."

"So you led us on for phoebs, while we lived with an assassin in our midst." Allura retorted, her arms crossed.

"I shouldn't have."

Allura's voice was biting, sharp like a blade that scraped harshly against the inside of Chyra's chest. "You're right. You shouldn't have. Just like I shouldn't have ever let myself believe you deserved a chance."

Chyra pleadingly reached out with a trembling hand as if to bridge the rapidly forming gap between herself and the Princess. "Allura, please. I'm so sorry-"

"No!" The Altean shouted, stepping back. "You just- just stay away from me!"

Chyra's heart clenched, and she went numb for a few moments. Minutes ago, Allura had been her friend. Now she didn't think they would ever be on speaking terms again. The realization sent a spear of pain ripping through her chest. She was losing everyone again.

Her momentary shock was broken when Shiro leaned forward, his voice tactful and expression placating. "Allura," he began, but the princess cut him off furiously.

"What, Shiro?" The princess turned her ire towards the Black Paladin. "Are you going to jump to her rescue again, like you always do?"

"No," Shiro kept his tone purposefully level and even, "I just think we need to approach this in a more level-headed way."

"Level-headed?" Allura retorted, aghast. "How am I supposed to be level-headed? We've been living with her for months! She could have killed any of us at any time!" Allura gestured angrily at Chyra, and the Galra flinched violently away from the movement, expecting an attack on instinct.

Lance stood up, "but she didn't, that has to count for something, right?"

"Yeah, seconded," Hunk concurred, raising a hand timidly.

Allura shook off their comments. "I gave her a chance. I put aside my anger and my instinct, and gave her a chance! And now she finally decides to tell us that she's an assassin! That she was 'at Zarkon's right hand'. Do you know what that makes her?"

"Guys-" Keith tried to step in, but Allura continued.

"That makes her the enemy!"

A sob pressed hard against Chyra's throat, threatening to break free. She ducked her head, clenched her fists against the wave of emotions that thrashed against the inside of her ribs. Her heart turned heavy like a stone, and she felt the weight of it settle, solid and unmoving, on top of her lungs.

"I know," Shiro said coolly as he stood up, and Chyra didn't know if she could sink any lower. He agreed with her. Noise and chaos cluttered Chyra's mind, rushing around her in a frenzied torrent in response to her panic. She had lost even Shiro's trust. Somehow the thought hurt more than she thought it could.

"Then you know that she needs to leave," Allura said, her voice going quiet and steady and stoic as the dead. Pidge stood up to protest, opening her mouth before Shiro stopped her with a meaningful glance. Keith shifted on his feet, uneasy as his gaze flickered between the team leaders and the trembling Galra before them.

"I know."

Chyra's knees gave out. Which they shouldn't have been able to do, but the weight of her emotion crushed downwards with concussive force, driving her knees down into the floor with a resounding clang. Hunk startled at the noise, and Pidge's eyes shot towards Chyra as she crumpled forward, her chest convulsing. Allura began to speak, but Shiro stood, looking at Chyra out of the corner of his stormy eyes as he cut off the Princess's words.

"You don't understand," he led gently, and he turned towards where Chyra knelt, leaning down to meet her mismatched eyes. "It's okay. I think I've known."

Chyra was sent reeling.

She scrambled backwards, every muscle in her body tense and ready to move, ready to run away if she needed to. He knew? How could he have known? She scanned the faces of the other Paladins. Shock adorned their faces, mingled with surprise and a little bit of hurt, definitely. But none of them had known, not even Keith, the leader's closest confidant. It was only Shiro.

Why hadn't he said anything to them? Why hadn't he told his team about Chyra if he already knew who she was? Her training, the years of programming, every second of it was roaring in her ears, screaming that if he knew and hadn't told anyone, he must have been planning something. What was he planning? Was he planning to oust her as soon as the time was right? Planning to reveal her secret at the opportune moment? How would this scheme benefit him at all? Most importantly, how was he going to react now that she had ruined it?

Then she snapped suddenly back to logic, stamping down the years of training and personal experience that had taught her to mistrust everyone. This was Shiro. He wasn't conniving, he wasn't one to hurt people, or turn the tables on someone all of a sudden just for the sake of it. But the point remained that he hadn't told the others. That was reason for concern.

"...what?"

Chyra's voice was quiet, timid, and choked, and it was immediately drowned out. The word didn't travel more than a couple of inches past her lips before the rush of chatter from the Paladins swallowed the meek noise completely.

Hunk's voice was the loudest of all, his confusion evident in his exclamation of "Woah, wait what?"

Shiro looked to her, his face unreadable. He didn't move, he was standing tall like he was speaking to a high-ranking officer, his posture erect and shoulders squared. And yet, when he looked at Chyra she felt a sense of comfort wash over her. He didn't look angry or upset, he looked sympathetic.

"I think I've known for a while now," Shiro admitted, and the rage on Allura's face was frightening to behold. Still, the Black Paladin continued. "Not long after you first woke up from the healing pod and introduced yourself, I remembered hearing your name back in the cell blocks. The memory was fuzzy, but it got clearer little by little."

"And you said nothing," Allura said, aghast.

Shiro looked back up. "I was never completely sure, there was just something familiar about the name. I remember people mostly called you Executioner, so the name Chyra didn't really ring a bell for a while. I wasn't sure you were who I thought you were, so I didn't say anything. I guess... I wanted to give you a chance to be who you said you were."

"That's..." Pidge trailed off, thought for a moment, then continued, "I'm sorry Shiro that's the dumbest justification for putting your team in potential danger I've ever heard."

"Listen, I know it wasn't the smart move, but it worked didn't it? We have Chyra as an ally and a friend, and she hasn't done anything that would indicate that she's a plant from the Empire. Believe me, I've been keeping an eye on her-you, sorry." Shiro glanced back towards Chyra as he changed his pattern, giving her a brief apologetic look that only served to increase the look of baffled confusion on Chyra's face.

"I was ready to do something and step in if Chyra made a single move that led me to think she wasn't trustworthy," Shiro continued, reasoning now with the rest of the team. "That's why we're roomed next to one another, I would have heard her make any calls to the Empire if she had tried. Pidge has scanners that detect outgoing signals, the Green Lion kept tabs on the Grey Wolf's activity; we were thorough in making sure we were safe. But she never posed a threat, not even once. And I doubt she would have told us she used to be an assassin if she was planning on making some sort of move against us in the future. I'm still confident that I made the right decision. Even now," at this Shiro gave Chyra the slightest of smiles, just a quick glance and a very slight upturn of his lip, as reassurance. Chyra flushed with embarrassment; she hadn't realized she had been so closely monitored.

"Well I am not," Allura retorted, her anger turned now towards Shiro. "How could you keep this from us- from me? How could you knowingly let an assassin stay in our midst?"

"Like I said, I wasn't sure of anything until just now. The memory didn't really... register until Chyra admitted she was an assassin."

"You should have said something, as soon as you had suspicions you should have told me," Allura disputed, but the vitriol was leaching out of her now. She looked tired, resigned, and... saddened?

"You're right, I probably should have," the Black Paladin admitted, "and I'm sorry I left all of you in the dark. But it just felt right to give Chyra a chance. She deserved that much after everything she's lost."

Chyra's eyes welled once more with tears, and she hid her relieved smile behind the back of her palm. It only lasted a moment though, as Allura took a slow step back, turning away.

"I... I need some time. I must go," the Princess said suddenly, starting to leave the room. Chyra struggled upwards, regaining her footing a making a move to follow.

"Allura..." she said, her voice breaking. The Princess paused, turning to look over her shoulder out of the corner of her eye. She looked tired.

"I'm so sorry."

Allura didn't say a word, but her shoulders collapsed, her rigid posture falling like a heavy weight had settled on her back. She turned away, her face obscured by her flowing silver hair, and left, her footfalls labored in a way that Chyra had never seen before.

The door slid closed almost silently behind her.

Chyra sat back down on the couch abruptly, curling forward with her head in her hands.  Her tail wrapped instinctively around herself, and her ears drooped miserably. "Fuck," she whispered, blinking hard to stave away tears again.

Pidge got up and walked over to her side, her voice came, tentative and hesitant. "Chyra..."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the assassin muttered again, her throat tightening in that way that had become so terribly familiar to her. She shoved down the lump in her throat as best as she could, but her breathing was shaky.

"Hey, it's gonna be alright," Hunk said, moving towards her as well, he placed his big hand on her shoulder comfortingly, giving it a gentle squeeze. Chyra didn't look up, she couldn't make herself.

At her lack of response, the Yellow and Green Paladins gave her one last bit of comfort before leaving, patting her shoulder gently as they retreated silently. "We'll give you a little space. But we're here, just so you know," Pidge said quietly. Chyra heard the door on the other side of the room open and close as they left, heading towards their shared lab space.

Outside of Chyra's view, Lance and Keith exchanged a look. Lance motioned with his head towards the door through which Allura had left, and Keith nodded firmly. Lance left in pursuit of the Princess, casting a worried glance back to Chyra as he did. When the door had closed, forming another barrier between Chyra and her friends, Keith stepped up, shuffling awkwardly as he glanced towards Shiro for reassurance.

"Chyra, listen," he said, coming off a little bluntly. He cringed as Chyra's shoulders tensed a bit, but she looked up for the first time, and he saw the worry on her scarred face. His demeanor softened, as it did rarely in the presence of others. "We'll figure this out, okay? Like you said, this problem will have its place. Just know, I've got your back. One half-blood to another."

He gave her a slight smile, nudging her shoulder. Chyra mustered up a quiet, breathy laugh of relief. "Half-blood," she mused, "I kinda like that."

"Thanks," Keith said, "I didn't come up with it."

Chyra sniffed, smiled, and gently pulled Keith into a hug, albeit an awkward one due to the fact that she was still seated. He squeezed her shoulders before gently disentangling himself and stepping back. Shiro watched, smiling softly at the interaction.

"I'm gonna go see if I can diffuse the tension a little bit, Lance is working his cheesy pickup line magic on the Princess right now, and I'm sure it's not helping as much as he thinks it is. We'll talk later," the Red Paladin said, and left quietly.

Shiro and Coran were the only ones left with Chyra in the common room, and she felt the air get a little lighter as the presence of the other team members receded. She looked back and forth between the Black Paladin and the Altean mechanic with unease, unsure of what to say. She didn't even know where to begin with Shiro; there was no way she could figure out how to approach everything she needed to say to him after his revelation. So she turned to Coran.

"I... I understand if you're as upset as the Princess, Coran. I would completely understand if-" The Altean stepped forward and knelt in front of her silently, his face unreadable. Chyra tensed, prepared for... something. Retribution, or rejection maybe? She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but Coran defied expectations nonetheless.

"My friend, I respect you immensely. None of this has changed that fact. Now admittedly, at the moment I am... rather upset with you for withholding all of that for so long. But all I need is time to be upset, and then time to stop being upset, and then you and I are going to be fine. Don't worry about me. We're going to be fine. And I have a feeling that the others are going to be just the same."

The Galra felt her eyes sting with relief, and she smiled, her expression watery with the release of tension that rushed through her.

"Thank you, Coran."

The orange-haired Altean smiled just a little, his mustache twitching upwards as his lips curled slightly. He patted Chyra on the shoulder, then stood with a slight groan that spoke of joints sore from years of use. He left, waving slightly as the door closed behind him. Chyra wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, waving in return even though the door was closed.

Then it was only Shiro.

And he didn't say anything.

Chyra stared at her hands, twisting her fingers together to vent the energy that was winding ever tighter, coiling with more and more pressure and making her feel taut like a spring, ready to snap at the slightest signal. Where could she even begin? She had so many things she felt she needed to say to Shiro, and they all buzzed in her mind, fighting to be the first words out of her mouth.

She opened her mouth, went to say something, to make a noise, something. But it died in her throat. A sob took its place.

Shiro had moved to the side, but at her noise of distress, he was in front of her again, his hands hovering in the air before Chyra, unsure if he could touch her or not.

"Chyra?"

His gentle voice was what sent her down. The spring snapped.

Chyra sat up abruptly, looking at the ceiling to try and keep the tears from finally falling, but as she felt a hot track of moisture on her cheek, following the path of her scar until it dripped away from the knotted tissue, she knew it was over.

With a labored shuddering of her chest, she gasped out another sob, and the tears fell.

"Chy, listen..." Shiro gaped for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth. After another moment's hesitation, he steadied himself.

"I'm sorry."

The shuddering Galra looked at him for a moment, her trembling hands tightening into fists as she pressed them hard against her metal knees. She stood suddenly and Shiro straightened, looking up at her with concern. Gently but with a desperation that Chyra herself didn't know how to express, she wrapped her arms around him.

Chyra still cried, relief and anxiety washing out of her in waves, but Shiro stood firm, steadying her swaying form. And they stood for a while, both uncomfortable for a brief moment, but soon found solace in one another's presence, in the warmth of a shared gesture and the support of a trusted friend. They were shaken and tired and worn, but stronger. Together. Even as the adrenaline faded from Chyra's system and her limbs became leaden, making her shoulder sag from exhaustion as she clung to the Black Paladin, Shiro stood firm. And he didn't let go.

Chapter Text

And just like that, Chyra was an outsider again.

She roamed the halls when nobody else was around to seek some solace, when usually she would have sought out one of the Paladins for company. She didn't speak anymore at mealtimes, reverting back to her terse silence that she had originally put forwards in the first few days of her arrival rather than laugh and joke with the others. There was a distance between her and the rest of the team now, one that she feared she would never again be able to break.

She avoided eye contact with everyone, especially the Princess. Allura wouldn't even remain in the same room with her if she didn't absolutely have to. Chyra had started actively avoiding her like she had in her first weeks on the castle, keeping out of Allura's usual paths and routines so she didn't have to feel her gaze piercing into her back, sending shivers up her metal-plated spine every time she got too near.

She hadn't felt so alone in a long time. It was hell.

Just when she had started feeling like maybe she belonged somewhere, she had to go and tear it all apart.

Grey had been helping in her own way of course, she was always a bastion of care and compassion for her pilot, and Chyra would spend hours sunken deep in her bond with the wolf, basking in the feeling of being connected so intimately. But it only went so far. When Chyra wasn't meditating with Grey, she was an outsider, an outcast. And she was so often alone.

Thank the stars for Shiro. He was the only one whose demeanor hadn't changed towards her in some way, the only difference was that his support was quieter now, albeit more frequent. He didn't make grand sweeping gestures, and Chyra didn't expect him to. But he would do little things. He was one of the only people on the ship who would still have conversations with her, especially in the early mornings and late evenings when neither of them could really find sleep. They could talk for hours to pass the time and decompress from whatever vision has woken them. He would catch her eye at mealtimes, when the conversation buzzed around her but she didn't feel she was allowed to get involved, and send her a quick, reassuring smile.

Chyra felt her ears heat up every time he did it, but she didn't have the heart to make him stop. Especially when his smile made his scar crinkle and his eyes light up every time.

It helped lift the dark clouds off Chyra's shoulders too, so she didn't complain.

Things didn't start looking up for several days, during which the preparations for the upcoming liberation missions were being held up by the lack of interactions between teammates. Kolivan had inquired about the hold-up at their last meeting. Judging by how quickly he had immediately switched topics, he definitely caught the death glare Chyra had sent him from the sidelines.

The first glimmer of hope happened in the library.

Chyra had established a routine when she could; every couple of days she and Coran would go to the library and read, or practice Chyra's Altean over a cup of tea that the Olkari had packed for the journey. Sometimes Pidge would join them for language lessons, but usually, it was just the Galra and the weathered but enthusiastic Altean in the library during the evenings.

After her admission, Chyra had been spending that time alone.

But a week after her reveal, she heard the door to the library swish open, startling her from her seat as she stood quickly, tucking the old Altean novel she had been squinting fruitlessly at behind her back out of instinct. But her jolt of concern passed quickly when she saw Coran standing in the doorway with a couple journals tucked under his arm and a hover tray laden with two steaming teacups and several little purple cakes on a plate floating alongside him.

The Altean shot Chyra a quick, knowing smile with just a hint of mischeif behind it, then stiffened his posture and stuck his nose haughtily in the air.

"What all this bustling about, my dear student? There's no need to leave just because I've arrived." Coran remarked, putting on a show of acting sophisticated and aloof, almost like a Dayak, but without that hardened edge of discipline behind his words.

The tension leached out of Chyra's body, and she smiled, genuinely and truly, as relief and happiness flooded her system.

Coran marched into the room and took his usual seat in the armchair adjacent to Chyra's, settling in with a huff as he handed Chyra a mug of strong, earthy tea. Once he had sat, however, his professional facade faded, replaced by his softened demeanor.

"Now," Coran said casually, "where did we leave off last time?"

. . .

The next morning came early, and with a heaviness that while still nagging and unfortunately present, felt lighter than before after spending a pleasant evening chatting and practicing Altean with Coran. Chyra had slept alright but awoken extremely early, and after slumping tiredly through her morning routine, she headed to the kitchen to grab some early breakfast.

The castle was quiet, she expected the Paladins were either still in their rooms or in other portions of the castle. If Chyra had passed by the training room she would have expected to see Shiro doing morning drills, but she took the more direct route to the kitchen.

When she entered through the swiftly sliding doors, she was surprised to see Hunk bustling around the kitchen, various bowls and tools scattered around as he mixed a purple batter in a silver bowl, a blue apron tied around his waist.

Hunk looked up in surprise, but greeted Chyra with a smile nonetheless.

"Hey, good morning Chy," the Yellow Paladin said.

"Morning," the Galra replied, stifling a yawn, "you're up early."

"Yeah," Hunk replied lightly, "I wanted to get another batch of these brownies made before our meeting with the Blades today. Maybe some sweets will make Kolivan like me better."

Chyra smiled at the young Paladin, a little rueful. "I doubt anything will make Kolivan like any of us better. He's pretty incorrigible."

"Right? What a hard-ass." Hunk added, surprising Chyra with his scathing tone. The Yellow Paladin was usually so compassionate and good natured, the bite in his voice caught Chyra off guard. She blinked in surprise before letting loose a laugh.

"I don't know what that means, but somehow I've never heard anything more accurate!"

Hunk joined in the chuckling, but went quiet after a moment. Chyra caught the change in energy immediately, hyper-sensitive to the alteration to Hunk's demeanor. She tried to look nonchalant, but it put her on edge.

Hunk mused for a few more moments, stirring his batter idly before placing it down on the counter. He braced his hands on the edge of the silver cooktop, looking up to meet the gladiator's eye.

"Chy..." he paused, gauging his friend's reaction. She forced her face to still and resume an unbothered expression to conceal her roiling nerves.

"...Kolivan made you tell us who you were, didn't he?"

Chyra's gaze shot down to the floor, to her bare metal feet and the silvery white material on which they rested. She balked; she had no idea what to say.

She felt a weight rest on her shoulder, Hunk's wide hand setting gently onto her right side. Her gaze shot up from surprise, but her concern was met with a gentle expression. "Hey," Hunk said, "you know I'm not mad at you, right?"

She leaned backwards away from the younger Paladin, shaking her head in disbelief.

She asked, desperately, her voice tight and forced, "How? How are you not angry, how do you not look at me and feel revulsion for what I've done? How can you not hate me for keeping something so important from you, from everyone?! I don't-"

"Because you're my friend."

He said it so matter of factly, so outright, that Chyra was suddenly silent.

"I've forgiven you already. Pretty much everybody has. I'm not upset with you."

"But," Chyra protested weakly, "you know what I was, the awful things I used to do... how can you still look at me and see a friend rather than a threat?"

Hunk breathed deep, gathering himself for a moment. "Look, I don't know what you did before we met you and frankly? I don't wanna know. I'm sure it was bad. But today, here and now, I think you're a good person. And knowing that you used to be... less of a good person doesn't change that for me."

Chyra's response came in a tentative mutter. "I wouldn't be so sure if I were in your position."

Hunk set back on his heels, his expression twisting to one of mild frustration. "You were so worried when you thought Zarkon was tracking you, when you thought you were putting us in danger, that you left. You left a life that I know you're happy in- don't deny it, you're smiling so much more now- so you could protect us. Your friends. The people you care about. If you weren't a great, kind, selfless person, you wouldn't have done that.

"Chyra," Hunk said, softening as he met the Galra's watery eye, "You think you still need to 'redeem yourself' to me. You don't. You never did."

Chyra stepped forward, pulling the teen into a tight-held hug. He paused a moment, processed, then returned the gesture, squeezing Chyra comfortingly in reply.

"Thank you, the Galra choked out, her eyes wet and throat tight from relief, "for being my friend."

Hunk responded earnestly, in that distinctive, caring way of his. "Of course, you deserve it."

. . .

After Hunk, it took very little time for the other young Paladins to reassure Chyra that they held very little ill will towards her in the wake of her revelation. They were little actions; Pidge asking Chyra for help translating documents received from allied planets, Keith sitting beside Chyra at lunchtime, nudging her with his shoulder and meeting her eye with a smile, Lance offering her a drink he called 'milkshake' and chatting with her amicably between meetings. But they meant the world to Chyra. She didn't think she would ever have this again.

Gently, gradually, things began to feel somewhat normal again. Perhaps if they had had more time, had been less strained and rushed in their efforts to defeat Zarkon, Chyra and Allura could have made amends easily, resolved the tension that gripped them gradually.

But duty left little time for resolution.

Chapter Text

This was supposed to be an easy mission.

That was why Allura had come, it was supposed to be a nice, easy break from her planning and coordinating.

The plan had been simple: infiltrate the Imperial supply and command station located on Glyturne, a small planet on the outskirts of one of the empire's most profitable supply systems. It was a small base built into the center of a mountain in the planet's western hemisphere. That was all they had to do.

Clearly, judging by the burning in Chyra's lungs and the dangerous red flashing that pulsed through the hallways of the Galra base, that hadn't happened.

. . .

Team Voltron stood, cloaked in the shadows of the rough cave walls against which the Galra stronghold on planet Glyturne was built, waiting tensely for Pidge to finish granting them entrance.

Chyra held her arm out in front of Lance, who was fidgeting from nerves, his eyes darting uneasily up and down the hallway. The trio of guards that Shiro and Chyra had dispatched lay crumpled off to the side, their robotic bodies dented and torn apart by the glowing prosthetics of the two ex-gladiators. But there was no place to hide the sentry robots in the narrow stone tunnel, and if any of the other guard rotations happened upon them, the Paladins would be in for a fight.

"Pidge," whispered Allura urgently from her place in the middle of the pack, "what's the status? Is something wrong?"

"Just a tick..." the Green Paladin answered, preoccupied. "This encryption system is... really rudimentary compared to the Empire's usual systems. My normal code won't even compute it because it's so simple. Let me just..." the rest of her words were muttered inaudibly so that the rest of the team didn't understand what she was saying.

But it was just a few moments later when the doors slid open, silent and smooth as ever, allowing access to the inside of the base.

The interior was dark, dimly lit purple lights barely casting enough weak light for the Paladins to be able to discern the supports lining the bulkheads along the hall. The similarity of the base's interior to that of Galra Central Command sent shivers down Chyra's metallic spine and set her teeth on edge.

Nonetheless, the team slunk into the base.

"Why is it so much darker in here than usual?" Hunk asked in a worried whisper.

"It looks like the base is in auxiliary power, but I don't know why it would be," responded Pidge, "there's not much diagnostic information in the base's logs..."

"It doesn't matter," Shiro asserted, his confidence a mask over his roiling nerves. Chyra glanced to the leader, her brows furrowing with concern beneath the reflective visor of her Paladin helmet. She knew he disliked missions that involved going inside Galra bases, just as she did, and the gnawing discomfort that chewed at Chyra's belly was most likely reflected, and possibly even amplified, in the Black Paladin as they entered the darkened facility.

"We just have to get the updated supply line information from the hub here, then we can get out nice and easy. The dark should help us stay hidden."

"Keep your eyes open for sentries," Allura said, brandishing her staff at her side as she crept through the hall next to Keith, "we can't risk them setting off alarms even if this station isn't well-staffed."

"Recon mission," Lance remarked in what his idea of suave was, hefting his blaster bayard upwards and looking through the crosshairs, "nice."

Pidge elbowed him lightly, and the team continued slipping stealthily through the base.

Chyra breathed slow and easy, intentional in the flow of air in and out of her lungs, which felt ever so slightly compressed due to nerves. She kept imagining that she saw shadows moving off in the dark, figures flashing across the empty hallways they kept passing by.

The base was shockingly ill-staffed. Aside from the pair of sentries at the door, the Paladins hadn't encountered any other robotic droids or Galra soldiers, which was unusual even for a small base like this. It was setting Chyra on edge, but the others seemed content, so she kept her mouth closed and her eyes open.

The base was a labyrinth, twisting hallways ran through a looping, confusing path with too many turns to make much sense. That was another thing. These bases were meant to be practically built, straightforward even when their foundations lay on difficult terrain. The twisting nature of this base was unusual and disconcerting, a far cry from what she was used to, and what she had grown up in. Chyra tensed her fingers over and over, opening and closing her gloved hands as her tail whipped back and forth from unease.

Still, despite the oddities, the Paladins pressed on into the base. Pidge held aloft a map of the facility, the hologram glowing a soft light green in the dimness and staving off the hungry grasp of the purple illumination that gnawed at Chyra's vision and psyche.

They continued their winding, practically nonsensical path for a few more minutes, and Chyra found her unease growing as she lost track of the turns they had taken to get to the control room doors that they stood outside of then. Keith placed his hand on the scanner outside the doors and they swung open to reveal the darkened interior of the control center.

Slowly, the group crept inside, their eyes peeled and ears alert for any signs of danger, but the room was silent and empty.

The absence of the guards and sentries and operations specialists that should be there was what initially let Chyra know something was wrong.

These rooms were never left unguarded. Ever. The data within was too important to risk losing it due to negligence. There was always, always, some form of security in the control rooms. They shouldn't have ever gotten inside unopposed.

But somehow, Chyra felt things turn for the worst before anything at all went wrong.

There was just this... feeling. Like a wave of dark energy that made Chyra stand suddenly straight and stiff with shock, every nerve in her body alighting with a sudden rush of terror. Her chest tightened with apprehension, but she wasn't sure why.

Allura seemed to feel it too, because just as Chyra was about to say something, the Princess declared in a shaky voice, "something's wrong."

Keith looked back over his shoulder at the Altean, "what?"

"Something is wrong," Allura emphasized, "the energy of this place just changed, I don't know-"

A rumble shook the base, causing the dim lighting to flicker in and out of existence. The Paladins staggered as the floor and walls shuddered, struggling to regain their balance.

"What was that!?" Hunk demanded as the shaking subsided, but moments later it began again, this time with more severity.

Chyra snapped out of her shock-induced daze. "We need to leave." Another flicker of the lights, and the energy darkened once more, sending a shudder up Chyra's spine. Her voice was sharp with fear. "Now."

"Maybe it's just an earthquake?" Lance suggested hopefully. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than come up with logical solutions.

"Whatever it is seems bad, I think we need to scram!" Hunk declared, looking around at the shaking walls fearfully.

"Shiro?" Keith turned to the leader, whose countenance was dark and worried, "what should we do?"

Another bone-deep rumble shook the base.

"Let's leave." Shiro sounded resolute, although Chyra detected an ever so slight tremor of apprehension in his voice. "Even if it's just an Earthquake, we don't want to get trapped in here underground."

"But we haven't gotten the information," objected Pidge as the others began to move towards the door.

"That won't matter if we die here." Chyra didn't mean to sound so snappish, really, but her body was spring-coiled so tight she thought she was about to explode.

She felt eyes on her but turned away from the multicolored gaze that had affixed to her. She didn't need to see Allura's disapproving face right now. She needed to leave, they all did. Chyra didn't know how she knew it, but she was sure that if they didn't leave then and there, they wouldn't get out at all.

"I say we get out of here before we find out what's causing this disturbance," Allura voted, moving towards the door just behind Chyra. Keith slipped in front of the retreating Galra to open the door- if Chyra's hand met the scanner it would set off alarms due to her outlaw status- but every movement the others made seemed too slow, too lethargic, too unhurried. Chyra couldn't stand it.

With a pace that seemed far too leisurely to Chyra but in reality was really rather hurried, the Paladins moved through the open door and into the ominously rumbling hallway. Chyra did her best not to rocket out of the control room at the front of the group but was not extremely successful. She followed the hallway that curved left towards an intersection-

Wait.

They had turned left to get into the control room, they should have turned right to get out, but the space on the other side of the door was just a solid wall.

"This... isn't right," Chyra said, confused. She turned this way and that, her brow furrowing beneath her helmet's visor.

Another rumble resounded through the base, making the very bones of the trapped Paladins rattle.

And the walls started to move.

They were slow at first, turning and twisting and making the path they had taken disappear completely, replaced with an all-new labyrinth that twisted and warped and curled before them as the very walls of the base altered their course. Chyra began to tremble.

It was a trap.

"This shit is MOVING?" Hunk cried, shock giving way to fear as the walls ground to a brief stop before starting up again.

"Let's go! Grab your compasses and keep heading west towards the exit!" Shiro said, breaking into a run. The others took off in pursuit, their holographic maps flickering into existence above their gauntlets.

Chyra didn't pull up a map. Her brain was racing with possibilities of what this could all mean; the base had been empty, practically shut down, and unstaffed. That meant they had already evacuated the soldiers, but what were they planning? Her thoughts were cut abruptly short as a wall shifted in front of them, revealing a glowing red object that flashed ominously and omitted a frantic beeping noise that grew in frequency and pitch.

Shiro's eyes went wide. "Shields!"

The Paladins summoned their shields just as the bomb went off.

Rubble clattered against their barriers, sending shockwaves through their armored arms and up to their shoulders, but they were unharmed if a bit dazed. The bomb wasn't extremely powerful, but it was enough to stun the group long enough for the wall to close off the pathway they had been moving down.

"Is everyone okay?" Shiro asked, his voice breaking just slightly.

There were murmurs of assent from the others, and Chyra did a quick check of herself to make sure she wasn't too badly injured. A chunk of rock had smacked her shoulder, but aside from that, she was untouched.

"What was that?" Lance groaned, straightening.

"This is a trap, all of it," breathed Keith, his dark eyes looking around as the labyrinth changed around them. "They're trying to trap us in these tunnels."

"We won't let them," Shiro's voice rang with confidence, but his body language spoke of nerves and immense worry. His shoulders were taut beneath the plates and padding of his armor, and his face wore a pallor that Chyra hadn't ever seen on him before. "We just have to keep moving, keep our shields up, and keep ourselves oriented and we'll make it out just fine. Let's go," He gestured to follow behind him as he started off once more, and the others shared worried glances as they moved on.

They gained speed, their booted feet pounding the hard floors with urgency as they wove between the masses of shifting walls. There weren't many bombs scattered through the base, but they would occasionally catch a flash of red as one of the walls shifted to briefly reveal the traps embedded within them.

They kept their shields up high and kept Allura in the center of the pack since her suit didn't come equipped with a shield.

Chyra's breaths came short from fear. The Empire didn't do things like this, traps weren't their style. Why was this base different? How-

Her train of thought derailed as another flash of red came, followed shortly by a flash-bang effect from a bomb planted nearby. The Paladins blocked and scrambled away, still trying desperately to keep themselves oriented towards the doors. But every turn in even remotely the right direction yielded a dead end, and every step they took was dogged by the rapidly shifting walls of the base.

Chyra glanced down at her holomap, only to see that their frantic retreat was only bringing them deeper into the subterranean tunnels, cutting them off and herding them away from safety.

"Are we sure we're going the right way?" Lance interjected raggedly, his breaths short. They had been running for a while now, curving and weaving steadily away from the gate, their path beholden to the whims of the moving walls.

"No," Allura answered, "We should have reached the door by now if we were."

"It just keeps driving us deeper," Keith agreed, looking to his map, "we're heading towards the center of the mountain."

Shiro's voice was taut with worry and rang with nerves, but he stayed resolute in his tone. "We have to find a way to get the walls to stop shifting, surely they're programmed somehow. Pidge, can you try to get into the system?"

"Not while I'm running!" The smaller Paladin panted, her short stature serving as a hindrance as she had to work hard to keep up with the others.

The wall the team was running along lengthwise twisted suddenly, driving them into a hard left turn that led to a sudden stop. Three heavy walls closed them into a narrow box with one door at the end. The gap between the twisting wall and the adjacent boundary closed suddenly, they had reached a dead end.

The passageways went quiet for a second, the grinding shake going briefly still. Eerily so, Chyra thought with a shudder. The only sound that filled the air for a few sacred heartbeats was the sound of seven peoples' haggard breathing.

Then the radio links crackled on. The subterranean tunnels must have been interfering with the signal since it had been silent until then.

"Princess, Paladins!" Coran interjected, "you need to get out here, there's an Imperial quintessence draining ship approaching the planet!"

Komar.

The ex-assassin stood stiffly upright, standing for once at her full height due to her shock. Her ears pinned themselves flat beneath her helmet and her eyes shot wide as a jolt of adrenaline passed through her system.

It all made sense.

"They're going to trap us in here and drain the quintessence from the entire planet."

The words shot forth unbidden, far steadier than Chyra would have thought her voice could be in these circumstances.

A moment of silence, then pandemonium.

Shiro was trying to get back in touch with the castle, "Coran! We're trapped within the base and can't get back to Voltron to fight. You have to start evacuating the Glyrians, now!"

The Altean engineer's response in Chyra's ears was drowned out by Hunk stammering wildly and Lance matching his frantic pace of speaking, his speech high and interspersed with words Chyra could barely recognize as Spanish.

But her own mind was reeling too much to notice much else. The Galra stared hard at the door at the end of the short tunnel in which they had been trapped. It was solid, thick metal with a slick surface, designed in such a way that it was un-tamperable. Except for the keypad just next to the edifice, the wall itself was blank as well, unyielding in its stone and unwelcoming in its gloom. But the walls had stopped. They had nowhere else to go.

"We need to get out of here!" Keith interjected at that moment, drawing Chyra's rapt attention back to the conversation at hand.

"Pidge," Shiro said sharply, his tone clipped from urgency, "can you get into the system and start moving the walls so we can get out?"

The Green Paladin fidgeted with her holopad for a while, but her brow furrowed deeper and deeper with each passing second. "This is... not the same kind of code they had in here before. Or in any other system I've seen. I'd need time to account for that."

"Time is exactly what we don't have," Allura responded solemnly. She looked to the door that had commanded Chyra's attention so entirely just moments before. "It looks like we only have one option."

Hunk spoke up in dispute, "they drove us here like rats in a maze; they clearly want us to go in there because its some sort of trap or something. I don't think we should."

"Got any other bright ideas to get us out then, buddy?" Lance muttered sardonically.

"Let's all keep our heads," Shiro redirected, "we have to be ready for anything going through that door. Shields up and weapons out, I'll take point." He moved to the front of the group while the others followed in a narrow cluster behind him. Chyra skirted the edge and joined the Black Paladin in the front, just on his left so that he was covering on her blind side. She bounced for a moment on her two-toed feet to vent some nervous energy, then looked down at Shiro.

"What do you want to bet this is another trap?" She muttered softly.

Shiro grimaced. "I don't think I can take you up on that wager."

The Galra summoned her shield, her legs beginning to glow with slight purple energy as she readied herself. Shiro did the same, his shield and prosthetic arm glowing and at the ready. He glanced behind him to check on the others, then pressed his prosthetic to the keypad outside.

The door swung open.

Inside was empty. The room was one immense, round cavern, illuminated by a craggy opening in the ceiling far above, just where the far wall met the roughy-hewn ceiling. Through it the team caught a glimpse of the yellow sky of Glyturne, its radiance illuminating the room itself and emphasizing the utter lack of objects within.

"You should have bet against me, you might have won," Chyra muttered to Shiro as she straightened from her tensed posture at the sight of a room empty of visible threats.

"This is it?" Lance asked skeptically as he peeked over Shiro's shoulder, "they led us into an empty room?"

"I doubt it's actually empty," Chyra remarked, stepping into the space gingerly. She scanned the floor as she walked, looking for anything that might resemble a pressure plate or tripwire, but nothing stood out, even to her experienced eye.

Chyra's ear flicked back within the confines of her helmet, listening as the other Paladins entered the room behind her and Shiro. Her gaze flicked back and forth, scanning the craggy walls and pockmarked floors for any signs of danger, of secret passages through which sentries or berserkers could enter, for any indication that this room wasn't just some big empty crater in the center of a mountain. She found none.

After a thorough scan of the room yielded no results or clues as to why they had been driven to the chamber, everyone in the clustered group relaxed minutely. Instead, Allura and Chyra stood watch near the door while the Paladins separated to inspect the gap in the ceiling. Perhaps they could get out that way.

They were only in there for a few moments, just long enough to fall into a false sense of security. They felt just safe enough to separate. And they went just far enough that the explosion that erupted through the room tore the group asunder.

The only warning sign Chyra perceived in the instant before the chaos was a high-pitched whistle. Looking back, she wasn't sure what made her do it, but the instant she heard the sharp whistle of air, Chyra grabbed ahold of the nearest person and covered their body with hers.

Just in time to shield their smaller form from the explosion.

There was a sudden onslaught of feeling that assaulted Chyra from all sides; an immense blast slamming her forward with a deafening crash, a flash of light that seared her eye as it blinked across her vision before it was obscured by rubble and smoke, the sharp sting of stone and metal buffeting her body from all sides; but it lasted only a moment. Then there was an almost complete lack of sensation or sense of direction or orientation. Aside from the sharp ringing in Chyra's ears, she felt next to nothing.

A heartbeat later, sensation returned.

And it was not pleasant.

She was no longer standing but had managed to brace her body up on her elbows and knees. While her sensitive, vulnerable back was exposed, she had formed a makeshift shelter with her own body, which smarted all over from the onslaught of debris that had rained down and pummeled her. Her back ached, stinging sharply in several places. But the pain was manageable. Chyra had the briefest thought that maybe she couldn't feel anything because her spine had been damaged. Or maybe she was just in shock.

The air had been forcefully torn from her lungs with the concussive force of the explosion, and her first ragged breath inwards as she began to recover from the shock burned like acid moving into her lungs. She wheezed, curling inward with a hiss of air between her sharpened teeth, but as she opened her eyes Chyra saw, huddled beneath her own hunched form, Princess Allura, sullied with dust and debris but seemingly unharmed.

The Princess opened her eyes, looking up in shock at her Galra companion who had sheltered her from the blast.

"Chyra, what...?" She trailed off, her multicolored eyes scanning the mounds of rubble pressing up against Chyra, pinning her in place.

The ex-assassin meant to grin but it ended up a grimace, her teeth clenching tightly together. Her breaths came ragged and painful, making her voice shake and her body tremble.

"Help."

"Right!" Allura scrambled, twisting her body to the side beneath Chyra and pushing against the mounds of stone that had her pinned in place. As the stones and slabs fell away, Chyra's shaking muscles gave way and she sagged sideways, listing to the right as her head started to spin airily. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, but that only made her dizziness worse. She could swear she almost felt her brain smacking against the sides of her skull, making her nausea grow. She tried to take a deep breath as Allura shoved the last bit of stone and mortar away from Chyra's half-collapsed form, but the moment she felt the air enter her lungs there was a sudden sense of wrongness. Like the air wouldn't truly fill her chest. And it burned.

Her chest spasmed, convulsing as she choked on the dust-ridden air that stung the insides of her ribs as she inhaled it.

Allura was at her side quicker than Chyra could have expected her to be. The Princess knelt down, concern dancing in her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

The Galra couldn't speak for a few more moments, but when she was finally able to drag in the air she needed, she could only force out a few words. "No. Where are the others?" She dissolved into a racking shudder immediately after.

Allura straightened, looking to the rest of the room.

Or, at least, where it used to be.

Her gasp startled Chyra into movement, and she turned to see a wall of stone and rubble.

"Paladins!" Allura cried, scrambling over the mess of material that lay in mounds around the pair of them. She reached the caved-in area with difficulty, then pressed her hands against the broken stone that encapsulated them as though she could press through it and reach the other side. If there was an other side.

Silence reigned, and Chyra felt her chest tighten with horror. As she dragged in another breath despite the protest of her body, she realized that the pain was more concentrated now; there was a sharp, stabbing pain in the left side of her ribcage. She moved her gloved hand over the area. It came away stained with red.

"Paladins, please! Are you alright?" Allura called again, her voice strained and breaking.

More silence.

Then, muffled by the tons of stone between them, came Pidge. "Allura?" There was a brief scuffling sound, then a clatter like pebbles skittering down a slope. Then Pidge's voice was closer and louder. "Allura, are you okay?"

"Chyra and I are..." Allura trailed off, looking to her companion, who still sat hunched and clutching at her side. Her ragged breaths filled the dark space in which they were trapped. "We're alive. Is everyone else with you? Are they alright?"

Pidge paused, and Chyra could imagine the young Paladin scanning her surroundings. She hoped desperately that what she saw wasn't what Chyra was expecting. "We're... not doing great. Everyone's up and conscious but Keith and Hunk are hurt, Shiro too. We're all more or less on our feet though, probably gonna be okay assuming we can get out of here."

"Princess?" Chyra heard Lance call from the other side of the wall. "How are we gonna get out of here?!"

"I don't know," Allura admitted, looking around the fragmented room for any avenue of escape, "Give me a moment to think."

Allura paced back and forth for a few moments, wringing her hands with worry and thought. Chyra tried to haul herself upwards on her shaking legs, her face pale and clammy from exertion. Every breath felt like fire, but she couldnt get her lungs to fill, so she had to take rapid shallow breaths just to try to get oxygen into her chest. After a few unsuccessful tries, Chyra grit her teeth and pulled herself upwards onto her unsteady legs, limping towards the princess slowly and with great effort.

Chyra's head pounded with a sudden onslaught of worry from Grey, whose consciousness rushed forward and enveloped her pilot with a rush of concern. Chyra initially meant to send back a placating emotion, a reassurance that she was alright. But she wasn't.

Grey, I need you. Help.

The emotion Chyra felt in response to her plea was overwhelming, a sense of worry and urgency and panic all wrapped in fierce determination that radiated off of Grey's mind. She was on her way and she would let nothing stop her.

The worried Altean paused in her pacing as Chyra leaned heavily against the wall next to her and wheezed out a reassurance. "Grey is- Grey's coming."

"You wolf, can she get us out?"

"Dunno-" Chyra hacked a cough again. This time she tasted metal. She swallowed it back. "She's hurting, too. Feeling my pain. She might not be able to move all of this."

Allura stood straighter, her eyes lighting up. "That's it!" She exclaimed. Then she turned back to the wall, calling out, "Pidge! Pidge, are you there?"

There was a scrambling on the other side for a moment, then an answer. "Yes! Do you have a plan?"

Allura smiled, the dust on her cheeks crinkling as she announced her idea. "You and the other Paladins must call your lions to you! They can help the Grey wolf move the rubble."

Pidge repeated Allura's suggestion to the Paladins on the other side of the wall, and Chyra dimly heard murmurs of assent. Pebbles tumbled unevenly as another form approached from the other side of the wall.

To her immense relief, Chyra heard Shiro's voice ask, "Can anyone-" his query was cut off by a sharp hiss of pain drawn between his teeth.

Pidge squawked indignantly, and exclaimed with worry in her voice, "Shiro! Sit down!"

The Black Paladin stopped moving, but asked "can anyone contact the palace?"

Silence reigned for a few moments. Allura fiddled with her earpiece, calling for her advisor worriedly. There was no reply.

"The explosion must have caused some interference, maybe once the rubble is cleared we'll be able to get in touch with Coran." Pidge hypothesized.

"I sure hope so," Chyra heard Hunk say, his voice strained. "The Galra have that quintessence drain thing."

"The Komar," Chyra forced out, her voice quiet from pain and panic. She had almost forgotten in the midst of the chaos about the Paladins' impending doom.

"Chyra," Keith called, sounding winded and tense but otherwise alright, "you know about the Komar, what are our chances of survival if that thing hits the planet while we're on it?"

The Galra looked to her Altean companion gravely. Instead of answering, she shook her head.

Allura blanched. "Nonexistent," she replied.

Chyra's mind flashed with a stark memory. Back when she had Zarkon's favor as a teenager, he had brought her to see the impacts of the Komar on one of the planets she had weakened by eliminating some of their most influential leaders. While she had been on the planet she had admired the culture of the people who inhabited it. They had been a kind but spirited people with a vibrant and ecstatic lifestyle. Chyra had been made to watch all of that be wiped away.

And now she would be, too.

The insidious thought burned the backs of her eyes suddenly, and she gulped back tears, earning her a rapid spasm of her chest that made her nearly collapse from pain. She braced against the nearest chunk of stone, trying to make the room stop swaying. In the back of her mind Grey rose up to comfort her, but the strain of worry remained at the forefront of their bond.

Allura apparently heard the odd wheeze of air coming from her Galra companion, as she turned to meet Chyra's pallid and pained expression. The princess' brow furrowed as she pushed her disheveled silver hair away from her face, her expression growing confused.

"Chyra, what happened?"

The Galra hacked again. She grinned at the Altean with red-stained teeth.

"I am not doing well."

And then her legs gave out.

She hit the ground with a pained groan, all the air seeping out of her chest as she tried to blink her vision into steadiness. It evidently didn't work, as Allura's face was blurry and distorted as it entered her field of vision.

"What-" the princess drew quickly closer and spotted the sheer volume of red staining Chyra's side, seeping out from between her clawed fingers and soaking her armor. "Chyra! You're seriously hurt!"

The ex-assassin grit her teeth in a wince. "Yup."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"There's nothing you can do until we get out of here."

"Chyra," Allura's face paled, a bit, losing some color to match some of the dust that lay scattered across her pink-marked cheeks. "You're losing a lot of blood. Here," she knelt down and helped position Chyra more comfortably so she could inspect the pierced skin and lung of Chyra's side, but another rumble shook the room once again, bringing with it a sudden sliver or bright light. The injured Galra and her Altean companion jolted with adrenaline, but a relieving feeling overtook them when Grey's massive, dust-covered eye lined up with the new hole, the purple glow replacing the sunlight with a jovial glint. Chyra grinned with her red-stained fangs to her bonded companion and reached out a trembling hand towards where Grey had broken through in a shaft of searing sunlight.

The wolf moved her head in a little more, as though she was going to touch Chyra's hand, but the increase in pressure sent the ceiling rattling again. A cascade of small stones and shards of metal rained down on the trapped team below. Chyra heard shouting from the Paladins as the rubble skittered down, then excited exclamations as they saw their lions descending from behind Grey.

The wolf hesitated as the stone buckled beneath her, flying slightly backward to avoid raining rocks down on the people below. A sense of agitation grew in Chyra's mind, Grey was frustrated that she couldn't reach her pilot so easily.

"Tell your wolf to be careful," Allura urged, an edge of worry in her voice that Chyra could tell she was intentionally trying to keep soft. "We don't want the whole cave coming down on us."

Chyra relayed the message to Grey. She moved back so the Yellow lion could begin carefully excavating the Paladins' side of the cave to release them, while Green took a look at Chyra and Allura's side.

Moments later, after some great shifting of stone drowned out her voice, Pidge called across the barrier, "bad news Allura, Chyra. Green says the stability of your side has been compromised. Clearing away any more stone would make it too dangerous, the cavern on your side might collapse."

"What?" Allura gasped. Chyra's stomach sank.

"You'll have to get somewhere in the tunnels where its safer to extract you, so we don't risk crushing you," Keith said.

"Chyra's hurt badly, I'm not sure she can make it that far," replied Allura, the sharpness in her voice growing with her rapidly fraying nerves.

"I-" Chyra began, but coughed that bitter iron taste once again- "I can make it. I'll be... fine." She hauled herself partially upwards before her trembling muscles protested in earnest, but she felt a steadying presence as Allura tucked herself under her arm, pressing against her side and holding her more upright than she could have gotten on her own.

"Let's go." The Princess turned her head towards the wall again, calling out to the Paladins. "We'll try to navigate through the tunnels, but don't delay. I'm not sure how far we can get."

"We'll be there as soon as we can," Shiro's voice asserted from behind the wall of crushed stone. "Please, be careful."

Allura nodded, and painstakingly helped Chyra pivot towards the shattered door. The Galra sagged against the remnant of the wall as Allura set her down to move the discarded lumps of stone away, but Chyra was surprised with how quickly the Princess returned to her side, how gingerly she helped her shaking legs and clumsy metal feet across the rough ground. Every now and again Chyra's chest would spasm and she would stumble. The first time Allura began to mutter something, but a second's look at her Galra companion's pallid face and shaky limbs made her reconsider. She shifted her grip on Chyra's arm, increasing her support.

It was agonisingly slow going. From Chyra's injured state to Grey's agitation to the constant, looming threat of annihilation by the Komar, every step the retreating pair took through the crumbled, winding maze of passages sent a shroud of worry settling heavier and heavier over their shoulders.

Chyra was starting to lose focus. She couldn't keep her feet in line, she kept stumbling and swaying, making it more difficult for Allura to guide them onward. Chyra nearly fell a few times, dragging them both down before the Princess managed to catch them both.

"Chyra," Allura panted, "you cannot pass out on me, I can't carry you out of here on my own."

Chyra's reply was ragged, and interspersed with wet, gurgling, painful breaths. "Oh, surely I can't be that heavy, look- I'm losing... my weight in blood."

"...literally half of your body is made entirely of metal."

"Right- hehe. How could I forget?"

And they continued. For agonizing minutes they moved through the tunnels, listening to the Paladins help evacuate the Glyrians and search for places where they could safely break into the mountain stronghold without endangering their friends. Chyra's steps were continuing to falter, her breaths were getting shallower and more difficult to draw in. She shook from cold, the only sources of warmth she felt were the pool of red that dripped from her torso and her Altean companion beside her.

Suddenly, a voice came over the comms. "Stop there, guys!" Pidge called. "My scans say you've made it to the out-facing side of the maze, we can break through there to get you!"

Hunk instructed, "get to the far left side of the tunnel and press against the wall. I'm gonna break through and get you out!"

The direction change caused Chyra some intense discomfort, but the pair of escapees did as they were instructed and pressed themselves against the far wall. The pressure made Chyra wheeze painfully, but her noise of protest was cut off as the Yellow Lion's massive, armored paw smashed through the wall behind where she and Allura crouched, rattling the entire mountainside with its momentous force. Sunlight streamed in suddenly, causing the Galra and Altean to squint against the blinding brightness, but even Chyra, in her pained state, was able to summon a relieved smile, bloodstained though it was.

A collective cry of relief came from the Paladins as Allura dragged Chyra's sagging form into the light, their dust-streaked faces split with their grins.

"Quick, load up into the Black Lion," Keith instructed as he flew overhead, Red's cargo hold filled to the brim with Glyrian refugees that were being offloaded onto the castle. The blurring shape of the Black Lion bent down towards them, and Chyra managed to drag her limp head upwards to meet Shiro as he ran to them.

"Are you two alright?" He was moving with a significant limp, but his hand came to rest gently against the side of Chyra's cheek as he drew nearer, bringing her dull gaze to look at him. His palm was warm against her scarred cheek, and Chyra inadvertently pressed closer to the contact, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm and realizing for the first time just how cold she was.

The distant, echoing voice that was Shiro softened. "Chyra, what happened?"

Allura answered for her. She was grateful for it, she couldn't get her lips to form any words. "During the explosion she... she saved me. But a shard of metal struck her, she needs a healing pod immediately."

"Okay," Shiro breathed, strained. He moved to Chyra's injured side, propping her gently up against him, wary of her wound but uncaring about the blood that smeared the side of his armor.

Chyra's body shuddered as Grey landed from one of her evacuation runs, jostling the ground that the injured trio moved across with her forceful landing., She snapped her jaws at Shiro and Black, demanding her pilot's return to her, but the Black Paladin raised a tentative, placating hand.

"We've got her, I promise. I won't let anything bad happen. Trust us."

And Grey did. She followed closely behind as Black took off at a dead sprint towards the rapidly filling castle, and as her pilot slipped out of consciousness.

. . .

Shiro lowered Chyra to the floor, where Allura knelt alongside her unconscious form, holding the injured Galra's head in her lap. They sped away from Glyturne, tailing an overloaded Castle of Lions. Shiro heard cries and weeping from the rescued civilians over the commlinks as a bright blast of purple lit up the void behind them.

He didn't look back.

He couldn't.

They had failed Glyturne- he had failed Glyturne.

The team moved away from the rapidly deteriorating planet; they hadn't even known much about it. They didn't know its people or its culture or its environment. And now they never would. Because it was gone. Because they couldn't save it. They couldn't save the home of the thousands of people who still occupied it- a small population for an even smaller planet- who now huddled in an unfamiliar ship as they watched their homeworld die.

Shiro's gloved, red-stained hands tightened around his controls, quivering. His breath hitched.

"Shiro?" Allura's voice came from behind him, hesitant and quiet.

He shook his head, trying to steady his voice, to put up the facade he so often had to wear, but his voice still shook as he replied. "Yes?"

"It wasn't your fault."

That did it. Hot trails streaked down his cheek, his breaths fogging up the visor of his Paladin helmet as they quickened. But it was only a moment. He shoved it away and turned just enough to see the pair of women on the floor in his periphery. Not enough for Allura to see his face.

"How is she?"

God his voice sounded awful when he cried.

"Not well," at that moment Shiro was grateful for the more dire circumstance since it offered a distraction from his self-inflicted suffering, but he instantly soured with regret at the thought. All of this was his fault- his teams' injuries, Chyra, Glyturne, all of it.

"We need to get her in a healing pod, now," Shiro muttered.

"Just a few ticks more, we need to get clear of the Komar's radiation field before we wormhole or it could alter our course. We need to get to Olkarion so we can offload the Glyrians as soon as possible.

Allura was right, it was just a few seconds later that Coran opened the wormhole and led them away.

Away from the ruins of Glyturne, away from their failure.

Away from his failure.

Chapter Text

Stars, waking up from stasis was the worst.

Chyra struggled out of the void of healing-induced sleep once again, taking deep breaths to try and regain her sense of balance and fight off the nausea that always inevitably came with the emergence process. Her faculties returned to her more quickly than she expected.

Hesitantly, she cracked open her eyes, expecting to see that horrid purple hue but relieved to find the bright whites and blues of the Castle of Lions greeting her. She slowly shifted in tiny increments, until she extended her left arm too far out and felt a twinge of sharp pain from her ribs. She dragged a quick breath in between her teeth as she winced.

"Take it easy," a voice urged from behind her. Chyra startled, jolting before she met the gaze of the approaching Black Paladin. She fell back down onto the cushioned gurney with another wince of pain.

"Stars, Shiro, give me a heart attack, would you?" She quipped, although her momentary fright couldn't drown out the relief she felt at seeing him alive and well.

"Sorry," he apologized, moving to where she could see him, "how are you feeling?"

"Like I was run through with a hunk of shrapnel," deadpanned the Galra, meeting Shiro's eye. He looked tired.

"You've only been out of the healing pod a couple hours, so be careful. The wound's still healing."

"If I was in a pod, why isn't it already healed?"

"We had to pull you out early," Shiro explained, "the komar knocked out some of our power cells so we're on auxiliary. We've only got one pod working and with Hunk getting hurt too-" Chyra's eyes widened, suddenly remembering the other injuries that had occurred on Glyturne before she had passed out. She struggled upwards for a moment before Shiro's calming hand on her shoulder ceased her struggling.

"The others, is everyone else okay?"

"They're fine," soothed the Black Paladin, "Keith just had a minor cut but Hunk was losing more blood, we kept you in the pod as long as we could but had to swap you out once the internal damage was fixed. You've got eleven stitches."

"Okay," breathed Chyra, relaxing. She glanced towards the occupied healing pod to check on Hunk, but it was on her blind side and she couldn't contort well enough to see it. Giving up on that venture and trusting that the Yellow Paladin was okay, she looked back to Shiro. "And what about you?"

"How do you mean?"

"You were hurt too, are you healed up now?"

"Oh," Shiro looked to the side, his face twisting a bit. He shifted his weight and pushed aside the hem of his vest, which was uncharacteristically untucked from his belt. He revealed a swath of bandages wrapped around his hip, clean and white aside from the slight tint of red that stained the center. "It's not too serious, Coran stitched me up so I should be alright soon."

"Are you sure?"

Shiro waved his hand nonchalantly, covering the bandage with his shirt once again. He moved over to grab Chyra water from one of those little packets the Alteans used to store it; he was walking with a pretty harsh limp.

Chyra took the water gratefully. As she was sipping, Shiro said, "we can get you back in the pod once Hunk's out, and get that outer wound healed up completely."

"No, you take the next shift, that hip looks more painful than these ribs are. I'll take the next turn after you." The Paladin's lips twitched upwards in a sliver of a smile, but his careworn expression returned too quickly.

Chyra considered for a moment, her hand moving to cover her wound absentmindedly. She scoffed a light laugh. Shiro looked at her incredulously out of the corner of his eye.

"So uh," Chyra began, her fangs glinting in a slightly pained smile. "How big was that shrapnel?"

The Black Paladin looked at her fully, his face twisting in a hesitant grin. "Allura told me to throw it out."

Chyra threw her head back, exasperated. "Quiznak! I wanted to see what did all that damage."

Then Shiro chuckled, a low, rough sound. "I knew you would." He reached to the side, to the table that sat on the opposite side of Chyra's gurney. Then, with a practiced twist that sent the piece of metal spiraling in the air for a moment and a deft catch with his metal fingers, Shiro held out the shrapnel that had pierced Chyra's lung with a charlatan's smile.

"Which is why I kept it."

"My hero!" Chyra said excitedly, grinning as she took the trophy. It was huge and heavy, a six-inch-long hunk of ragged, splintered metal. It looked like the blade of a rough-hewn knife, deadly and wicked sharp. It spanned the length of her entire large, long-fingered purple hand. The felt her ribs almost twinge just from the proximity to the object that had rent them apart just a few days before.

"Ouch." She said mischievously, feeling the heft of the metal in her hands.

"No kidding," Shiro agreed. "It's no wonder you passed out with that digging around in your side." Then, despite the levity, his countenance fell again. Gently, he took the metal from Chyra's unprotesting hands and laid it softly on the table beside her with a quiet clunk.

Chyra paused, considering whether or not she should ask her next query, but she just had to know. "What happened after I lost consciousness?"

Shiro looked even more sullen, his eyes growing darker with sadness. "We lost Glyturne. They activated the Komar... It's all gone."

Silence weighed on the pair of them, heavy like a funeral caul.

"What about the remaining Glyrians? Did we get them off the planet?"

"Coran managed to get them evacuated before it... you know." He mimed an explosion with his hands, then looked away, not meeting Chyra's eye. "But its hard, seeing them lose their home like this. Everything they ever had... it's all gone because we couldn't save Glyturne. We really let these people down."

Chyra felt sorrow weighing on her, but one look at Shiro made her shove that down. She'd process that later. In a determined tone, Chyra scolded, "Oh no no, you wipe that look off your face, Shirogane."

He looked at her incredulously. "What?"

"That's your I blame myself this is all my fault face and I'm not having it. What happened on Glyturne was not your fault." She jabbed a finger at him pointedly, causing a twinge of pain to stem from her ribs. Her clawed hand moved to cover the spot on instinct. She felt the rough-textured bandages against her fingertips and her brows furrowed in mild confusion. She felt her chest, collarbones, shoulder. She tried to keep the heat from her face.

"Shiro, where is my shirt?"

His face pinked, his ears turning bright. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck sheepishly. "We uh, the wound was too high for us to-"

"Oh no." Chyra blushed purple and threw her arm over her eyes to hide her face.

"Careful, you're going to pop your stitches."

"Why didn't you just let me die?"

Shiro scoffed, but it was good-natured, containing a slight laugh. "Oh come on, its not that bad. If it makes you feel any better, only Allura and I-"

"That does not make me feel any better!" Chyra's face was violet, looking incredulously out from behind her raised arm.

There was a few moments of embarrassed silence, during which Chyra tried to calm her burning face. Shiro's mouth was twisted in a sort of smile-scowl, halfway between wanting to laugh and wanting to get his expression back to something neutral. Chyra caught a glimpse of his mouth twisting, the way his scar crinkled with the twitch of his nose, and had to start trying to cool her face down all over again.

Searching for another topic to focus on, Chyra redirected, "did you say Allura helped?"

Shiro jumped on the opportunity. "Yes! She didn't leave your side until you were safely in the healing pod and she had to go help with the refugees, she said it was the least she could do after you saved her."

"Huh," Chyra mused, her thoughts racing. Allura had been cold, distant, even hostile since she had confessed her lie, and it was good to hear that maybe Chyra's gesture had been well-received. Not that she had had any ulterior motives behind covering Allura from the explosion, that had truly been a split-second movement, requiring no thought or strategy, feeding entirely off of emotion and adrenaline and fear. But maybe it had done some good, maybe it would help repair some of what had been lost.

"She's glad you're alright," Shiro said, "we all are."

"I'm just glad we got out of there and managed to save the Glyrians. That was too close."

"Yeah," Shiro trailed off, his hands twisting together. He interlocked his fingers, squeezing the metal prosthetic of his right hand, then released and shook both hands slightly. Then he repeated the motion. It was the first time Chyra had seen him fidget like this. Her brows furrowed in worry, and she looked up at him with her mismatched eyes.

"Shiro," Chyra nudged gently. He startled, snapping out of his reverie.

"Hm?"

"What is on your mind?"

The Black Paladin shook his head adamantly, the shock of white hair splaying across his face as he moved. "It's nothing you need to worry yourself with, I'm alright."

The Galra scowled, but her voice was still soft. "Oh please just tell me. I haven't seen you like this before and I'm worried." Then she said what she had wished so many times to hear herself. "Shiro, you don't have to do this alone."

The determined set of Shiro's shoulders collapsed suddenly, like something had knocked the wind out of him. He almost folded, listing to the side like the weight he carried had finally forced him down. There was an audible exhale of air, a shaking noise that sent a pang of sadness driving into Chyra's heart. Shiro sat down on the side of the bed next to Chyra's hip, resting his left arm on his knees as he cradled his head in his hand.

His voice was so quiet, hesitant like he didn't want to admit it to himself. But still, he muttered, "God, Chyra. I'm so confused."

She reached out and laid her hand over his prosthetic, her claws clinking gently on the metal of his knuckles. "About what?"

He laughed, almost bitter. He didn't look at her. "About you."

Chyra's hand pulled away. Was he having second thoughts about trusting her? What had she done to rattle his faith in her, after he had been so steadfast in his defense of her character before?

She was almost too stunned to speak, but force out a tentative, "what?"

"We almost just died, we lost a planet, and the entire time the biggest thing, the part of me that was screaming loudest in my head, was worried about you. More than Glyturne, more than myself- hell, even more than the rest of the team! I heard you struggling to breathe over the comms, I heard you cry out in pain, and from that moment all my mind would let me think about was you.

"We were trapped and people were in danger and the planet was dying and all of that was screaming in my mind but you know what was screaming the loudest? Save Chyra. Keep Chyra safe." Shiro's voice was starting to shake, his hands trembling and shoulders shuddering. "I have been so focused this far, so concentrated on Kerberos and then surviving the galra and then getting home; so worried about the new missions and the war and the team and now you... I'm twisting inside and I can't- we're fighting a war and I don't have the time to do this..."

"I can leave."

His voice was hoarse now, deadpan like all the emotion he had in him had just flooded out, leaving a hollow, dried canyon behind it. "Is that your solution to everything?"

"If I'm driving you away from your missions... this battle is so much more important than me. I could leave and... do you want me to leave?" Chyra choked on the last question, the twisting in her heart far more painful than the twinge of pain that flared in her ribs.

"No!" He looked at her, finally. And his brown eyes were shining, bright and watery. "No, that's the last thing I want. I don't want you to leave my sight! I want to be with you all the time; I keep finding excuses to spend time with you when I should be focusing on this war. I care about you so much, more than I thought I would and more than I logically should. And if it were any other time I would... I could. But right now, with all of this..." his hand waved around them, at the medbay and the castle and the universe stretched out around them, so vast and in such dire need of their help. His help. "I can't keep doing this."

Chyra was confused. No, she was gobsmacked. She had just woken up for Stars' sake. "Shiro, I'm flattered that you care so deeply but... I am afraid you've lost me."

"No, it's not you. I'm the one who's not making any sense." The Black Paladin shook his head, looking like he was clearing his thoughts. The expression of control that he so often wore began to make its way back onto his face. His guard was raising again, and Chyra hadn't gotten any answers, just a glimpse into a turbulent mind that had only made her worries grow.

"Shiro?" She meant to say more, but words failed her.

"I'm sorry," he said, his strained smile returning, "I shouldn't have put all that on you." He stood up, posture stiff and straight once again.

"Wait, you didn't-"

"This is my issue to deal with, not yours. I really should- I've gotta go check on the Glyrians. See if we're getting close to Olkarion so we can hole them up there and get your armor fixed. I uh, I'll see you later, Chy."

The Galra babbled incoherently for a tick, questions and confusion all bubbling out on top of one another, before regaining the power of speech to call out, "Wait!"

He paused in the doorway, looking tense. Chyra had so much to say, so many questions and clarifications to ask, but she shoved her curiosity downwards. She deflated, feeling overwhelmed and a bit defeated. "Could you at least help me sit up before you go?"

His voice was smaller now. "Uhm, yeah. I can do that." Shiro moved back to Chyra's side, and she offered an arm for him to grab to help pull her upwards. Instead, he tucked himself beneath it, wrapping his arm around her body as she struggled upwards. This way offered far more support, as he was able to prop her upright on his own shoulder as they moved together into an upright position. Chyra felt his prosthetic hand gently brush a scar the stretched across her shoulder blade and had to suppress a shudder. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't a shudder of discomfort.

"Up we go," Shiro muttered as he helped Chyra up. At the same time, Chyra caught a scent coming off of him, one that was subtle enough that she had never smelled it until now, due to their close proximity. It was earthy, like rain on planets where it didn't rain things like fire or acid, just water. The petrichor mixed with something heavy and fresh and something slightly floral. Then Chyra was upright, and the smell receded as Shiro pulled away to help her settle against a stack of pillows propped up on the headboard, leaving only the sterility of the medbay in its wake.

Before he rushed off again, Chyra reached out to take hold of Shiro's shoulder. "Listen, I'm sorry if I've caused you some kind of conflict. Everything is... a gigantic mess right now, and I think we may all just need a moment. But you can talk to me. I know the kind of burden you carry as a leader. I know it feels like none of your teammates can see you falter for fear that they'll lose respect or focus, but I've seen many great leaders crack beneath that pressure. I want to help you, if you'll allow me to."

Shiro sighed, looking down for a few moments. Then, quietly, he muttered, "Okay. Thank you." Then the smell of his Altean cologne returned as he leaned close, and Chyra felt something lightly brush her cheek before he receded. And then he was gone, leaving Chyra alone and crestfallen.

She mulled over the interaction for a little while, trying to decipher what Shiro had meant. He had been so frantic for a few moments, more scatterbrained than she had seen him before. Worry soured her stomach and made her ears droop. It felt like very time she broke through some walls with Shiro, something came along that made him put them up again, stronger than before.

She wasn't entirely sure why that thought made her so distressed.

Her thoughts were dragged out of their orbit by the medbay doors whipping open again. She sat up straighter despite the protest of her ribs, hoping that the Black Paladin had returned. Instead, the face of Allura greeted her.

"Shiro told me you were awake, but I couldn't get here for a little while. I had to help the Glyrians in the West wing." Allura said, her voice still ringing with its familiar formality, but lacking much of the defensiveness she had adopted in the aftermath of Chyra's confession. The Galra tilted her head, slightly confused.

"Princess, good to see you're alright." As Allura approached, Chyra noticed a book in her arms, clutched against her chest. As she saw the Galra's gaze land on it, the Princess held it out to her.

"Coran says this is the book you've been reading, I thought you may want something to entertain you while you rest up."

Chyra's eyes widened a fraction in surprise. "Thank you, Princess, that's thoughtful." She took the book gratefully, laying it on her blanketed lap. She balked slightly, remembering just how much of her scarred skin was visible, and shifted uncomfortably.

"Of course," Allura replied. "How is your wound?"

"Doesn't feel great, but it's not the worst I've gotten. I think I'll be fine."

"Good, that's good." Then the Princess went quiet, but she didn't leave.

Okay, Chyra decided, everyone was acting weird today. Maybe she had woken up in an alternate universe or something. Maybe she was dead.

There was silence, but it wasn't the tense, vicious quiet that burned at the edges of Chyra's resolve, like it had been for weeks. Instead, it was full of hesitation, of deliberation and that telltale strain that indicated a search for the words one wanted to say.

Just as Chyra was about to break the silence with an inquiry, allure decided on her words.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

Allura paused, looked to Chyra's wound for a moment, then regained her composure. But her composure wasn't stiff and formal, although she still spoke with a regal form.

"For stepping in front of me when that explosion went off. Judging by where the shrapnel hit you, if it had hit its original mark... if you hadn't stepped in and it had hit me, it likely would have been immediately fatal."

"Listen, you don't have to thank me. You kept me alive long enough for a Grey and the lions to pick us up, it would have ended badly if you hadn't. So in terms of life debts, I think we're pretty much even."

"Maybe. But there's still..." Allura trailed off, an unfamiliar uncertainty dragging her voice into silence for a moment. Chyra leaned slightly toward her, curious.

Then Allura straightened again. "I have much to apologize for, Chyra."

That threw Chyra off guard. She scrambled for a response for a moment, but the Princess raised her hand, requesting to continue. The Galra's teeth clicked shut, silencing her confusion and prompting Allura to continue.

"I've treated you terribly."

Chyra grimaced. "I really want to disagree, Princess, but-"

"You can't. I was wrong for how I treated you, for mistrusting you for so long. And it was wrong of me to spurn you when you admitted your past to us. I was hurt, but I realize I shouldn't have acted the way I did." Her voice became less resolute, regret coloring the accented words. "And this isn't a new realization, either. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I still treated you with hatred and hostility despite knowing it wasn't justified. I really was awful."

Chyra softened, her apprehension lessening. "I understand why you did what you did though, I never really expected you to put aside that anger, you have a right to be prejudiced against the people who have done so much wrong. And I was wrong for withholding my past, especially from you."

Allura looked at her with disbelief shining in her multicolored eyes. "You understand? How could you understand why I was acting the way I did? I hurt you, Chyra."

The Galra paused, thinking for a moment on how to reply. Then she began, "I think... if one of the gunners who manned the canons that killed my family walked up to me and said 'I'm sorry, forgive me for what I did', I wouldn't be able to. That's how I imagine it felt for you to try and accept me. I understood that it was likely that you never would. When we started to get along I got my hopes up that it could be different, but I still understood when you were upset, even though it hurt."

"But still, I didn't stop to think about the fact that you were a separate person. I wasn't ready to come to terms with the fact that you're not the gunner. You're not even the one who charged the canon or aimed it, you weren't even on the ship. I grouped you in with the Empire that destroyed my home and refused to consider the possibility that you weren't one of them. Chyra... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for the things I said, and everything I did that made you feel like it wasn't safe to tell us the truth. I should have gotten over my mistrust far sooner than I did, and I shouldn't have let your secret get in the way of what I hope to be able to regain." Allura looked down, and Chyra saw her eyes mist over.

"I'm sorry, and I want it to be different. I want to be a friend to you, Chyra, if you'll have me."

Chyra smiled softly and placed her hand gently on Allura's shoulder. "I would love to have you as my friend, Princess."

"Please," Allura laughed breathily, smiling with a mixture of regret and happiness and sorrow all combined into one expression, vulnerable and genuine. "Just call me Allura."

"Of course."

Chapter Text

The fiasco that was Glyturne made the Paladins and their allies push back their plans for another two weeks. Not only did they have to help the Glyrians settle into Olkarion, where many of the Empire's refugees had taken up residence, but they had to recover their own confidence after a horrendously failed mission. They talked through it, checking in on one another's wellbeing frequently. Keith swore the discussion was too frequent, almost to the point of being annoying, but based on how often he had begun to check on how the others were doing, it was fairly clear that he enjoyed the thoughtfulness. They trained hard, finding their flow as a team once again. They struck out at smaller targets, finding a short streak of successes. It seemed that the loss of Glyturne, while damaging to morale at first, motivated the Paladins to push beyond their previous limits.

Kolivan was furious at the delay. He went on about the secrecy of their operation, but something about the tension between the rest of the team in those early days after Glyturne, specifically in the lingering sour air between Chyra and Shiro in the wake of their less-than-enlightening conversation, gave the Blades leader pause, eventually he conceded.

Even so, despite the sudden distance between the two ex-gladiators, the team had begun to heal. Chyra had even found that Allura was, in fact, a very good friend to confide in. Chyra communicated openly with Allura for the first time about the upcoming missions and their concerns for the remaining preparations before their strike on Zarkon's central command. This talk turned slowly into more personal things. Chyra talked about her assassin days in earnest, and her regrets in serving the Empire in the capacity that she did. She realized that it felt good to talk about this. To let all the pent up thoughts out unhindered and unabridged after so long keeping them under wraps. It felt like some of the weight pressing down on her had really lifted, instead of being once again pushed away to one side.

Allura was a patient listener, and an articulate speaker. She eventually confided in Chyra her worries about being a leader, how she felt the pressure of that leadership weigh on her the longer this war waged on, and how she felt such heavy responsibility for keeping the rest of the team safe. This Chyra understood intimately.

Very quickly, the two would-be enemies became friends. It felt like they were making up for lost time.

After a rather roundabout late-night conversation with Allura, Chyra said quietly, "okay, you can tell me if I'm prying, but do you know what's going on with Shiro lately?"

Allura blinked, her silver eyebrows rising a bit. "No, what do you mean?"

"He just said some... confusing things to me when I woke up after Glyturne."

"Like what?"

Chyra glanced around the kitchen for some reason. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to be conspiratorial. Besides, if anyone had come in she would have noticed- and probably had a short moment of panic- already. "Like how I confuse him and he keeps getting... distracted. He kept doubling back and rephrasing things, so it wasn't very clear."

"Hmm," Allura rested her chin on her palm, her fingers tapping the mug of tea on the table in front of her, "I'm not sure it's my place, but the fact that he's worried enough to say something gives me pause."

"Really?"

Allura set back in her chair. "Yes. He's just so private, you know? Keeps most everything to himself and doesn't share when he's having a hard time. I've lived with him and led this team with him long enough to know that when Shiro is conflicted, he rarely shares his thoughts." She paused again, apparently musing. "I'll talk to him."

"Thank you." The Galra smiled. They had gone to bed after that, hoping to rest up before the critical mission in two days' time.

- - -

The Teladuv that Coran and the Olkari had built was so large that all five Lions plus Grey were needed to get it into orbit.

The six of them all positioned themselves around the circumference of the Teladuv, with the smaller vessels positioned between the larger ones for better weight distribution. Chyra was between Hunk and Shiro, shifting nervously on Grey's giant metal paws. She had woken up that morning with a sinking feeling of nerves in her stomach, but for once she had slept soundly. She had stomached some breakfast, thanked Maliera for repairing the damage to her armor, and mounted up, climbing into Grey's cockpit with a determined stride. Despite her determination, now that the moment was upon them to act, to finally enact their plan to end universal tyranny, Chyra was terrified.

Grey's jaws sank into the platform on the ring of the Teladuv in synchronization with the Lions. Chyra, looking through the wolf's eyes, thought she may have spied one of the areas where Slav had gone in and meddled with the machinery; it looked a little crunched up just to the right of Grey's grip.

The Galra smiled despite herself. That inventor sure was something. He had been meddling and making 'improvements' to the Teladuv for weeks now, but nobody had the technical know-how to know whether or not they should tell him to stop. Despite Coran's mechanical knowledge, Slav was the expert. The skittish, hyperkinetic, paranoid and obsessive expert. Based on how 'over it' Coran had seemed by the time the rest of the team returned to Olkarion, Chyra wondered what other hijinks Slav had pulled while they were gone.

The Lions' thrusters engaged, and Chyra urged Grey to lift the Teladuv into orbit above Olkarion. Once it was up, it would be able to propel itself alongside the castle to the chosen battleground, an expanse of open space in the Yggiz galaxy. That's where the Teladuv would be waiting to move them all away from Zarkon's central fleet.

The Teladuv was in position, so the team headed into the castle for their final briefing.

Shiro stepped onto the central platform, pulling up the holo-schematics for the mission at hand. The Paladins, Chyra, Allura, Coran, Slav, and Kolivan, alongside his companion Antok, gathered close.

"Okay, everyone." Shiro said strongly, taking a breath in preparation. Chyra saw a look of resolution flash across his scarred face as he closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself. His eyes flickered back open and met Chyra's gaze for a split second before he looked quickly away. She pushed down the sour feeling that rose in her stomach.

"I'll use the Black Lion to lure Zarkon's fleet to our current location," He gestured widely, bringing up an image of the Black Lion to hover beneath the holo-schematic, "and make sure he's within the Teladuv's area of effect." An image of Zarkon's Central Command ship appeared below the Teladuv, its spires sharp and menacing as it hovered before them.

"Keeping the Teladuv hidden behind the space-fold until the last possible second is essential," Shiro continued, standing straight and looking up at the positioning of the various pieces in their cosmic game of chess. "We can count on you, right Slav?"

"Absolutely!" The multi armed alien assured, waving four of his hands in nonchalant motions. "I'll be fine." Then he squinted, looking cautiously aside. "I'm not sure about the gravity generator, though." His accented voice was tinged with the worry that so frequently colored it during his obsessive ramblings about alternate realities and probability.

"What?" Hunk interjected, looking sharply at Slav, "what was that last thing?"

Slav put his uppermost right hand on the nearest thing he had to a chin. "Hiding a ship is one thing," he said, "but I've never had to build a gravity generator for something this large before. I know it'll work, but I'm not really sure for how long." He shrugged helplessly, as though this wasn't an issue that could have been fixed previously.

A pang of anger rose in Chyra's chest. He had waited until just now to bring this up? A quick glance at Hunk and Keith confirmed that Chyra wasn't the only one thinking that way, either. But she reined in her frustration when she saw Shiro's determined face once more.

"Well," he said, unfaltering, "that's a risk we'll have to take. It only needs to stay cloaked until Zarkon's ship has been successfully wormholed. Once Zarkon's ship is in position, Kolivan and Antok will coordinate with Thace. Together, they'll take down Zarkon's security system and upload the virus."

The hologram of Central Command turned from purple to red, and Chyra felt a sense of vengeful satisfaction. She couldn't wait to see that ship lose power and, if they were really lucky, maybe even be rent to pieces in the depths of space. She crossed her arms over her chest and grinned at the holo-schematic, baring her fangs in anticipation. She let herself stand a little straighter.

From next to her, Pidge mimicked her smile and cross-armed position. "Then they'll be a sitting du-flax," the inventor remarked smugly, adjusting their glasses.

When all they got in return was silence, Pidge looked to the rest of the team and deflated slightly. "What? A du-flax is an Altean creature with a beak and webbed feet," she explained, shrugging. Lance granted her a snickering laugh from across the deck.

Suddenly Coran leapt into the center of the circle energetically, startling Shiro and causing the others to lean away in anticipation for his usual enthusiasm. He swept the hologram of central command up into the holographic Teladuv, announcing, "We'll wormhole Zarkon 500 million lightyears away, and he'll be in the Yggiz galaxy before he knows what hit him!" Coran gave the holograph a throw, jumping and twisting himself in the air to send it spiraling away from the rest of the group.

Shiro flinched as the portal went flying, ducking under it just in time to watch it spin away. Chyra smiled despite herself, shaking her head at Coran's constant upbeat attitude.

"What about Thace?" the Black Paladin asked as he straightened again, looking towards Kolivan and Antok.

The Blades Leader, unfazed by the Altean's enthusiasm, replied in his stern tone, "He should be getting into position now. We received his last communication three quintants ago. We should hear from him soon."

Shiro looked to the rest of the team, his gaze sweeping over the members of his family. Chyra smiled determinedly at him, and a slight upward twitch of his lip showed his acknowledgement. His voice rang out strongly as he made his command.

"Then let's do this."

- - -

Chyra intercepted Shiro before he launched the Black Lion.

The team had already expressed their worry for him, telling him to be careful and to come back safe. He had promised he'd do his best. His gaze had lingered on Chyra for a few moments extra, looking like he had something to say, but he had changed his mind when Pidge and Lance butted in to wish him luck.

Chyra hated not knowing things, so she followed him out after a pointed look from Allura encouraged her to do so. She power walked to catch up with him, her long mechanical legs carrying her swiftly through the expanses of the castle. She found him just outside the training room, on the way to Black's hangar in the uppermost spire.

"Shiro!" she called, jogging the last few paces. He stopped and turned, his face impassive. But it was the expression that he placed there himself any time he wanted to look intentionally unfazed. Chyra had learned to see through that expression.

"Chyra, what's going on?"

"Nothing major, don't worry. Kolivan hasn't bailed on the plan quite yet," she joked, poking fun at the Blades Leader's propensity to back out at the first sign of trouble. She stopped when she reached him, looking back over her shoulder for a moment and running her clawed hands through her hair to get it out of her face. She smiled down at the Back Paladin, hoping that her joke would've cracked the facade he wore. His face was still intentionally neutral. Chyra let herself hope for a moment that it was just his nerves about this mission, but she quickly dismissed the thought. This tension had been lingering between them ever since Glyturne. It broke up occasionally, got a little lighter during training and when the team was around, but Shiro hadn't let himself be alone with Chyra since the medbay. It worried her.

She resisted the urge to glance to the side, and instead resolutely met Shiro's eyes. "Look, I... something has been off with us ever since Glyturne, and I've been meaning to clear the air but we've both been so busy I haven't gotten the chance."

"Everything is fine, really."

"Is it?" She retorted sharply. Shiro stood up straighter, squaring his shoulders the way he did when he was standing his ground against a stubborn dignitary or Kolivan in a bad mood. Chyra instantly regretted her snappish tone, her shoulders deflated and she pressed her fingers to the bridge of her wide nose. "No, I'm sorry. It's just... even though everyone was okay after Glyturne, something just went sour with us, you know?"

"Everyone wasn't okay, Chyra. You almost died."

The Galra held back a scoff, it escaped as sort of a snort instead. "I almost die for breakfast every day, Shiro. It wasn't the first time and it won't be the last. But it was the first time you've shut me out like this, and I want to make sure we're okay. I want to make sure you're okay."

A smile cracked Shiro's stony face, just for a moment before flickering away. Chyra, encouraged, tried to keep going.

"I mean- this may be the last chance I get, you know? We're about to go into this crazy battle and it's going to be chaos, we'll be facing down Zarkon and you'll be on your own at least for a little while, today is going to be incredibly dangerous and there's no guarantees that we'll even-" she stopped her rambling abruptly when she felt Shiro gently take ahold of her hand. She looked down, her ears tilting with confusion.

"Uh-"

Shiro spoke carefully. "Allura told me you were worried, and I'm sorry things have been tense. But nothing is wrong, I've just been trying to keep everything from getting... messy, I guess."

"Messy like Glyturne, or messy with this?" Chyra used her free hand to point between the two of them quickly, her movements fidgety and nervous.

Shiro glanced away for a moment, seeming to think. "Messy with me."

"Since when have you ever been a mess?"

"Since... well, since you."

Chyra balked, trying to keep the hurt from showing on her scarred face. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize-"

Shiro stammered, "Wait no, that wasn't what I meant." He looked down, muttering, "geez, I can give a rousing speech to a planet full of people but I can't do this."

"Do what?" Chyra asked, a bit clipped. "Tell me how I've made you a mess? No need, Shiro I get it." She tugged her hand out of his grasp and took a step backwards.

"Wait no, Chyra, I mean..." he steeled himself then, squaring his shoulders and bringing his brown eyes to look directly into Chyra's golden ones. His expression was stricken, but resolute, as though he had made up his mind to say something that worried him. Scared him, even.

"I tried not to but I think I might be falling in love with you."

Heat surged into Chyra's ears as they drooped downwards with realization.

"Oh."

She was short-circuiting.

Suddenly things made sense. Shiro's stammering when she received her armor, the long nights spent in one another's company when neither could sleep or rest, the red in his face when she smiled at him. The soft words and gentle comforts when she had come across him while trapped in a memory. The worry and fear in his voice she shed left Taujeer. The way he jumped to her defense when the Blades threatened Chyra. His unending trust in her and the steadfastness of that trust in the wake of her admittance to being an assassin. Their conversation in the medbay after Glyturne's fall, that moment of closeness as he helped her up- that had been a kiss- all of it made sense.

And then it made Chyra's heart soar.

Because maybe... maybe she loved him too.

Maybe every quick glance and shared laugh and moment of closeness had meant more than she had allowed herself to think. Maybe the realization she had had all the way back in her earliest months in the castle, after Taujeer and on the bridge with Shiro after a long night of harrowing dreams and an even longer talk of home and family, hadn't been for nothing. She had tamped down her feelings, like she did to the vast majority of her emotions, to keep from complicating things. To keep from making the dynamics on the castle strained and awkward. Chyra could only imagine what Allura would've had to say back then if she had admitted to Shiro how she felt, so she had hidden it from herself and the others. And Chyra had been afraid of rejection. Of him saying no because she was Galra, or because she was damaged goods, or because she just wasn't as important to him as he was to her. So she had shut out the warmth that bloomed in her stomach every time he came near, the happiness she felt when spending time around him. But now...

"Oh." She felt herself smile just a bit, her tail twisting behind her. She shifted on her feet, and gently stepped forward, moving closer to him. He wasn't looking at her now, he had his eyes fixed downward.

Tentatively, Chyra asked, "why would you uh... why would you try not to?"

Shiro grimaced, not seeming to think about what Chyra had actually asked. "We're in a war. Every rational part of me tried to hold off, tried to keep my focus and stand my ground but you're just so..." he looked up at her his face reddened, his cheeks turning scarlet beneath his scar. He buried his face in his hands. "After Olkarion, and during training, and with the map, and all the times we've talked, I just keep falling harder and harder and I didn't want to think about it because I thought I'd only be more distracted."

Chyra opened her mouth to speak, but Shiro recovered his composure and looked back up at her, continuing. "I understand if you don't feel the same way, but like you said, this might be the last chance I get." He was still visibly nervous, but he was holding it together well.

Chyra gently took his hand in hers, the material of their gloves meeting softly. "Shiro," She said warmly, "it makes me immensely happy to know you feel the same about me as I've felt about you for phoebs."

The Paladin's gaze widened, his face expressing nothing but shock. "Wait, what?"

Chyra laughed awkwardly, her ears twitching with nerves, "I've been... rather infatuated with you for some time now. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to disrupt the team. And, well, frankly because I thought Allura would simply hurl me out of the airlock if I had said anything."

Shiro smiled then, his white teeth flashing and scar crinkling in the way that always made Chyra's stomach twist a little bit. He moved forward, closing up the gap between them.

"Chyra... can I kiss you?" Then he backpedaled, "wait, sorry, do Galra even kiss?"

Chyra blinked in surprise, an awkward, surprised smile curving her lips. She pulled backwards, her face and ears flushing a deep shade of purple. "Do you... do you want to kiss me?"

Shiro hesitated, looked surprised for a moment, and replied suddenly, with renewed determination, "yes. Very much."

Chyra's grin widened and she leaned forward towards Shiro, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her stomach fluttered, her tail curled excitedly. "Then by all means." She whispered, breathless. "Please."

The movement was swift and gentle, it took barely a heartbeat for Shiro's lips to meet hers. The contact was soft; there was no electricity, just warmth. And gentleness and and a little bit of trepidation. It wasn't often that Chyra had seen the brave Paladin hesitate like this. Then again, this wasn't their typical life or death situation. They pulled away, and Chyra was a little breathless with surprise.

Grey, from the back of Chyra's mind, sent a surge of happiness toward her pilot, voicing her support with the wolf equivalent of raucous applause. Mildly embarrassed by her bonded's presence, Chyra mentally shooed her away, suppressing a laugh as she did so.

Shiro's ears went a little pink and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his white fringe flopping a little sideways as he grinned. "I... admittedly have wanted to do that for a long time."

Chyra, emboldened by his flustered state and Grey's steadfast encouragement, asked mischievously, "how long?"

"I mean," Shiro shook his head a bit, scoffing good-naturedly. "Probably since our first time on Olkarion."

"That long?" She was beaming.

"Come on! You pulled a heroic stunt and I wasn't supposed to just fall in love with you?" Shiro laughed, at the bright sound filling the hallway as his face shined happily. It was the first real laugh Chyra had heard from him in a while. She responded with a flush, leaning forward towards Shiro as she laughed too.

She felt his light touch on her cheek, his fingers gently brushing her scars. She flinched slightly, not expecting the contact. Immediately noticing Chyra's discomfort, Shiro pulled away. She caught his hand deftly and guided it back into place, resting her cheek gently against it. She felt Shiro's thumb trace over the scar across her eye, and he smiled up at her warmly.

This felt right.

Chyra's trepidation melted away as she leaned forward, tilting her head to meet Shiro in a kiss once again.

This one was a little more confident, just a little bit bolder. Shiro's prosthetic hand moved to gently cup Chyra's left cheek as she pressed against him, the chestplates of their armor connecting with a soft click. Her tail wrapped subconsciously around his waist, twisting slightly. The kiss deepened, and Chyra pulled Shiro closer, impossibly closer. He hummed in satisfaction against her lips. In response, Chyra let loose a slight churr, a noise that Galra often made in their chests when contented.

That surprised Shiro enough for him to back up a step, his face twisting with a smile. He laughed, a little breathless and with his face tinged pink.

"What was that?"

Chyra's ears dropped with embarrassment. "Sorry," she said swiftly, "that wasn't supposed to happen."

He stood up tall on his toes and planted a soft kiss to Chyra's forehead instead, his hands still gently cupping her cheeks. "It was charming," he said gently. Chyra smiled, letting out a little nervous scoff as she accepted the gesture. Then they both straightened, separating slightly. Shiro's hand found Chyra's again.

"Listen, Chy, this is kind of a huge weight off my chest, but there's still this whole mission we're supposed to be going on and all..." his expression turned a little more mischievous.

Chyra decided to roll with it. "Oh yeah, you probably have something mildly more important to be doing right now."

"You know, just saving the universe," Shiro replied.

They both snickered for a moment, the tension of the mission lifting slightly for a moment before settling back down upon them like a shroud.

"We'll have a chance to discuss the logistics of all this," Shiro gestured to the both of them in a sweeping motion, "after we've taken care of Zarkon once and for all."

Chyra nodded, resolute. "Alright." Then she leaned down and touched her nose to his forehead in a Galra gesture reserved for people with whom one was very close. She had done that gesture with only a select few people in her life, none of whom were still living. The gesture held a new sense of gravity to it, Chyra realized. The last person she had given this closeness to was Vrill, just before he passed. It meant far more now that she had had no one to grant it to for so long. Shiro's nose wrinkled, partially from confusion and partially from his smile.

Chyra pulled back and leveled her gaze at the Black Paladin.

"Be safe, Shiro."

"You know I'll certainly try."

And then they parted. Shiro turned back towards the Black Lion's hangar, moving purposefully, albeit with a slightly lighter gait than before. Chyra returned to the bridge, still slightly flushed and with her mind whirling with processing thoughts and emotions.

She had kissed Shiro.

She had admitted that she loved him.

Something in the back of her mind, possibly Grey, sent a laugh bubbling out of Chyra's chest. Stars, it had certainly taken long enough.

- - -

Chyra was still musing over what had just happened when Shiro appeared in a transmission on the command deck, looking satisfied and self-assured.

"Zarkon took the bait," he declared, "he's got my location. Is everybody in position?"

While the other crew members and Paladin nodded solemnly, Kolivan stood grimly near Allura's podium. "We have not yet heard from Thace," he said. "He was supposed to contact us two Vargas ago." He looked down, the ever-present frown on his face deepening.

Antok's modulated voice chimed in, "He could have been captured."

"Or killed," Kolivan agreed. "We need to abort the mission immediately."

A surge of protests arose from the rest of the crew.

"Abort?" Allura's strong voice rang out above the others, "No! We cannot back away now."

Antok turned to face her fully, his posture rigid and combative. "The Blade of Marmora does not take chances. It's how we've survived for so long."

"It's held you back. Your caution is the reason Zarkon is still in power." Allura said fiercely, accusation coloring her tone. Chyra flinched at the severity of her words; it hadn't been long since the Princess' tone of finality had been directed at her. She shook off the feeling of the past clinging to her, it would do no good to think about what was gone and done with. Allura was Chyra's ally now, her friend. And in return for that friendship, Chyra would stand by her.

The ex-assassin fixed Kolivan with what she hoped was a confident stare. "We can't stop this now. Shiro is out there alone, being actively pursued by Zarkon. We can't let him risk himself like that for nothing."

"We would rather wait than jeopardize everything." Kolivan asserted. "Besides, it's too late to get someone else on the inside."

Keith stood up, his dark eyes flashing with determination. "I'll do it."

Allura set back, surprised. "What?"

"I'll sneak onto Zarkon's ship. I'm Galra, so I'll be able to interact with their technology. Pidge, you can rig up one of those pods with a cloaking device, right?"

"Well, yeah," Pidge said, sounding unsure about the strategy at hand.

"Going onto Zarkon's ship is a suicide mission," Kolivan disputed. "I would never send someone so inexperienced on a mission so dangerous."

Chyra stood abruptly from the front console, her tail whipping through the air behind her. When she spoke, for the first time in a long time, her voice commanded attention. "That's why I'm going too."

Keith's stony, determined face broke into a slight smile as he looked at Chyra. She nodded at him before facing down Kolivan's scrutinizing gaze.

"If you think we will trust you, Executioner, to go on that ship-"

"Can it," Chyra snapped, her teeth bared. "There's no stopping Keith from doing this, and there's no stopping me from helping him."

"Chyra," Allura asked more gently, "are you sure you'll be alright on that ship?"

"I grew up in Central Command, I know it like the back of my hand." She asserted in response. Then she turned back to Keith, her yellow eyes flashing with certainty. "I can get you in and out unseen and unopposed. I'd go on my own, but the tech won't respond to me since I'm a fugitive. So I'll guide you through and watch your back."

Allura nodded at her half-Galra teammates. Kolivan's face looked somehow even more like he had just licked something sour.

"Pidge, get the pod ready," Shiro said over the comms. "Keith and Chyra, let me know when you're on your way. I'll give you some cover."

Pidge, Chyra, and Keith ran to the pod bay. Grey wrapped Chyra in her comforting embrace, assuring that she wouldn't be alone within the confines of her old home. Within minutes, Pidge had affixed a cloaking device to the pod they would take, and with quick hugs to both of their half-Galra friends, sent them off towards the void outside.

Chyra gently elbowed Keith as they settled into the pod to get his attention. He looked over at her from the pilot's seat inquisitively.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Eh, probably not." He said it nonchalantly, but there was an edge to his voice that spoke of concealed nerves.

"Yeah, me neither," Chyra agreed, trailing off. Then she steeled her nerve. "But as Lance has said many times, fuck it, we ball."

Keith snorted. "Never say that again please."

As they lifted off and launched from the pod bay, Chyra heard Shiro on the comms say, "they're here."

And ships leapt out of hyperspace to meet them.

Dozens of cruisers appeared in streaks of bending purple light, forming a barricade. Then, the huge, imposing figure of Zarkon's Central Command looped into view. The pointed, twisting, haunting spires and supports sent shudders down Chyra's metal-infused spine as she beheld it once again. That ship, which had served as the closest thing to a home she had ever had for the first twenty years of her life, rippled with dark energy, the swarms of automated fighters buzzing around it like a plague of insects. It dwarfed the castle in its penumbra, and made Chyra feel suddenly and incredibly insignificant. Last time she had faced down the armada like this...

Then the Black Lion blasted past her, trailing streams of blue light into the abyss, and her resolve found its way back to her.

Shiro expertly piloted through the battlefield, weaving between cruisers like he had been born with wings. As Ion canons sent barrages of deadly purple light streaking through the void, he twisted and curved, dodging them in a manner that looked completely effortless. He was in his element.

Black's jaw blade appeared in a flash of light, and Shiro immediately hacked apart the hull of a cruiser, taking out its engines and the bridge faster than Chyra's single eye could keep track of. An explosion rippled through the Galra ranks, tearing through their numbers and casting bright flashed of flame into space before the void swallowed them.

Shiro twisted his lion sharply upwards, followed by a cluster of fighter drones. "I've got Zarkon on the hook, I'm bringing him your way." There was something in his voice that Chyra couldn't place. It was a strong, sturdy quality, maybe something she had heard before.

Was he... enjoying this?

She could almost hear the grin on his face, the look of concentration crossed over with moments of anticipation, of satisfaction at a maneuver gone right. Every motion was calculated, every step of the plan perfectly executed on Shiro's part. It amazed Chyra to see him like this, alone and ferocious and at the top of his game.

"Keith, Chy, you two ready? You'll only have one shot at this."

"Oh I'm ready," Keith's gloved hands gripped the controls tighter.

"Activating cloak," Chyra confirmed. She typed in a command from the copilot's seat and the pod disappeared from view.

Keith steered the pod towards the chaos. "Heading toward the fleet now."

"Roger that," Shiro confirmed. "I don't see you but I've locked onto your signal. I'll clear a path."

Watching the Black Lion tear through the fleet was like watching art in motion. And it only became more bolstering to Chyra when she thought about how Shiro, the man who loved her, was the one flying it.

Chyra couldn't resist a smile as Black arced expertly in a huge spiral towards Central Command, tearing through the ranks of fighters to create a wide runway leading towards the lower spires of the ship. Keith angled the pod towards one of the open fighter bays, dodging the explosions that rippled in Shiro's wake. The Black Lion dove towards the ship, twisting away as the last tick and allowing Keith to slip into the fighter's bay.

"Thanks, Shiro." Keith said, straining with the controls. Chyra braced herself against the pod's walls with a choked squeak as they ripped at top speed into the hangar.

"Coming in hot!"

The pod slammed into the wall on the starboard side, sending it crashing sideways. It skidded and bumped along the path into the depths of the ship, each rattle jolting Chyra from head to toe. But she prepared for the pod to stop as she saw a group of sentries enter the hangar. The pod itself took out the majority of them in its crazed descent, but Chyra and Keith leapt out as one to take out the last two. With a swipe of Keith's sword and a swift downward sweep of Chyra's leg, they had cleared the hangar.

Chyra gripped her stomach, which was feeling mildly queasy either from being once again inside Central Command or their less-than-graceful landing. "Next time, I'm driving."

"Fat chance!" Keith replied, his expression beaming with the thrill of flight.

She shook her head good-naturedly. "We're in!" Chyra announced, sending news back to Allura and the castle.

"Be safe, Chy," Shiro said over the comms as the Black Lion sped away. 

She grabbed a blaster from the fallen sentry and darted after Keith, heading once again into the depths of Central Command.

The pair of half-bloods maneuvered through the hangars in the lower decks. Chyra knew from here all they had to do was get up a few levels to the lower communication room, where much of the computing for the Command system was conducted. The bridge may be the seat of power for the Empire, but deep in the bowels of the gargantuan hub was where most of the real work was done.

It was, unfortunately, just two levels directly below the gladiator arena.

Chyra was not thrilled to know that that thing was so near once again. That all the blood she had spilled in the arena was running down towards her again after all this time, all the work she had put in to finally feel free of the burden.

Swiftly, Chyra and Keith ducked behind a support beam within one of the large either hangars, wiring for a sentry unit to pass by the exit doors. Chyra's toe tapped slightly in time to the sentries' footfalls, timing their movements to the precise second. She had memorized the rhythms of the patrol units years ago; she hoped they were still the same.

The moment the sentries were out of sight and earshot, she and Keith sprinted across the hangar. Chyra caught herself from touching the keypad. One touch on a control panel and the ship's alarm systems would go wild. It had been a long time since Executioner had been on this ship, but her DNA scan would surely still be in the records of fugitives kept by the bounty hunters of the Galra Empire.

Chyra entered the hallways in front of Keith, keeping her eye out of patrols and wandering soldiers. Logically there wouldn't be any Galra personnel roving about the ship while a battle was on, but stranger things had happened to Chyra on this ship. She shuddered, her tail lashing as she moved ahead.

"You alright, Chy?" Keith asked.

"Fine," Chyra tried to reassure. She scowled at how her voice shook. The atmosphere was oppressive, the heavy ambiance was almost suffocating after so long outside of this accursed halls. There was this... presence that Chyra had not been keen to before. Something dark, sinister and all-encompassing. It was familiar, too, just different to what Chyra could remember feeling before. Sharper, more distinctly wrong. She wasn't sure what it was, and she hoped to the ancients in the stars that she wouldn't have to find out.

They turned another corner. Just a little further, Chyra reminded herself. She felt Grey, slightly more faint due to the distance between herself and her pilot, gently brush her mind up against Chyra's own. She took comfort in the wolf's presence, strengthened her resolve, and continued on at a brisk pace, Keith keeping close on her heels.

Soon, after traversing the twisting hallways for far longer than Chyra ever wanted to, they reached a long hallway leading to a huge door. Veins of mauve quintessence, off-colored from Galra interference and modification, wove through the door, casting the hall in an eerie light. The comms hub needed far more power than any typical sector of the ship, and the abundance of quintessence fuel being pumped there was evidence of that.

Over the comms, Chyra heard Shiro begin to tire outside, and the other Paladins coming to join his fight. They were running out of time.

The doors to the comms hub slip open, revealing a cavernous room awash in crimson light from millions and millions of lines of Galra code running up and down the walls. In every direction there was information, pumped through the ship as its lifeblood during the Empire's conquests. Chyra shuddered, adjusting her grip on her stolen blaster. She knew it would be useless at exceedingly long range, her depth perception wasn't what it used to be with only one eye after all, but the heft of a weapon in her hands helped ground her. She and Keith moved down a long catwalk towards the computer unit, which hung suspended over a deep chasm, the bottom of which was obscured by darkness far below. It was impossible to measure how deep it was from here. Chyra shuddered and avoided the edge.

"Kolivan, we're in. Now what?" Keith asked, moving to the computer. Chyra took up a defensive position behind him, facing the door as Kolivan explained how to input Thace's code to reset the system and shut down Central Command's power.

Keith was running into trouble, trying to get the codes to pass through the firewall. Chyra startled as the doors blared, beginning to open. On instinct, she grabbed Keith by the shoulder and ducked down behind the console, concealing both of them from the intruder.

A battered Galra man stepped up to the console, a glowing purple wound shining across his chest. Chyra gulped, her hand traveling to a long-healed scar on her shoulder from a similar wound. Haggar had done that. The thought sent a jolt through her body, a crackling of dark energy that almost made her drop her blaster. Even though she managed to hold onto the gun, the surge of evil energy left her shaking.

What was happening with her? She had never felt energy like this so strongly before, even when she had been in the same room with Haggar and her Druids, even when they had used that energy on her. Why now, after all this time, did just the slightest remnants of dark magic affect her so strongly?

She shook her head, willing herself to steady her mind and body. The Galra man was typing at the console, inputting lines and lines of figures that flashed by too quickly for Chyra to read.

She flinched violently as the door to the comms hub opened again.

And then she froze.

Druids.

The air crackled around them and became heavy with darkness. One rattling, otherworldly voice echoed through the void, sending chills rocketing up and down Chyra's metal spine. She jolted, barely holding back a cry as the energy that the Druids carried with them almost overwhelmed her.

"And now," one of them said, "we know you were attempting to shut down the system." The accusing tone made Chyra's knees go weak, but it wasn't aimed at her. They hadn't seen her yet.

Suddenly, the Druids just weren't in the doorway anymore. They flashed across the ground on a surge of dark energy, making a beeline towards the prisoner. He hastily inputted the last of the code, then turned, hunching from pain and exhaustion, to face the Druids.

"You're too late," he said, a note of grim finality in his voice. Even though he looked like he had been through the seven hells, he remained strong, resolute.

"No, Thace. You're too late. We already changed the code." The Druid closest to Chyra said, and the malice in their voice made her sag against the pillar that served as her cover. Something was draining her, physically and emotionally. And it wasn't just being in the ship again. Something about the Druids, the darkness that lung to them like maleficent static electricity, was drawing her energy from her, leaving her weak and shaking. She wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Thace turned back to the console. It hadn't worked.

And suddenly the Druids were upon him. They swept through the air, their dark robes flaring out around them like a halo of shadow. They summoned glowing spheres of energy into their hands, aiming them right at Thace's heart.

Then Keith dived out from the pillar, and launched his dagger into a Druid's heart.

The masked figure screamed, purple bolts of energy crackling around him wildly. Chyra dropped her blaster and clutched at the sides of her head, trying to block out the savage energy that snapped through the void around her.

There was the sound of a battle and an explosion, and Chyra willed her body to respond, to unfreeze and allow her to protect Keith. But for a few horrible moments, it was all she could do to keep from breaking into pieces beneath the weight of all that darkness. Grey was too far away to help in that moment. Chyra was alone. The remaining Druid screeched as the room lit up with flames for just a heartbeat.

Then it was gone. And all was silent.

"Chyra? You alright?" Keith asked, hauling her up by her arm. She struggled for a moment to get her feet back beneath her, but already she was regaining her strength. The Druid's absence left her feeling lighter already. She scooped her fallen blaster up off the ground, standing as tall as she could to meet Thace's eye. An inscrutable look passed over his face as he looked at her, but he quickly shifted his tired, battered gaze to Keith.

"Thace, I'm Keith and this is Chyra, we're Paladins of Voltron." Chyra looked at Keith in surprise, but now as not the time for questions. The young half-Galra was intently looking at Thace, who staggered towards the control panel, his Luxite Blade in hand.

"Fellow Blades, I see," Thace countered, looking to Keith's weapon. "I guess we haven't failed."

"Not yet," Chyra replied. Her voice was rough, but she was reigning her strength.

Lance's voice rang out over the comms. "This is getting hairy, how are we doing in there?"

"The Empire switched the codes," replied Keith, "we're trying a workaround."

"Copy that," Shiro confirmed. His voice tremored; he was beginning to tire.

Chyra passed a thick cord to Thace at the console, which he deftly connected to the control panel's main circuit. They slotted two more into place, running the power lines from the information system to one of the large batteries that lined the wall around the door.

"What exactly are we doing, Thace?" She asked, still on edge.

He replied with the resolve of a soldier. "I'm using the main power to overload the system."

Chyra's eyes snapped to the Blade informant, not quite believing what she was hearing. The imperial training buried deep within her sent alarm bells ringing in her ears. "Wait wait wait, you're turning this room into a bomb?" She hoped to the stars he wasn't doing what she thought he was doing.

"Yes."

She couldn't believe this. "With us IN IT?"

Thace didn't falter, continuing his work grimly. "It is the only way."

It was barely a minute before Chyra's ears began to ring, and she staggered under the weight of another surge of darkness. This one was more powerful, more ancient. This one she recognized from before, despite her newfound sensitivity to dark magic making each different energy signature harder to decipher. This one she knew all too well.

Haggar.

An instant after the name had arrived in Chyra's mind, the door exploded. Chyra and Keith leapt forwards, blasters at the ready. Chyra's stomach sank. She wouldn't be able to make a successful shot at this distance. Not in a million deca-phoebs.

Fortunately, Keith was a decent shot. He took down most of the sentries as they came through, although their clustered formation made it easy for Chyra to land some hit as well, despite the inaccuracy of her aim.

Keith then did something monumentally stupid.

He shot at a horizontal column far above them, causing it to drop onto the catwalk and block off the doorway.

Chyra slowly turned her head to look at the Red Paladin, her eyes wide and unblinking.

"Keith. Did you forget the part about this entire room becoming a bomb?"

"You're not trapped yet," Thace disputed. "There's an exit through the main power conduit. It leads to the second deck." He pointed down, over the ledge.

Chyra had had about all she could take of this. "Of fucking course."

"Go, now." Thace commanded, his tone tinged with urgency that defeated his levelheaded facade.

"What? No!" Keith snapped. "We're not leaving you."

Thace argued, sounding increasingly agitated, "You must. I will shut down the system. Paladins, this is where my journey ends. But as members of Voltron, you have a greater mission. You must understand that."

A sullen silence fell for a few moments, interrupted only by the rumbling of the battle that waged outside the ship. Chyra and Keith exchanged solemn looks, then brought their attention back to Thace.

"It was an honor to meet you." Keith said.

Chyra invoked an old Galra funerary phrase, one often used as a last goodbye. "May you find solace among the stars."

Thace tilted his head at that, a contemplative look crossing his face.

"You are Enhyron?"

Chyra balked, but replied. "Yes, sir."

The barest flicker of a smile passed across Thace's battered and careworn face. "You do look so like your father."

Chyra's jaw dropped as her heart thudded to a stop in her chest. "Wait-" the pillar blocking the door exploded.

"Go! NOW!" roared Thace. Keith, without hesitation, passed the Galra his blaster and made to leap over the edge.

"No, no! You know who my father was?" Chyra shook her head adamantly, her eyes pleading with the older Galra. He couldn't leave her with just that, she had to know. 

Keith grabbed her arm. "Chyra we've gotta go!"

She went to reply to the contrary, but Keith's dark eyes shined with fear, and she felt her reservations fall away. She gave in, and dived off the ledge.

They plummeted for hundreds of feet straight down into the pit, igniting their jetpacks to try and slow their descent after the room above had become little more than a faint red glow. They hit the ground running, sprinting and using their jetpacks as boosters to gain extra speed. They had to clear that explosion, or else they wouldn't make it out alive.

The hall around them glowed a brighter red, becoming uncomfortable to look at. Power was flooding the system and they weren't far enough away.

A shockwave knocked them both off their feet, sending the Paladin and the Assassin sprawling to the floor. Chyra scrambled back to her metal feet, hauling Keith upwards and pushing him in front of her. He had to get out. She had to get him out, if nothing else. The universe needed Keith. She needed to protect him.

The air grew hot on their heels. The hatch was too far away. They weren't going to make it. Chyra, resolutely, gave Keith one last push as he ignited his boosters. She didn't see him look back over his shoulder at her, she didn't hear him scream out her name.

But she knew he would make it.

That shove would get him out in time. It had to.

She turned to face her death head on. But even with her resolve strengthened in her last moments, Chyra still put her arms up to shield herself, and hopefully Keith, from the flames. She closed her eyes and braced for the heat.

After a heartbeat, when she didn't feel flames engulfing her, Chyra opened her eyes.

It was gold.

There was a golden shell of brilliant light in front of her, keeping the flames from reaching her. It swirled like oil on water, casting flickering shocks of color across Chyra's vision. Soft violet light danced through the golden shell, matching the color of Grey's energy. The light swirled around her hands, weaving itself into an impenetrable shield in front of her. Her eyes widened in shock, not comprehending what was happening. She was still propelled backwards by the force of the explosion, but the flames licking at the edge of the impossible shield never touched her.

The explosion sent Chyra and Keith spiraling out through the obliterated hatch and out into open space. As she rocketed past him, Chyra reached out and grabbed Keith's outstretched hand, gripping his forearm in a viselike grip as the pair of half-Galra ignited their boosters to steady one another out in the void. They connected with a pained cry, their arms straining against their momentum as they struggled to hold onto one another. The world spun wildly for a few moments. Then they managed to level out, facing one another and gasping for air from the aftereffects of their frantic flight. They were tucked behind one of Central Command's larger support pillars, hidden from the battle for the moment.

Keith's dark eyes were wide and stricken. "Chyra, why... what did you just do?"

Chyra shook her head mutely, at a loss. She looked down at her hands, where crackles of residual golden and violet energy were dancing around her fingertips. Before her eyes, the light gently faded, leaving Chyra completely befuddled.

"I... I don't know."

Around them, suddenly, the Command ship began to go dark.

The propulsion system fizzled out, the purple glow fading to black. The lights along the outside of the ship's nightly hull flickered out sporadically until all of them were dark and dead. The Teladuv loomed far above, casting a startling blue light that overtook the rapidly fading purple of the Empire.

Then two shadows overtook the stranded pair. One Grey, one Red.

Chyra smiled as the comforting embrace of her wolf engulfed her again, and she slipped between Grey's jaws, emerging into her pilot's compartment once again. Grey expressed her relief at her pilot's wellbeing by giving her the mental equivalent of big, slobbery wolf kisses. Despite Chyra's abject confusion and outright terror at what had just happened. She cracked a smile.

Red and Grey flew together out from their concealed place, moving towards the castle and the other components of Voltron. The other four Lions were hovering around the Teladuv, watching as the cruisers and fighters powered off one by one. A sudden, strange peace overtook the scene as all the individual moving parts that comprised the Empire grew still.

"Thace did it," Keith whispered, awed, as the lights of Galrs Central Command went dark.

Allura maneuvered the Teladuv over the deadened ship, channeling her energy to create the largest wormhole any of the onlookers had ever seen. Bright blue electricity crackled around the spires of the Galra ship as the portal descended around it. Together, the Paladins, the Castle, Chyra, and the Seat of the Imperial Galra throne descended into the void.

Chapter Text

The spires of Galra Central Command emerged from the immense portal, rotating as it was cast out into a wide expanse of empty space. The nearest planet was hundreds of lightyears away, giving Voltron the space they would need to debilitate the Galra Empire. Even in its humanoid form, immense in its own right, Voltron was dwarfed by the size of Central Command. Chyra and Grey hovered in the ship's vast penumbra, awaiting instructions.

Without the buzz of cruisers and fighters swarming around the Galra ship, everything was oddly quiet, oddly still. The seconds seemed to stretch out into minutes, suspended in space in front of the seat of their greatest enemy, the man responsible for eons of suffering and conquest.

Chyra felt herself grin, her pointed teeth glinting in the dim light of Grey's cockpit. The expression was mirrored by the wolf ship, her metal lips pulling back from her fangs in anticipation. This was going to be fun.

Shiro's voice came over the comms, breaking the tense silence that held so fast in the nonexistent atmosphere around them that Chyra could sense it. "We've gotta act fast, the power will only be down for twenty minutes."

"Then let's do some damage," Chyra said in response, Grey's mechanical muscles coiling like springs ready to snap.

She could practically hear Shiro's encouraging smile over the comms. "The Blade of Marmora's schematics showed four targets we need to hit." Images came into view on Chyra's dashboard, displaying targets in concentric rings around certain areas of the ship. She wouldn't have needed the markers, she knew this ship by heart. She had grown up here, after all.

"The weapons systems, the engines, the bridge, and the shield generators. Now let's put an end to Zarkon once and for all!"

The rest of the team let out a cheer that echoed like a lion's roar, and Voltron's thrusters ignited, sending the mech darting off towards the monolith of the Galra Empire. Grey prompted Chyra in her mind, nudging her as if to say we're not going to let them have all the fun, are we?

Chyra's grin widened, and the stars around Grey's sleek metal form blurred. Chyra's vision melded seamlessly with Grey's as they flew in tight around the Command ship's support beams, weaving sharply to locate the shield generators scattered across the ship's exterior. Above her, Voltron's immense blue sword arced with energy, burying itself into a section of the hull and tearing downward, causing a ripple of cascading explosions in its wake. The Paladins were attacking the engine systems. They had to take out primary and secondary propulsion systems for each of Central Command's four pillars, a total of eight immense engines in need of some remodeling.

Voltron carried out the task with tactical, ruthless efficiency. For a few moments, Chyra just watched her newfound family working as one, pushing closer and closer to defeating the evil that had plagued the universe for eons. Satisfaction bloomed in her chest. The Empire would fall, here and now. At Voltron's hands.

The engines went up in gouts of flame as Voltron spiraled around the base, ripping through metal relentlessly as it went.

"Engines are neutralized," Shiro said, "but stay focused. Let's target the bridge." Grey moved across the surface of the ship, aiming well-placed blasts of concentrated light at the shield generators. The ship was listing dangerously in space, the pressure within bottoming out as more and more holes were ripped in its siding.

A bright blue light ascended towards the bridge of the Galra Central Command ship, energy and power arcing off of Voltron's form. It seemed the more it accomplished, the more energy the mech had, as though it was fueled by the completion of its long-prolonged mission.

Suddenly, Grey's emotions snapped with terror, flooding Chyra's mind so insistently that it disoriented her for a few moments. When she regained her thoughts, her lungs hollowed out with fear, leaving her breathless and gasping.

Something dark and chilling and horrifyingly familiar overtook the area, setting Chyra's teeth on edge. The hair on the back of her neck rose, and she felt her ears pin back against her head beneath her helmet as a high-pitched ringing sounded in her head. That darkness could only mean one thing.

Haggar.

She had felt that energy back on the ship, before Thace had sacrificed himself to save Chyra and Keith. It was distinct, very unlike the energy of her Druids. It rippled with power and malice the likes of which Chyra had never felt before. Her newfound sensitivity to energy left her vulnerable to the witch's dark magic, paralyzing her in place for a few moments. Too long. She had to snap out of it, had to get moving, had to tell the others that something had changed. That something was wrong.

By the time Chyra had regained the ability to speak, it was too late.

With a surge of power so grotesque and blinding that it hurt to look at, Haggar's magic surrounded Voltron, crackling in black and purple arcs across the mech's metal skin. The blue glow of Voltron's power evaporated, replaced by the sickly purple of poisoned magic.

Chyra's heart leaped into her throat as she heard the Paladins crying out, feeling the pain from their Lions reflected in themselves. Her mind crashed back into the past, remembering the screams of her family as the Empire brought them down. A cry of anguish ripped itself from her throat, so loud she thought she left something tear.

"NO!"

As the dark energy wrapped around Voltron over and over again, the glowing blue swirls of the mech's power evaporated, sending a shockwave through the void that rocked Chyra and Grey violently backwards. Alarms blared from Grey's systems, the wolf's distress chasing with her pilot's anguish within their conjoined mind.

Then everything was quiet again. Far above, Chyra saw Voltron drifting lifelessly.

"No," she croaked, all the power in her voice gone, "no no no, please no." She couldn't do this again, she couldn't lose everyone she loved again.

"Paladins!" Coran shouted out, Can you hear me?"

He received no response.

On the commlinks, there was only static. It was the complete dead silence that Chyra had heard once before. Already she felt herself slipping into that familiar place of shock, where her emotions numbed and her thoughts became nothing but background noise, cacophonous but indistinct.

"I thought the virus shut down all of Zarkon's power!" Coran protested, his voice ragged.

"That blast was not one of the ship's weapons." Allura's voice, weakened and tired from operating the massive wormhole but very much still alive, made it through the haze of Chyra's fear. "It was magic."

Chyra forced her voice to function, if only for a moment. "It... it was the Komar."

"If the Komar destroys planets," Coran asked, worry turning his tone serious, "What did it do to the Paladins?"

That horrid, vengeful little voice that lurked in Chyra's psyche reared its ugly head. It killed them, it keened, just like they killed Varialis, just like they killed your family.

The dead silence of space enveloped Chyra again. This time, instead of going numb, Chyra saw red.

Fury bubbled out of her like an erupting volcano, filling her with heat and fury. With an animalistic scream of rage that would have sent the ancients running, Chyra launched herself and Grey towards the hub of Central Command. Something snapped within her, releasing every ounce of rage and despair that she had felt over the last almost three years all at once in a huge torrent that crashed over her. Grey, fueled by her pilot's fury, released a blast of concentrated light from her jaws, its brilliant blue this time surrounded by a haze of purple and gold.

It was the most powerful beam she had ever let loose.

Chyra felt a surge of energy pass through her, sweeping up her metallic spine and making her hair stand on end. But it was not the reeking, dark energy of Haggar and her Druids. This energy was Chyra's own, crackling with intensity from the force of her onslaught. An entire sector of the ship caught ablaze from the power of the unique blast. Spurred onward by the newfound power she and Grey shared, Chyra turned her gaze toward the bridge, where Zarkon and his Witch had stood when they took everything away from her again.

She went to move in on her enemies, the monsters who had killed everyone she loved, when a quiet, soft voice broke through her rage.

"We... we're alive."

Shiro.

All at once Chyra sank down against Grey's control podiums, her knees buckling from sheer relief. She covered her eyes with one hand, breathing deeply to try and steady herself. They were alive.

"Oh thank the ancients," Coran breathed in relief.

Allura asked "Is Voltron operational?"

A hollow clunk sounded over the comms. Hunk said weakly, "it's not working." He really sounded his age in that moment; just a kid fighting a war that it now seemed couldn't be won.

"Get out of there," Chyra pleaded shakily, "they'll kill you."

Keith's shuddering breath echoed in Chyra's ears. "I can't... move my lion."

Pidge echoed the sentiment, "I can barely move myself."

"You've been hit by the Witch's Komar, it's drawn the quintessence out of you," Coran explained, his voice still stained with worry.

Chyra finally managed to get her feet steady beneath her, and she urged Grey towards the deactivated form of Voltron. They had to force themselves to approach, the remaining traces of Haggar's magic that hummed around the mech's body making it difficult for Chyra to draw near. It was like they were warding her away. But despite the difficulty, Chyra and Grey moved to Voltron's side, pressing the wolf's paws against the Black Lion's chest, right over the Voltron insignia which so often glowed blue, now a darkened grey instead. Gradually, Grey began to move the larger ship away from Central Command. It was a struggle to get the humanoid mech moving, but Grey and Chyra moved away from Central Command and out of the Komar's reach as fast as they could.

Chyra muttered as she and Grey strained against Voltron's immense weight, "come on, come on. Just a little farther, we can make it." They just had to get to the castle, then they could escape. They would all be okay as long as she got them to the castle.

Then Lance's voice, small and scratchy, sounded over the comms. "What is that?"

Chyra looked briefly over Grey's shoulder at the ship. A hatch was opening in the front of the hull, casting a sickening purple light out of its depths.

And from it, a shadow arose.

The shape was hulking, all spines and spikes, blades and sharp edges all cast in a horrid, sickly purple. Its armor was the crimson of fresh blood, while silver streaks of light crackled across its surface. It was in the shape of a Galra. The spiked headpiece and markings on its face looked like the man Chyra had hated all her life.

Two immense, glowing purple wings stretched out from the suit's wide shoulders, extending with blade-like feathers that glowed hot and bright enough to burn the eye. In its right hand was a sword, long and dark and wicked looking, a jagged blade held in an adamantium fist.

And surrounding it all was the most savage energy Chyra had ever felt. It was familiar, she had been at his right hand for years, after all. Bloodlust and rage and righteous indignation tore at the edges of Chyra's psyche, weakening her mental defenses until she felt weak and alone and exposed in the dark of space. Grey snarled, but even the wolf's mighty voice was overpowered by the oppressive darkness that strangled the stars.

Zarkon.

"Paladins you must get moving," Allura said, her strength returning with a surge of panic, "remember your training! Remember all the battles you've fought, remember everything you've been through!"

"Voltron's still not responding," Shiro gasped, wincing from the effort of trying to get his drained Lion to move out of harm's way. Voltron remained lifeless.

The tremor in his voice broke the stun that had been holding Chyra, and she and Grey began to shove again, desperately trying to push Voltron out of the way before Zarkon reached them. Chyra felt that protective desperation ignite in her chest once again, the same feeling she had felt when trying to protect Keith from the explosion on the command ship. She had to protect her family, she was going to protect her family. She had failed once, and it wouldn't happen again. She could protect them.

A gentle golden glow began to surround Grey, and Chyra felt a surge of elation from her wolf's consciousness. Grey's joy at her use of energy fueled Chyra, making the golden light brow stronger and stronger. Voltron began to move more quickly through the void, away from the enemy that would spell their doom if they didn't escape. Chyra felt a mental wall come down, aided by Grey, and the violet flickers that had encompassed Chyra's light shield back at the ship returned, weaving their way through the light that had begun to stream off of Grey's dark metal hide.

She heard Shiro's voice again, soft and filled with wonder, "Chyra, what... what is this?"

She bared her teeth in a combination of a grimace of effort and a smile of uncertainty. "Uh, don't worry, everything is gonna be fine," she said almost more to herself than the others at this point. Then she glanced down at her hands on Grey's control disks, which were glowing bright and powerful with golden energy as it surged and wrapped around her, feeling like an embrace. She laughed with the thrill of it. "I have magic powers."

Grey's howl of ecstasy echoed through the void as the wolf threw her great metallic head back and announced it to the universe. The wolf mech shoved hard against Voltron's damaged carapace, moving the much larger mech more swiftly backwards. As she moved, a large shadow passed her as the Castle of Lions moved in closer to aid them. For a moment Chyra thought the larger ship would scoop them up and retreat, but it passed by the fleeing Altean mechs to approach the Emperor.

"Allura, not to sound like a Blade here but we need to retreat!" Chyra's voice was strained with effort. She leaned hard against Grey's control disks, her armor creaking in time with Grey's metal muscles as they both collectively pushed with all their combined might.

"Voltron can recover!" The Princess said with a confidence that bolstered Chyra's spirit. "We will buy you some time!" And the castle moved on.

Suddenly Shiro cried out in pain, the sound causing a twist in Chyra's heart.

"Shiro!" Pidge called, panicked.

Keith's tone was sharp with worry. "What's wrong?"

Shiro took a ragged breath before responding, sounding strained. "That thing... It's Zarkon. He's trying to take control of Black again."

"Again?" Chyra asked, "Has he done this before?"

"The last time we faced him, Zarkon pulled Voltron apart and forced Shiro out of the Black Lion!" Lance explained.

Another grunt of effort from Shiro, like he was waging a mental war. "It won't happen this time. I've gotten stronger. We all have."

"Listen to me!" Allura's strong voice rang out over the comms, drowning out the groans of the two ex-gladiators as they struggled against the void and the Emperor who had conquered it. "You are true Paladins now. Connect with your lions and reach out to each other! Fight! This cannot end now!"

As the castle blasted towards Zarkon ahead, a concentrated beam of blue energy gathered at the coalescence of the ship's great spires. The Mech that was Zarkon flew forward to meet it, trails of purple light snapping out behind it like whips.

"FIRE!" Allura roared, and the energy surged forwards in a concentrated beam, stretching out through the infinite towards their enemy.

Zarkon's mech twisted just before the beam struck, but it made a staunch connection, forcing the great metal beast backwards as the castle pressed on. Zarkon struck the side of his ship, rending metal around him and creating a crater in the hull of his command ship. The beam of blue energy deflected off of him, twisting through space as it refracted off of Zarkon's armored form.

Then time slowed. The beam twisted and arced through space, redirecting the flow of the castle's strongest attack. It curved back, striking out like a sword at the ship that had created it.

The beam struck the castle.

And Allura screamed.

All at once the castle was blasted backwards, spinning off into space as lifeless as the last ships to be struck down by Zarkon's might. Chyra's chest constricted again. For a moment the outline of the castle's shadow warped into that of a smaller, more fragile wolf, and behind Chyra's eyes, she saw Vrill. The look on his face as the light engulfed him, the sadness he felt in that last instant before everything turned to light and heat and then nothing.

Then the light faded, and an explosion rocked the castle as something on it ignited, sending it drifting slowly away. The soft blue lights that lit up the castle, which served as a beacon of home and safety and shelter for all who sought refuge from the Galra, flickered out.

"ALLURA!" Shiro called, his voice breaking.

There was no reply.

Numbness spread through Chyra's chest. Then, the golden light that surrounded her flared, arcing off of Grey in spikes like solar flares as rage replaced the hollow void. She released Voltron's chest plate, turning Grey's small, lithe form towards the hulking monstrosity before them. It was standing in the crater it had made, its wings arced behind it like an angel of death.

"Everyone," Chyra said, her voice brimming with venom directed towards one man, one monster, who had taken and taken time and time again from her, from the universe, without mercy or restraint. There was a strength to her voice that was seldom heard since it was taken from her years ago, one that spoke of battles won and hardships endured. It was strong, it was resilient. It was the voice of a fighter.

"Get this mech moving. I'll do what I can."

And Grey took off.

They were a golden streak across the dark void, weaving and twisting through space as though Chyra had flown in it all her life. In fact, this field below the ship was where she had learned to fly. It was where she had done flight drills and combat exercises and learned what it meant to be Galra. Where Vetrul had taught her the proud, ancient history of the Galra that Zarkon had destroyed and replaced with eons of tyranny and bloodshed. The memory bit at her heart like a lion, tearing a cry of rage from her chest. Zarkon had taken everything from her and her people and the universe.

And now he would pay.

The two mechs collided in a great crash, purple and gold sparks shooting off in all directions as the high screech of metal on metal grated on Chyra's ears. Zarkon had blocked her attack with his arm, but Grey was unphased. In a crackle of golden light she had disappeared, glancing off of Zarkon's block and twisting behind him to go in for another blow. Grey darted sideways, raking her bladed tail across the mech's armored shoulder. It didn't do much to damage the spiked red carapace, but it got Zarkon to twist away from Grey. Chyra roared and leveled a laser blast at Zarkon's back, striking the joint where the wings of his mech met its shoulders. He staggered and swung his arm in a wide arc, forcing Grey backwards to avoid the blow. She was much smaller and more delicate than Zarkon's Voltron-sized monstrosity. Not getting hit was the key to making it to the end of this fight.

The large mech wheeled around to face Grey, and a long purple quintessence blade materialized along his forearm. Chyra blanched. That thing extended his reach by a mile. Grey would need to keep her distance.

The immense sword, bigger than Grey herself, swung in a deadly arc, forcing Grey back again. She twisted in the air, the heat of the starkly glowing quintessence blade searing against the spikes along her back. Chyra's own metal-plated back prickled uncomfortably with the sensation. They fired off another shot, this time aiming for the shoulder. If they could weaken the mech's joints, they might be able to hinder its movement enough to come in for a more damaging blow.

The energy Chyra and Grey sent arcing towards Zarkon's armored form was blinding in its intensity,  fueled by their collective anger and a fierce desire to protect the home they now had with the castle and its occupants. Chyra felt the energy cycling through her and Grey's bond, fueling their movements. They were a grey and gold and purple blur, darting around Zarkon's form like a biting insect. What they lacked in size by comparison to the Emperor's mech, they more than made up for in speed and intensity. They had him pinned against the ship, unable to move outwards without incurring a well-placed laser blast to a critical area.

Chyra moved too fast to see, time seemed to slow down as every individual calculated moment stretched into infinity. She whirled and slashed and blasted endlessly, her movements flowing and split-second fast. Zarkon, for a few precious moments, was battered left and right. He couldn't keep up with Chyra and Grey.

Then a dark swell of energy rushed over the wolf and her pilot, causing just a split second of disorientation. That instant was enough for Zarkon's spiked, armored hand to whip outwards in a flash of darkness and wrap tight- too tight- around Grey's throat.

Chyra felt the pressure enclose like a slamming door around her windpipe, cutting off her air supply instantly. Her hands flew to her throat, gripping at an obstruction that wasn't there. Her claws dug into the material of her flight suit as she clawed desperately for air. The blaring alarms that accompanied Grey's surge of panic at their plight were quickly drowned out by Chyra's choked gasps. Tears sprung to her eyes, she needed air. She could feel the strength leaving her, the glowing energy around Grey's thrashing form fading as weakness crept into her metal muscles. She tore at Zarkon's grip to no avail. He had the wolf tight in his grasp. Chyra sagged, falling to her metal knees on the cockpit floor.

Grey was swung suddenly, the momentum of the motion nauseating when coupled with the lightheaded feeling of strangulation. Chyra's vision, still connected to Grey, began to go dark at the edges. It created a tunnel around the Emperor's armored face, his purple glowing eyes sparking with contempt. He slammed Grey painfully against the armor of the ship, making Chyra convulse weakly from the pain of the blow.

This was it, Chyra thought faintly in the back of her mind. This was how he would finally get her. The sadness and rage she would have expected to feel at the thought of Zarkon ending her faded, replaced by a shockingly peaceful acceptance. If she were going to go out now, it would be protecting the people she loved. It wasn't the ending she would have wanted, but it was one she could accept. Grey wrapped her in an embrace, apologetic and scared all at once.

Then, as her vision faded and the strength she once had fled her completely, her surroundings erupted in light.

She felt the pressure on her and Grey's neck release, and Chyra gulped in a painful gasp of air that stung and scratched burning paths down the inside of her throat on the way down. Her head was pounding, but the dizziness that had accompanied the loss of airflow was rapidly lessening. Grey was free-floating, drifting in space as she and her pilot recovered from Zarkon's attack. Chyra staggered upwards, pulling herself up on Grey's control podiums.  She still gripped her neck with one gloved hand, feeling the lingering ache of bruising beginning to form. She merged her vision with Grey's, the wolf mech's muscles creaked from strain as she looked around. Chyra felt a grin split her haggard face.

Voltron was back.

The mech was burning with a furious blue hue, sword held at the ready as it pinned Zarkon back and away from Chyra and Grey. The head of the mech turned to look at them, and Chyra felt her gaze lock with Shiro's from across the empty space between them.

When he spoke his voice was strained from the effort but newly energized, ringing with determination. It felt like she and Shiro were the only ones there for a heartbeat as the eyes of their mechs connected.

"You okay, Chy?"

"Better now that you're here." She swore she could feel his smile.

Their collective reverie was broken when Zarkon snapped his fist outward, landing a hard blow to the side of Voltron's chest. The mech staggered in space, allowing the Emperor to recover his stance. Chyra leveled a laser from Grey's jaws at Zarkon's mech, but Voltron recovered and subtly waved her off.

"Chyra, go help Allura and Coran!" Shiro asserted with an authoritative tone. Then Voltron glanced at her once more, just for a moment before turning its resolute face back at its enemy, "We can handle this."

Grey nodded, reflecting the affirmative motion of her pilot. Then she ignited her blasters, firing off a stream of purple light as she took off toward the dark, deactivated castle. Chyra's heart sank down once again as she saw the castle's state, damaged and dead. Its bright white spires looked grey and listless, dull instead of shining brightly as a beacon. Grey took a lap, looking for an opening to get into one of the hangars. With the ship deactivated (and the occupants hurt, a vengeful voice in Chyra's mind added), Allura couldn't open up the hangar doors. Chyra turned Grey toward the damaged sector of the castle, where explosions had rent gaps into the armored plating. There was one airlock that had been cracked open, the outer doors agape and the interior doors damaged enough that Chyra may have been able to force her way in.

"Grey," she said, "stay outside, stay out of Zarkon's range, and tell me if anything goes wrong."

The wolf reciprocated by urging her pilot to be careful, brushing comfortingly against her consciousness.  Chyra smiled, thanked her wolf, then exited the cockpit through Grey's jaws.

The expanse of space stretched out around her, riddled with debris from the battle taking place. Off to her right, far enough away that she was in very little danger of suddenly getting involved, was Voltron, exchanging blows with Zarkon that undoubtedly would have been concussive had there been any atmosphere to carry sound across the void. She shuddered, hoping to the ancients that Voltron could finish this fight.

She squeezed into the damaged airlock, her eyes squinting to see in the dim light. It was a momentary struggle to force open the airlock doors, but she was able to squeeze into the castle's darkened main hallway. She switched on the flashlight on her Paladin armor, aiming it forward as her jetpack propelled her through the hallways of her deactivated home. She used the ribs of the hallway's walls to propel herself, bouncing from wall to wall in the zero gravity environment. With each turn she took her heart sank, seeing the castle like this was heartbreaking in and of itself. She tried not to think about what she would see when she finally reached the control room.

She took the last turn with a shuddering breath, steeling herself. No matter what she saw when she got there, she had to help-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a squeaky groan, and as she came around the corner Chyra saw the long, multi-armed figure of Slav trying to force his way through the control room doors.

"Slav?"

The scientist squawked with fear, flailing in the air to spin and face her. "Enchyron!" He said, breathing a sigh of relief through his beak. Chyra moved over towards the doors, taking hold of the slight gap between each side and beginning to pull.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her words a grunt as she struggled to move the heavy metal doors.

"I'm fine," Slav replied.

With one strong shove and a roar of effort, Chyra wrenched the doors apart. Over her shoulder, the wriggling engineer called, "Did we win yet?"

To Chyra's immense relief, Allura turned from her position floating at the castle's deadened controls to face them.

"Allura! Coran!" Chyra called, pushing off the doors toward her friend. She met the Altean with a quick hug, partially from relief and partially to stop her momentum in the zero-gravity environment. She looked around, meeting the eyes of Coran, tired and worried but otherwise unharmed, and Kolivan, who maybe for once looked relieved to see her.

"Chyra, what's going on out there?"

"Voltron is back in fighting shape but I'm not sure how long they can hold Zarkon off. And the witch is still there, I felt her energy gathering for another attack."

"You- wait you what?" Allura stammered, backing away and taking Chyra by the forearms to keep them from drifting apart. "Hang on, you're glowing?"

"No time to explain. I have magic powers, I think. Either that or I'm just really excited that I kissed Shiro."

"You WHAT?"

"Bigger problems!" Chyra redirected oth herself and Allura, who looked aghast but shook herself out of her shock to turn back toward her advisor.

"Coran, you and Slav do everything you can to get the castle functioning again." Coran nodded, pulling Slav over to his control panel to get started. "Kolivan, Allura continued, can you get us to the Komar?"

Kolivan adjusted his hold on the support pillar against which he had taken up a solid stance, his silver braid floating behind him like a whip. "It will be dangerous, but I know a way."

Allura repositioned herself, moving to Chyra's side and pushing off her control podiums with a gesture for her half-Galra friend to follow. "Chyra, Kolivan, and Antok come with me." The Bladed pushed off with grunts of effort, heading in streamlined movements toward the control room doors. Chyra moved to follow, pushing off with her mechanical legs.

"We're going to have to attack the Witch directly if we hope to stop that thing." Allura continued as they all maneuvered out the door. "Coran, the bridge is yours," the Princess said, pausing at the door and looking back.

"No!" Coran argued, "You've been weakened by operating the Teladuv! You can't face Haggar directly."

"We don't have a choice," Allura declared. With a look of sadness, she turned away, leaving a silent and sullen Coran in her wake. Chyra turned back to the orange-haired Altean and smiled determinedly.

"Don't worry, I'll keep her safe."

Coran sighed, worry clearly weighing heavy on his shoulders. "See that you do, Chyra."

Then, Chyra turned and followed the others down the hallway. "I could get us there in Grey," she offered as she caught up, grabbing one of the wall's support beams and pushing herself forward to keep pace with the others.

"Your wolf is too visible," Kolivan countered, "we will have to enter unseen if we don't want Haggar to detect us before we have the chance to strike."

Chyra nodded, agreeing for once with the Blade Leader. Allura voiced her agreement as well, "We can take the personal pods while Grey escorts us, that way we won't be completely defenseless but Grey can serve as a distraction." She looked over her shoulder at Chyra. "Is that alright with you?"

Chyra smiled, baring her teeth slightly to echo Grey's adamant insistence. "Grey would have it no other way."

Moments later, Chyra, Allura, Kolivan, and Antok were rocketing through the void, clinging to personal shuttlecraft as they moved hastily back toward Central Command. Grey moved alongside them for a moment, catching Chyra's eye with her bright-glowing gaze. A feeling of protectiveness swelled in Chyra's chest, and the wolf spiraled around them for a moment before cutting sideways and away,  luring the attention of any onlookers away from the tiny cluster of spacecraft. They moved upwards, toward the viewports of Zarkon's central control room. The spired looked even larger to Chyra now than they did when she was flying with Grey, rearing up around her in a cagelike formation. Then she remembered the damage she had just done to this monument of subjugation, and she felt herself grin. It was time to finish the job.

The quartet of rebels wound through the debris field surrounding Galra Central Command, their target growing ever closer. As they drew nearer, Chyra felt Haggar's creeping, sinister energy around her and had to suppress a shudder. On her left, Allura made a similar motion, her face twisting with distaste as the energy grew. The ringing in Chyra's ears increased again, making her shake her head like an agitated animal.

They pulled into the Komar's bay, emerging from the bottom of the opening below the platforms of the druids. The space was dark and awash in crimson light, streaked through by the occasional crackle of dark purple lightning as the energy of the Druids and their foul mistress gathered for an attack. Chyra twisted to the left as Kolivan sent his shuttle spinning towards one of the Druid's hovering podiums, and watched it collide with an explosion. The limp form of the Druid that had perched on that platform like a vulture went flying away and out of sight. Chyra immediately felt the intensity of the dark energy surrounding them fade as she rocketed upwards to land on the next podium.

Her feet hit the hard ground and she rolled with the impact, drawing close to the Druid on the platform with one fluid motion. The sorcerer gathered a ball of dark energy in their hands, but Chyra shook off the fear that gripped her and swept her leg forward with a sharp strike, which collided with the Druid's chest and sent them staggering. She leapt forward, grabbing the back of the masked figure's neck like a mother cat scolding a kitten. Then she reared back and threw them off the podium. They careened away with a scream.

Two down, three to go.

She saw Allura land on her left, holding her long silver staff out in an offensive pose. Kolvan and Antok squared up behind them, forming a solid blockade.

Then Chyra saw Haggar. Her skinny face was contorted in rage, the blood-red markings trailing down her cheeks glowing with a sickening magic. She lifted her hands, darkness gathering in her palms and crackling with black electricity. Her lips parted, her pointed teeth glinting in the darkness.

"Attack!"

Her remaining Druids rose up behind her, three dark silhouettes in the red-tinted light. Then they dove forward.

The four rebels scattered, with Kolivan grabbing onto one of the floating podiums as it flashed by, disappearing in a flicker of rapid movement. Antok leapt forward with a snarl, launching himself forward towards another Druid with a twist of his blade and a savage growl. Chyra stuck close to Allura as the last Druid closed in, his hands crackling with energy.

The Galra closed her eyes for just a moment, searching for that protective feeling that had stung her chest when she was trying desperately to get Keith to safety from the explosion in the control room, when she was defending a deactivated Voltron from their most fearsome energy. She searched for the sense of peace that Grey offered her, the sense of unity that they shared when Chyra's energy melded with that of her wolf and they became indistinguishable from one another. She felt the energy of Haggar and her Druids, that sickly darkness that filled the space around them, begin to retreat. And she opened her eyes to find her form glowing gold once again. 

With a wicked smile, Chyra surged forward, leaving a trail of flickering light in her wake. She pounced like a wildcat onto the floating pedestal in front of her, leaping toward the Druid that sat perched atop it. With a series of quick motions, she struck out at them with her legs, her tail, her fists, just trying to maneuver the Druid away from the center of the platform. She sent a crackle of golden energy towards them, slinging out her arm like she was swinging a sword toward them. It arced wide and the Druid dodged easily, but it was just enough of a distraction that when Allura came bounding over Chyra's head, roaring like a lioness, she was able to strike true and launch the Druid off the podium completely, their form crackling with blue electricity from the end of Allura's staff.

Chyra smiled at the Princess as she regained her footing, the gold light that surrounded her fading slightly. She barely had time to catch her breath before Kolivan's blade went spinning past her, arcing between Chyra and Allura to collide with an unseen figure behind them. An enraged scream echoed sharply, making Chyra jerk around to see what it was. A lone Druid appeared, fading into visibility as they clutched the shattered remnants of their mask to their face. Allura moved in a flash, driving her staff into their gut and launching them upwards, only for the Druid to come crashing back down to the ground as Allura slammed her staff against their back. Chyra winced in something that was almost sympathy as a Druid's form literally bounced from the force of the Princess' blow. They hit the ground again and stopped moving entirely.

Chyra turned to Kolivan, who was standing on the podium just below them. She sent him a grateful smile. His masked face remained impassive, but he responded with a solemn nod as his blade returned to him.

Suddenly an arc of purple energy flew past from far above them, and Chyra's gaze snapped upwards to see Antok leap forward, twisting in the air as he slashed at a Druid that disappeared in a flicker of shadow. The Blade slashed again as the Druid reappeared, but another flash of darkness, faster than Chyra could see, burned past his burly figure as Haggar, far above, extended her hand.

Antok gripped his shoulder, where a glowing wound burned bright against his dark purple skin. Chyra moved on instinct, leaping up to Kolivan's platform with a burst of energy from her glowing legs, the intensity of their glow visible even from beneath her armor and flight suit. She tried to summon her energy again, willing herself to be able to move faster again, to cover the distance to get to Antok and help him, but the golden light flickered, weakening. She felt exhaustion dragging at her. She was losing steam.

Then time seemed to slow as a burning hot purple light bloomed in the hands of the last Druid as they appeared behind Antok. The Blade had only a moment to turn, an instant to gasp with realization. Then an inferno of purple energy burned through him, and he fell to the ground, silent and limp.

Chyra heard the emotions roiling in Kolivan's voice as he called to his friend, "ANTOK!"

But he was already gone.

Kolivan roared, fury echoing through his voice as his shout turned ragged. He sprinted into a jump to get to the next platform, burying his blade in the side of the crystal at the bottom of the hovering block and using it to launch himself upwards. Chyra saw Allura channeling some of her own, light blue energy into the podium on which she stood, sending it upwards towards Haggar with an expression of anger furrowing her silver brows. Chyra jumped off of her platform and onto Allura's as it moved past her, landing with bent knees in a defensive stance. She met the Princess' eye as they ascended, and Chyra felt some of her energy return as Allura lent her some of her own power. Something in the Princess' multicolored eyes told Chyra, use this gift wisely.

Chyra gritted her teeth, determination fueling her own surge of energy as their platform rose upwards, rocketing past Haggar's central location. Chyra and Allura leaped off the moving platform in unison, flipping through the air to land next to one another on the witch's circle of glyphs. Allura landed in a sprint while Chyra rolled with the impact, regaining her footing immediately. They split apart, with Chyra moving off to the right and Allura ducking left as Haggar fired off a bolt of magic at them both. Chyra felt the hair at the back of her neck prickle from the close proximity to the darkness that surrounded Haggar, and the ringing in her ears sharpened, becoming almost deafening as it drowned out all other sounds. But she remained focused, refusing to let the witch's magic get the better of her. Her golden shell of light flared slightly for a moment, and she felt Haggar's eyes on her.

A flash of darkness flickered into Chyra's vision, giving her barely a fraction of a moment to didge Haggar's attack. but she dived, twisting to get away from the onslaught of powerful dark energy. Allura did the same as Haggar reared back another hand and fired off another blast. Allura darted forward, the end of her staff extended towards Haggar's chest, but the witch flickered out of existence appearing only a few feet away. Chyra tried to move toward her, but Haggar had positioned herself far away from Chyra with the Princess in the middle blocking Chyra's advance. She ran forward as Haggar readied a large sphere of purple and black energy in her palm, but stopped short as Allura swung her staff in a savage arc, connecting with the Witch's side with a resounding crack. The witch's thin figure was sent sprawling sideways, landing near Chyra with a painful thud. She rolled to a stop, her hood fallen and silver hair disheveled. She struggled upwards as Chyra moved to Allura's side, standing tall and facing down the woman who had scarred and terrified Chyra for years.

Haggar struggled upwards, groaning. She looked up at her attackers, her yellow eyes burning with rage. But there was something different about Haggar at that moment that gave Chyra pause. Allura gasped beside her, her hands dropping from their defensive position across her chest from shock.

"You're Altean?"

Suddenly it made sense. How had Chyra never realized it before? Haggar was Altean, everything about the way she looked made that clear. Her small stature, her sharp features and narrow face and her propensity for magic- of course she was Altean. But how had she come to stand beside Zarkon? How could he possibly have an Altean at his right hand?

Chyra's surprise was abruptly ended. Haggar screamed, launching a volley of black energy toward her and Allura. Chyra lurched forward, trying to bring her energy shield upwards like she had when she was protecting Keith, but this time, Allura moved faster.

She jumped in front of Chyra, her arms crossed in front of her body as Haggar's energy blast launched her staff up and away, sending it spinning off into the dark. Allura's form was silhouetted in darkness for a heartstopping moment, as energy as black as the void itself snapped and cracked off of her, flicking through the air like whips. Chyra's heart pounded to a stop as the energy enveloped her friend.

"No!" she reached out, her clawed hand shaking, but Allura straightened suddenly, the energy flickering around her form coming to an abrupt halt. It encompassed her completely, blocking out her features and draining her of color.

Then, the darkness turned to light. Allura lifted her shadow-encased hands and threw them to her sides, opening her arms wide as light spilled off of her form, vibrant and violet and pure. Moted of light floated upwards, casting her in a halo as she opened her eyes to reveal a bright glow emanating from her eyes and her Altean markings. She lowered her chin, leveling her gaze steady and unwavering at Haggar. Chyra's jaw dropped at the display. That blast should have killed Allura, should have torn her apart in an instant. Instead, it had only fueled her and made her stronger.

Allura looked down at her hands, clearly just as shocked as Chyra was.

Haggar stepped back, and Chyra heard her growl, "Impossible!" She levied another blast in her hand, sending it careening forward toward the princess again, but this time Chyra stepped forward, a surge of protectiveness fueling the summoning of another golden shield. Haggar's attack crashed against it, washing to each side like a wave, but it didn't touch either Chyra or Allura.

Allura looked up at Chyra next to her, whose scarred arms were extended as energy whipped around her shield of golden light. "Chyra how are you doing that?"

"How did you do whatever that just was?" Chyra responded, a slightly hysterical grin growing on her face. Haggar's attack faltered and flickered out, causing Chyra to drop her shield. She was breathing heavily, sweat beading on her brow from the exertion of creating the shield again. Allura stepped up beside her as Haggar staggered upwards, trying one last time.

With a ragged scream, the witch gathered her energy in both hands and launched it forward. Allura extended one hand, stopping the blast in its tracks. Haggar pushed forward, her cry echoing through the Komar Chamber, but Allura didn't falter. She didn't even flinch.

After a few eternal moments, Haggar fell to her knees, face pale and energy spent. Her dark robes pooled around her, shadows clinging to her form like grasping hands. Allura's form glowed purple as she purified the witch's energy, sending motes of vibrance fluttering into the air. Chyra snarled at the she-demon who had made her endure such torture for so long, who had mistreated and belittled her since the moment they had met twenty years ago. "Not so tough now, are you, Witch?"

Allura spoke quietly, but her voice rang through the chamber as though her words had been screamed. "You will never destroy another innocent world."

Then she slammed her palms down on the floor, the glyphs of the witch's casting circle cracking and shattering beneath Allura's hands. The energy she had been holding exploded outward, crackling off of her in massive arcs like violet electricity. Everywhere her magic touched within the Komar Chamber, explosions followed in great rippling waves, causing the ground beneath Chyra's metal feet to quake and rumble. She looked on in awe as Allura's power tore apart the seat of such cruelty and injustice in the universe. There was a flash of bright light so intense that Chyra had to close her eyes, and when she opened them again Haggar was gone, flickered out of existence completely.

Allura stood up, the burning light that surrounded her body fading gently as she straightened. The room rumbled around them, shuddering from the damage Allura had just wrought on its structure.

"That," Chyra said, stepping up beside her friend, "was amazing."

Allura looked perturbed, "she's Altean, how could she help Zarkon?"

"I have never understood how that monster thinks, and I don't think I'm going to start now," Chyra replied. She staggered as another rumble shook the chamber and grabbed Allura's shoulder to steady the Princess as well.

Kolivan appeared, rising upwards on the only remaining floating podiums. "We have to go, come on!" Chyra and Allura ran to the edge and jumped onto the platform and it began to descend as the tremors that shook the room began to grow more powerful. Chunks of rubble fell from the ceiling as they fled, the platform swooping low.

"Jump out through the gaps," Chyra called over the sounds of destruction echoing around them, "Grey will catch us!" Kolivan and Allura followed her lead without question, leaping out into the void. Grey swooped in, relief coloring her connection to Chyra as she opened her jaws, carefully collecting the three rebels as she turned back towards the castle. Chyra had just made it into the cockpit when the Castle of Lions began to awaken. The lights along its hull flickered to life, duller than usual but still very functional. It was like a great beast shaking off sleep little by little as first the bridge, then the engines, then the spires lit up from the inside.

The busted commlinks crackled in Chyra's ears. "Hello Paladins!" Coran called. Immediately there was a flood of overjoyed shouts.

"Coran!" Lance said jubilantly.

At the same time, Chyra heard a tearful Hunk exclaim "you're alive!"

Shiro sounded just as elated, "is everyone okay?"

Slav's voice drowned out Allura's response, "yeah, I'm fine, don't worry guys!"

"Oh good," Lance deadpanned, "Slav made it."

"We're alright," Allura chuckled slightly, "Kolivan, Chyra and I just handled Haggar. We're on our way back to the castle."

Just as Grey reached her hangar, a dim red light flickered around her. Chyrs turned Grey's massive metal head to look at their surroundings and found that the deactivated fighters had begun to regain power.

"Oh that's not good," she muttered, pulling Grey into the hangar swiftly.

"The power to Zarkon's ship has returned! We need to get out of here!" Coran called over the comms.

Chyra opened the exit lift and turned to Allura and Kolivan as they exited. "I'm going back out to help the others, just until we can make a clean getaway."

Allura nodded reolutely, "go." And Grey turned and launched back into space.

She readied a blast, preparing for an attack, but a blue streak across the sky pulled her attention away. She saw Voltron, streaming through the void with the rage and fury of an avenging angel, straight towards the twisted figure of Zarkon in the distance. They collided with a clash of light, purple and blue luminance pulsing away from them in waves as they crashed together. Then the light faded, and Voltron's sword was buried into the heart of Zarkon's mech.

Chyra couldn't help the elated cry that leapt from her throat, manifesting itself as a triumphant howl from Grey.

But the jubilant noise was cut suddenly short as Zarkon's mech made anotehr move, gripping the sides of Voltron's head with crushing force. She heard Shiro scream in pain over the comms, his voice ragged as the connection began to crackle and break.

Then Voltron's sword began to blaze.

Fire surrounded the blade, engulfing Zarkon's mech in bright flames that licked and tore at the mech's armor and wings. Voltron drove the blade up to the hilt in Zarkon's chestpiece, the immense sword protruding from between the joints of his wings as it ran him through. Lightning began to crackle around the entwined mechanical warriors, and with a battle cry from all five Paladins combined, Voltron wrenched its sword upwards, splitting the Emperor's armor in two.

It exploded in a wave of purple light that seared Chyra's vision through Grey's eyes, and th wolf covered her eyes with one paw to try and block it out. Chyra saw spots on the backs of her eyelids, left over from the intensity of the burning luminance. A blast knocked her backwards, throwing Grey against the side of the Castle. Grey shook her head gently as she regained her balance, waiting for Chyra's vision to come back from the blinding white light that had engulfed them. Chyra blinked the spots out of her eyes and looked out to where Voltron had been.

The lions were floating, drained of almost all power, around the shattered remains of what was once Emperor Zarkon. The sight of his armored form, ravaged and torn asunder, made a sense of grim satisfaction bloom in Chyra's heart. She saw the Lions gradually righting themselves, and moved off the side of the ship to assist them.

"Is.. it over?" Hunk asked timidly.

"He's..." Lance began, but faltered. "We did it."

"The power is back on the ship, we need to get out of here," Pidge said, turning the Green Lion towards the Castle. The others followed suit.

Except for the Black Lion.

With a feeling of dread weighing her down, Grey moved toward Shiro's lion. Keith pulled up beside her.

"Shiro," the Red Paladin was strained. "Shiro are you alright?"

No reply.

"He took a heavy hit from Zarkon, we have to get him inside, now." Chyra rationalized, fighting against the mounting fear building in her chest.

Grey and Red each grabbed a wing and towed the Black Lion in towards the ship, weaving through the debris field that surrounded them. They gently deposited him in the castle's uppermost spire, where the Black Lion lay limply on the hangar floor. Then, reluctantly, Grey and Red returned to their own spires.

"Princess, we're all on board!" Pidge said, and Allura urged the castle forward toward the growing pinprick of blue light that signified a wormhole in formation before them. They warped in with a burst of speed that nearly knocked Chyra off her feet as she exited Grey's jaws. The sinking feeling hadn't gone away even now that they were far from Zarkon's fleet, it still gnawed at her insides and tore at her chest like a wild animal. She ran from Grey's hangar, making a beeline toward the Black Lion. She met with the others along the way, running to their unsettlingly silent leader.

Keith pulled ahead of her, adrenaline shining in his dark violet eyes. "Shiro!" He called, desperation creeping into his voice. He and the others made it to the opening of Black's jaws and maneuvered between the inactive Lion's massive fangs to get to the cockpit. It was unsettling seeing Black so lifeless, but he could recharge. If they didn't get to Shiro in time... Chyra shoved the thought away and pressed onward.

Hunk pulled open the heavy doors to the cockpit, the dim light shining through Black's viewports the only source of illuminaiton within.

"Shiro!" Keith called again, moving to the Pilot's chair. Chyra saw his face fall in shock, then terror. "Shiro?" But he didn't move. He just stared at the seat.

Chyra pushed her way forward, determined to help her love, but when she reached the Pilot's seat she found nothing.

It was empty.

The dashboards were dark. The seat was empty. The Black Bayard was left in its compartment.

And Shiro was gone.

Chapter Text

Chyra's eye scanned the expanse of space before her, the emptiness of it all weighing heavy on her heart. She tapped her fingers soundlessly on the castle's control disks, her nerves crackling in small golden flickers of energy around her claws. The scanner trilled quietly, its holographic display exhibiting several small windows where quickly moving Altean text flashed with diagnostics and scan results. Then it flashed red for a moment, and the light trill was replaced by a low buzz.

Nothing again.

Her hand dragged down her face, tugging at the tiredness that stung her eyes. One more scan, she said to herself. She said that three hours previously.

The lights of the castle bridge were dimmed, leaving only the light cast from the holographic bio-scan displays for illumination. Chyra breathed a long, steadying sigh through her nose and readied another scan.

She had been at this for weeks. Every moment since Shiro disappeared had been filled with searching, desperate searching, for far longer than she could physically take. Everything in Chyra was begging for rest; her heart, her mind, and her body were all spent beyond their limits. She replayed the last battle in her head endlessly, trying to figure out what might hive gone so wrong. Maybe it was the one instant, after Voltron saved her and Grey from being asphyxiated by Zarkon, when Shiro took one moment to look at her in all the chaos and it allowed Zarkon to land a heavy blow. Maybe it had been when she had left Voltron's side to aid Allura. Worse, maybe it had been nothing at all, and it was always meant to happen this way. That was the cruelest thought of all, and it plagued her. She had been missing meals in favor of scanning the systems around the site of their final battle with Zarkon. She had lost weight, lost vitality, and worst of all, she was losing hope.

Maybe that was an exaggeration. Or maybe her hope was already gone, lost to the cosmos when Shiro disappeared. Her mind went back to that moment of heartbreaking loss before she could redirect herself.

"He's gone," Lance said, his voice quiet with disbelief.

The Black Lion was empty, its Paladin completely absent.

Suddenly, everything that had happened was too much for Chyra. A sob built in her chest, pushing out of her throat and into the silent air with a desperate gasp. She shuddered, her knees giving out from shock and terror. She was spent.

And Shiro was gone.

Keith immediately stepped back, shaking his head. "No," he insisted, "no he's here somewhere, he has to be here-" and he turned to sprint into the Black Lion's cargo hold. Lance followed, calling out for him with a choked voice.

Numbly, Chyra heard Keith's trembling voice from behind her. "We have to go back, we have to go back, he must be out there and we need to go back and find him-" a sob stopped the sentence short.

"Keith, hey," Lance said softly, "it's gonna be okay."

Chyra felt Pidge kneel next to her, the young Paladin's hand on her shoulder to steady her. Grey's presence encompassed her, trying to keep her from sinking. The Wolf's efforts only prolonged the inevitable. She felt her heart break all over again.

They didn't leave the Black Lion for a long while.

Chyra shook her head, warding away the stinging in her eyes. She had cried enough already. Now it was time to keep searching, because Shiro had to be out there somewhere. She reached forward, adjusting the holo-displays to a new sector.

She had to keep it together, for her own good and the good of the others. She had been so isolated from them the last few weeks, keeping herself away from the others while she was struggling herself. She remembered what had happened after they had finally left the Black Lion, what felt like an eternity after entering to find it empty and deadened.

Nobody spoke. The others left, with Lance splitting off with an inconsolably silent Keith towards the other Lion hangars. Chyra walked wordlessly away and back to her rooms, her breaths hitching in her chest and growing heavier with every step.

Chyra peeled off her armor and stepped into the shower, then turned the water on as hot as it could go, scalding enough to fill the air with steam and send webs of pain spiking across her back where the water hit the metal in her spine.

She didn't feel any of it.

Her every sensation was numbed after her initial reaction, dulled by shock. She tried to summon something, anything, some semblance of emotion with the heat, but even her physical senses were numb.

Her back hurt from the boiling heat, she didn't feel it. The steam in the air turned everything heavy, made it almost hard to breathe. Or maybe what was clogging Chyra's chest was the sudden pressure from everywhere, a tension that was pressing in around her from every angle, threatening to cut off her breaths altogether. Water dripped from her soaked hair into her eyes, the heat stung, made her blink away the water and shake her head to escape it. Chyra pushed her tangled hair out of her eyes. She brought her hands down, looked at them. They were trembling.

The dam broke.

A voice sounded from the darkened doorway, startling the Galra for a moment. "Chyra."

She whipped her head around to see the figure in the doorway holding a cup of something steaming and sweet-smelling. "Oh. Hi, Allura."

Allura cocked an eyebrow quizzically, but her demeanor was solemn and sad. Her shoulders hunched a little as she took in her friend's posture and dark-ringed eyes. "I thought I told you not to be out on the bridge at this time of night. You need to rest."

Chyra turned back to the holoscreens, scowling in a way that tugged at the scar across her lip. "Couldn't sleep."

"Even so, you can't keep doing this nonstop. You have to take a break every now and then."

Chyra coughed a little into her arm, her throat stinging. She shook her head.

"You're still not feeling well," it wasn't a question, more of an observation. Chyra looked down, frowning.

Allura continued, "You've been expending too much energy without replenishing, you're burning yourself out."

"I'll be fine." He tone was clipped now, anger biting at the back of her throat. She was too tired to deal with this.

"If I had known that giving you permission to use your own energy to power the ship's scans would have turned into this I wouldn't have done it. Especially since you don't know your limits with this new power yet."

"We wouldn't have been able to look for Shiro if you hadn't. You were too spent to run the scans too, remember."

Allura changed to a direct tact. "Chyra, go to bed."

"I can't."

"Chyra, don't you put one more bit of your energy into this ship until you've eaten a good meal and slept at least five vargas." There was an edge in Allura's voice then, but it wasn't one of anger. Chyra knew it was one of worry.

She slumped, her shoulders falling and posture deflating. She covered her eyes with her hand, pressing against the bridge of her nose to ward away some of the pressure building there.

Allura approached and placed a hand on Chyra's shoulder gently. "There's no use in using yourself up to find Shiro if there's nothing left of you when he gets back."

Chyra sighed, deep and heavy. "I know."

"So let's have some tea and get some rest," Allura prompted, gently guiding Chyra off the podium. With a wave of her hand the screens shut down, disabling the scanning systems until the next time someone who could channel energy into the ship stepped onto the pedestal.

It was strange, dealing with the realization that Chyra had some sort of energy manipulation capability alongside the desperation of searching for Shiro. It led to a confusing mixture of excitement and grief, inquiry and anxiety, thrill and terror. She had been so excited to learn about her powers, so excited to see what she could do, then Shiro was gone, and all of her newfound abilities were spent on searching for him. She didn't even know really what she could do aside from push her own life force away from her to fuel something else. And she knew that wasn't the most useful of skills. With the way she used her powers now, they were more than likely just going to get her killed. But training her abilities would take time and energy away from finding Shiro, and that was something she couldn't afford.

Allura walked with her in companionable silence to the kitchen, where a fresh batch of Allura's favorite Lefgirian tea had been brewed. It still steamed on the counter, steeped to perfection. Chyra sipped from the cup Allura poured for her, the taste barely registering on her tongue but the heat comforting.

They were silent for a long time, the steam from their mugs filling the air alongside the intense quiet.

"Lance and Hunk's mission with Kolivan on Puig went well today," Allura prompted, taking a long drink from her mug.

"Good," Chyra replied plainly, her expression still dull. She swirled her drink idly, the steam brushing softly against her scarred cheeks.

She didn't notice the slightly exasperated look Allura sent her way. "We're heading over to negotiate alliances with them in the morning, you know that right?"

"Sure."

Chyra did notice Allura's sigh. "There was a slight problem, though, when they asked to see Voltron."

Chyra, unsure of how to reply, said nothing.

"Of course, that... didn't happen. Because of this, the Puigians are a bit more unsure about joining the Coalition than the last few planets. I'll need your help tomorrow with the negotiations."

That did it. Chyra's head snapped upward, her expression contorting with surprise. "What? Me?"

"Yes," Allura said primly, pointedly resolute. "You."

Chyra raised her hand dismissively, shaking her head. "No, no no, delegates hate me. It's better if I stay out of it, why not get Kolivan to help you?"

"He will, but he is not part of Voltron, and the Puigians and the rest of the delegates from their system need that kind of reassurance."

"In case you've forgotten, I'm not part of Voltron either."

Allura deadpanned, her demeanor wavering. "Look, Chyra, I'm not asking this as a leader, I'm asking this as a friend. Please be there to help me with this." She reached across the table and gently placed her hand on Chyra's, her multicolored eyes pleading. Chyra saw exhaustion and hopelessness buried beneath Allura's well-put-together countenance, and her resolve broke.

"Alright, fine." She agreed. "What do you need me to say?"

The pair of them headed back to their rooms after a short bout of planning. Allura had entrusted a large portion of responsibilities for the upcoming delegation to Chyra. With a sinking feeling, she realized she was being asked to share with Kolivan the role that Shiro had left behind.

The thought weighed heavily on her, slowing her steps as she made her way to the tallest spire of the castle. She placed her palm on the scanner outside the Black Lion's Hangar silently and stood back as the doors slid open. In the center of the massive chamber was Black, his form limp and deactivated, as it had been since his fight with Zarkon. Laying on the far side, keeping constant vigil over the larger Lion, was Grey. The wolf emotionally embraced her pilot as Chyra entered, and Chyra reciprocated with a mental hug of her own. She moved to the center of the hangar and placed her hand gently on the Black Lion's nose, hoping to see the golden glow of his eyes return, but he remained static and lifeless. Chyra sighed, lingered for just another moment with the Black Lion as she channeled what little energy she could spare towards him, and returned to Grey, curling up on her favorite spot in the crook of the wolf's immense front leg. She had been sleeping there ever since she and Grey had relocated to Black's Hanger with the hopes that they could revive him, but they had been painfully unsuccessful.

Grey hummed deep in her throat at Chyra, nuzzling at her with her gigantic nose gently. Chyra smiled slightly and patted the sleek metal surface of her wolf's face. Quietly in the back of Chyra's mind, Grey sent a mental image of herself in her organic form, the body that still remained trapped deep inside her metal carapace, engulfing Chyra in a much softer embrace. The image comforted Chyra, but also filled her with a deep sense of longing. She wasn't sure if that longing was coming from herself or Grey.

That feeling didn't fade as she drifted off to sleep, and it followed the exhausted Galra into her dreams.

The next morning, Chyra donned her armor and met with Allura in the Castle's main dining room before the delegates from the Puigian system arrived with Lance and Hunk. Keith and Pidge were already there, sitting silently in their seats. Keith had his chin and gaze pointed downward, his arms crossed tightly against his chest in a defensive position. There was an obvious tension between the Red and Green Paladins that hadn't been there before. Chyra hadn't noticed it since she had been avoiding pretty much everyone else since Shiro's disappearance, but Allura had revealed the night before that Pidge had redoubled efforts to search for their brother Matt, while Keith had made it well known that he thought Pidge's skills would be better put to use looking for Shiro.

Despite herself, despite knowing exactly where Pidge was coming from, Chyra found herself secretly agreeing with Keith. She shoved down the thought and took up her seat between Coran and the chair where Hunk would sit when he arrived.

Conversation was scarce until the Delegates arrived, led through the castle by Lance, Hunk, and Kolivan. The Paladins and Alteans  all rose as they entered, an air of formality overcoming them. The group of delegates looked starstruck within the castle, and greeted the Paladins individually, all smiles and bows. Until they saw Chyra.

To their merit, most of them tried to keep a professional facade, that was one thing that gave Chyra hope. But each of them looked scared, then angry for just a split second when they saw her sitting there. The Puigian delegate, who introduced himself as Dy'kor, looked at her with disbelief for several ticks, staring at the Voltron insignia emblazoned across her chest before stiffly giving a greeting.

Chyra stifled every instinct to bow up against their distaste with her own, instead composing herself with a poise that mimicked Allura's with every interaction. She crossed her arm across her chest in respect, bowed to each individual delegate, and introduced herself with her full name. She hoped her facade would be enough, she was very out of practice in the political game.

When everyone had settled into their seats, Allura took her place at the head of the table and addressed the congregated audience. Her voice rang with authority and grace, but soft enough to put the visiting aliens at ease. "It is our honor to have you al here together."

Dy'kor looked around the dining hall, his blue-marked and bearded face split with a smile as he behind the castle. "I had the biggest bunker back on Puig, but it wasn't nearly this nice."

Moquir of planet Trekoev, a short-statured, semi-aquatic green amphibian, spoke up in his gurgling voice. "Well, I've spent the last decade in sleeping in a spiny thistle thicket. You look wonderful though, Princess."

Allura smiled brightly, relief flickering in her multi chrome eyes as Hunk brought out some food for the delegates. Chyra leaned forward and smelled the scent of the meal, smiling slightly as her stomach rumbled. Hunk's food always managed to cheer her up. Her good spirits dissipated when she saw how far back the delegate across the table from her was leaning, a look of fear in the tiny, spectacled Rikthorian's eyes as he scooted as far away from her as he could. Chyra's smile faded, quickly replaced by a look of deference as she tilted her chin downward and leaned back in her seat, giving the delegate ample room to breathe.

As the Castle's guests helped themselves to Hunk's hours d'oeuvres, Kolivan stood from his place at the head of the table opposite Allura.

"The Blade of Marmora has gathered this intelligence." A holographic map cast in shades of purple appeared over the table. "As you can see, the Empire is still the most massive ruling force the universe has ever seen. The sheer size of it is almost incomprehensible. It seems like it could rule another ten thousand years."

Chyra grimaced. Shiro would have been way better at this.

The delegates looked monumentally distressed, glancing back and forth to one another with concern clear on their faces. Chyra caught a glance at Allura's face, which was still tactfully smiling, but the tension in her face said this was the nightmare scenario.

"However," Kolivan's powerful voice continued, "we are beginning to see signs of increased rebel activity from within the Empire." Areas of the map began turning blue, signifying the reclamation of the universe from Imperial hands.

Allura stood up quickly and addressed the delegates. "We have a strategy to bring these forces together, free more planets, grow our numbers, and accumulate an army that can defeat Imperial forces in major battles." The map faded, leaving Allura as a center of attention. She looked do Dy'kor and the others, "but without your help, it will be impossible."

The electronically modulated voice of Zex-anthoria, the Delegate from Puig's sister planet of Virkenthir, rose above the silence. "These forces will all fight behind Voltron, yes?"

Chyra cringed inwardly, trying to keep her expression neutral as Dy'kor asked with notable concern, "yes, where is Voltron?"

Allura faltered, glancing to Chyra momentarily. The Galra tried to send a reassuring look her way. "Th-the people you see in front of you are the Paladins of Voltron. Together, they pilot the mighty Lions that form the Great Warrior."

"A Galra pilots Voltron?" The largest Delegate said sharply, staring at Chyra. He was Jirentahk, the leader of the delegation from planet Protkul.

"No," Chyra responded levelly, "I am the Pilot of the Grey wolf of Varialis, a partner and support ship to Voltron."

At the mention of the name Varialis, Zex-Anthoria's solid yellow eyes fell upon Chyra for along moment, but it was difficult to read her body language. Chyra had never had much experience with Virkenthians; she couldn't tell if the tilting of the delegate's head was inquiry or threat. It was a toss-up, really, when you didn't know the communication methods of other species.

"Chyra has proven to be a wonderful ally to the Voltron Coalition since she joined us," Allura added, a slight edge of defensiveness creeping into her voice as she brought the attention back to herself. "We trust her implicitly. However, she is not a Paladin of Voltron."

"Wonderful!" Dy'kor responded, smiling brightly to cover the tension behind his bearded jaw. "Can these Paladins form Voltron now?"

Allura stammered. "Well, uh-"

"We can't form Voltron, okay?" Keith remarked suddenly, harsh and angry. "We can fly the Lions but Voltron is not happening."

The delegates' faces dropped in shock and disappointment, worry clouding their various faces.

Allura fumbled to recover the situation. "Well- what he means is that they can't do it right now, but, uh-"

"But nothing," Keith spat, his dark eyes alight with anger, "Shiro is gone, he was the Black Lion, and until we find him, there is no Voltron."

Silence reigned but was broken by Kolivan, who sounded uncharacteristically worried about the turn of events. "The Lions are still a substantial fighting force, and this castle is also a considerable weapon. With the Grey Wolf as support, this team was able to free your entire system without the use of Voltron itself. The Blade of Marmora can lead you."

Zex-anthoria spoke again, raising her purple hand in objection. "My people have been enslaved for centuries by soldiers who look exactly like you." Her four yellow eyes narrowed dangerously.

Moquir added with his face scrunched in displeasure, "how are we supposed to trust this alliance when Galra are involved? Voltron is supposed to be the enemy of Galra, yet here its Paladins sit, with two of them at their dinner table. One of them is even wearing their insignia!"

Chyra felt burning anger ignite in her stomach, but did her best to keep it in check. Judging by the look on Moquir's face when he looked back at her, she hadn't managed to get her face completely impassive.

"Yes!" Dy'kor agreed, "our people have heard the legend of Voltron, how he defeated Zarkon. That is what gave them hope! What are we supposed to tell them now?"

Keith stood up abruptly. His hands slammed on the table, rattling all nearby plates tremendously. "Tell them to stand up and fight for themselves!" he snapped, causing all eyes to land on him. Chyra startled at the loud noise, twisting in her seat to face him fully.

"Voltron is GONE!" Keith roared with finality. Without looking at the faces of his aghast teammates, he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room, waves of palpable fury rolling off of his red-clad shoulders. Stunned silence engulfed the table.

Chyra glanced back and forth, registering the shocked and confused faces of the diplomats and her teammates. She took a breath and stood from her seat, exhaustion weighing on her shoulders.

"Our sincerest apologies," she began, glancing towards Allura, who gave her a very pointed 'don't fuck up' look. "By 'Voltron is gone' our Red Paladin meant that there's a temporary drawback. See, one of our other Paladins was... lost during the battle in which we defeated Zarkon. It was... a hard blow for all of us." Chyra swallowed, hating the way her voice cracked as her throat tightened. "We are recovering." She forced out.

Chyra cleared her throat uselessly. It did nothing to drive away the tension of unshed tears. "With your leave, princess, I'm going to go talk to Keith." Chyra glanced towards Allura, who smiled thankfully and dismissed her with a dip of her head. Wordlessly, Chyra bowed to the diplomats, crossing her right fist to her heart in a gesture of respect, before turning and following Keith's exit, although in a much more measured pace.

Chyra strode down the hallways, breathing steadily and trying to stop her eyes from stinging. She passed the training deck, halfway expecting to see Shiro drilling inside. She hurried past the empty room and tried to ignore her growing disparagement.

When she reached Keith's room, she heard shuffling and the clanging of armor, along with several other sounds of frustration. She could just barely hear him past the heavy metal door, his breathing erratic and short.

She knocked gently on the door.

"Go away, Allura. I'm not in the mood for a lecture." The ex-assassin cringed at how strained the Paladin's voice was.

"It's Chyra."

"Go away."

"I need to talk to you." She was met with silence. "Ok fine." Chyra grumbled, palming the keypad and opening the doors herself.

The lights were off, and the top half Keith's armor was strewn across the floor, tossed haphazardly in every direction. The Paladin was sitting on the bed in the darkened room, his breathing short and shaky. Chyra could see his chest heaving with concealed sobs despite his best attempts to smother them. She softened with sympathy and walked inside.

Keith didn't look at her as she entered, but his shoulders hunched and he curled away from her, "I said I want to be alone!"

"I know you do," Chyra said softly, "but I'm worried about you."

"I don't need your pity." Keith forced out. His voice was tight.

"That's not what I'm here for." Chyra moved into the room, stepping gingerly around the pieces of Keith's discarded armor. She sat down on the bed with him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between them. Keith still didn't look at her.

"You know yelling at diplomats won't help get him back."

Keith was silent. Chyra had just begun to think that he was pointedly ignoring her when he choked out, "they're all acting like everything is fine. Like we should just move on. Act like nothing is wrong. Like they want to just leave him behind."

"Because they're hurting, too, Keith. Grief is difficult to-"

"I'm not grieving because Shiro isn't dead!" Keith retreated further from Chyra, still adamantly refusing to look her way.

Chyra scrambled to recover before she made things worse. "But he's not here, and you're worried for him. I am too. And so is everyone else. They've been trying not to dwell on it, but it's taken a toll on everyone."

"Sure doesn't seem like it." Keith turned towards her, his dark eyes watery and red rimmed despite his efforts to staunch his grief.

"They act like this because they don't know what else to do. We've looked for so long, so many quintants spent searching, they're starting to give up hope. But they all feel lost right now, I can guarantee that. And they need us to be strong for them, even though it's hard."

"Are you saying I should just pretend like I haven't lost the only person who ever cared about me?"

"I'm saying... that we need to motivate them to keep looking and stay strong, not tear them down in a time when they're struggling to process grief just like we are."

Keith shook his head, wiping at his eyes with evident frustration. "I just want him back."

"I know. I do too." Chyra choked out the words. She put an arm over Keith's shoulder in an awkward half-hug, squeezing him slightly before looking at him head-on. She put her hands on his shoulders and hunched down, bringing herself to his height to meet his eye.

"But don't you think for a second that Shiro is the only one who cares about you. Keith, we all care about you. We're all worried about you, and we're here for you. You don't have to handle this alone." Keith's eyes shined, but he didn't say anything. "I know it can be hard to open up to people, even ones you're close to, when you're hurting or scared. But know you can always talk to me. I know what you're going through, I know how hard it is. You should never have to be alone in times like this."

Keith's eyes welled once again with tears, and while he still ducked his head shamefully, he didn't make as drastic of a move to hide it this time. "Chy... I hate this. I hate feeling so afraid."

"I know." Chyra looked down for a moment, her hair concealing the tears that dripped down her cheeks as well. Suddenly, a weight hit her chest and desperate, clinging arms wraped around her, trembling and clutching at her like she was a lifeline. Surprised, Chyra hesitated for a moment. Keith was hugging her.

When Keith started to pull away Chyra snapped out of it, wrapping her arms around the trembling Red Paladin with a sudden feeling of intense protectiveness. She hadn't been there for him the day Shiro went missing, she had been too engulfed in her own grief to keep from isolating herself. But she could be here now, and give Keith the comfort that he so sorely needed in the aftermath of loss. So she hugged him back, enveloping him in what she desperately hoped was a comforting embrace. Keith's voice when he spoke was muffled from being pressed against Chyra's shoulder, but the words were choked with grief and shaky from fear.

"What if we never find him?"

Chyra's heart sank. He was just a kid, someone whose only family had been taken away from him, someone who was losing hope of ever finding his brother again.

"We will. I know we will."

"I should have been there, I- I should have helped him."

"This isn't your fault, Keith. Don't think for a second that this is your fault. He's out there somewhere, and we're going to find him." She had to stop herself before she said the words I promise. Things never ended well when she made promises

Keith leaned on her for a few moments more, wiping his tearstained cheeks with the sleeve of his flight suit. Chyra stayed by him, patiently and steadily letting him recover.

Then, gently, she added, "it wasn't fair of you to put Allura in that situation, you know."

Keith grimaced, all aggression drained from him. "I know."

"I'm sure she and Kolivan will be able to smooth it over with the diplomats, but we have to stay strong for the others. That doesn't mean stifling everything down, it just means addressing them when it's the right time and place."

Keith sniffed, his shoulder still braced on Chyra's for support. He looked up at her through his dark eyelashes, a slight grin on his face. "Since when did you get so wise?"

"I've always been like this," Chyra quipped back, "I just haven't needed to use my incredible knowledge and emotional maturity very much until now."

"Right," Keith laughed, a slight, watery laugh that made Chyra's heart shine. "Mature like challenging your host to a duel to get what you want."

It was Chyra's turn to grimace, pulling her lips back from her fangs involuntarily out of embarrassment, displaying the dark gums and pointed teeth she'd inherited from her Galra father. "That wasn't my finest moment." Then she added, with gravitas that made her voice fluctuate, "and I am mature enough to admit that." She laughed as Keith punched her lightly on the arm, then nudged him back slightly, causing him to sway away from her before settling his shoulder back against her. He went quiet for a while, so long that Chyra thought he was maybe beginning to fall asleep. Then, very quietly, he spoke.

"Thanks, Chy."

She smiled softly, feeling more at peace than she had in the weeks since Shiro's disappearance. Her grief still weighed on her shoulders and held her down, but she had been able to help someone with their own grief, at least. "Anytime."

Gently, she leaned forward and touched her nose to Keith's forehead, just like she had to Shiro weeks ago. While the meaning of the gesture was different in this context, it still held the same weight in her heart. Keith faltered, looking confused.

"Uh, what...?"

"It's a Galra thing." Chyra elaborated as she pulled away.

"Oh. What does it mean?" It was Chyra's turn to look unsure. She took a quick breath, steadied her nerves. She hadn't been able to say it to Shiro, and while this was different, the representation of a familial, sibling type of bond, she still had trouble saying it.

Finally, she looked the younger Paladin in the eye. "It's how many Galra say I love you."

A small, watery smile and a nod was all she recieved in return. It was all she needed.

They sat a while, just talking and calming down. Then, when they were ready, Chyra stood up and gestured for Keith to follow her out when he was ready. Then, reconvening in the hall outside their rooms, they headed in the direction of the Black Lion's hangar. Chyra tried not to stare too long at the door to Shiro's room next to hers, she had spent enough time doing that already of the last few weeks.

Grey nuzzled her big, cold metal nose on both Chyra and Keith as they arrived, feeling their emotions through Chyra's bond with her and sensing that the two of them both needed some cheering up. Grey's attentions brought a bit of a smile to Keith's face.

"Your wolf is such a mother hen," he remarked good-naturedly.

"A what?" Chyra paused in her scratching of Grey's metal hide, laying her entire body across the bridge of Grey's nose to rub at her forehead happily. The metal canine's massive tail swept across the floor behind her with a loud rasping noise, drowning out what Keith had said.

"Nevermind," he laughed. "It's sweet how much she dotes on you."

"She's got enough love for everybody," Chyra laughed as Grey pushed Keith gently back with her nose, humming deep in her mechanical chest as her tail beat harder against the floor. Chyra, from her elevated position on Grey's head, saw the doors of the hangar open and the rest of the team enter the room. She hopped down, motioning for Keith to come with her to talk to the others. The Red Paladin slunk forward, his head ducked apologetically as he walked beside Chyra to meet the others.

"Before you say anything, I'm sorry I blew up."

Allura, who had looked tense when she came in, quickly softened, smiling slightly to comfort the younger Paladin. "It's alright, Keith. We handled it."

"You were able to smooth everything over?" Chyra asked.

Lance rubbed the back of his neck as he replied, "They weren't the most comforted, but we won them over with reassurances that Voltron would be back up and running again soon."

That caused another spark of anger to flick across Keith's countenance, but it was quickly shoved away in favor of a more impassive expression. Chyra saddened as she remembered Shiro doing just the same thing many times before. Keith was really trying to emulate his brother.

"How exactly did you say we were going to do that?"

"Look, Keith," Lance said placatingly, stepping up to Keith and putting a hand on his shoulder. "We all miss Shiro." His voice softened and he smiled, his eyes a little damp as he reminisced. "I remember what a thrill it was just to meet him for the first time when the two of us carried him out of that Garrison hospital."

"I grew up with my dad and Matt telling stories about him," added Pidge. They walked closer to the half-Galras, their spectacled eyes transfixed on the Black Lion. "He was a legend at our house."

Hunk added in, "the guy taught me everything I know about being a Pilot, and I didn't make it easy, you know. He was so patient and understanding."

Lance looked to the Black Lion sadly for a moment before looking back to Keith with a comforting smile. "You're not the only one hurting. We're all right there with you, and right here for you."

A flicker of a smile passed over Keith's face as he looked back at Lance, but the Blue Paladin's face was still saddened. "I know it's tough, but you know that Shiro would be the first to tell us that there are bigger things that need our immediate attention. He of all people would want to put his own needs aside and help the people who need it most."

Keith's face darkened again, anger flickering hot in the depths of his face. Chyra felt her own heart sting at the anguish on his face. She knew he couldn't let this go, not really. If it had been her with her siblings, no one could have convinced her to stop searching for them. She and Keith were very alike, not only because of their Galra heritage. He had that same protective instinct, that same fierce loyalty no matter how he tried to hide it.

Allura's voice made Chyra's attention snap to her, as it always did in that commanding but caring way of hers. "Keith, I know exactly how you feel. But our mission is bigger than any one individual, even those who are completely irreplaceable." She looked downcast, her resolute and steadfast posture drooping.

Keith's resolve fell, softly and barely noticeable beneath his stony expression, but Chyra saw it and the resignation that it carried with it. Keith knew he may never see Shiro again, may never see his brother again. And it broke his heart, quietly and deeply.

But his voice was strong when he spoke, not betraying himself for even a moment. "I know you're right," he conceded. Chyra put a hand on his shoulder to signal her support and understanding. She felt him lean into it just a fraction.

Allura said gently, "it's time to look for a new pilot for the Black Lion."

Coran moved forward, his mustache twitching up into a comforting smile. "Let's all take a break for a while while we discuss all of this. I'll grab some tea."

They headed out in a loose group towards the rec room, with Chyra trailing towards the back. Her posture was curled slightly, heavy from the weight of worry. They needed Voltron, sure, but they couldn't just stop looking. The universe needed them, but they needed Shiro. She needed him. Grey rumbled in agreement, sending comfort to her pilot.

She glanced backwards at Black as she left the room, her tired eyes meeting those of the inactive lion. Somewhat weakly, with her energy drained from her endless searching efforts, Chyra reached her mind out toward Black, exuding a feeling of reassurance to him. She wasn't going to stop looking for his Paladin, even if the others did.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, or of her exhausted brain, or because of the fact that she was just barely glancing at the Lion out of the corner of her good eye, but for a fraction of a heartbeat, Chyra could have sworn Black's darkened yellow eyes flashed purple.

She continued behind the others, perturbed and considering the possibility that she was losing her mind.

They settled in the rec room, scattered across the sunken couch in the middle of the room. Chyra sat on the upper part, what would be the floor to some but the back of the couch if you were sitting in the indentation, with her metal legs crossed at the ankles. She had a cup of tea, this time Coran's favorite, cupped in both of her hands. Idly, she tapped her claws against it, eliciting small click, click, click sounds from the textured porcelain.

Eventually, Lance sighed, downcast. "I wish Shiro were here to tell us how to go on without him."

Chyra retorted, a little too short, "I wish he were here, period." She caught Coran's look directed towards her, one of concern and understanding, and it took the fuel from her fire. She leaned back, looking to the side and away from the others with her ears pinned far back.

Pidge looks up from where they sat on the edge of the couch. Her feet were flat on the floor, toes tapping against the hard white surface and leaning one arm on their knees. "Allura, when we came here you told me I would fly the Green Lion and I was like, no way, but then I found it and I flew it. And then Hunk flew the Yellow Lion and he's not even a pilot." She gestured out at the rest of the team. "In fact, you told everyone who would pilot which Lion."

"Yeah!" Hunk perked up suddenly, eyes bright. It startled Chyra, making her sit bolt upright and stare at the Paladin for a moment before she regained her composure and visibly relaxed again. "How did you do that? Did we ever figure out how you did that?" He was talking fast now, excitedly, "can you do that now?"

Allura looked downtrodden. "Unfortunately, no." She scanned the expressions of the four remaining Paladins as she elaborated. "When you arrived at the Castle, I was able to sense your quintessence. I felt the similarities linking you to each Lion, and the Paladins who came before you. It was incredibly fortunate that you all fit this well to a Lion, the odds of that happening are astronomically small." She sighed. "I don't know how to search the entire universe for a new Paladin."

"Who's to say there even is one?" Chyra asked sharply, "how likely is it that we could stumble upon a complete stranger and have them integrate seamlessly into this team, much less to lead it?"

"You wanna talk about astronomical odds," Pidge agreed solemnly, "that's the best example I've probably ever seen."

"Chyra," Allura disputed tactfully, "we're not looking for someone to replace Shiro, we're just looking for a new pilot."

"That's the same thing!" the Galra retorted, her lips curling to expose her teeth for a moment before she caught herself. "We can't replace Shiro. We should be redoubling our efforts to find him."

Allura's tone was even and steady despite Chyra's adamant arguing. "If we do that, the Empire has a chance to recover from the blow we dealt it. It would undo so much of our efforts if Voltron were to disappear now, and you of all people know that."

Chyra growled in her throat and looked away again, staring hard at the wall. Allura was right, of course. With Zarkon defeated, some other power-hungry general or warlord would just step up to take his place, and they would be back to square one. It was an inevitability, but they needed to take back as much of the universe as they could now, while the power struggle was most tumultuous.

"Well," Coran suggested, raising his finger to garner attention, "what if we didn't need to find a complete stranger?"

Lance tilted his head at the mechanic. "Huh?"

"Look at it this way," Coran moved to Lance's side, holding his hands out like he was positioning a camera for a photograph. "I see in here only four Paladins of Voltron," he moved the frame he was making with his hands to each of the Paladins in turn, Keith, Pidge, Hunk, and then back at Lance, "but we also have two strong, capable fighters right here!" He moved the frame to his right, landing on Chyra and Allura.

"So, what if you were able to just... shuffle around?" Coran smiled brightly at his suggestion.

Chyra did not reciprocate the grin, despite the fact that Coran had historically always been able to bring a smile to her face. "What are you suggesting?"

"You know, Lion Switch. Allura or Chyra could be a stand-in for any one of you Paladins, and we could see if a new configuration of Lions works."

Keith snorted derisively, "you really think it would be that convenient?"

Hunk got excited again. "I mean, it could be!"

"I don't know," Pidge said, their hand on their chin with thought. "All of us kinda have our own established thing, you know?"

"...Thing?" Chyra asked, quizzical.

"Yeah!" replied Pidge, pointing to each individual as she called them out,"you know, our thing! Keith's the loner, I'm the brain, Hunk's the nice one, Allura's the decision maker, Chyra's the fighter, Coran's the wise old guy, and Lance is the goofball!"

Lance, who had been preening and puffing out his chest in anticipation, deflated. "Wait, what? I'm not a goofball, I'm more like the cool, ninja sharpshooter."

An unexpected laugh sounded from Keith as he leaned against the back wall. "Are you joking?"

"Yeah, if anybody is the 'ninja', it's Chy," Pidge disputed.

"Look, it's worth a shot," said Coran, raising his hands placatingly.

Allura stood up, straightening the insignia on the front of her flight suit and squaring her shoulders. "I agree, we must all present ourselves to the Black Lion to see who will bear this glorious burden."

Chyra bit her tongue, her arguments dying in her throat. The group went as a unit to the Black Lion's hangar. Chyra carried her helmet on the way, looking at the insignia as she traced her thumb along the edge of the reflective visor. Did they really want her to try and pilot the Black Lion?

She envisioned herself in that pilot's seat, where Shiro was always meant to be. She shuddered. What would the universe think of a Galra acting once again as the head of Voltron?

Grey brushed her mind against Chyra's, an air of sadness coloring the connection. There was sorrow and apologetic energy running slowly though it like a slow-moving stream. Alongside it was an aura of possessiveness that was being quickly and intentionally staunched by the wolf and replaced by reluctant acceptance. You are mine, Grey seemed to say, but if we must part for now I will accept. Then a little indigence seeped back in. Grey continued in that wordless way of hers, but that Lion does not get to lay claim to you if he doesn't deserve you.

Chyra smiled and shook her head, sending reassurances to Grey. You are my heart, she told her, mimicking the words of Addiel long ago, nothing could replace you.

Grey's happiness at the sentiment as infectious, calming Chyra's roiling nerves as they entered Black's hangar.

They all gathered near the head of the Black Lion, his immense jaws hanging open limply as they had for weeks now. Something about the scene was even more sorrowful than usual, having everyone here again without Shiro standing tall in the middle of the group.

Hunk motorboated his lips nervously. "So... who goes first?"

"Should we draw straws?" Pidge suggested.

"What does drawing have to do with picking who goes first?" Chyra asked, her ears tiling with confusion.

"I have it! I'm thinking of a number between one and 50!" Coran said brightly. Then he snapped his fingers with a decisive click.

"Allura, you go first, Pidge is second, then everyone else."

"Wait, shouldn't we try to guess the number?" Lance disputed, leaning close to Coran.

"But I already know the number!"

"Nevermind," Lance sighed and gestured for Allura to begin with resignation on his face.

Allura entered, but exited a few minutes later after Black remained inactive. Her expression was resigned, but disappointment was pulling at the seams of her facade. Chyra gave her a sympathetic look as she rejoined the group and Pidge entered. No luck for them either. Apparently they couldn't even reach the controls.

Hunk didn't stay in the Black Lion for long, exiting shortly after he walked up the ramp with his helmet in his hands.

"You didn't even try!" Coran said reproachfully as Hunk returned.

"Yes I did, I... sat down," Hunk disputed, looking sheepish. Coran put his hands on his hips and looked at Hunk skeptically.

The Yellow Paladin withered. "Look, I don't wanna leave the Yellow Lion, okay? He's big, and he's got this super armor, we've got a good thing going on, Yellow and I."

Allura nodded, discouraged but understanding. "We can't force this kind of connection. If the Black Lion doesn't call to you, then it is not meant to be."

Hunk looked relieved, and signalled for Lance to go in after him.

Lance lingered for a long time, his comms silent and the Lion unmoving.

Eventually, Pidge spoke up from the seat they'd taken on the floor. "So... how long are we gonna let Lance sit in there?"

"Yeah, it's been like, half a Varga." agreed Hunk.

Lance came out discouraged and a little snappish. "It's no use, the Black Lion hates all of us!"

Allura's gaze landed on the remaining two pilots. "Keith, Chyra, the Black Lion hasn't responded to any of us. You must try."

"No," Chyra said adamantly. "That seat is not mine to take. I'm no leader, and I won't try to be  something I'm not. I know my place, and it is not with the Black Lion."

Keith, with a resigned sigh, moved into the Black Lion's cockpit. Allura looked at Chyra hard, her expression inscrutable.

"Chyra, this is getting desperate. If the Black Lion does not respond to Keith, I must ask you to put aside your sentiment and at least try. With Shiro gone-"

"Shiro. Is not. Gone." Chyra bit in retort, her fangs clicking with an audible snap. "And I can't take his place."

Allura sighed. "Alright," she conceded, and turned to walk back to Lance and the others.

Keith was in the Lion's pilot seat for almost as long as Lance, but the Black Lion didn't move.

When he returned to the group, his eyes red-rimmed but expression resolute, a hushed silence fell on the rest of them.

Chyra felt their gazes on her back, expectant and unsure. She stared straight ahead, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Without speaking, she tucked her helmet under her arm and walked forward to the Black Lion. She could feel Grey's sadness within her heart grow, and it soured her stomach. She drew close to the open jaws of the Black Lion. There was a notable absence of many of the things that had drawn her towards Grey when she first found her: there was no tugging in her chest, no crackle of electricity as she approached. She reached out and placed her palm on the Black Lion's snout, but there was no jolt of connection like there had been with Grey.

Certainty grew in Chyra's stomach. This was not her place.

It was Shiro's.

She pressed into the point of connection between her and the Lion, putting pressure on her palm as though she could move the entire mech with one hand. Then she sent forward her energy and her mind in a gentle stream, searching for the consciousness of her love's Lion buried deep within its inactive metal body.

Her hand began to glow with a warm golden light, slight but very unmistakably present. She brushed against the vast, sleeping consciousness of the Black Lion gently, calling to him with her mind.

Black, she thought pleadingly, calling for the Lion to hear her mind, I know you don't care for me much, and I know there's no way you'll agree to fly with me. But I'm here to ask your help. Your connection to Shiro is strong, and I ask you now to use that connection. Help me find him. Please.

She felt Black's mind begin to stir. It was slow and almost groggy, like a beast beginning to wake from hibernation. But it was there, his mind had heard her call. The response she received was weak, like a whisper that barely touched the edges of her consciousness. She strained to hear it, reaching out with desperate hands to grasp what was calling for her, but the sound of it slipped away like silk between her fingers. Even so, she felt the Black Lion begin to shift beneath her palm.

Her eyes snapped open, glowing with energy as the Black Lion began to move. But there was something off about him; he wasn't glowing. The insignia on his chest, his usually bright yellow eyes, the blue-glowing accents on his metal coat that trailed bright light into the cosmos behind him when he flew; none of them were alight. The Lion was still dulled, like he was only half awake.

Chyra stepped back as Black hauled himself to his feet, laboring under his own weight like it was a struggle to move without the aid of his Paladin. Then he shuffled, turning his body away from Chyra and the others as he turned to face the back wall and settled back down, curled like a flesh and blood cat would lay to sleep. His tail curled around him as his massive metal body reclined, his wings crooked as his weight settled onto one side.

Then he stopped moving, his silence and turned away back a clear signal.

Chyra breathed a sigh, reeling from what had just happened. She had never connected with one of the Lions in that way before. It was a new level, beyond what she thought her energy manipulation was capable of. She turned back to the others, who were standing in shock, many with mouths agape, at how the Black Lion had just reacted.

"Was that... it?" Lance asked, and Chyra noted the slight hint of jealousy that colored his voice. "Did he pick you?"

"No," Chyra replied, surprised for a moment by how her voice echoed with an unnatural power. She was still glowing, and she stared hard at her golden palms, trying to staunch the flow of energy before it got out of hand. Gradually the glow faded, and her voice returned to normal. "He kinda... talked to me, I think. But didn't accept me. In fact, I'm pretty sure that," she gestured to the Lion's back to the lot of them, "means he's not interested in taking on anyone new right now."

Allura looked crestfallen, but she didn't dispute. She must have known with her unique connection to Voltron's quintessence that it hadn't worked.

"Well, if the Black Lion won't accept another Paladin at all, we'll have to find another way to bolster our strength." She tapped on one of the wristbands of her suit, pulling up a small holographic display.

"Fortunately, the increased rebel activity across the universe has left us with plenty of potential allies. Zex-Anthoria left us with the coordinates of one group in particular, which Chyra, I think you may have a vested interest in meeting with."

Chyra tilted her head curiously, her ears flopping with the motion. "Why's that?"

A smile grew on Allura's face, and she walked up to Chyra's side to show her the holo-display. The words on the screen made Chyra's heart tighten with excitement. She smiled, an almost unfamiliar expression after weeks of sorrow, and nodded decisively to her friend.

"Paladins," Allura asked brightly, "how do we feel about meeting with the Alliance of Varialis?"

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