Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Balmera was free.

The faint, distant glow of the crystal-covered planet shimmered beneath the Castle of Lions, peaceful now in a way that felt unreal. The pain, the captivity, the slow draining of its life force was finally over. The people were safe and the Galra defeated.

And for the first time since they’d hurtled into this cosmic war, the Paladins had won something that felt more than survival.

In the control room, the air felt lighter than it had in weeks. Hunk had cooked using Balmerean roots and strange cave grains that somehow made something like warm cornbread. Pidge had her boots off, slouched with a datapad in her lap, half-reading, half-napping. Lance was chowing down on hunks space cornbread with a relieved look on his face. Keith wasn’t scowling and took a few bites of it too. And Shiro was simply smiling looking at his Paladins.

“It’s quiet,” he said, leaning back in the chair beside Allura.

Coran piped up, twirling his moustache between two fingers. “The kind of quiet that comes just before the universe throws a flaming meteor right in your face, if you ask me.”

“We didn’t,” Lance muttered before taking another big bite of the cornbread.

“Hey! Chew your food Lance! Don’t disrespect my space cornbread. “ Hunk spoke from the other side of the table, fixing Lance with a stern look.

“But it’s true!” Coran insisted. “These peaceful little moments? Always suspicious. Mark my words.”

Allura’s lips twitched in amusement. “I hate to say it, but I am starting to agree.”

Shiro glanced around the room. The team was— against all odds—coming together. For once, they weren’t scrambling for survival. They’d gotten people out alive. They’d made a difference. This was what voltron was supposed to do.

So when the alert chimed, low and slow, like a heartbeat just slightly off-rhythm, none of them moved at first.

It didn’t sound urgent.

***

Minutes later, the team was gathered around the holotable.

Allura expanded the projection. A nearby star system lit up—faint readings pulsing like static. A slow scan swept across a dark, debris-choked sector. Floating there: a ruined Galra structure, long dormant, pulsing weakly with quintessence signatures.

Pidge zoomed in. “That's not just a wreck. It’s active. Barely…”

Hunk squinted. “Looks like it’s falling apart.”

“Still giving off a quintessence signal,” Pidge said, fingers moving across the computer with impressive speed. “And–wait–this frequency. It’s not normal. It’s… warbled. Like corrupted Altean code. It’s mimicking the lion data.”

Allura’s brows furrowed. “That should be impossible.”

Keith leaned forward and crossed his arms. “Is it dangerous?”

“Most likely!” Coran said cheerfully. “Could also be useful! If the Galra were experimenting on lion resonance tech, we might be able to find something that helps stabilize the lion’s power systems.”

“It’s not impossible. They did have the red lion and we honestly have no idea what they were doing to her.” Pidge conceded.

Shiro nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the holographic projection hovering above the table.

“We’ve been pushing the lions hard,” he said, voice steady but thoughtful. “And if this place really has anything on how the Galra were interfering with Red… we can’t ignore that. Especially not after how close we came to losing on the Balmera.”

He looked up, meeting each of their eyes in turn.

“If we can make the bonds more efficient—and shut down whatever tech they were trying to develop—this could help us in the long run. I say we go. Quick in and out.. Grab the intel, destroy the rest.”

There was a quiet pause.

Hunk shifted in his seat, looking over at the readout. “Are we sure this thing’s stable? Because last time we went into a half-dead Galra base, we almost got thrown out into space.”

“It’s been dormant for years,” Pidge said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I ran a system sweep—it’s active, but barely. If something’s still running in there, it’s on its last legs.”

“Like Coran,” Lance smirked, humor clear in his tone.

Coran’s head snapped up from his console, “I think not! I’ll have you know I am in my prime for an Altean”

Shiro allowed a faint smile. “We’ll take every precaution. But if there’s even a chance this helps us strengthen the lions, I think it’s worth the risk.”

Allura crossed her arms but gave a small nod. “Very well. I will prepare the Castle’s trajectory. We will stay nearby in case anything goes wrong.”

Everyone agreed and they left within the hour.

***

The Castle of Lions glided smoothly toward the decaying star system, white and silver against the fading light. On the bridge, everything felt normal. Boring, even.

The mission briefing lasted all of ten minutes. Pidge had already checked out halfway through and was now fiddling with a half-disassembled drone in her lap. Hunk was lying belly-down across two seats with a ration bar sticking out of his mouth, muttering to himself about “barium root ratios” and “emotional consequences of too much fiber.” Lance was humming something tuneless and annoyingly catchy. Keith stood near the viewport with his arms crossed, looking broody and windswept by absolutely nothing. As usual.

“We should bring snacks,” Lance announced.

Pidge didn’t look up. “It’s a two-hour recon run.”

“Exactly. Two hours. That’s long enough to get hungry. What if we run into space turbulence? What if I pass out from low blood sugar?”

Keith sighed. “Then we leave you.”

Lance clutched his chest dramatically. “You’d abandon me in a cursed Galra ruin because I forgot to pack a snack bar?”

“No,” Keith said. “I’d abandon you before the cursed Galra ruin.”

Shiro, from the pilot’s seat, smiled faintly. “You two bonding again?”

“Define bonding,” Keith said.

“Define again,” Lance muttered.

Coran looked up from his screen. “The station’s orbit is stable—for now. But it’s close enough to the gravity well that we shouldn’t linger. I recommend grabbing what you can and setting charges on the way out.”

Allura nodded, tapping her fingers against the console. “We will keep the Castle nearby. But do not take unnecessary risks, we cannot give the Galra a single chance at taking any or all the lions. If the readings spike, you pull out. Understood?”

“Yes, Princess,” Hunk said, mock-saluting with the last bite of his ration bar.

Lance pointed dramatically at Keith. “If anyone’s gonna take an unnecessary risk, it’s Blade Boy over there.” He turned to look at him. “You’re not cool if you get flung into a black hole. Just saying.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “What like your super kick on Arus?”

Before Lance could make a comeback, Shiro cut in, “I’m going to stop this before it even starts. We have a mission to do even if it’s just recon. Focus now, fight later. Got it?”

Lance and Keith both grumbled in response but turned to their respective platforms. The team split to their launch platforms as the lions began to power up.

The hanger lights buzzed softly, casting long shadows across the floor. There was a rhythm to all of it now. Suiting up, syncing vitals, running checks. It wasn’t second nature yet, but it was familiar. Muscle memory wrapped in armor and nerves.

“Everyone ready?” Shiro asked over comms, his voice calm and level.

“Greens purring,” Pidge replied, already halfway through her diagnostics “Though I think she’s side-eyeing me for messing with her stabilizer node.”

“I’m good,” Hunk said. “Yellow’s good. We’re all set.”

Keith just made a low affirmative sound.

“Blue’s ready,” Lance added, stretching in his chair. “I even gave her a good wash so hopefully she isn’t still mad at me.”

“Doubtful,” Pidge said dryly.

Keith’s voice crackled over comms. “You tried to feed her goo from the castle cafeteira and it got her jaw all dirty.”

Lance blinked. “Okay, first of all, it was a bonding gesture.”

“She doesn’t eat.”

“It was symbolic!”

“Symbolically insulting.”

“I didn’t say it worked...”

With a few groans and huffs of laughter the Paladins launched in tandem, lions peeling away from the Castle of Lions and diving into the black.

***
The Galra station loomed ahead, jagged and half-swallowed by the pull of a nearby red giant star. Bits of metallic debris orbited lazily, like teeth around an open jaw.

Up close the scans didn’t do the wreck justice. Twisted girders and shattered plating spiraled off into the void. Quintessence residue glowed faint purple across the seams of the structure like dried blood. The main hangar bay, surprisingly, was intact. Most of it at least.

“Looks stable enough to walk through.” Keith said as red hovered beside an entry point.

“Copy that,” Shiro replied, voice steady and clear. “ Pidge and I will enter through the main hangar bay and make our way to the control room. Best not to interfere with anything. No touching, no triggering, no heroics. We are here to observe and extract intel—nothing else.”

“Ugh, you take the fun out of cursed space ruins,” Lance muttered. “At least we’re blowing it up.”

“It’s only fun until it sends a signal and then we have a fleet on us.” Pidge spoke dryly, rolling her eyes.

“Exactly my point,” Shiro said. “No surprises. We get what we need and get out.”

“Copy that,” Keith confirmed. “I’ll stay sharp on the perimeter.”

“Be careful in there,” Hunk added. “That place is seriously giving me the creeps.”

“We will.”

Pidge dropped into the hangar bay first, Green’s paws skimming the floor before she hopped out with her scanner already active. The Black Lion followed, landing heavily beside her with a controlled thud. Shiro disembarks in a smooth motion, landing right beside Pidge.

The interior was worse than they thought. Collapsed beams, warped walls, and a deep purple haze that made the place look foggy.

“This place feels off…” Pidge said, glancing around, voice low over comms.

Shiro nodded, scanning his surroundings. “Stay close. We don’t want to get seperated in here.”

—
Outside the remaining lions circled slowly. In Blue’s cockpit, Lance tapped his fingers against the controls

“So… what are the odds that this place isn’t cursed?” he asked.

“Cursed or not it’s still Galra,” Keith said. “We treat it the same either way.”

“Cool, cool. I’ll just be over here watching for space ghosts then.”

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Listen, I am not dying because you refuse the existence of ghosts when we are literally inside a magical cat head that speaks to us in our minds.” Lance responded loudly.

There was a pause on comms.

“That’s… fair.” Keith said slowly.

“Wait, wait, wait. Did you just—Keith, did you agree with Lance?”

“I didn’t agree. I said it was fair.”

“That’s kinda the same thing.”

“No. It isn’t.”

“Guys,” Lance interrupted, smug. “Let’s all just take a moment to acknowledge this historic day. Keith Kogane agreed with me. I am so going to record this conversation.” Lance chuckled.

“I didn’t agree.”

“Space ghosts are real and Keith knows it.”

“I’m muting you.”

“I’ve already recorded the entire thing.”

“Lance—”

“Preserved! Forever and always will this be hung over your head!” Lance was smirking now and Hunk went from quiet chuckling to full on laughing. Keith turned his head, lips twitching.

—
Inside the station, the echo of the comms drifted faintly through Shiro’s helmet as he and Pidge moved deeper into the main corridor.

“...Keith Kogane agreed with me. I'm so going to record this conversation.”

Shiro huffed quietly, the smallest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, I used to think that it would take forever for those two to actually work with each other.”

“To think, space ghosts is a friendly topic.” Pidge smiled.

“I don’t know how friendly they’d be so glad they aren’t exactly real.” Shiro moved a piece of debris.

Pidge snorted. “I don’t know Shiro. If space ghosts were going to haunt anything it would definitely be in Galra territory.”

“That’s optimistic.” Shiro said dryly.

She shrugged, scanning the walls again. “I mean, let’s just accept we’re living in a cosmic horror movie and move on.”

“Fair enough.”

***
They reached a sealed archway at the end of the hall, twisted but still functional. A faded Galra sigil blinked above the door.

“This is it,” Pidge said. “Control room should be just through here.”

Shiro stepped forward, shoving the broken door aside with a grunt. Past the door the control room stretched in a wide half-circle; broken monitors lined the walls, some still twitching with fragmented images and corrupted code, a raised platform sat in the center, surrounded by cables and cracked conduits, and at its core–floating just inches above the surface–was a dark crystal veined with a pulsing purple glow.

Pidge stepped in beside him, eyes wide behind her visor. “This place looks… horrible.”

“Can you get anything from it?”

“I’ll definitely try.”

Pidge moved around the platform with purpose, her scanner in one hand, the other skimming across corrupted data ports. Shiro stood guard nearby, eyes flicking between the rooms warped monitors and the slowly pulsing crystal in the center.

“This core’s not just a power source,” Pidge muttered. “It’s a relay node. It’s been copying resonance patterns. See these signatures? They match red’s bonding waves from when she was captured.

“Is the data salvageable?” Shiro asked.

Pidge adjusted her scanner, eyebrows furrowed. “Some of it’s readable. The rest is a mess. It’s like the whole system’s half-written in corrupted Altean code–no wonder the signal looked weird. They weren’t just studying the lions, they were trying to mimic them.”

Shiro stepped closer to the crystal platform, brow creasing. “Do you know if the Galra have this yet? It’s been a while since we got red.”

Pidge didn’t answer right away. Her fingers flew across the scanner, eyes flicking between bursts of static-filled code and pulses in the core’s light.

“...Hard to say,” she admitted. “The data’s fragmented. A lot of it looks like it was never finished–or maybe someone tried to wipe it. But if this cruiser still exists and it’s still echoing red’s resonance, there’s a chance the Galra never fully recovered it. Which means we are most likely the first ones to see what’s left.”

Shiro’s jaw tightened. “Then whatever's in there–if it can still influence the lions–we need to shut it down.”

“Already on it.” She knelt, drawing out a thin cord and plugging her scanner into a partially intact control terminal. Sparks jumped, but the screen flickered to life.

The crystal above them pulsed again, almost like it was reacting to the connection. Shiro’s eyes narrowed as it flickered, a few sparks coming from it.

“I’m getting some clean files,” Pidge murmured. “Core resonance maps, Red’s neural sync data–oh man, they were trying to rewrite the instincts. Like… override the lion’s choice.”

“This tech is i-incredibly reckless, beyond reckless. It’s crazy.” Shiro said, voice low. “You don’t force a bond like that without consequences.”

Pidge grimaced, fingers flying across her console. “Well, it gets worse. If I’m reading this right, they weren’t just experimenting with Red. They were building something like a… relay, or maybe a resonance anchor–it’s hard to tell with the code this mangled–but the idea seems to be that they’d fake the neural bond entirely. And make one that can artificially mimic lion-pilot bonding signatures. Probably to force compatibility. Like skip over the whole ‘lion chooses the pilot’ part and just force it. As if synching with the lions is some kind of password you can just spoof, which is– ”

“Pidge, Breathe.” Shiro cuts her off before her tangent can become intangible.

“Sorry,” She paused, then reached up and clicked her comm receiver back on, “—Hey, uh. Is everyone getting this…?”

A sharp buzz of static cleared as the connection stabilized across the team. One by one, voices chimed in.

“Define ‘force compatibility’?” Lance said, somewhere between a joke and alarm. “Because that sounds like the kind of phrase you hear right before everything goes black.”

“You’re saying they wanted to control the lions?” Keith asked, “Override their instincts?”

“They were manufacturing bonds,” Pidge confirmed. “They had access to Red long enough to collect detailed resonance patterns–and now they’ve embedded those into a system that could theoretically assign a lion to anyone.”

“That should not be possible,” Allura cut in. Her tone was sharper than usual, clipped with disbelief. “The lions choose their Paladins. They always have. That’s not just design–it’s spiritual.”

“Well somebody forgot to tell the Galra that.” Pidge grumbled.

Coran’s voice crackled through. “If they had succeeded in hijacking the paladin's bond to the lions it would make the lions vulnerable to control.”

Hunk groaned. “Please tell me it’s broken. Like, rusted-out beyond repair, buried in a volcanic pit kind of broken.”

“It’s still active,” Pidge groaned, squinting at her scanner, “and is currently being extremely difficult to take the data from.”

She smacked the side of the console, watching it flicker in protest. “Ugh—there’s too much signal interference. It’s drawing power from something half-fried and then feeding it back through the corrupted crystal node. I need a clean stabilizer to keep the interface open–something the system recognizes as Galra tech but won’t fry on contact.”

She froze, then slowly turned her head to Shiro, “...Your arm.”

Shiro raised his eyebrow. “My arm?”

Pidge gestured at the flickering node. “It’s Galra. It runs interface-compatible energy, and it’s already synced with most of the castle systems. If you plug in directly, it might stabilize the relay long enough for me to extract the rest of this without everything exploding in my face.”

Shiro hesitated. “If you—”

Pidge didn’t wait for a reply and snatched Shiro’s arm, slamming it on the console, “Great, thanks!”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “Woah! Pidge!”

“Sorry! Sort of.” She said, already twisting his wrist toward the terminal. The port shimmered, then glowed violet as it recognized the interface and pulled the connection live.

Instantly the systems flared. The crystal overhead surged a bright purple with a deep, pulsing hum. Shiro’s arm lit up, lines of Galra circuitry glowing hot beneath his skin.

Pidge watched her screen. “Okay… okay, that’s it! Stabilization’s holding and the data stream is coming through clear. Just keep it steady.”

“Red’s getting agitated,” Keith said. “Shiro, Pidge, what did you do?”

“We’ve stabilized the relay. Just extracting data,” Shiro replied, still locked in place. “It might be pinging the lions—stay sharp.”

“Pinging?!” Lance exclaimed. “That sounds like it's getting the lion's location and I am definitely not a fan of that!”

Coran’s voice came through again, more urgent now. “Paladins, we’re detecting a quintessence feedback loop building in the station! Whatever you activated—”

“I know!” Pidge cut in. “I’m almost done. Just a little more, come on, come on…”

Deep vibrations rumbled through the floor. The lights in the control room flickered–then began to pulse in time with the crystal’s glow growing faster and louder.

“Pidge!” Shiro yelled in warning.

“I KNOW!” She shouted back. “Just five more seconds!”

The room lurched. Sparks exploded from the ceiling panel. The node beneath Shiro's hand surged, and Pidge's screen flashes green.

“–I got it!” She yelled triumphantly. “Pulling everything now!”

The console erupted with a pulse of energy. Blasting Pidge backwards, over the raised platform and hitting the ground hard, skidding across the floor.

“Pidge!” Shiro roughly removed his arm from the node and ran to her side. “You okay?”

She groaned, clutching her shoulder. “I’m fine–I think–I just–ow. Yeah, ok, definitely dislocated.”

“Good enough.” Shiro looked towards the corridor they came from. “We have to get back to our lions.”

He pulled Pidge to her feet as gently as he could, steadying her before he looked around. The floor beneath them vibrated again–stronger this time. A low, pulsing hum echoed from the crystal node like a warning bell.

“Shiro,” Keith’s voice crackled through the comms, tight and on edge. “Something’s wrong, Red’s moving on her own.”

“Same with Blue!” Lance shouted. “I didn’t touch anything–she just powered up and opened the cockpit!”

“Yellow’s responding too!” Hunk yelped. “Guys, she won’t listen to me!”

Coran’s voice overrode them all, panicked now. “The lions are syncing with the station’s resonance pulse! It’s pulling their quintessence levels out of alignment.”

“What does that mean?” Keith snapped.

“It means they’re being reprogrammed!” Allura cut in. “The lions, they’re changing their Paladins!”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “We need to move now!”

He grabbed Pidge’s good arm and took off down the corridor. They sprinted through the trembling wreck of the cruiser. Sparks flew from ruptured panels. The floor quaked under their feet. Each pulse from the corrupted crystal core was stronger than the last–like the ship itself was trying to throw them out.

They burst into the hanger, Shiro immediately running to Black. “Come on, open up. It’s me.”

Shiro’s fist pounded on his paw. “Black respond!”

Shiro turned to Pidge only to see she couldn't access Green.

“C’mon, Green, not now–please…”

Both lions remained motionless and with a sudden rumble, the other lions descended. Red, Yellow, and Blue landed roughly beside Green and Black. Their mouths opened and ejected their pilots.

Lance hit the hanger floor first, groaning. “OW–hey! Blue?!”

Keith stumbled out of Red next, blinking. “What the– Red?”

“Guys!” Hunk yelped as he rolled out of Yellow. “What’s going on?!”

“They’re rejecting us,” Pidge panted. They’ve already re-aligned and the resonance tech surging must’ve kept them from re-aligning properly!”

“Allura!” Shiro barked into the comm. “Where’s the castle?!”

“Still en route!” She yelled. “We can’t get in range before the station collapses. You all need to get out now!”

The team stared at their lions. Five enormous metal heads loomed in front of them, feeling more intimidating than welcoming.

Shiro felt a small rumble in his head and he turned from Black to feel Blue staring at him. Her eyes glowed faintly, soft and steady. Like she was waiting.

“...No way,” he muttered.

“Shiro?” Pidge called from behind him, clutching her dislocated shoulder. “They’re not opening for us! What do we do?!”

Shiro looked around. The lions were still watching. Not rejecting them, just waiting for the wrong Paladins.

He clenched his jaw. “This makes no sense but we don’t have time to question it.” He turned to the others, taking a deep breath. “Forget what you know,” he said, loud enough to cut through the chaos. “Forget which lion was yours before. That bond is gone. Right now, you listen to the one that’s calling to you.”

“Calling?” Lance asked, looking between the lions. “Shiro, I don’t even know what that feels like!”

“Yes, you do,” Shiro said, gaze locked on him. “It’s different now, but it’s still there. Feel for it. Trust it.”

The team hesitated. Everyone looked around nervously.

“Get in your new lions,” Shiro ordered, more forcefully this time. “Figure out the rest after we live.”

Another explosion rocked the hangar. The far wall split open in a violent crack, and an inrush of air whistled around them.

Lance turned. Green’s eyes locked on him. His stomach dropped, “Ugh, fine,” he muttered. “But I swear, if she eats me!”

Keith approached Yellow, jaw clenched, clearly struggling to accept it. “This doesn’t make any sense!” he groaned.

“No, it doesn’t,” Shiro agreed. “But you trust the lions, right?”

Keith didn't answer, yet Yellow opened anyway.

Hunk stared up at Black in awe and horror. “I’m not a leader! I make food and cry under pressure.”

Black lowered his head. “I–okay,” he said, inching towards the mouth. “But don’t get mad at me if I throw up…”

Pidge hobbled towards Red. The lion growled low as its cockpit opened. “Guess you’re stuck with me now,” she said, her voice wavering a bit.”

Shiro climbed into Blue. The controls shimmered to life beneath his hands. It felt wrong for all of them.

“Get us out of here bo-girl.” Shiro stuttered over his words.

The hangar gave one final, agonized shudder as the lions launched and headed towards the castle.

Chapter Text

All five lions burst from the crumbling Galra wreck in staggered formation, trailing heat and fractured bits of the cruiser. The energy explosion behind them crackled, rupturing the last of the cruiser core as it imploded on itself.

“Castle, we’re inbound!” Shiro called out, gripping Blue’s controls with unfamiliar hands. The systems felt sluggish and inverted. The interface blinked at him in patterns he didn’t know. Blue was responding–but not like he's used to. Everything felt off, too soft and smooth.

“Hangar doors open,” Allura’s voice came sharp through the comms. “Please land carefully Paladins.”

The Paladins despite not being near each other all shared the same look of unease.

Green’s landing scraped against the deck, Lance cursing the whole way down. Red groaned as she came to an aggressive stop. Yellow just thinked into place like she’d gotten tired of flying. Black hovered uneasily before lowering, and Blue, unsure about her Paladin, drifted until she softly tapped the hanger floor.

Alarms were still echoing faintly. The walls of the castle shimmered with residual energy. Doors unlatched and the cockpit bays opened.

Pidge was the first to walk out of her lion, still holding her shoulder. She took one step out of the lions jaw and looked around awkwardly as the others emerged from the wrong lions.

No one spoke at first. Each Paladin still reeling from the switch and looking at their own lions with a mixture of hurt and confusion.

Allura and Coran entered a few seconds later from the side door. They seemed like they were about to ask if the Paladins were ok but stopped when they saw their faces.

“Okay,” Lance said, finally breaking the silence. “So I know we just survived a crazy near death experience, and like ancient magical lion reassignment therapy, but uh—what the heck was that?!”

“I second that,” Hunk added, looking a little green. “I think Black mentally yelled at me…”

“We’re alive…” Keith muttered, yanking off his helmet.

“But did you see Yellow?” Lance turned to him. “She just opened for you. Like it was nothing!” Lance’s voice grew louder as he waved his arms about, gesturing wildly to Yellow.

Pidge turned to Keith, aggressively pointing at Red with her good arm. “She growled at me. I don't know what I did, but I think she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Keith replied, immediately jumping to defend his lion. “She’s probably just confused.”

Pidge only fixed him with a flat look.

Coran stepped cautiously between them, his usual cheery demeanor dialed back. “Paladins… whatever happened out there, whatever that station did—your lions have shifted their resonance alignments. You’re still linked… just not the way you were before.”

“That’s comforting,” Lance muttered, crossing his arms. “Sort of like saying ‘your arm’s still attached, it just works on someone else’s body now.’”

Allura sighed and stepped forward, her expression tight. “We don’t yet understand the full ramifications of this. But I do know this: the lions chose again. And they chose you. All of you. Just… not the way they did before.”

“I don’t feel chosen,” Pidge grumbled under her breath.

“I feel like I broke something,” Hunk added quietly. “Like I sat in the wrong chair and now the universe is mad at me.”

Shiro had remained silent until now, still standing beside Blue. He rested one hand on her paw, staring into her glowing eyes.

“She let me fly her,” he said finally, voice low. “But it wasn’t like Black. It was… gentle. Kind of like she was guiding me. Like she knew I didn’t belong, but let me in anyway.”

There was a pause. Everyone watched him.

Then Lance, a little more subdued this time, said, “Yeah. Green wasn’t angry. She was just… disappointed. Like a mom when you spill juice on the couch.”

Coran nodded, still scanning his device. “They’re adapting. But their systems are still re-calibrating. I suggest you all take time to rest. Recover. We’ll need to observe how the new pairings stabilize.”

Pidge finally winced and clutched her arm tighter. “Cool. I’m gonna go do that in a healing pod now, please and thank you.”

“I’ll walk with her,” Shiro said immediately.

As he turned, Allura called softly after him, “We’ll debrief once she’s stable.”

Shiro nodded and disappeared with Pidge through the corridor.

The others lingered a moment longer in silence. The lions loomed behind them, watching with those steady glowing eyes—unfamiliar and yet deeply, undeniably theirs.

—
Keith slumped onto a bench against the hangar wall, still clutching his helmet like he wasn’t sure whether to throw it or crush it. He stared blankly at Yellow.

Hunk wandered over a few seconds later, dragging his feet and visibly shaken. He sat with a groan like his body weighed twice as much now.

A beat passed before Lance flopped dramatically onto a nearby crate and groaned. “I feel like I got dumped.”

Keith didn’t look up. “You did.”

Lance let out a breath. “She didn’t even give me a speech. No ‘it’s not you, it’s the corrupted quintessence energy from a Galra relic.’ Just—boom. Gone.”

“I got screamed at,” Hunk muttered, dazed. “Not like… words. But Black was mad. Like ancient-warrior-has-a-headache mad.”

Keith finally glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “You made it back alive. That's gotta count for something.”

“Barely.” Hunk rubbed his face. “I don’t know what I did wrong. I tried to fly her by the book. I even said thank you out loud. Twice.”

“Maybe we’re just…” Lance hesitated. “I dunno. Wrong now.”

Keith’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything.

“I mean, Yellow didn’t even hesitate to open for you,” Lance continued, motioning to Keith. “She didn’t nudge, or growl, or test you. Just—doors open, welcome aboard.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Keith snapped. “I didn’t want her to pick me. She just did.”

“Yeah,” Lance said bitterly. “That makes two of us she dumped.”

“Stop,” Hunk muttered. “We’re not broken up with them.”

Lance gave a dark chuckle. “Tell that to the part of me that was sure I was meant for Blue.”

“Coran said the bonds are just, umm, different now.” Hunk sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “Doesn’t mean the old ones were fake. Doesn’t mean we weren’t good enough.”

Lance nodded slowly. “Then why does it feel like we failed?”

No one answered.

Keith looked over at Yellow again. “She’s stronger than I thought. Calmer. Not what I expected.”

“You expected a fight,” Hunk said knowingly.

Keith nodded. “She didn’t give me one.”

Lance exhaled sharply. “So what does that make Red? Because she sure gave Pidge a fight.”

“I don’t know,” Keith said. “But I think they’re confused too. I don’t think they wanted this either.”

—

The door hissed open and Shiro led Pidge down the hallway in silence. Her shoulders were stiff, eyes focused on the floor. She didn’t say a word until they reached the med pod.

“I can get in myself,” she snapped as Shiro reached for the console.

“I know,” he said gently, stepping back. “I just wanted to—”

“Don’t.”

Shiro paused. “Pidge…”

She turned on him, face red and furious. “You don’t get to tell me it’s okay.”

“I’m not saying it’s okay—”

“Yes, you are. Because everyone is thinking it’s my fault and that I screwed up the most important part of our team, the most important thing in the universe.”

Shiro took a slow breath. “I was the one connected to the node. I didn’t pull out when I should’ve. I let it keep going.”

“You’re supposed to trust me,” she said. “And I ruined that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Pidge stepped back, arms folded protectively across her front, one aiding the other into the position, one clearly aching and not working properly. “You saw how Red reacted. She growled at me like I was an intruder.”

“She’s not used to you yet—”

“No, Shiro. She rejected me. She doesn’t want me. That’s not a maybe. That’s a fact.”

“This isn’t the end. We can still—” Shiro tried to calm her down but was cut off.

“Yeah? Then why is everyone still freaked out? Are you going to give us some ‘We’ll get through this’ speech?” Her voice cracked into something raw. “It wasn’t a good thing. It wasn’t fate. It was me. I did this.”

She turned her back, climbing into the pod in one stiff, angry motion. “And no amount of comfort speeches is gonna fix that.”

“Pidge—”

The pod sealed shut with a loud hiss before he could finish.

***

Soft, ambient lights glowed above the control room. The lions loomed in their, each one anchored, unmoving, and unfamiliar. In the dim light, the Paladins sat quietly, each in various states of tension and exhaustion. Hunk slouched forward with his chin in his hands. Lance tapped restlessly at the edge of his seat. Keith leaned back in his chair, arms folded and eyes unfocused. Shiro stood off to the side near the wall, not speaking.

Pidge emerged from behind them after an hour in the healing pod. Her shoulder was healed, yet she walked stiffly to her designated seat. She didn’t speak or look at anyone as she made her way across the room.

Allura entered behind her, flanked by Coran. She took her usual place near the console, looking just as worn down as the rest of them.

“We need to talk about what happens next,” she said, voice clipped with formality.

Coran cleared his throat, trying to cut the tension. “Well! Now that we’re all alive, conscious, and relatively intact–”

“Speak for yourself,” Lance said abruptly. “I’m emotionally mangled.”

Allura stepped forward. “What happened on that station wasn’t just strange–it was dangerous. We have to assume the Galra were trying to replicate Voltron’s bonding systems. And they almost succeeded.”

Pidge didn’t look up from her holopad. “They didn’t almost succeed. They did. They broke it.”

The silence that followed made it clear that no one disagreed.

“The lions chose differently,” Keith said, breaking the silence. “They responded to something.”

“The corrupted signal Pidge unlocked. Whatever it was, it tampered with their resonance. Scrambled how they perceive the bonds.” Shiro spoke quietly.

“It’s more than perceptions,” Hunk added. “I don’t think Black sees me as me. He looks at me like… like I'm someone she used to know. Like she’s waiting for me to act like him.”

“Same with Green,” Lance said. “She’s calm. Gentle even. But she’s confused. I can feel it. Like she’s trying to follow me and do what I ask her to do, but keeps seeing someone else in my place.”

Keith nodded grimly. “Yellow isn’t fighting me. But she’s holding back like she’s bracing for me to mess up. She knows this isn’t how it’s supposed to be but is stuck anyway.”

Coran’s brow furrowed deeply. “If that crystal didn’t just reroute resonance, but overwrote core instinct then it’s possible the lion’s systems are locked into recognizing you by the wrong signatures. They know you’re not the ones they chose, but their programming won’t let them act on that.”

“Like they’re trapped? Did we trap them?!” Lance asked, starting to panic.

“That's exactly what I did,” Pidge said sharply, standing up. Her voice cracked with bitterness. “I trapped the lions, forced them into accepting paladins they didn’t choose.”

The room went quiet. Every head turned toward her.

Her hands were clenched into tight fists, shaking at her sides. “You can all say it's not my fault, but I’m the one who triggered the override. I forced the corrupted node. I rammed that signal into their systems. Now they’re stuck with strangers–people they didn’t pick and we’re pretending like we can recover from that.”

“Pidge-” Shiro tried, but she shook her head.”

“I linked the data. I chose to push it through when it started frying the network. I thought I was helping, but I didn’t listen. And now it’s like they’re possessed. Locked on to the wrong paladins.” Her voice rose in volume, getting more worked up, “We’re locked out of our own lions! And they’re trapped with us like we’re wearing someone else’s skin!”

“You didn’t force anything,” Shiro said. “You got the data. We got out.”

“Barely.” Her voice cracked. “And now they’re stuck in this… this false bond.”

Lance leaned forward, tentative. “Look, yeah, it’s weird. Everything feels upside down. But if the lions really didn’t want us, they wouldn’t have let us in at all. Right?”

“They let us in,” Pidge mumbled. Her voice was quiet now. “But they didn’t choose us. Not like before. You all felt it.”

Hunk opened his mouth to argue but then slowly closed it. Because she was right. They had all felt it.

Allura placed both palms firmly on her pedestal, her voice calm but determined. “Intentional or not, this is where we are. If we want to stand a chance at surviving until we figure out how we are to fix this, we must learn how to work with these new bonds. Whether they’re meant to be temporary or…” She paused. “Or not. We don’t have time to wait around for a natural fix.”

“So what?” Lance questioned. “We just… start over? Pretend this is normal?”

“No,” Allura replied. “We go one lion at a time. One paladin at a time. We will land on a planet to train tomorrow.”

Keith frowned. “And if the lions don’t come around?”

Allura looked him in the eye. “Then we find another way.”

“You can train all you want,” Pidge spoke hollowly. “But if the lions don't really want us, nothing we do is going to matter.”

***

The morning after held a heavy air around the Paladins as the doors slid open and they filtered into the control room, one by one.

Pidge is the last to arrive, her steps slower than usual. She doesn’t sit. Just stands behind her chair and watches the others.

Allura stands in the front of the room, hands folded in front of her. “Thank you all for coming during the morning despite the circumstances. I know this isn’t easy. But we need to begin rebuilding.”

Keith crosses his arms. “We’re not flying today, are we?”

“No. But we will start with re-connection protocols. Each of you will spend time with your current lion, testing functions and deepening the bonds where possible.”

“Yeah,” Lance mutters, “bonding with the lions that aren’t ours. Should be fun.”

Coran clears his throat. “It may not feel right. In fact, it won’t feel right. But even if the resonance has misaligned, your instincts and previous experiences might still help guide one another.”

Lance shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Okay, so… maybe we don’t have all the answers right now. But I vote we move this to the common room. If we’re gonna unpack trauma and lion homework, we should at least do it on a couch.”

Shiro gives a small nod. “Agreed. This isn’t going to be a quick fix, we might as well be comfortable while we try to figure it out.”

Quiet murmurs of agreement follow. No one moves quickly, but they do move—filing out of the control room, past the softly humming corridor lights and into the Castle’s common area. The lighting is low, the couches are familiar, and the silence settles again once they all sit.

No one speaks at first.

They spread out into their usual spots—but nothing about it feels usual. Everything feels a little misaligned.

Keith leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and finally says, “This still doesn’t make sense.”

The others glance toward him.

“The lions know who we are,” he continues. “They remember us. But they won’t answer to us. Not like they used to.”

Then Hunk raises a hand. “Uh… Keith?”

Keith turns to him, a bit surprised.

“Yellow is, well…she’s gentle. And isn’t like, umm, not to offend you or anything but she isn’t as snappy as Red so maybe being softer could help.” Hunk tries to explain. “I would talk to her a lot. About food, people, really anything. She likes being treated as a friend.”

Keith nods. “Red isn’t really much for conversation. I don’t really get any response in my head when I try to talk to her. Makes sense why Yellow felt uneasy.”

“She’ll carry you through anything,” Hunk says. “But only if you let her know you’re worth the weight.”

Keith swallows hard and gives a quiet, “Okay. Thanks.”

There’s a short silence. Then Pidge clears her throat and glances at Keith.

“So. Um. Red.”

Keith raises a brow.

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Keith says instinctively. “She's just…testing you.”

“I think she wants to eat me.”

“Then stand your ground,” Keith replies. “Red’s a warrior. She respects grit. Don’t explain yourself. Just act. Trust your gut.”

Pidge crosses her arms. “I’m not you, I don’t exactly do gut-instinct fighting.”

“Well,” Keith shrugs, “might be time to start.”

Lance, sitting cross-legged nearby, leans forward. “Pidge?”

She glances at him.

“Green’s quiet. Like, suspiciously quiet. Every time I touch a console I feel like I’m being judged.”

“She is judging you,” Pidge says flatly. “But not meanly. Just academically. She’s observant. She doesn’t respond to force. Or charm. Or chaos. You have to be present with her. Let her know you’re paying attention.”

Lance blinks. “So… no jokes?”

“You can still joke,” she concedes. “But like, she appreciates the clever ones.”

He groans. “Oh no. I’m doomed.”

Then Shiro speaks, turning to Lance. “And Blue?”

Lance straightens up. “Blue’s a sweetheart. She loves confidence and heart. You don’t have to be perfect, just honest. She wants someone who really believes in what they’re doing.”

Shiro frowns thoughtfully. “I’ve been trying to lead her like Black.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Lance replies. “Try laughing more. She likes that.”

Shiro stares at him for a beat. “Right. Laughing. Sure.”

Then everyone looks to Shiro, and in turn he shifts his gaze toward Hunk.

“Black?” Hunk asks, uneasy. “Uh. He’s…”

“He’s intense,” Shiro says gently. “But he listens more than he speaks. He doesn’t want someone to command him like he’s just a machine. He wants someone to protect what matters, no matter the cost. If you hesitate, he’ll feel it.”

Hunk nods, quietly absorbing the words. “I’ve been second-guessing everything.”

“He definitely knows,” Shiro says. “But he’s still with you.”

They sit in silence for a long beat, all of them turning this over. Paladins of the wrong lions, wearing borrowed mantles that don’t quite fit.

Finally, Lance chuckles, “This is like really complicated group therapy.”

Everyone chuckled as Allura stepped forward, her voice steady. “You may not be their chosen Paladins, but you are all still connected through Voltron. That has to mean something.”

There’s no objection this time. Just quiet resolve as the team stands and starts making their way to the lion’s hangers.

Their steps echo through the hallway. No one says much. It’s not silence born of resentment, just uncertainty.

They split off wordlessly once they reach the hangar deck. Each Paladin walks toward the wrong lion. Each cockpit opened for them with a low groan.

Black Lion Cockpit:
The Castle hangs in orbit. The lights inside the hangar are dimmed as Hunk sits alone in the Black lion’s cockpit. The controls around him buzz gently, but don’t engage.

He exhales a shaky breath. “I don’t get you,” he started softly. “And I'm definitely kind of scared. I mean–I’m grateful, I really am. You saved me by letting me in. But you’re not mine and I am not supposed to be here.”

Black’s interface lights flicker once. A faint pulse moves across the dashboard.

“I know it feels wrong.” Hunk says sitting up straighter. “I can’t be what you need. I’m not Shiro. I’m not calm and collected, I don’t know how to be a leader. I still panic in my own lion.”

A pause. Then slowly, Black projects a shimmer of soft light across the cockpit glass. Not a full hologram. Just a blurry image.

Faint outlines of Shiro flicker into shape. There’s clearly a big fight going on, yet he remains calm. Posture straight, face focused. The way he connected to Black clear.

It fades and Hunk slumps in the chair. “I can’t do that…”

Another pulse of energy flickers through the controls, a bit jagged this time. Black trying to settle, trying to bond–but the connection won’t anchor. It’s all wrong and they both know it.

“You’re stuck with me now,” Hunk sighs. “And I’m stuck with you. Until we find a way to fix it we need to do something to make this work.”

The lion rumbles low. Not in agreement or defiance but apologetic.

Green Lion Cockpit:
Lance sits upside-down in the pilot seat, legs draped over the backrest, staring at the ceiling.

“Okay listen,” he announced to empty air. “You’re great. Like, objectively. Tech-wise, agility–top tier lioning. But…”

He twists upright, leaning forward with his arms on his knees, hands entwined, looking down at the floor. “I’m not Pidge. I don’t think in code and make complicated algorithms to track Galra fleets. I don’t even know what half of these buttons do. I tried syncing with you during the explosion and I think I just gave you a magical headache.”

Green groans. A flickering pulse crosses her console. It’s mismatched, too uncertain.

Lance sighs. “You’re not mad though. That’s the weirdest part. You’re just… disappointed.”

Her lights blink in response. The faint glow plays across the glass, a fragment of something else. Not Lance.

Pidge’s face. Briefly projected in his mind. Her toothy smile and rapid fire voice. Relaying schematics of a Galra base.

Lance just stares and mumbles. “Yeah… I can’t be what you need.”

Red Lion Cockpit:
Pidge sits rigid in Red’s cockpit, one hand fiddling with the joystick and the other holding her head up as she leans forward.

“You don’t like me,” she says bluntly.

Red growls, low and uneasy.

“It’s fine. I’m not my own biggest fan either right now.”

The lion rumbles again, frustrated.

“I know. I took away your paladin and ended up replacing him. Someone who gets you and your instinct, your way of doing things.

Red doesn’t move. Doesn’t acknowledge her at all.

“I get it you’re the sword. I’ve always been the shield, and I am so scared. When I tried to fly you, you didn’t really give me everything. You’re waiting for me to fail, I know you are. You’re waiting for Keith to come back…”

After a heavy pause Pidge feels something. Not anger or rejection, but grief.

Pidge chokes a bit before she lowers her head. “I’m so sorry.”

Yellow Lion Cockpit:
Keith taps his foot, shifting around a bit, unable to sit still.

“You’re not like Red. You don’t snap or test me,” he mutters. “You just follow. Make small suggestions but you never growl.”

He stares at the control panel. It blinks softly back at him.

“Why?”

Yellow doesn’t answer with a growl or a flicker of light. Rather she places an image in his mind.

Hunk laughing, talking, crying, even throwing up.

The memory fades as Keith stares ahead of him. “You want him back,” Keith says, barely audible. “You should. I can’t do what he does.”

Yellow rumbles and it feels warm.

Blue Lion Cockpit:
Shiro stands inside Blue’s cockpit, helmet under one arm. He hasn’t tried to sit or touch the controls.

Blue purrs gently around him.

“I don’t belong with you,” Shiro spoke firmly. “But you still listened.”

Blue’s controls lit up. A gently light glowing near the seat.

“I don’t know why, I’m nothing like Lance.” Shiro chuckled till he paused and backtracted. “Not that there's anything wrong with being like him. I just can’t be so… carefree. He can find good in nearly everything. He’s optimistic. I don’t have that luxury, I need to be prepared for everything.”

Shiro’s hand came to his hair, running through it as Blue’s interface glows in faint pulses.

“They’re still young. Hell, none of them are even legal adults; they're relying on me.” He sighs. “But… thank you. Even if I can’t be what you need, you will let me pilot you. So… thank you.”

Blue purrs in his mind, urging him to continue.

Shiro huffs a laugh. “We’ll figure this out girl. I’m sure Pidge, Hunk, and Coran can think of something.”

Blue purrs in satisfaction, agreeing with him.

—

The lions rest quietly in their hangars. Each Paladin sitting in their new lions in silence. The silence stretches until the shrill sound of the castles alarm blares through it.

Green Lion:
Lance nearly falls out of his seat as the alarm kicks in.

“What now?!” he blurts, twisting toward the console. Green’s display flashes warning signs.

Black Lion:
Hunk’s eyes go wide.

“No, no, no!” He scrambles to sit upright as Black begins to boot up.

“I’m not ready!” He shouts, panicked. “You know I’m not ready!”

Yellow Lion:
Keith freezes as Yellow’s systems start auto calibrating.

“You have got to be kidding me!” he yelps as the seat moves him into position.

Blue Lion:
Shiro watches as Blue lights up.

“Already?” His jaw tightens. He doesn’t hesitate. It doesn’t feel like acceptance. It feels like obligation.

Red Lion:
Pidge grips the sides of her chair, stiff as Red’s engine starts humming under her.

“Are you serious?!” Red simply growls in response.

Allura’s face appears on everyone’s screen, her voice steady. “Paladins, we’ve received a distress call. A refugee planet near the Verzan Expanse is under attack. They don’t have the necessary defenses to hold off the Galra for long. We have to respond immediately.”

The comm line stays open, a quiet buzz in everyone’s ear.

“Can we even form Voltron like this?” Hunk said nervously.

“We won’t know till we try.” Shiro responds.

“I know this is not ideal. I know the bond isn’t what it once was. But the lions responded to you. And innocent lives are at stake so it will have to be enough. Please. I trust you to figure it out.”

Her image closes from their HUDs, another silence stretches out.

Lance’s voice carries over the comms. “She trusts us but do our lions?”

“I’m not even sure Yellow knows what to do with me.” Keith admits.

“Red’s barely letting me touch the controls without a warning growl. Like I’m gonna scratch the paint.” Pidghe muttered.

“Black’s quiet, but not the good kind. More like he’s holding his breath, waiting for me to mess up.” Hunk stammered.

“Blue’s the only one not resisting. But I don’t think that means she wants me here.” Shiro spoke, defeated.

The HUDs pulse again. Urgant. The planet's coordinates lock in.

Keith groans. “This is happening whether we’re ready or not isn’t it.”

“Yeah. What could go wrong?” Lance said flatly.

With the lions fully booted up a nervous air hangs around the Paladins head. No one is ready to launch.

Chapter Text

The Yellow lion jolted forward too fast for Yellow’s heavier frame and ended up clipping the hangar wall with a loud metallic scrape.

“Son of a—! Sorry!” Keith grunted, wrestling the controls. Yellow groaned in protest, stabilizing with a heavy lurch.

“You okay?” Lance asked, the concern undercut by a snort of laughter.

“She’s fine. Pride’s dented. Mine, mostly.” Keith muttered.

Green hovered out more gracefully behind him, though her flight path wobbled just slightly. “Okay,” Lance breathed. “No bumps. That’s a win.”

“Give it a minute,” Pidge muttered. Red’s jaw opened slower than usual as she eased out. The slightest shift in weight made the controls bristle.

Blue and Black followed, more coordinated but noticeably restrained. The formation was uneven, each lion drifting slightly apart as if unsure how close they should fly.

From the castle, Allura’s voice crackled back onto their comms. “Coordinates received. I’m marking the safest jump point just outside the planet’s orbit. Get there as quickly as you can. Galra forces are already en route.”

“Copy that,” Shiro said automatically. The response felt hollow.

Lance stared through the HUD at the stars. “Anyone else feel like we’re about to eat it hard?”

“Lance,” Shiro warned, though the edge in his voice was more habit than heat.

“I’m just saying, we’re a glorified disaster waiting to happen right now.”

“We’ve been worse,” Hunk said—then immediately corrected himself. “Okay no, that’s a lie. This might be the worst.”

“You’re really not helping,” Keith muttered.

The planet came into view—small, lush, visibly scorched in patches. Smoke curled from outer settlements.

“Scans show we’ve got maybe fifteen minutes until their fleet enters atmosphere,” Allura said through the comms, her tone clipped and urgent. “Get down there. Establish a perimeter. Coordinate with the locals.”

The lions descended fast and uneven.

Once they landed in a wide open field just beyond the nearest city’s outer wall, one by one the cockpits hissed open. They all hesitated briefly before stepping out.

And then—eyes turned to Hunk.

He blinked, mid-step off Black’s paw, suddenly all too aware of the others staring at him.

Lance tilted his head, pointing. “Okay, that’s still weird. Hunk coming out of Black. Like watching your cat bark.”

“Thanks?” Hunk winced, rubbing the back of his neck.

Pidge stepped down from Red, dusting off her knees. “It’s not like we’re any less bizarre. You should’ve seen Red the whole descent. It was like piloting a tank with emotions.”

Shiro finally landed, Blue curling down beside the others. He took a second before speaking—looking around, taking stock, like the words were forming slower than usual.

Shiro took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, stepping away from Blue. “The settlement isn’t far. Quarter mile tops. Let’s head in, see who’s in charge, and figure out where they need us most.”

The others nodded, falling in around him. None of them said it aloud, but the tension hung thick between them—each step echoing with the unspoken question: What are we even doing here like this?

The trek to the settlement was short but quiet. Fields stretched out in staggered plots of overgrown crops, interrupted by scorch marks and collapsed irrigation lines. Smoke still clung low to the ground. As they approached the wall—really more a hastily reinforced perimeter of broken stone and metal panels—they could hear the low thrum of activity on the other side: hurried footsteps, orders being barked, the faint whine of welding tools.

A guard spotted them first. His weapon was raised instinctively, then lowered just as fast when he saw the symbols on their armor. He tapped a communicator on his wrist and waved them through.

The inside of the settlement was a patchwork of struggle. Families huddled in corners beneath tarps. Medical stations overflowed. Supplies were sparse, spread too thin over too many. People stared as the Paladins passed—not with excitement or relief, but something more complicated. Hesitation. Mistrust. Hope, maybe, but dimmed by exhaustion.

A woman approached them near the center square. She was older—mid-fifties, maybe—with greying hair tied back and a long coat covered in dust and burn marks. Her posture was upright, authoritative, despite the bags under her eyes.

“You are Voltron, yes?” she asked, glancing between them with careful skepticism.

Shiro stepped forward and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We came as soon as we got your signal. What’s your situation?”

“Dire,” she said plainly. “We’ve got three major residential clusters on this side of the canyon and a few storage bunkers to the west. Most of our defense drones were scrapped in the last wave. There’s one functioning turret battery on the ridge. It won’t hold.”

“How do you expect them to come in?” Pidge asked, already pulling out her scanner.

The woman gestured toward a rusted map display at the center of the square. “There’s only two ground routes they can take—the northeast canyon path and the south ridge line. But, they’re smart, they’ll send air units first to pin us down, then push ground support from both sides.”

Keith leaned in, eyes scanning the rough outline of the city. “We’re going to be outnumbered.”

“We always are,” Lance muttered.

“There’s a maintenance tunnel here,” the woman added, tapping one section of the map. “If they discover it, that’s a straight shot to our medical outpost. We’ve got dozens of wounded in there.”

Shiro nodded slowly, absorbing everything. “We’ll cover as many zones as we can.”

The woman gave him a dry look. “You are positive you all can handle this?”

Shiro didn’t flinch, though his jaw tightened. “We’ll make it work.”

With that, she turned back toward the square, barking a few orders to passing civilians. The Paladins stood in silence for a few seconds, watching the organized chaos of people preparing for war with whatever scraps they had.

Finally, Shiro spoke. He sounded like he was giving himself a pep talk more than anyone else.

“Okay. We need a plan. Uh—right,” he started. “We’ll split into zones. Hunk, you’ve got the heaviest firepower in Black now, so… frontline.”

“Wait, I do?” Hunk asked, halfway to protesting.

Shiro faltered for a second. “Yes. I think. Black’s shielding is strong and you’ve got the cannon systems.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll… frontline.” Hunk said slowly, like the words weren’t real yet.

Shiro turned to Keith next. “You’re in Yellow. She’s solid on defense. I want you posted near the refugee camp perimeter. Help reinforce barricades.”

Keith blinked. “Right. Defensive. I can do that.” A pause. “Probably.”

“Lance, Green’s fast. I need you to scout the surrounding area for entry points and Galra dropships. Quick sweeps.”

“Got it,” Lance said, saluting. “Scouty and stealthy. Very ninja. Very green.”

“Pidge,” Shiro looked her way last, hesitating. “Red’s aggressive. Intercept squad. If anything slips through, you’re backup.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “Intercept with the lion that growls every time I touch a button. Perfect.”

“I’ll handle aerial comms and cover with Blue,” Shiro finished, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “We’ll adjust as we go.”

There was a beat of silence. No one moved.

Then Keith muttered, “This is the part where we pretend that sounded like a real plan, right?”

Pidge held up a finger. “Pretend convincingly.”

“I don’t know,” Lance added, shrugging. “Shiro’s not in the big lion anymore. Maybe the universe is finally letting him be confused like the rest of us.”

Shiro cracked a small, tired smile. “Trust me, I’ve always been confused. I just had a better seat.”

The moment broke with a distant rumble. Not thunder—too mechanical. Too timed. A low, echoing pulse from the clouds above.

“They’re close,” Pidge said, glancing down at her scanner. “Looks like three drop ships already broke orbit. We’ve got maybe seven minutes.”

That sobered everyone.

Shiro squared his shoulders. “Get to your lions. Go now.”

They moved without needing to be told twice.

The walk back to the field was faster this time, full of tight silence and flickers of adrenaline. Civilians moved aside for them, heads turning to follow the Paladins as they ran toward machines that still didn’t feel like theirs.

The lions powered up with staggered growls, responding to the wrong pilots with dutiful resistance. Yellow’s jaw jerked shut the moment Keith climbed in. Green gave a half-hearted tail flick as Lance dropped into the seat. Red blinked her lights at Pidge—grudgingly—but allowed the start-up sequence. Black crouched lower than usual as if adjusting to Hunk’s weight. Only Blue remained neutral, systems already syncing as Shiro slid into the cockpit.

“Systems coming online,” Hunk muttered into the comms. “Slowly. I think Black’s still deciding whether she trusts me.”

“Same,” said Keith, tapping the side panel as Yellow’s console flickered twice before stabilizing.

“All right,” Shiro’s voice came through, calm but tight. “Positions. Now.”

They broke off into their zones—except no one really moved in sync. Lance’s liftoff was too fast, arcing Green in a wide circle that forced Pidge to brake harder than she meant to in Red. Keith and Hunk tried to split in opposite directions but ended up drifting into the same airspace before correcting. It wasn’t chaotic, exactly… but it wasn’t Voltron.

“Try to keep formation tight until we hit your zones,” Shiro said, trying to guide them from Blue’s cockpit. “We’re not flying solo here.”

“Tell that to Red,” Pidge snapped. “She keeps pulling left every time I try to lock coordinates.”

“Green’s doing fine,” Lance reported. Then added, “I think. Might be sarcasm.”

Keith grunted. “Just stay focused.”

Their paths finally began to diverge, each lion moving toward its assigned sector of the city. From above, they could see more details now—scorched rooftops, families retreating into bunkers, flashes of movement near the canyon where the Galra would break through first.

Then the first shadow cut across the clouds.

“Visual on Galra dropship,” Lance said, voice clipped. “Fast approach, northeast. Confirming secondary ship behind it.”

“I’ve got a third,” Pidge said from the ridge. “Smaller. Escort class, probably fighters.”

Shiro’s voice stayed steady. “Maintain position. We intercept only if they breach. Don’t break ranks.”

But even he knew—it was only a matter of time.

From her place on the edge of the canyon, Yellow crouched low behind the barrier walls, Keith scanning the horizon with narrowed eyes.

“Can’t shake the feeling they’re testing us,” he muttered. “Circling first. Seeing what sticks.”

“They’re going to find a weakness eventually,” Hunk said. “We’ve got too many.”

Green arced high above the rooftops, scouting wide. “One’s definitely lining up for a pass,” Lance reported. “They’re checking our defenses.”

“Well, joke’s on them,” Pidge said. “We barely have any.”

A beat passed.

Then Shiro’s voice came through, low. Uneasy.

“Prepare to engage. And adjust plans as needed.”

“Adjust them how?” Keith muttered under his breath, shifting Yellow’s stance along the barricade line. “We barely had a plan to begin with.”

Red rumbled from the ridge, pacing like a caged animal beneath Pidge’s hands.

“They’re moving faster,” she reported. “The fighter’s peeling off toward the tunnel sector—probably scanning for weaknesses.”

“Copy that,” Shiro said. “Pidge, stay sharp. If they even look at that tunnel wrong, intercept.”

“Already lining up a shot,” she replied.

Lance pulled Green into a tighter arc, trying to stay above the rooftops without completely exposing himself. “We’ve got movement southeast. Dust trail—might be ground scouts or a light carrier. Can’t confirm, visibility’s garbage down there.”

“Could be a feint,” Hunk said. Black had taken position just outside the refugee cluster, crouched low and braced like a living bunker. “Or it’s a decoy to draw us off the ridgeline.”

“Or it’s both,” Keith added grimly. “They’re good at both.”

Shiro kept scanning from Blue, hovering at mid-altitude, relaying visuals to everyone else. “Pidge, anything on sensors?”

Red’s console flickered—again. Pidge slapped the side of it. “Trying, but she’s jamming my range. I think Red’s shorting out the long-range comm intercepts on purpose.”

“Awesome,” Lance muttered. “So we’re blind and out of sync.”

“We’re not out of the fight,” Shiro said, too quickly. Then, quieter, like he meant it more for himself, “We can still do this.”

Another beat. The first plasma burst came from the clouds.

A bolt of violet energy sizzled past the ridge—too high to hit, too deliberate to be anything but a warning shot.

“Yeah, no,” Pidge snapped. “That was a test run. They’re about to go loud.”

As if on cue, the second dropship broke formation. Its side panels opened mid-air, revealing rows of drone units locked into harnesses, already booting up weapons systems.

“Deployments incoming!” Lance shouted. “Multiple signatures, all zones!”

“Brace!” Shiro ordered. “Hold positions, wait for my signal—”

The drones dropped in clusters, trailing smoke and metal screeches. The ridge lit up with return fire from the lone functioning turret, but it was overwhelmed in seconds—half the drones slipped past, banking low toward the canyon and the tunnel mouth.

Red growled beneath Pidge, then launched before she gave the full command.

“I’m on them,” she said, voice sharp. “I’ll try to redirect the lead group.”

“Copy,” Shiro answered. “Keith, back her up if they reroute toward the civilians.”

Yellow shifted under Keith, the response sluggish but present. “On it.”

Hunk adjusted Black’s posture, targeting systems spinning up as a second wave descended over the southern bunkers.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, cannon systems, don’t make me look stupid right now—”

The cannon fired—once, twice, rocking Black’s entire frame with the recoil. Two drones exploded mid-air in a cascade of sparks.

Hunk blinked. “Oh. Oh, okay. That’s what that does.”

“Nice shot!” Lance said, swooping in to cut off another flanking drone.

Across the field, Keith swerved wide behind the canyon wall—too wide.

“Damn it,” he muttered, as Yellow’s shoulder clipped a communications post, knocking it clean over.

“Sorry!” he yelled, to no one in particular, then wheeled the lion into a tighter turn—only to overshoot the barricade line and slam into the dirt with a loud whump.

“Definitely defensive,” Keith mumbled. “Just offensively clumsy.”

Overhead, Lance circled Green in a high sweep. “I’ve got visuals—wait, no. Wait—Green, what is that?”

Schematics began flooding his HUD: tunnel blueprints, Galra ship specs, something about structural integrity and drone trajectories.

“Can you not math at me right now?” Lance asked. “Just circle the bad guys like a normal lion!”

Green chirped back in what sounded suspiciously like smug binary.

He fired anyway, nailing one drone square in the engine with a clean shot. It careened straight into a second, scattering debris across the canyon ridge.

“Still got it!” Lance cheered—then ducked as a beam grazed Green’s right wing.

“Less of it than I thought, okay!”

Hunk took a deep breath, fingers hovering over Black’s cannon controls. “Just need a second to aim…”

He hesitated.

It cost him.

A volley of plasma fire clipped Black’s flank before he could move. Sparks flew from the rear panel, and Black groaned low in response.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry—learning curve! We’re all learning!” Hunk yelled, finally firing back with a blast that tore through two drones in a single lucky arc.

“Yes!” He fist-pumped in his seat. “And I meant to do that. Totally meant to do that.”

Above them, Blue spiraled in tight above the rooftops. Shiro adjusted altitude just as a fighter drone burst out of the clouds behind him.

He caught it a half-second too late.

“Blue, break right!” he ordered—but Blue banked left instead, right into the blast radius.

The cockpit rattled hard. Sparks danced along the dashboard, and Shiro swore, struggling to compensate. “Okay. Definitely not Black.”

He managed to right their flight path, losing a return shot that tagged a drone’s stabilizer. It dropped like a rock—crashing into a pile of Galra scrap near the canyon edge.

Pidge’s voice crackled in over comms, sharp. “The tunnel group’s doubling back—I’m rerouting to cut them off.”

He overcorrected again, swerving wide and nearly flattening a half-collapsed watchtower. Alarms blared across the console.

“Almost got it,” Shiro muttered. “Eventually. Probably.”

Lance’s voice crackled in. “You’re telling me. Green just showed me the internal schematics of a Galra freighter and the rock formations of the hills in the eastern field. I don’t need a science lecture mid-combat!”

“She’s trying to help,” Pidge cut in, sharp and defensive. “She gives information because she knows it’s useful.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not the one flying,” Lance snapped. “She doesn’t get to bury me in maps when I’m dodging laser fire!”

“I liked flying her,” Pidge said. “Maybe it’s not Green that’s the problem.”

“Oh, okay, so I suck at flying?” Lance shot back. “I didn’t ask for this lion!”

“Well, neither did she!”

“Can we not right now?” Keith cut in, voice tight. “Yellow’s a tank with the turning radius of a brick. I tap the controls and she either lurches or ignores me completely.”

“She doesn’t ignore you,” Hunk said, his usual gentleness edged with irritation. “You’re just not listening to how she moves. She’s solid. Reliable. If she’s fighting you, it’s because you’re pushing too hard.”

“I’m trying to steer her, not take her on a date!”

“Maybe try both,” Hunk muttered.

“Hey, Red just stopped my targeting input!” Pidge shouted. “She literally growled when I tried to override the flight path!”

“She’s not a drone,” Keith snapped back. “Red’s precise. She chooses her movements. If you treat her like a machine, she’ll act like you don’t exist.”

“I’m treating her like a lion that’s ignoring basic physics!”

“No, you’re treating her like she owes you something,” Keith said. “You think piloting her is about controlling her—she doesn’t work like that.”

“Don’t lecture me about Red,” Pidge muttered. “She’s the one acting like I’m a criminal.”

“I didn’t steal Blue,” Shiro said suddenly, more to himself than anyone. He’d been quiet until now, voice low and uncertain. “I just… I can’t get it right. She doesn’t listen to me either.”

The comms went still for a moment.

Even with drones swarming overhead, there was a silence that felt heavier than the battle.

Then Hunk exhaled. “We’re all out of sync. It’s not just the lions. We’re not working as a team.”

“You think?” Lance muttered.

The air cracked again with another blast overhead—this one skimming just above Red’s tail before Pidge veered into a hard roll.

She gritted her teeth. “Fine. Let’s stop arguing and focus on not dying!”

“That’s the most teamwork we’ve had all day,” Keith muttered, swinging Yellow in a lumbering arc to shield a cluster of bunkers.

Green chirped in Lance’s ears, lighting up another overlay. “Oh my god, please no more charts!” he groaned. “Just show me a target, not a geological cross-section!”

“Green’s trying to anticipate movement paths,” Pidge offered, voice clipped as she wrangled Red into position. “She always did like prepping for every possibility.”

“I don’t need possibilities! I need explosions!” Lance fired again, catching another drone mid-dive. “Boom! That’s what I want from my genius war-cat!”

Black took a hard hit to the flank again, sparks flaring across the armor. Hunk grunted, adjusting in the seat. “Black’s trying to cover for me. I can feel it. He’s shifting his armor to take the brunt. He’s looking out for me.”

“That’s what he does,” Shiro said quietly, Blue flying a cautious loop just below. “Even when it hurts him.”

Green chirped again—quieter this time. A new interface slid across Lance’s HUD: simplified. Clean. Three enemy signatures blinked red, marked with narrow predictive paths.

Lance blinked. “Oh. Okay, yeah. That I can work with.”

He adjusted Green’s flight path gently—less yanking, more suggestion—and she responded with a smooth arc around a collapsing building. Her wing clipped the smoke just enough to scatter it away from the ridge, revealing another drone cluster diving low.

Lance didn’t even think this time. He fired twice. Both hit.

There was a brief pause.

Then Green purred.

Lance actually laughed, breath catching in his chest. “You like that? Was that a good shot? Okay. Okay! We got this girl.”

His hands loosened on the controls. Still not relaxed, exactly, but no longer trying to brute-force her systems. Green adjusted altitude a hair before he could ask, lining up a new route across the eastern slope.

“You know,” Lance said, almost to himself, “this might actually work.”

Above them, Red hesitated.

Pidge noticed. She glanced toward Lance’s signal on her map, watching his movements smooth out, the way Green was starting to fly with him instead of around him. Something knotted in her chest—guilt, maybe. Or envy.

Red bucked beneath her slightly, a subtle dip of warning. Pidge didn’t say anything.

She knew Red had noticed, too.

“Nice formation, Lance,” Shiro said, his voice soft over comms. “Keep it up.”

Lance didn’t gloat. He just said, “Thanks,” and followed Green into another dive.

Lance nudged the controls again—lighter this time, not dragging Green through the motion but inviting her into it. The giant lion responded with a steady pivot, crouching low as they skimmed across the canyon ridge.

Another drone broke from the formation ahead.

Lance didn’t wait for Green to line it up. He just exhaled and adjusted the aim slightly. She did the rest.

The blast connected.

Not dead center. But enough to send the drone spiraling into a pile of wreckage.

“Okay,” Lance muttered. “That’s… two in a row. That’s a thing.”

There was a pause across the comms—just long enough to feel it. Not silent. Noticing.

“Nice shot,” Keith said, grudging but honest.

“Green’s moving smoother,” Hunk added. “A lot smoother than earlier.”

“She’s… listening more,” Lance said, almost surprised. “Or I am. I don’t know. I stopped yelling. That might’ve helped.”

“You stopped yelling?” Pidge’s voice broke in, dry. “Miracles do happen.”

Lance chuckled—just once, soft. “Yeah, well. Turns out she doesn’t like being bossed around.”

Shiro’s voice came next, quiet but steady. “Keep doing what works. That’s the first clean hit we’ve had since the drop.”

Even through the weight of everything, even with drones still swarming, something shifted. Like they were all standing at the edge of a thought no one wanted to say out loud.

A cluster of drones peeled off from the lead dropship and dove fast toward the refugee camp perimeter. The cannon fire from the ridge barely grazed them before they split—three heading for the supply bunkers, two banking straight for the medical tunnel.

“Red! Intercept!” Shiro barked. “Keith, back her—wait, no, Hunk, you’re closer—”

“I see them!” Hunk shouted, hauling Black into a turn. But Black’s rear leg dragged against the dirt like dead weight, throwing the whole lion off balance. Hunk cursed, overcorrected, and missed his shot by a mile.

“I’ve got the tunnel!” Pidge snapped. Red bucked hard beneath her as she tried to aim, the targeting system flickering erratically. “Okay—no, I don’t, she’s doing the thing again—dammit!”

One drone slipped through.

Lance gritted his teeth and yanked Green hard into a dive. “Nope. Not today.”

The lion resisted the jolt. Her head swiveled a second too late, but still, she followed the path. Lance eased off slightly, almost instinctively. Less force. More guiding.

They dropped like a stone. The HUD pinged and Lance fired.

The bolt clipped the drone’s stabilizer. It spun out and detonated against a ridge spire, raining sparks down over the field.

Green shuddered with the impact recoil, and Lance let out a shaky breath. “Okay. That… that wasn’t bad.”

“Lance, was that you?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah.” He blinked. “I think so. Maybe Green. Bit of both.”

“She’s still jerky,” Hunk noted. “But not fighting you like before.”

“Not as much, no,” Lance admitted. “She still doesn’t like me pulling too hard. Kinda grumbles. But she moved.”

“You’re lucky,” Pidge said through gritted teeth. Red jolted again mid-turn, and the roar of her repulsors buzzed with irritation. “Mine keeps stalling when I try to lead.”

“Red’s not a drone,” Keith said tightly. “You can’t just push—Yellow’s the same. I press forward, she shifts backward. I tap the brakes, she lunges. I’m trying to drive a boulder with moods.”

“Black’s acting like I don’t exist,” Hunk muttered. “He’s running defenses, but he’s not letting me steer any of it. I keep lining up shots and he closes the cannon—like he doesn’t trust me not to blow off a mountain.”

“Focus!” Shiro barked as another wave began to descend. “Keep them away from the tunnel and the camp!”

Lance wheeled Green up again, pulse quickening. A second cluster of drones was breaking into a pincer formation around the southern ridge. He tapped the controls—not forcing, just steering lightly.

Green hesitated. Then followed.

“Okay girl, I’m not trying to manhandle you. Let’s try this my way.”

The arc she pulled wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t fast. But it was just sharp enough to angle them over the front line.

Lance opened fire. One drone clipped. One missed. The third he tagged square in the engine. It exploded midair—just as a fourth dove into his blind spot.

“Ah—!” Lance jolted, too late. A blast smacked Green’s flank. The cockpit rocked hard. Sparks blew from the control panel.

“Damage on Green!” he yelled. “Still airborne—still flying!”

Shiro’s voice cut in. “Pull back if you have to! We’re already stretched!”

“I’m fine!” Lance shook his hand out. “Green’s still with me. Mostly.”

Behind him, Yellow crashed down awkwardly behind a supply building, Keith swearing loudly. “She just—she wouldn’t turn! I said bank right, not go into a spin!”

“That’s what I’ve been dealing with!” Hunk called. Black had pushed into the fight near the medical station, but he was firing wildly—off-target, erratic. “He’s just shooting on instinct, I’m barely involved!”

Pidge’s voice crackled in. “Red shut down targeting completely. I’m doing visual-only! This is like playing laser tag blindfolded!”

Lance winced. “Okay, look, I don’t have it perfect, but try not yelling at them. Just—ease into the turns. Ask instead of command. She started moving better when I—”

“Now is not the time for lion therapy!” Pidge snapped.

“Tell that to mine!” Keith shouted, mid-spin. “She just stopped! I didn’t even touch the brakes!”

“Guys—” Shiro’s voice broke through, heavy and urgent. “We’re slipping. Hold formation. We’re gonna lose ground if we keep flying like this.”

But no one could hold it. Every movement was too slow, too forced, too off-tempo.

Except Lance. Not good—but better. Green still pulled late, still hesitated, still chirped in protest at every hard order—but when Lance stopped treating her like a fighter jet and started treating her like a partner, she responded. Clumsily. Delayed. But she responded.

Three drones in tight formation shot toward the canyon wall, curving around the wreckage of a downed Galra turret. Lance inhaled, readying Green’s cannon again.

“Let’s do this,” he muttered.

But Green turned too late—no warning, no chirp, no blink on the HUD.

The shot went wide, blasting into rock. Dust exploded upward, obscuring the drones entirely.

“Wait—Green?” Lance’s grip tightened on the controls. “What was that?”

No answer. Just silence and a low mechanical groan from somewhere deep in her frame. The HUD flickered. Then steadied. Then flickered again.

He tried to adjust their flight path, gentler this time. Green didn’t move.

“Okay, what—hey, come on. We were doing fine. What’s wrong?”

Still nothing.

She wasn’t ignoring him. It didn’t feel like that.

But it was like they’d slipped out of sync. A missed beat in a dance. A radio just slightly off-frequency.

Green started to respond—but a second too late again. Her shot skimmed the top of another drone and detonated uselessly in the distance.

“Lance, tighten up!” Shiro called. “You’re drifting off your sector!”

“I'm trying! She’s—Green’s stopped listening!”

Across the battlefield, things weren’t going any better.

Keith braced Yellow behind the remnants of a collapsed stone wall, fingers flying across controls that didn’t respond fast enough. “She keeps doing the opposite of what I tell her,” he bit out. “It’s like she wants me to react to her instead of the other way around.”

“That’s how I’ve been flying Black this whole time,” Hunk said, breathless. Black’s systems were overheating—he could feel it in the way the seat shuddered and sparked beneath him. “I can’t tell if he’s protecting me or holding me hostage!”

“Red just powered down targeting again,” Pidge said. “Keith, tell your lion to listen!”

Keith snapped, “She’s not the problem—you’re just not flying her right!” He caught himself, teeth gritting. “Red never pulled this with me. Yellow’s the one giving me nothing—she lags, she ignores commands, it’s like flying through sludge!”

More drones dove, this time aimed for the back end of the medical bunker. Civilian shields flickered.

Shiro tried to intercept, but Blue lagged on the turn. She refused the input. Refused again. Then banked suddenly without warning—sending Shiro into a wild arc he didn’t plan.

One of the drones clipped the ground near the bunker and exploded—showering sparks over the tents. The others peeled up and around.

“We’re losing ground,” Keith said, grim. “They’re swarming faster than we can intercept.”

“No,” Shiro growled. “No. We hold the line. We hold the line.”

The Paladins pushed harder—clumsier now, wild and erratic. They weren’t piloting with precision anymore. It was reaction, instinct, grit. The lions moved in jerks and stumbles. Fire missed more often than it landed.

But some of it did land.

A blast from Red knocked one drone into another. Black, without warning, fired a full-power shot that carved a burning line across the cliffside and collapsed a narrow pass the Galra had been sneaking toward. Yellow, slow and lumbering, braced in front of the tunnel and caught the debris of a collapsing ledge with her back.

And Green—though disconnected again—let Lance pull her low enough to scrape another drone against the canyon floor like a fly swatted midair.

It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t teamwork.

It was barely survival.

But it was enough.

The last drone burst into pieces under Pidge’s final desperate shot. The sky, suddenly, was quiet.

Smoke curled from the ruined ridges. The static across their HUDs began to ease.

No more incoming signals. No more dropships.

Lance sat still in the cockpit, sweat trailing down his temple. “Did we…?”

“We did,” Shiro answered after a beat. His voice was hoarse. “We… yeah. We did.”

“Oh my god,” Hunk breathed. “I really didn’t think we would.”

“Same,” Keith said. “We weren’t ready. We’re still not.”

Before anyone could respond, a ripple of movement caught their attention below.

From the scattered bunkers and reinforced tunnels, the civilians began to emerge. Slowly at first—nervous, squinting up at the sky—but then with rising energy. A medic waved both arms. A cluster of children pointed skyward, jumping up and down.

Then the cheering started. It was loud and genuine.

Dozens of people below, shouting and clapping, their voices echoing across the canyon like a victory cry. To them, Voltron had arrived just in time. To them, the battle had been won decisively, heroically, the way legends said it always was.

They didn’t see the missed shots. The stumbles. The way the lions moved like strangers in borrowed armor.

They didn’t see that Voltron had never formed. They just saw the lions. And they cheered.

Lance swallowed hard, staring down through the HUD at the crowd below. Green shifted slightly under his hands, like she was unsure whether to bow or turn away.

“Let’s head back. We need repairs. And we need to talk.” Shiro said.

The lions pulled away one by one. No one spoke on the return flight.

Chapter Text

The Castle of Lions came into view.

Three lions broke through the atmosphere first—Green, Black, and Blue—flying low and ragged, scorched from the canyon fight. Their repulsors flickered as they descended toward the hangar deck, landing with a series of uneven stomps and mechanical groans.

Green hit first. Lance eased her in gently, like she might protest at any sudden movement. Her claws scraped against the floor as she lowered herself into a crouch, tail twitching in slow, jerky motions. The mouth hatch opened with a low hiss, and Lance stepped out, removing his helmet, his hair damp with sweat.

“Still think we’re getting the hang of it?” he asked, bitterly.

Blue came in next, settling down a few paces away. Shiro exited quickly, visor still on, but his posture was tense. He said nothing as he joined Lance.

Black landed last of the three, a little heavier than usual. Hunk powered him down and stepped out onto the deck, looking back at the lion like he might snap at him for trying to fly him again.

“He locked me out of cannon control four times,” Hunk muttered, rubbing his arm. “And I think he might’ve threatened me.”

Shiro let out a breath, finally removing his helmet. “Same here. Blue kept adjusting pitch mid-turn, like she didn’t trust where I was steering.”

“She probably didn’t,” Lance mumbled. “At least Green waited until we were out of the blast radius before she stopped listening.”

They didn’t have time to say more.

Red shot into the hangar next, not gracefully. Her trajectory was sharp and hot, and she landed too fast. The force rattled the deck, and the tip of her front paw scraped a bit too close to Green’s side.

Her hatch hissed open, and Pidge came out like a storm. Helmet under one arm, teeth gritted.

“I swear to God, if she shuts down targeting one more time, I’m going to rip out the stabilizer core with my teeth,” she snapped, already walking past the others without looking at them. “Hope she enjoys flying solo because I’m done.”

Lance turned, brow raised. “Pidge—”

“Don’t,” she warned, holding up a hand.

Behind her, Yellow finally approached, slower than the rest. Her back leg dragged just slightly. She jerked forward awkwardly before her repulsors gave out too early, and she slammed down with a heavy metallic thud. Dust lifted from the deck as her claws scraped and skidded.

Keith stumbled out of her mouth hatch a moment later, catching himself with one hand on the lion’s jaw.

He didn’t say anything at first—just walked forward a few steps, shaking his arms out, as if trying to work tension out of his shoulders.

Then he glanced over at the others, jaw tightening.

“She wasn’t listening,” he muttered. “None of it was what I told her to do. She turned when I said brake. She braked when I said turn.”

Pidge, already halfway across the deck, spun back around. “Wow. So it’s not just me, then? Maybe the Yellow Lion’s got a mind of her own too.”

Keith gave her a look. “She’s not supposed to be mine.”

“No one’s supposed to be anywhere right now,” Pidge shot back. “I didn’t ask for Red either.”

“Well, maybe if you actually grow a backbone, she’d actually respond to you.”

“Oh, right, because yelling always works so well for you.”

Shiro took a step forward. “Hey. That’s enough.”

But Keith wasn’t done. “Red never gave me problems like this. Never. Maybe she just doesn’t trust you.”

Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “Careful.”

“You’re the one flying her like she’s just some drone.”

“I am doing the best I can in a lion I don’t know so how about you back off!” She growled.

“You’re best isn’t enough,” Keith snapped.

The hangar crackled with silence for a second.

Shiro raised his voice again, firm. “That’s enough.”

No one moved. Pidge’s shoulders were tight. Keith’s hands were curled into fists at his sides. The air between them was charged.

Then Hunk stepped in, voice gentler. “Guys, come on. We’re all running hot. The lions didn’t work, we didn’t work, so maybe screaming at each other isn’t the next step.”

“She started it,” Keith muttered, eyes still on Pidge.

“Oh my god,” Pidge said, throwing her arms up. “Really? Are you twelve?”

“Are you done flying my lion like she’s a broken RC car?”

“She’s not your lion right now!”

Keith’s jaw clenched. “She should be.”

“Guys,” Lance cut in, holding up a hand. “Let’s not throw punches in the hangar. The last thing we need is for the lions to think we’re the ones glitching.”

“Easy for you to say,” Pidge snapped, turning on him. “You’re the only one who even remotely got yours to work!”

Lance blinked. “I wouldn’t say that. I got lucky.”

“No, you connected,” she said bitterly. “Green actually listened to you. I had to manually calibrate half of Red’s firing systems just to get one clean shot and she still shut me down three times!”

Lance hesitated, suddenly feeling awkward. “I mean… yeah, she’s tricky, but I just started… I dunno, easing up.Taking her suggestions seriously.”

Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, that’s all it takes? A gentle touch and some good vibes?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“Well it’s not working for the rest of us!” Keith snapped, stepping closer again. “I tried being patient. I tried working with Yellow. She still jerked out from under me like I didn’t belong there.”

Shiro rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Maybe that’s the point.”

They all turned toward him.

“What do you mean?” Hunk asked, quietly.

Shiro looked around at them. His team. His family. All of them bruised and exhausted. All of them were staring at each other like strangers. “Maybe it’s not just about pushing through it. Maybe the lions know we’re not ready.”

“Or maybe they’re just malfunctioning,” Pidge said, crossing her arms. “Allura said a surge hit them. Maybe it messed with their systems.”

“Then how do you explain Green and Lance?” Keith said, voice sharp.

Lance raised both hands. “Guys, I don’t have a magic answer, alright? I got some cooperation, but she still stopped listening halfway through! I thought we were on the same page and then—boom—nothing!”

Keith turned back to him. “So she was working with you.”

“For five minutes,” Lance snapped. “It’s not a bond, it’s a fluke!”

Pidge frowned. “Still more than the rest of us got.”

Shiro stepped between them. “Look. Whatever the reason, we can’t keep flying like this. We barely made it out of that last battle. Voltron didn’t form. We couldn’t even try.”

Hunk spoke up next, hesitant. “Maybe… maybe we need training. Not just on flying, but on understanding them. Whoever’s piloting who now—we’ve gotta figure it out fast, or someone’s gonna get hurt.”

There was a long beat of silence.

Lance looked down at his gloves, voice softer. “I thought I was doing okay. But Green… she shut me out just when it mattered.”

“She’s not the only one,” Shiro said quietly. “Blue’s doing the same. She’s calm until I try to lead. Then she pulls away. Every time.”

Keith folded his arms, gaze low. “Yellow doesn’t even let me correct her. It’s like… like she’s testing me. Waiting for me to fail.”

“No offense,” Pidge muttered, “but maybe you are failing.”

Keith’s head snapped up, and before another word could launch across the deck—

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Pidge didn’t back down. “Maybe if you actually listened to her instead of trying to brute-force your way through everything—”

“I am listening!”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Shiro stepped forward quickly, hands raised. “Okay, that’s it. Both of you—”

But Keith didn’t stop. “Maybe the problem isn’t the lions. Maybe it’s the people who keep dragging us into situations we’re not ready for!”

Pidge’s brow furrowed. “What are you—”

“This all started with you!” Keith snapped, pointing at her. “You’re the one who pushed for the intel extraction! You’re the one who said you could keep the tech stable enough—”

“We needed that intel!”

“We needed our lions!” Keith shouted. “And now we don’t have them. We’ve got ghosts. Strangers. All because you couldn’t stop trying to prove how smart you are!”

Shiro tried again, stepping in between them. “Keith, stop. This isn’t helping.”

Keith didn’t even seem to hear him.

Lance stepped towards Keith, brows pinched. “Okay, relax man, man.” He reached for Keith’s shoulder. “Take a second, cool off—”

Keith shoved Lance’s hand off roughly. “Don’t touch me.”

Pidge had already turned around, pacing like she couldn’t breathe, but at those last words, she spun back toward him with fire in her eyes.

“You want to blame someone?” she snapped. “Fine. Go ahead. But maybe if you could fly worth a damn, we wouldn’t have almost lost that fight!”

“I was flying just fine until I got stuck with the wrong lion!”

“She clearly thinks she has the wrong paladin too! I did what I could to help us against the Galra, what if we just let them have the tech.”

Keith barked a bitter laugh. “Yeah, and maybe if you were half the paladin you pretend to be, your family wouldn’t still be missing.”

That was it.

Pidge stormed up to him, jaw clenched, fists shaking at her sides, and shoved him hard in the chest.

Keith staggered back a step, stunned for a half second, before planting his feet.

“Say that again,” she snapped, voice low and furious. “Go ahead. Say it again.”

Keith didn’t back down. “I said maybe if you were better, you would’ve found your family by now.”

Pidge’s eyes burned. Her fist flew.

The hit landed square across his jaw with a sharp smack. Keith’s head snapped to the side. He didn’t fall—but he reeled, blinking.

“Pidge!” Shiro barked, rushing forward. “Enough!”

Keith turned back to her, fire in his eyes now, chest heaving. Lance stepped in front of him and grabbed his shoulder, trying to stop what was clearly about to explode.

“Hey—Keith, stop,” Lance said quickly trying to grab him.

Keith shoved his hands off like it burned. “I said don’t touch me!”

“You’re not helping!” Hunk said desperately. “Either of you—this isn’t solving anything!”

“She hit me!” Keith snarled, turning back toward Pidge.

“You deserved it!” she snapped, wiping her eyes quickly, like she refused to let anyone see her cry.

The silence that followed was blistering.

“That is enough.”

Allura’s voice rang across the hangar, stern and steady—no room left for argument.

The tension snapped like overstretched cable. Everyone froze.

She stepped forward, gaze sweeping across them with a look that could’ve stopped a war. “I don’t care whose lion did what. I don’t care who yelled first. What I care about is that you are the Paladins of Voltron, and what I just saw in that hangar was not Voltron. That was a team falling apart.”

No one spoke.

Coran moved to stand beside her, quieter but no less serious. “You were close to not making it back. You are lucky that the Galra did not press the advantage.”

“We can not keep fighting like this,” Allura continued. “Not each other. Not the lions. So we are leaving.”

That made heads turn.

“To a planet far outside Galra control,” she said. “Uninhabited and Safe. We’ll remain there as long as needed. You’ll train. You’ll learn your lions. You’ll learn each other again. Because right now? You are a danger to yourselves. And to this mission.”

There was a long, cold silence. The only sound was the quiet hum of cooling lion systems. Allura nodded with a stern look and walked out, Coran following closely behind.

Pidge stood still, arms folded tight across her chest. Her chin was high, her eyes locked forward—but one tear traced a slow path down her cheek before she could wipe it away.

Keith saw it.

He shifted slightly, guilt flickering across his face like static. His mouth opened, like he might say something.

But before a word could come out, Pidge cut him off with a look so sharp it stopped him cold. She turned on her heel and pushed past Shiro without a word.

“Pidge—” Shiro started, reaching for her.

She shook her head once and kept walking—fast, stiff. Gone. The door hissed closed behind her.

Keith stood motionless, his shoulders square but tense, eyes locked on the floor.

Lance broke the silence first.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, stepping forward. “Seriously, Keith. Why the fuck would you say that?”

Keith didn’t flinch. “She started it.”

“Jesus Christ," Lance snapped. “You’re not in kindergarten, man! She was flying a lion she didn’t even want—your lion may I remind you—and doing her best! You think you’re the only one pissed off that this whole thing got scrambled?”

“I didn’t mean—” Keith began, but Shiro cut in.

“Stop,” Shiro said sharply. “Both of you.”

He took a breath, voice steady but firm. “Pidge did start pushing. She escalated it. That wasn’t okay. And I will talk to her about it.”

Keith’s expression twitched, as if bracing for more.

“But that doesn’t excuse what you said,” Shiro continued. “You took it too far, Keith. That wasn’t about the lions. That was personal. And cruel.”

Keith didn’t argue this time. He just stood there, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides.

Lance shook his head, still glaring. “Why would you even go there? You think she doesn’t already beat herself up over not finding them?”

“She accused me of not being good enough,” Keith muttered.

“So you decided to prove her right by acting like a jackass?” Lance shot back.

Shiro stepped between them. “Stop, just stop.” He sounded defeated.

The room fell quiet again. Only the soft hum of cooling systems filled the silence.

“I’ll talk to her,” Shiro said, glancing toward the door. “Keith, apologize later. Take a breath and cool off.”

As Shiro turned to leave, Lance stayed put, still watching Keith. His hands were still at his sides, but his posture had shifted. Less confrontational now.

Keith shifted, finally looking over at him.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he said, low and fast. “I don’t even know why it came out.”

Lance didn’t respond.

Keith pressed on. “I wasn’t thinking. I just—she kept pushing and I snapped. I wasn’t trying to—” He cut himself off and looked away, frustration twisting through his expression. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

That made Lance pause.

He studied Keith for a long second, brow furrowed—not angry anymore. Just quiet.

“You scared me a little,” Lance said finally. “Not because you yelled. But because… I think you meant it. At least a little.”

Keith swallowed, hard. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just—” He shook his head. “She talks about finding them like it’s everything, and I get that, but… I don’t. I don’t know what that feels like. I guess… maybe I was jealous.”

Lance’s anger faded, inch by inch.

“Keith…” He sighed. “You could’ve just said that. I mean, not in the middle of a screaming match, but still.”

“I know.”

“You’re not the only one who feels off,” Lance said. “None of us know what we’re doing. But if you want to stay part of this team, you’ve gotta stop torching people just because you don’t know what else to say.”

Keith nodded, with a grimace on his face.

Lance softly pat Keith's back. “Cmon, let’s see what Hunks cooking.” He gave a small smile as he walked past, Keith hesitates but eventually follows Lance to the kitchen.

—

The hallway outside Pidge’s quarters was quiet, lit in low gold from the Castle’s night cycle. Shiro stood still for a moment, fist raised to knock, and paused.

He’d seen Pidge angry before. He’d seen her focused, defensive, even bitter. But the way she walked off the hangar floor hadn’t been any of those. It had been cracked.

He knocked twice.

“Pidge?”

Silence.

“It’s me,” he said.

There was a pause. Then, muffled through the door: “Go away.”

“I will,” Shiro replied calmly, “if you really want me to. But not until I check in. As a friend not a leader.”

Another pause. Then, the door opened, just a few inches.

After a beat, it slid open the rest of the way.

Pidge stood inside, arms crossed, back stiff. Her glasses were perched unevenly on her nose, and her eyes were faintly red. She didn’t step aside, but she didn’t shut the door either.

Shiro took that as permission and stepped in slowly, giving her space, and turned to face her.

“I’m not here to lecture,” he said. “But I need to know why that fight started.”

Pidge scoffed, turning her back to him as she sat on the edge of her bed. “Keith’s an ass. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Shiro didn’t flinch. “You threw the first punch.”

That landed heavier than she expected.

Pidge’s shoulders tensed. “He deserved it.”

“Maybe. But you’re smarter than that. You’re better than that. I know you are. So what really happened?”

She stared at the floor for a while, unmoving. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

“I—I don’t know, okay?” her voice cracked a little. “Everything’s been wrong since the switch. Red won’t respond. Lance is flying Green like it’s easy. And Keith…” She clenched her fists in her lap. “He was flying just as bad, we all were. And he made it like I was the only one who failed.”

Shiro’s brow creased, but he let her keep going.

“I could barely hit anything out there. Red lagged every shot. I thought we were getting better, but today—today I felt like I was just dragging her through the sky. And everyone saw it.”

“Pidge,” Shiro said gently.

“I can’t be the reason we fail.” Her voice was low now, almost a whisper. “If I was better—if I was really good at this—maybe we’d already be synced. Maybe we could’ve formed Voltron. Maybe we’d already have found my family by now.”

“That day on the cruiser…” she went on, voice barely above a whisper now, “when the crystal pulsed, when the lions switched—I didn’t stop it. I caused it. I plugged you in. I stabilized the node. I triggered the resonance loop. I’m the reason everything’s wrong now.”

She wiped her sleeve across her face quickly, angrily. “You were the only one who said wait. Everyone else just trusted me to fix it. I didn’t. I broke it worse. I got us reassigned.”

Shiro’s voice was calm but certain. “You saved us.”

She looked up at him, eyes glassy and disbelieving.

“If we hadn’t triggered that relay,” Shiro said, “the Galra would’ve gotten the override data. They would’ve controlled the lions. Controlled Voltron. You stopped that from happening. Yeah, the swap was unexpected—but we’re still free. The lions are still ours. And that’s because of you.”

Pidge looked away. Her hands were trembling in her lap now, white-knuckled.

“I didn’t want Red,” she said. “I didn’t want to be stuck with a lion that hated me. But I am. And now everyone’s looking at me like I’m falling apart. And maybe I am. And then Keith—” she broke off, her voice catching, “—Keith says it’s my fault. That maybe I’m the reason we’re in this mess. And for a second… I thought he might be right.”

Shiro crouched in front of her, not too low, but enough to meet her eyes if she looked up slightly.

“You’re not the reason we’re struggling,” he said quietly. “This wasn’t your fault. Not the switch, not the battle, and not what happened out there today.”

“But—”

“No,” he said firmly, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “Pidge, I was there with you. In that cruiser. I saw what that resonance pulse did. That Galra tech—it scrambled everything. Forced connections the lions didn’t choose. That’s not something you can predict, let alone fix in one battle.”

Pidge looked at him, eyes rimmed red again.

“We will fix this,” Shiro said. “We’ll figure out how to work with the lions the way they are now. We’ll get through the training. And we’ll get Voltron back.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice low but strong.

“But we’re not doing that without you. We can’t. Your brain, your instincts. No one else can do what you do. Not me, not Keith, not anyone. The team needs you.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t look away.

“And your family?” he continued, softer now. “We’re going to find them. You, me—all of us. Commander Holt and Matt were two of the smartest and stubborn people I knew and on that mission they became my brothers. They’re not just your family, Pidge. They’re mine too.”

Pidge let out a small huff of a laugh, watery and tired. “Matt was annoyingly stubborn,” she muttered. “Always had to prove he was right. Even when he wasn’t.”

Shiro smiled faintly. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

That earned a weak eye-roll from her. “Okay, okay. Point made.”

There was a brief silence, softer this time—less tense. She sat up a little straighter.

“They wouldn’t have stopped,” she said quietly. “So I won’t either.”

Shiro nodded, stepping back toward the door. “We’ll get them back, Pidge. Your family. Our lions. All of it.”

She gave one last nod, sharper this time. “Okay.”

Shiro gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Get some rest. We start fresh tomorrow.”

Pidge didn’t reply, but the set of her shoulders eased just slightly. As the door slid shut behind him, she let out a quiet breath and glanced toward the dim hum of her computer screen, still glowing with half-finished scans.

***

The throne chamber of Central Command was silent save for the heavy clank of armored boots.

Galra sentries flanked the entrance as a battered general stepped through, his posture rigid but his stride uncertain. Smoke and grime clung to the seams of his armor, his helmet tucked beneath one arm. The chamber ahead was vast—dominated by the towering dais at its center, where Emperor Zarkon sat like a statue carved from iron and fury. Haggar stood beside him, half-shrouded in her cloak.

A Galra general dropped to one knee before the raised dais, head bowed. His uniform bore the damage of recent battle—scorch marks, torn plating, and a hastily-wrapped wound that still leaked purple at the edge.

“Lord Zarkon,” he said, head bowed. “I’ve come to report on the skirmish in the Verzan Expanse.”

Zarkon’s voice rumbled like grinding stone. “Then speak.”

The general hesitated a breath too long. “We engaged the lions. Voltron was sighted, but… it never formed. The lions were uncoordinated. Their tactics—disjointed. They fought as separate units, not as one.”

Zarkon’s eyes narrowed.

“They were vulnerable,” the general pressed. “We had the advantage, but… they managed to repel us. Just barely. Our heavy cruiser took damage during the retreat, and—”

“You retreated,” Zarkon said, his tone colder than space.

The general stiffened. “Yes, sire. But I believed it the best course to preserve—”

“There is no place for weakness in the Galra Empire,” Zarkon growled.

“My Emperor—please. If I’m given another chance—”

“You failed,” Zarkon growled.

“My lord—” the general tried.

“You should have crushed them,” Zarkon growled. “Instead, you bring me excuses.”

He turned his back in disgust. “You’ve lost your worth.”

Two sentries emerged from the shadows. Before the general could rise, they seized him.

“No!” he shouted. “Wait, please—!”

Zarkon didn’t look back. “Dispose of him.”

The doors hissed shut behind the screams.

Haggar’s voice slid in like ice between steel. “It is… unusual. Their formation has never faltered before. Not without cause.”

Zarkon turned his gaze to her. “Find the cause.”

Haggar bowed her head slightly. “As you command.”

She turned and vanished into the shadows, robes whispering against the stone.

Above them, the great glyph of the Galra Empire pulsed with cold violet light.

Chapter Text

The Castle’s kitchen was unusually quiet for morning.

The low hum of machinery and the occasional clatter of utensils were the only sounds filling the space. The five Paladins sat around the main table, half-focused on their plates—most of which remained barely touched. The food was fine. The mood was not.

Lance stabbed at a glob of space eggs with unnecessary force, then leaned back in his chair, attempting a grin. “So… anyone else miss the goo pancakes from Ventoryn? You know, the ones that jiggled back when you chewed?”

No one laughed. Hunk gave a half-smile. Keith just blinked at his spoon. Pidge didn’t look up from her bowl.

Shiro tried next. “I don’t know. Those were a little too weird for me.” He offered it lightly, casually, the way he used to before battles. But his voice felt heavier now. Less natural.

Lance tried again. “Okay, but real talk. Green made a noise yesterday when I pulled up too fast. Not like a groan or anything. More like… I don’t know. A huff. A ‘you’re doing it wrong’ kind of huff. Anyone else getting passive-aggressive lion noises, or is it just me?”

That got a small exhale out of Hunk, maybe even a near-smile. Pidge still didn’t look up.

Keith didn’t say a word.

Shiro’s eyes lingered on Pidge for a moment. She was sitting low in her chair, hood half-up, poking at her food with the kind of focus reserved for anything but eating it.

No one brought up yesterday.

No one talked about fists or shouting or how the lions had nearly fallen apart mid-battle.

“I think they’re still getting used to us,” Shiro said eventually, stirring a now-cold cup of tea. “And we’re getting used to them.”

Hunk glanced around, trying to be helpful. “I was looking over Black’s diagnostics last night. His energy output isn’t what I'd call stable but it seems like it’s working? I think he’s running subroutines on his own without telling me.”

“Didn’t he use to do that for you too, Shiro?” Lance offered. “Sorta. Like, thinking five steps ahead.”

“Feels like I’m playing catch-up with a tank,” Hunk muttered.

“I can definitely feel that way in the beginning but it really helps when i’m flying him,” Shiro smiled. “made things easier in the long run.”

There was another lull.

And then the intercom beeped.

“Paladins,” Allura’s voice came through the castle speakers. “We’ve arrived at Arkynis. Report to the control deck in ten doboshes.”

Everyone stilled.

Keith’s fingers tapped restlessly on the table. Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. Lance looked down into his plate like it might offer an excuse not to go. Pidge kept her gaze fixed on the far wall, jaw tight.

They all knew what Arkynis meant.

Not just training. Not just flying practice. It meant trying. Again. And maybe failing.

Shiro looked around at them, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, quiet and resigned, and stood, setting his cup down with a soft clink that echoed in the silence.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s get moving.”

They followed. One after the other. No one said anything more.

None of them had finished breakfast.

The walk to the control deck was just as quiet as breakfast had been.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor, evenly spaced, too careful. They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to. Everyone knew why they were walking. It wasn’t nerves—not exactly. Just weight.

The control deck doors slid open with a hiss. Allura and Coran were already there.

Through the wide glass panels, the planet Arkynis filled the view—an isolated world marked by sprawling valleys, broken mountain ranges, and jagged canyons deep enough to disappear into. Cloud cover rolled slowly across the lower hemisphere, casting long shadows across a rocky surface that looked untouched by civilization.

“Good. You’re here,” Allura said, her tone clipped and firm. She didn’t look tired, but she didn’t look patient either.

Coran gestured to a display panel, bringing up a map of the planet. “We’ve scanned the terrain. No settlements, no satellites, and no signs of Galra activity. It’s remote enough to be safe, rugged enough to be useful. With the right conditions for altitude variation, open skies, and a few gravity shifts here and there. It’ll serve well for the training you’ll need.”

“Great,” Keith muttered. “So we found a rock that wants to kill us. How is that different from anywhere else we’ve been?”

Lance nudged him, half-hearted. “Think of it like team bonding. But with more crashes.”

Allura didn’t smile. “The point is not to crash. The point is to relearn how to fly. How to work together. We’re not at war out here, not today. You’re here to understand your lions and yourselves.”

Shiro stepped forward slightly. “Just because the lions switched doesn’t mean we have to throw out how we operate as a team. We still have the same strengths. We can build from that.”

Allura tilted her head. “Perhaps. But the lions don’t operate on logic alone. Each one has a role, a rhythm. If a Paladin’s nature doesn’t align with that rhythm, the lion resists. Voltron is more than strategy. It’s instinct, trust, and connection.”

Coran folded his arms. “And if you can’t find harmony with your lions, you’ll never find it with each other. Let alone form Voltron.”

That quiet hit heavier than any order.

Hunk cleared his throat. “So… we’re just supposed to what? Change ourselves?”

“No,” Allura said. “ you grow. Lean into things you’ve avoided. Face parts of yourselves you’ve ignored. The lions didn’t just pick at random. Something in each of you responded. Whether you understand it or not.”

Keith crossed his arms. “Okay. So what exactly are we supposed to be leaning into?”

Allura glanced at Coran, then stepped forward toward the holomap, bringing up an image of Voltron fully formed—each lion glowing with its assigned quadrant.

“Each lion has a purpose,” she said. “A role within Voltron, and within the Paladin who flies it. That purpose doesn’t vanish just because the pilot changes.”

Keith narrowed his eyes at the display. “We already know which lion goes where. That’s not new.”

“It’s not about where they go, it's what they are.” Coran playfully scoffed. “Each lion was designed to embody a specific principle—one essential to Voltron’s power and cohesion.”

She gestured to the projection behind her. The five lion silhouettes glowing one after the other as they are named.

“The Blue Lion is the heart,” she said. “She feels. Empathizes. Her strength lies in intuition and emotional clarity. She is the one who keeps the team centered, and keeps their spirits aligned.”

Shiro’s mouth tightened slightly. He stood a little straighter, but didn’t speak.

“The Yellow Lion is the foundation. Grounded, unwavering. She bears the weight others can’t, not just in battle, but in trust, in duty. Her Paladin is the team’s anchor.”

Keith shifted, eyes lowering for a moment. His arms folded tight across his chest.

Allura gave him a small nod before returning to the projection. “Red is the spirit. Bold. Willful. Proud. She charges forward with everything she has, but not for just anyone.She won’t move for someone who doesn’t know their own fire.”

Pidge looked down. Her hands clenched slightly at her sides.

“The Green Lion is the head,” Allura said next. “She guides thought, not instinct. She values cleverness, perception, foresight. Her pilot must be willing to ask questions and to listen for answers.”

Lance swallowed, his earlier confidence dimming just a little.

“And Black,” Allura said last, her voice lowering. “Black is the bridge. The core that ties all the others together. He listens to their rhythms. He doesn’t command, he connects. That’s why he leads. Not because he’s stronger, but because he knows how to carry the team.”

Hunk looked down at his hands. “I’m not Shiro,” he said, more to himself than anyone.

“And yet the lion chose you,” Coran said, stepping forward gently. “There’s something inside you that Black recognizes. It’s not about being Shiro or anybody for that matter. It’s about being the center and connecting the team.”

Silence settled again.

Pidge looked down. Hunk scratched the back of his neck. Lance leaned back slightly, staring at the image. Keith’s fingers twitched like he wanted to cross his arms again and didn’t know if he should.

“So…” Keith muttered, glancing at Yellow’s section. “If the lion’s built for something, and the Paladin doesn’t match that—”

“—then the lion resists,” Coran finished. “Not out of malice. But because its instincts are out of tune with yours.”

Shiro nodded. “And that’s what we’ve been feeling. That pushback. That hesitation.”

Allura closed the display. “You’re not being rejected, but you aren’t being accepted either. The lions are pushing you into unfamiliar parts of yourselves. You don’t have to become someone else. But if you want to pilot these lions—you’ll have to grow.”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “And if we can’t?”

“Then Voltron doesn’t form,” Shiro said, simply. “And we stay exactly where we are. Stuck.”

No one argued.

Lance gave a weak chuckle. “Guess that means today’s gonna suck.”

Shiro nodded. “Probably.”

***

A few hours later, the lions launched.

Their massive frames emerged one by one from the Castle hangar, scattering low clouds in their wake as they entered Arkynis’s upper atmosphere. The sky stretched wide above them—blue-tinged and cloudless, sharp against the dry orange ridges below. It was quiet out here. No Galra. No civilians. Just the wind, the sky, and the five wrong lions.

And every one of them felt it.

“All Paladins in the air,” Shiro confirmed, voice steady over comms. “Everyone check in.”

“Green’s up,” Lance said. “Little jumpy, but she’s listening.”

“Yellow’s airborne,” Keith muttered. “More like dragging her up than flying, but yeah.”

“Black’s stable,” Hunk offered. “Kinda slow to accelerate.”

“Red’s in the air,” Pidge reported. “Don’t ask how.”

Shiro’s pause was brief. “Blue’s responsive. Cautious, but tracking clean.”

The team broke into wider spacing, letting the wind settle between them. Arkynis stretched below in valleys of stone and ash, a harsh but open canvas. The kind of place you could fall forever.

Shiro pulled a slow, wide turn in Blue, circling to keep all signals on his display. The comms crackled softly.

“Okay,” Shiro said finally, voice crackling over the open channel. “This isn’t going to feel natural. It’s not supposed to. We’re flying with instincts we haven’t built yet. But this is how it starts. We push through. We listen.”

The moment he finished, Blue slowed her turn. Below him, Yellow banked the opposite direction without instruction. Black drifted slightly to port. Green rolled off-course, and Red dipped, almost as if exhaling.

Like the lions were answering back.

Not defiant.

Just disagreeing.

Shiro blinked, recalibrating his heading. “Uh. Anyone else get that?”

“They didn’t like it,” Lance said. “All of them just kinda did their own thing.”

“Like they didn’t want Shiro calling the shots,” Pidge muttered.

Shiro hesitated. He wasn’t angry. Just thrown. “Okay. That’s new.”

“Maybe not that new,” Hunk said, voice unsure.

“Got something, Hunk?” Shiro prompted.

“I—I don’t know. Just… okay.” Hunk took a breath, cleared his throat. “Maybe they’re waiting. Not for commands, but for coordination. Like… not the usual chain-of-command stuff. Something else.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Lance said, gently, “Try something. We’ve got you.”

Hunk swallowed. “Okay, uh… let’s go with basic pairing drills.”

He checked his HUD again, eyes flicking between markers as he worked through possibilities out loud.

“Okay, um… Blue and Yellow,” he said, voice a little shaky at first, “try a vertical ascent-descent loop. Just… just get a rhythm going.”

A pause.

“Black and Green,” he continued, steadier now but still unsure, “tight lateral flybys—see if you can… uh, sync pace on the horizontal.”

He hesitated, glancing toward Red’s icon on the display.

“Red, uh… solo maneuvers,” he said. “Freeform. Just… test responsiveness. See what she gives you.”

“Copy,” Keith said, adjusting his path.

“Got it,” Shiro echoed.

“On it,” Lance said, tone light but solid.

Red peeled off without argument. The others broke into their pairs, and for the first time since takeoff, the formation didn’t feel so foreign.

Blue and Green shifted first.

Lance angled Green into a slow left sweep while Shiro guided Blue up and around to meet him from the opposite side. The idea was a simple flyby—keep parallel, match speeds, pass without collision.

It should’ve been easy.

But Green dipped when she shouldn’t have. Lance adjusted, then overcorrected. Blue steadied too late, her tail clipping the air where Green had been a second ago.

“Sorry! sorry. She keeps trying to take over,” Lance said quickly. “Like, she turns before I even touch the controls.”

“I’m seeing it,” Shiro muttered, recalibrating Blue’s stabilizers. “Feels like she’s pulling left just to test if I’ll follow.”

“She totally is,” Lance replied, grimacing. “She did that to me in the canyon last time, too. She wants to lead.”

Shiro didn’t argue. But Blue’s response was clearly strained.

Across the ridge line, Black and Yellow attempted their ascent-descent loop.

Hunk rolled Black upward first, coaxing him into a clean arc. Keith followed in Yellow, but the coordination wasn’t there. Yellow hesitated—then burst upward too quickly, forcing Hunk to tilt hard to avoid a collision.

“Woah—hey, Keith! Too fast!” Hunk barked.

“I’m trying!” Keith snapped. “She’s not climbing when I tell her to. Then she jumps.”

“Ease into it,” Hunk said, biting his lip. “Don’t rush her—just match me.”

They reset the pattern. Black dipped again. Yellow started late. Their loop wobbled like a half-deflated ring.

“You ever get the feeling they’re watching us mess this up on purpose?” Keith growled.

“No,” Hunk said. “I get the feeling they want us to figure out why we’re messing up.”

Pidge said nothing.

Red was high above them, alone against the light-blue stretch of Arkynis’s upper sky.

Her maneuvers weren’t aggressive. Not precise, either. Pidge wasn’t flying her the way she’d flown Green. There were no tight turns or sweeping dives. Just… tests.

A roll. A brake. A quiet nudge of the yaw.

Red responded—but not with grace. Her turns had weight. Her acceleration came in bursts, not flows. She was powerful. Pidge knew that. She just didn’t know how to hold it yet.

“She’s not resisting,” Pidge said quietly over comms, almost to herself. “She’s watching me.”

“Watching you?” Lance echoed.

“She’s giving me space,” Pidge said, frowning. “Like she’s letting me take the first step. But she’s not going to do it for me.”

Pidge didn’t smile. Not yet. Her hands were resting gently on the controls, fingertips hovering like she wasn’t sure whether to move or just think.

Her hands stayed on the controls, but she wasn’t steering anymore, just hovering, feeling the subtle drift of Red beneath her. Not pulling. Not rebelling. Just waiting.

Waiting for her.

She closed her eyes briefly and inhaled, slow and controlled.

Allura’s voice echoed in the back of her mind: You’re not being rejected, but you aren’t being accepted either. The lions are pushing you into unfamiliar parts of yourselves.

Pidge opened her eyes. “Keith.”

There was a beat. “Yeah?”

She hesitated. Her voice, when it came, was quiet, measured, but not sharp. “When you flew Red… what were you… feeling? What was going through your head when she responded to you?”

Keith didn’t answer immediately. For a second, the only sound was the faint hum of wind across their hulls.

Then he exhaled, just loud enough to catch on the line.

“I was focused,” he said finally. “All I was thinking about was taking down what stood in our way. Protecting everyone. Hitting hard, fast, making sure the enemy didn’t get a chance to hurt us again.”

He paused. “I wasn’t just flying her. I was the blade. She was the fire behind it.”

Pidge blinked.

She hadn’t expected that. Not the clarity, not the simplicity of it.

Keith kept speaking, slower now. “And it wasn’t about anger. Not really. It was… knowing exactly what I had to do. And not holding back.”

There was something in that that sat heavy in her chest.

She looked at Red’s console, then out across the wide stretch of sky. Her fingers traced along the edge of the control pad.

“I’m not wired like that,” Pidge muttered, still watching Red’s readouts. “Just… rushing in, throwing punches, trusting it’ll work out? That’s not me.”

Red didn’t move. Just hovered, quiet and steady. Listening.

Pidge sighed, tucking her legs up a little tighter in the seat. “I don’t… lead with emotion. I calculate. I wait. I find the weak spot and make a plan.”

She hesitated, fingers brushing the edge of the console.

Shiro’s voice came through gently, almost amused. “No, you just threaten to break into military databases, hijack our escape pods, and abandon the team if it gets you closer to finding your family.”

Pidge blinked. “That was one time.”

Shiro chuckled. “You said — and I quote — ‘I’m not going to stop looking when I’m this close, I won’t.’ Back on the cruiser with the Red Lion. You get a lot braver when it’s about them.”

Pidge didn’t answer right away. Her gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, where the edge of Arkynis blurred into the clouds.

Then, softer: “That’s different.”

“Is it?” Shiro asked. “Maybe not to Red.”

The inside of the cockpit felt too still. Pidge’s hands hovered near the controls, like touching them wrong might break whatever fragile thread she’d started to find.

“I’m not brave like that,” she muttered. “Not… all the time.”

“You don’t have to be,” Shiro said. “But you are when it counts. When it really matters.”

Another voice chimed in, gentler still.

“You can get real scary when your family’s involved, Pidge,” Hunk said with a quiet smile in his tone. “Like, blowing up a Galra lab scary. You’d do anything to protect them. We’ve all seen it.”

Pidge didn’t look up—but her jaw tightened. Slowly, she leaned back in her seat and placed both hands flat on the console.

Red’s console was quiet beneath her palms. No sudden shift. No jolt of power. Just a steady hum. Like she was waiting.

She didn’t purr, didn’t surge forward, didn’t do anything that might count as dramatic—but the tension in her frame let go like a held breath. The resistance in the controls faded. The air inside the cockpit shifted—like Red had taken one slow step closer.

“…Huh,” Pidge murmured.

Across the sky, Blue pulsed gently under Shiro’s hands. Her response was quieter, but noticeable. The stabilizers evened out, and the left drift he’d been fighting since takeoff leveled for the first time.

“That’s new.” Shiro’s voice cut through the comms.

Keith’s voice crackled through next. “What is?”

“I’m not getting as much pushback from Blue,” Shiro said, surprised. “She’s still not fully responding, but she’s not pulling away either.”

Lance made a noise that was way too excited for the moment. “that’s great! She likes you, man!”

Shiro chuckled under his breath. “I don’t know if it’s that. But… it’s the first time I’ve felt like she’s listening.”

“I mean, yeah,” Lance said, “I told you—Blue doesn’t want orders. She wants… connection. And you cracked a joke earlier. That’s, like, top-tier bonding with her.”

Pidge blinked. “You think sarcasm is the key to syncing?”

Lance didn’t miss a beat. “Worked for me.”

Shiro didn’t answer that, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

From his cockpit, Hunk cleared his throat. “Okay, uh… so… so far, it seems like Lance, Shiro, and Pidge are getting somewhere with their lions. So maybe—maybe we lean into that.”

He paused, stumbling a little over his own plan. “For drills, I mean. Pair drills. Right, so… uh, Pidge and Shiro? You two fly together. Test out coordination, since Red and Blue seem… calmer now.”

Another breath.

“Keith and Lance, you’re up too. Green and Yellow—maybe they balance each other out a little, I don’t know. It’s worth a shot.”

He glanced at his display. “I’ll, uh… I’ll go solo for now. Black’s not really giving me anything yet. And I don’t want to get in the way. I’ll fly above and monitor patterns. Keep spacing clean. Adjust if needed.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lance said. “I mean, Keith and I haven’t crashed yet, so that’s progress, right?”

Keith’s voice came through, flat but not biting. “Yet.”

Lance huffed a short laugh. “You know, you’re really inspiring a lot of confidence over here.”

“Just managing expectations.”

Lance smiled faintly in his seat. “Well, keep managing them like that and we might actually start flying like a team.”

Keith didn’t respond right away, but there was the faintest edge of amusement under his tone. “We’ll see.”

Pidge cut in, dry as ever. “Okay, cool. You two figure out your dynamic. Just not midair, please.”

“I’m not the one who started the commentary,” Keith muttered.

“I’m just being charming,” Lance said innocently.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Pidge replied.

“Team,” Shiro broke in, calm but pointed. “Let’s stay focused. Or at least save the flirting for after we’ve survived the drills.”

There was a beat of surprised silence.

Then Pidge actually laughed—a short, startled snort. “God, please don’t let them flirt mid-dive. I don’t want to die to dramatic tension.”

Lance let out a wheeze. “No promises.”

Shiro smiled faintly to himself. “At least we’ll go down with style.”

“I’m ejecting next time those two start ‘bonding’ again,” Pidge deadpanned.

“Good luck landing in that terrain,” Hunk added weakly. “No one’s catching you.”

Shiro cleared his throat, humor softening. “Alright, let’s stay on task.”

A quiet settled over the comms—not heavy like before, but lighter somehow. Not fixed. Not perfect. But lighter.

The Paladins adjusted course, beginning to move in their new formations. No one said it out loud, but there was a thread of something under the silence—thin, tentative.

Trust.

Even Hunk could feel it as he rose higher in altitude, slipping into a smooth observation path above the others. Black didn’t jolt or push back. He didn’t give much either—but for the first time all day, he felt… content. Like he was watching too.

***

The hangar was quiet, save for the soft whirr of Red Lion’s idle systems and the occasional click of a keyboard.

Pidge sat cross-legged on the floor beside Red’s front paw, her laptop balanced on her knees, a cable snaked into one of Red’s access ports. The glow from her screen painted faint green light on her glasses. She wasn’t typing fast. Just idly running diagnostics, poking at telemetry. Mostly, she was just… there. Hoping the lion noticed.

Red stood silent and still, but Pidge had the faintest impression she was listening.

Footsteps echoed behind her.

They were soft, but not stealthy. Meant to be heard.

Pidge didn’t look up. “If you’re here to tell me I should be sleeping, Shiro already tried.”

“…Wasn’t going to,” Keith’s voice said.

She paused, glanced over her shoulder.

Keith stood near the hangar entrance, hands shoved into his pockets. His expression was unreadable, but his stance was stiff, uncertain. Like he wasn’t sure if he should be here at all.

Pidge blinked once, then turned back to her screen. “Oh. Okay.”

Keith walked a little closer. Not all the way—just enough to be heard without raising his voice. “What are you doing?”

“Telemetry scrape,” she replied. “Red’s been holding flight data differently than Green. I’m trying to figure out if she’s using predictive tracking or if it’s just something close to instinctual mapping.”

A beat.

“…Right,” Keith said.

She spared him a sideways glance. “It’s fine if you didn’t get any of that.”

“I got, like… one-third of it.”

Pidge shrugged. “You’re improving.”

Silence lingered again. Then Keith shifted his weight. “Look, I just… I wanted to say sorry. For what I said. Before.”

Keith’s words hung there a second longer than they needed to. His voice wasn’t sharp like it had been in the hangar, it was quieter now.

Pidge kept her eyes on her screen. She didn’t immediately answer, but the rhythm of her typing slowed.

“Yeah,” she said eventually. “I guess… I wasn’t exactly at my best either.”

Keith took another step forward. Not all the way, just enough that he didn’t have to raise his voice. “Still. I said some stuff I shouldn’t have. And I didn’t mean it. About your family. That wasn’t fair.”

Pidge exhaled through her nose. “No, it wasn’t.”

That hung there too. But it didn’t cut the way it had before.

She looked over at him, chin tilted slightly. “But I’ve also been biting everyone’s head off since we got back, so… I probably deserved at least half of it.”

Keith gave a small huff. “Maybe a third.”

A flicker of something like a smile tugged at her mouth. “You’re being generous.”

He shrugged. “Don’t get used to it.”

They fell quiet again, but the silence was lighter this time. Less like tension. More like space.

Keith glanced at Red’s paw. “She doesn’t mind you doing all that?”

“No sparks yet,” Pidge replied. “I figured… maybe if I just hang out in here long enough, she’ll decide I’m tolerable.”

Keith blinked. “Huh… never tried that.” He stared up at Red. “You think it’ll work?”

“I think Red’s a dramatic introvert who wants me to figure out everything on my own but refuses to give me the user manual.”

Keith snorted. “Sounds about right.”

Pidge smirked a little and turned back to her screen. She worked in silence for a moment before her voice softened again.

Keith shifted his weight. “For what it’s worth… I think you’ve been handling it better than I would.”

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, because threatening to break the cockpit counts as grace under pressure.”

He paused. “Well. You’re still an arm.”

Pidge blinked and looked over. “What?”

He gave a small shrug. “Voltron. You’re still the arm. I just got demoted to a leg. At least you’re familiar.”

There was a beat—and then Pidge let out an honest laugh, short and dry.

“Don’t let Lance or Hunk hear you say that.” She huffed a laugh again. “That was terrible by the way.”

“Yeah,” Keith admitted. “But it worked.”

She shook her head, turning back to her screen, though her posture had relaxed.

And after a moment, quieter: “You guys are kind of like brothers to me.”

Keith looked at her, not surprised, just thoughtful.

“Kind of?”

Pidge hunched her shoulders a little. “Well. Not like literal. But, you know. Found family or whatever. You’re all annoying and loud and sometimes completely exhausting, but…” she shrugged, “So was Matt so… yeah…”

Keith was quiet for a moment. Not awkward—just listening.

He leaned slightly back on his heels, gaze flicking up toward Red. “Yeah,” he said. “I get it.”

Pidge didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Her screen blinked idly, casting soft green light over her knees, and Red remained still, calm, present.

Keith rocked back a step, hands still in his pockets. “I’ll let you get back to… bonding.”

“Mmhm.” Pidge didn’t look up, but her tone was lighter. “Tell Yellow I said hi.”

Keith huffed a soft breath through his nose—something between a scoff and a laugh—and turned toward the exit.

The hangar stayed quiet behind him, warm with low lion hum and the tap of a keyboard.

Chapter Text

The drills dragged on, engines screaming as the lions cut across Arkynis’ sky in shaky patterns. Formation after formation faltered—clumsy turns, late reactions, mismatched rhythms—but they were still flying. Still trying.

Blue’s thrusters groaned as Shiro fought to keep her steady. Every adjustment was work, every response a beat too slow. Beside him, Green jittered out of line again, Lance muttering something sharp over comms before forcing her back into place.

Shiro was just about to suggest they swap roles for the next round when Lance’s voice cut in.

“Hey, Shiro—down there. Look.”

Shiro followed his line of sight. Between the cracked rock and barren hills, a strip of green clung stubbornly to the landscape. Grass. Real, living grass.

“Looks like something out of Earth, doesn’t it?” Lance said. Then, before Shiro could answer: “What if we… land? Just for a bit. Won’t mess with the schedule or anything. I just think… maybe it’d help.”

Blue’s thrusters rumbled beneath him, tilting ever so slightly as if she’d already decided. Shiro didn’t argue.

The lions touched down in a soft rumble, grass bending beneath their weight. The hatches hissed open, and Lance hopped out first, hands on his hips like he’d just brought them to a hidden treasure.

He took a few steps forward, then tilted his head back at the towering bulk of Blue Lion. She stood massive against the green stretch, metal gleaming in the sun.

“You’re not being very open-minded, are you, girl?” Lance called up to her with a crooked grin.

Shiro blinked, about to ask what he meant—then felt it. A flicker, subtle but undeniable: Blue stirred. Not for him, but for Lance.

The younger paladin didn’t miss a beat. He raised a hand like he was addressing a queen at court. “C’mon, look at her. She’s not just some war machine. She’s beautiful, she’s strong, and—don’t tell Red this—but she’s probably the most graceful of the bunch. Like a ballerina who could still crush you flat.”

He glanced over, half-serious, half-showman. “You’ve gotta treat her like a person. Compliment her. Joke with her a little. She likes that.”

Shiro followed his gaze, and for the first time he actually saw what Lance meant. Blue stood massive and still, her frame softened by the sun, almost statuesque. Graceful—that wasn’t a word he’d ever thought to use. He exhaled slowly.

“Graceful,” he echoed, quieter.

“Exactly.” Lance stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “She’s like your dance partner, man. But right now? You’re stomping on her toes.”

That earned him a dry look, but Shiro couldn’t quite hide the huff of laughter that slipped out. The hum in his chest—Blue’s hum—agreed.

Lance smirked, satisfied, then tipped his head at Shiro. “Y’know, you’re not really helping yourself with all the broody silence either. She probably thinks you’re some gruff old man.”

“I’m not—” Shiro started, then stopped, caught between protest and amusement.

“Oldest, sure,” Lance went on, grin widening. “But come on. You’re still young. Just… not me young.” He gave a dramatic shrug. “Lighten up. She’ll like you better if you actually act like you’ve got a pulse.”

The jab was playful, not cruel, and somehow it hit with the same ease as everything else Lance had said. He wasn’t forcing anything. He just… connected. Like it was second nature. And Shiro, for the first time, found himself wondering what that was like—how Lance made it seem so effortless.

Shiro gave him a look at the “gruff old man” jab, but the corner of his mouth betrayed a reluctant smile. Blue hummed softly beneath it all, as if amused herself.

Then Lance’s grin faded into something gentler. He shifted his weight, hands still in his pockets, and his voice came quieter.

“Seriously, though… I know you’ve been through a lot. More than the rest of us can probably even wrap our heads around. I mean—Galra prison, experiments, fighting your way out, carrying us through all this…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine what that was like. What it’s still like.”

Shiro blinked, caught off guard. The words didn’t come with pity, but with sincerity, and for a second it left him exposed in a way he wasn’t used to.

Lance kicked at a patch of grass, hands shoved deeper into his pockets. “I don’t know anything about leading squads or teams or whatever. But… I do know families. And man, they don’t work if you’re all walls and no windows. You’ve gotta let people see in sometimes. Otherwise they just… stop knocking.”

The words hung there between them, softer than the breeze, and Lance let out a short chuckle—half to himself, half to break the silence. He rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing sideways.

“…That sounded kinda dumb, didn’t it?” he asked, with a lopsided grin that didn’t quite cover the nervous edge in his voice.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Not that I’m some big expert. I mean—me, Pidge, and Hunk couldn’t even pass the flight simulator half the time back at the Garrison. Mostly ‘cause of me. I’d call a move, then choke on it, and we’d all end up spinning out like idiots.” He gave a lopsided grin, more self-deprecating than proud. “So yeah, maybe don’t take advice from the guy who almost flunked teamwork 101.”

Shiro stayed quiet at first, watching Lance’s restless energy work its way into the grass. The younger paladin had his shoulders hunched, his shoe dragging a half-circle into the dirt as if he was already regretting saying anything at all.

Finally, Shiro spoke. “I didn’t know that. About the simulator.”

Lance gave a short laugh, sharp and a little self-mocking. “Yeah, well. Not exactly the story you brag about around the campfire, right? I mean—most cadets were busy polishing their perfect scores, and I was out there sending Pidge and Hunk into spins because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut long enough to call a clean move. Definitely not my proudest moment.”

His grin wavered, slipping into something more raw. “And it didn’t help that people kept reminding me I was only there because Keith wasn’t. ‘The only reason you’re here is because Keith had a discipline issue and flunked out.’ It was always Keith this, Keith that—how much better he would’ve done, how I couldn’t measure up. After a while… yeah, it got under my skin. More than I care to admit.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed, though not unkindly. He had flashes of Keith in his head—reckless, brilliant, stubborn—and could see how the comparison would cut both ways. His chest tightened. “You really think that defines you?”

Lance shrugged, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets. “Kinda hard not to. The Garrison didn’t exactly hand out gold stars for effort. And when you’re the guy dragging your team down every other run, and half the instructors are treating you like a stand-in, you start to think maybe… maybe you don’t fit the mold at all. Like they’re just waiting for you to prove them right.”

Shiro let the words hang there, heavier than he expected. He’d always seen Lance as loud, overconfident, sometimes reckless—but doubt like this? He hadn’t pictured it living underneath all that noise. And realizing it had been festering for years made his throat ache.

“You’ve flown real battles since then,” Shiro said finally, his voice steady, cutting through Lance’s self-doubt without pushing too hard. “Life-or-death missions. And you’ve pulled through. More than once, you’ve saved lives—including mine. That isn’t something they can measure in a simulator. I don’t see failure in that.”

Lance blinked at him, caught off guard. The defensiveness eased into something quieter, almost vulnerable. He gave another small laugh, weaker this time, almost sheepish. “You really mean that?”

“I do.” Shiro turned his gaze back to Blue, her frame glinting where sunlight caught the curves of her armor. “And I think she does too.”

Blue hummed, faint but unmistakable, her pulse vibrating through the ground like a subtle echo of agreement.

Lance tilted his head toward her, lips quirking in a small, reluctant smile. “Guess that makes two of you.”

Blue’s hum faded into the silence, leaving only the breeze rustling through the grass around them.

Lance gave a small shrug, his smile lingering but fragile. Then he shook his head and straightened a little. “Anyway—we weren’t here to talk about me, were we? Got off track.” He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, eyes flicking to Shiro and then down again. “What I was trying to say is… you might be the oldest of us, but you’re not old. You act like you’ve gotta carry this giant weight because you’re the grown-up in the room, but we’re all just a bunch of kids stuck fighting for our lives. Even you.”
Shiro opened his mouth, almost reflexively. “I’m twenty-five—”

“Yeah, barely,” Lance cut in, the words rushing out before Shiro could even finish. He waved a hand, exasperated but not unkind. “You’re not even thirty yet, Shiro. You’re not some ancient war vet handing out sage wisdom from the sidelines. You’re still in it. With us.”

The words landed heavier than Lance probably meant them to. Shiro felt the ground steady beneath his boots, Blue’s quiet pulse still humming there, almost as if she agreed. And for the first time in a long while, he let himself feel the truth in Lance’s point—that despite everything he’d been through, despite scars the Galra had carved into him, he wasn’t past his prime. He was still here. Still fighting. Still one of them.

Lance let out a breath like he’d been holding it in, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry if that came out harsh. I just… I don’t want you to forget that. We need you with us, not locked up behind that ‘I’m the leader, I’ll shoulder it all’ wall you keep building.”

Shiro looked at him for a long moment, the corners of his mouth twitching toward a faint, genuine smile. “You’ve got more wisdom than you give yourself credit for, Lance.”

Lance blinked at him, caught between disbelief and embarrassment, before quickly kicking at the grass again. “Yeah, well—don’t spread that around. Kinda ruins my whole brand.”

Then, after a beat, he glanced sidelong at Shiro, grin edging back in. “Besides… comes with a big family. You learn fast when there’s a dozen voices yelling over each other at dinner every night. Kinda makes handling space battles feel easy in comparison.”

Shiro chuckled softly at Lance’s grin, shaking his head. “Sounds like a survival skill more than anything.”

“Exactly,” Lance said, his tone light but edged with something real. “You grow up in a big family, you either learn how to roll with it or you get steamrolled. Guess I picked up a few things along the way.”

Blue’s hum deepened beneath them, a steady warmth that Shiro felt right in his chest. Contentment—that was the only way he could describe it. Like she approved of this exchange, of Lance nudging him out of his own armor of responsibility.

When they finally climbed back into their Lions, the clearing gave way to sky, clouds peeling apart as they rose. Shiro kept his hands steady on the controls, but Lance’s words stuck with him. Not old. Still in it. With us.

For the first few minutes, habit took over—measured turns, calculated angles, every motion crisp and professional. But Blue’s pulse was there, quiet and insistent, nudging him. And Shiro realized Lance had been right.

He wasn’t just the one carrying weight at the front. He was still allowed to fly.

So, he loosened his grip. Let himself bank a little sharper, roll a little wider. Felt the wind scrape across Blue’s armor as she answered with an eager hum, brighter now, almost playful. For the first time in a long while, Shiro let a smile spread without restraint.

The clouds peeled away as Blue soared higher, her armor catching sunlight like glass. Shiro let her bank wide, tilt into a dive, then pull into a climb that pressed him snug against his seat. His breath came sharp, but not from strain—from the rush of it.

Blue purred under his touch, brighter than before, almost giddy. She wanted more. And this time, Shiro didn’t tell her no. He rolled her into a smooth spiral, clouds blurring around them, the horizon flipping clean over.

“Wait a sec—” Pidge’s voice crackled, sharp with disbelief. “Did Shiro just do a trick?”

“I think he did!” Hunk laughed, sounding equal parts impressed and horrified. “Like—an actual trick, not a combat move. Just straight-up showing off.”

Keith’s voice cut in, skeptical and dry. “That’s… not normal.”

Shiro grinned despite himself, feeling the corners of his mouth tug higher than they had in weeks. “What? I’m allowed to enjoy the ride.”

“Enjoy the ride?” Lance’s voice burst over comms, nearly cracking with dramatic outrage. “Did you all hear that? Takashi Shirogane, Mister Perfect, Mister Leader, Mister I-Have-A-Plan-For-Everything just said he’s enjoying himself! Somebody write this down—actually, Pidge, record it. We need proof.”

Shiro chuckled, already leaning Blue into another barrel roll.

“Oh my god, he’s doing it again!” Hunk yelped. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Shiro?”

Pidge cackled. “Don’t worry, I’m saving every second. This is gold.”

Shiro tried to smother the laugh bubbling up, but Blue thrummed under him like she was egging him on. He let her tip into a sharper dive this time, pulling up just before the tree line and slicing through the clouds like water. The exhilaration hit him full in the chest, and for once, he didn’t fight it.

Then Lance’s voice cut through again, sharp and triumphant: “See? See?! I told you you’ve had a stick up your ass this whole time! Look at you now, finally pulling it out and flying like a real pilot instead of some boring drill instructor.”

Shiro barked out a laugh, the sound surprised and genuine. “That’s one way to put it.”

“The only way,” Lance shot back, smug as ever. “Seriously, Shiro, do you know how long I’ve been waiting to say that out loud? You’ve been flying with no flavor. No fun. Just… angles and straight lines. Meanwhile Blue’s been begging for some personality before she rusts over.”

Hunk snorted so hard it nearly came out as a cough. “I mean… he’s not wrong.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Keith muttered, though his voice carried the barest twitch of amusement.

“Oh no, please encourage him,” Pidge said, grinning through every syllable. “If Shiro keeps this up, I’ll have enough material to keep him humble for years.”

Shiro shook his head, but his grin stayed. “Careful. Keep this up, and I might start showing off for real.”

“Please do,” Lance said immediately, smug confidence rolling through his words. “If the Galra see you doing loop-de-loops, they’re gonna turn tail before the fight even starts. You’ll be too powerful.”

Blue hummed in agreement, nudging him into another clean arc through the clouds, and for the first time in a long while, Shiro didn’t feel weighed down. He wasn’t just the leader. He wasn’t just the one carrying the burden. He was still a pilot. Still flying.

—

The Castle’s hangar echoed with the familiar clatter of Lions settling into place. For once, the air didn’t feel weighed down by exhaustion or tension. The Paladins climbed down laughing, voices bouncing off the high walls.

Pidge was still grinning ear to ear. “I’m telling you, I got every second of that recorded. Barrel rolls. Spirals. Shiro actually laughing. That’s going in the archives.”

“More like blackmail,” Hunk said, shaking his head but smiling all the same. “If the universe ends, it’s gonna be because Pidge threatened to leak flight footage.”

Shiro walked with them, helmet tucked under his arm, and for once didn’t try to deflect. He shook his head with mock resignation, though the grin tugging at his mouth betrayed him. “You’re all terrible.”

“Terrible?” Lance swooped in, elbow nearly bumping Shiro’s arm. “No, no, no. This is the best thing that’s happened to you since Blue picked you up. Admit it, Shiro—you had fun. And I refuse to let you forget it.”

“Careful,” Shiro said, tone light, “you’re making it sound like I don’t usually enjoy flying.”

“You don’t!” Pidge shot back instantly. “You fly like you’re doing math homework.”

That got a loud laugh out of Hunk. “Oh my god, yes. Like… a math homework assignment worth half your grade.”

“Exactly!” Lance spun toward them, arms wide as if this was proof of his righteousness. “See? We’ve all been suffering through Mr. Equations-And-Angles while Blue’s been begging him to loosen up. And now—” he gestured dramatically toward Shiro “—look at him! Finally not a stick in the mud.”

Shiro barked out another laugh, the sound freer than it had been in weeks. “I walk right into these, don’t I?”

“Every time,” Pidge said, smug.

They carried the lightness with them out of the hangar and into the Castle’s halls, laughter trailing like a thread tying them all together. Eventually, the group began to peel off—Pidge muttering about splicing clips, Hunk mumbling something about snacks, and Shiro hanging back with an easy rhythm in his step that hadn’t been there before.

Keith lingered too, slowing just enough to catch Lance before he could follow the others.

“Hey,” Keith said quietly.

Lance turned, still riding the buzz of his own jokes. “What’s up? You here to thank me for my award-winning commentary?”

Keith gave him a flat look but didn’t take the bait. His voice came out lower, more deliberate. “No. I mean… thanks. For what you said to Shiro earlier.”

That threw Lance off. His grin faltered, his posture shifting. “…Huh?”

Keith’s gaze flicked down the hall where Shiro had disappeared. “I’ve never seen him that unsure of himself. Not once. I didn’t know what to do.” He hesitated, jaw working before he finished, softer. “But you did. You helped him.”

That pulled Lance up short. He blinked, then shifted, grin tugging back but softer. “…Guess I did alright then. Comes with the charm. I’m basically a natural.”

Keith gave him a look, skeptical but not sharp, like he was weighing whether or not to argue. In the end, he huffed, almost a laugh but not quite. “Don’t push it.”

“Too late,” Lance said, smirk widening as he leaned in half a step like he’d scored a win. “This is a rare moment of bonding, Keith. Don’t ruin it.”

Keith shook his head, eyes narrowing in faint suspicion, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he was holding something back. “…You’re impossible.”

“And you’re welcome,” Lance shot back, a little sing-song in his voice. He seemed pleased enough with himself to let the silence stretch between them. For once, it wasn’t heavy. Just… easy.

Keith let out a slow breath. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to loosen something in his chest. He didn’t say thank you again—he figured Lance would never let him live it down—but it sat unspoken between them anyway.

Before either of them could say more, Pidge’s voice cut sharp across the hall: “Oh my god, stop being weird and come to the kitchen already! Hunk’s making dinner and I’m not saving you any if you keep doing… whatever this is.”

Lance straightened, grin flashing back in full force. He threw Keith a quick wink before jogging after the others. “You heard the gremlin—family dinner calls.”

Keith followed, and when they stepped into the kitchen, the sound of laughter met them head-on. Hunk was batting Pidge’s hands away from a tray, Shiro sat at the table looking lighter than he had in days, and Lance was already stealing food.

For a moment, Keith just stood there, taking it in—their voices overlapping, the easy rhythm of teasing and warmth. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it felt closer to a family than anything he’d had in years.

And somewhere deep in the hangar, the Yellow Lion stirred

***

In the cold stretch of a command vessel, the Galra general knelt before the projection flickering above him. Haggar’s face was half-shadow, her voice sharp enough to cut.

“You failed to bring me results.”

The general’s claws pressed into the floor, head bowed low. “My forces reported… anomalies. Voltron fought, but not as it should. Their formation was clumsy. The Lions did not move as one.”

For a moment, silence stretched. Then Haggar’s eyes narrowed, a gleam of interest cutting through her scorn.

“Not as one?”

The general dared a glance upward. “Something is… broken in them. I swear it.”

Haggar’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Then it seems the universe has given us an opportunity. If Voltron falters, we will learn why—and we will strike where they are weakest.”

The projection blinked out, leaving the general alone in the cavernous chamber. He exhaled, relief thin as smoke, even as a knot of dread twisted tighter in his chest.

Behind him, another presence stirred. Zarkon’s heavy steps carried him into the chamber, his voice like a blade dragging across stone. “What did you see?”

Haggar’s cloak whispered as she turned, her eyes still bright with that unnerving gleam. “The resonance patterns for the Lions are different. They are not linked to their Paladins as before. The bond has shifted.”

Zarkon’s gaze burned with cold fury, though his tone was steady. “Then Voltron is unstable.”

“Unstable,” Haggar echoed, her smile thin and deliberate. “And instability… can be broken.”