Chapter Text
“We must do everything we can to support Lotor,” Allura’s voice was resolute, firm, “This is our chance to promote a new era of peace.”
The Castle of Lions was soon to dock onto the Galra Empire’s headquarters, which you felt completely indifferent about all together. The Kral Zera was over, Lotor has ascended the throne as Emperor, and now the “era of peace” was beginning its slow approach. You glanced at Shiro from the corner of your eyes and he met your gaze, silently acknowledging your thoughts about this union.
Peace never lasts for long.
You both knew this.
The doors hissed open and you followed the group closely from behind, taking note of all of your surroundings, from the lifeless sentries to the decorated regal banners. Oddly enough, Lotor’s headquarters was quite calming. Bigger, more roomier, and colder. You liked it, like having more open space around you. It was the echo of a deep voice which captured all of the Paladin’s attention and you instantly knew who it belonged to. There, at the bottom of the stairs, stood Emperor Lotor in all his tall, poised, royal glory.
“I’m sure you’ll be interested in inspecting every aspect of the Galra Headquarters,” Lotor nodded to Shiro before turning to you, a certain glint flashing behind his eyes, “There are resources pertaining to that of Galran medical sciences and biology, if you were keen on expanding your horizons, good doctor.”
And, oh, those were the magic words. Your expression slowly changed from confusion to utter bafflement, brows raised and eyes wide at the gift he was freely offering you. The gift of knowledge, something you have yet to indulge yourself with since joining Voltron. Lotor saw you turn to face Shiro, wondering if he knew what was going on, in which the Black Paladin only offered a soft, understanding smile. You narrowed your eyes - You had something to do with this, didn't you? - but the barest quirk of your lips showed millions to Lotor.
You wanted this and you were silently thanking Shiro. Thanking him for the opportunity.
Stepping up besides Lotor, you folded your hands behind your back, “Lead the way, Emperor Lotor.”
The excitement in your voice was barely audible only to those trained to hear it. This was a chance for him to delve deeper in your mind outside of the role of a doctor. Now, you were simply the ever curious human eager to absorb any and all aspects of life you can. Lotor was going to feed you, so to speak. Keep you alive and thriving for his observation and his alone.
“This is impressive,” you muttered to yourself, taking in the expanse of the archives with pure awe, “All of this is based on Galra physiology?”
“Everything ranging from sickness and disease to molecular biology and birth-to-death ratio,” Lotor explained while you already plucked a book from the shelf, fingers gently tracing the title, “You are free to stay as long as you wish, doctor.”
You opened the book to the first page, but stopped and met his stoic gaze. Trying to study him, what he really meant behind those words. Such a simple sentence, but there had to be an underlying meaning to it, especially after you caught him scrutinizing you under the microscope back in your room. Lotor’s expression was neutral, then he slowly smiled and his nebulous eyes softened in an attempt to look innocent. Honest.
“I am not offering you this as repayment for saving my life before,” a raised brow from you, “Or even as a gift upon the union of Voltron and the Galra Empire.”
Go on.
“As a doctor, I simply hope this will give you the knowledge you seek,” Lotor took a step next to you, also facing the rows and rows of books, before pulling out an old, tattered text, “Give you an understanding on something previously unknown to you. Consider this a chance for you to explore what was once out of your reach.”
“You are being rather generous, Emperor,” you used his title to see if he would falter, to your dismay he did not, “And what is the catch? There is always a catch. The price of knowledge is not free.”
No. It certainly is not. Lotor’s smile turned into a grin at the playful banter.
“Dinner.”
“Just you?”
“With the Paladins and I. A full course meal for my allies and a much needed break from all our hard work.”
“Hm,” you mulled it over in your head, purposely taking a few seconds longer to answer, “I will put it under consideration.”
“Wonderful,” Lotor handed you the book in his hand and you gladly accepted it, “I will send a sentry to escort you to the dining hall once the food is prepared.”
Emperor Lotor gave you a firm nod of his head, sparing a couple quiet seconds to just memorize your face, memorize the way your eyes read over the titles of the books in your arms. You were no longer bored and that fact left a small swell of pride rising in his chest. While turning to leave, he could feel your inquisitive gaze on his back, feel the heat of your stare questioning and wondering what his real intentions were behind allowing you to stay here. Not just the library, but here. On his ship, away from the Paladins.
You found that idea quite pleasant, actually. Not that you hated them, no, but a little change in scenery would do you some good. Put you back on the right track, so to say. Being a doctor was your second job. Your first was fulfilling your sense of wonder in the universe. Pulling up a chair, you placed your set of texts on the table and opened the book Lotor gave you.
Ancient Galra and the Star-Faring Race Abilities.
Emperor Lotor took notice of the empty seat to his right. He had sent a sentry to fetch you, but the only message upon return was that “The Doctor declined.” Was he miffed at being denied? Perhaps just a little bit. Were you that preoccupied with reading that you even forgo the necessity of food? He has done something similar before, so it was not completely unheard of. Very well, he can handle rejection maturely.
“We leave for Oriande in one week,” Allura spoke, catching Lotor’s attention for the time being, “That should give us enough time to recover and stock our supplies.”
“Oh, good, I was hoping I can take a quick trip to help restock the Coalition headquarters,” the Yellow Paladin spoke, but the Emperor was thinking more about how to spend the upcoming week preoccupying himself.
After the Paladins dispersed to their appointed rooms, Lotor picked up a plate of food and headed towards the archives. Your meal may be cold by now, but it was still edible, and he needed to keep you alive. He wanted to see what you could teach him, what he could learn from you, poke and prod out of you. The second the door opened, the Emperor raised one delicate brow at the image before him.
You, hunched over the table with stacks of books nearly walling you in.
Curiously enough, you did not lift your nose to acknowledge him. Nor did you notice when his boots echoed with every clicking step he took closer to the table. You were so enamored, so hyper-focused on the words written on the page, Lotor even hovered near enough that he could smell your scent. You were in your own world, eyes flitting and reading and learning, like a student cramming for a final.
“A-hem,” Lotor could only be ignored for so long and you stiffened when his deep voice rumbled near your ear.
“Lotor? Emperor Lotor?” You corrected yourself, finally turning to look at him reading over your shoulder, “Can I help you?”
Can’t you see I’m busy?
His catty grin spread on his lips and he sat across from you before sliding his delivery across the table. Lotor almost chuckled when your gaze flicked from the food to his face, then back to the food. The questioning raise of your brow was amusing to him. You acted like this meal was supposed to be a trade of sorts. Which, in his mind, you were not wrong. Well, not completely, anyways. He motioned you to eat while taking your book and reading the title.
“You missed dinner.”
“I was not hungry.”
Judging by the way you scooped spoonful after spoonful, he would assume otherwise.
“Too caught up in your reading, good doctor?”
Now, this was the first time he has seen you display embarrassment. Perhaps it was not full blushing or avoiding eye contact, but Lotor was a man who could read cues so well it could be considered an art form. You bit your bottom lip. That cute little canine tugged at your skin and it most definitely caught his attention like a cat zoning in on a laser pointer. A small part of him wanted to keep embarrassing you, keep pushing until your face and ears turned pink in humiliation.
“...Yes, I was,” you admitted without shame, “There is so much I did not know, so much to take in. The Galra are very sturdy, very adaptable, it breaks every law of evolution I know and goes beyond it. The star-faring race…”
Emperor Lotor blinked when you trailed off. You did not stop because you were confused, but rather you were wary of asking him such personal questions. You were a completely different person when surrounded by books. Or perhaps, this is how you are when you’re comfortable. At ease. No longer the role of a doctor, but a friend sharing their excitement over what they learned. Almost as if this was a simple, aloof exchange of conversation between two like-minded individuals.
“Ask.”
“There was not a lot of information about them. Why?”
If he speaks, keeps the conversation one sided, then you would occupy yourself with eating. Just another way for him to gently usher you to his will. Besides, it has been quite a long time since he was actually interested in sharing such information. And, dare he say, relaxed in anyone’s presence. For now, he would humor you.
“Unfortunately, many texts became lost when Daibazaal was obliterated,” he leaned on his elbows and crossed his fingers, “However, I guarantee you it is all true. I, myself, am capable of one such ability granted from the star-faring race. The gift of seeing in the dark.”
Lotor had your complete attention by now and he would not waste the chance to share facts regarding his heritage. Your curiosity was palpable, much so that your eating etiquette was a bit sloppy. He half wondered if you could even taste the food considering how your focus was fully listening to every word coming out of his mouth.
“There are many abilities one can be born with when star-faring blood flows through their veins,” he counted them off with his fingers, “Some can navigate just by constellation mapping with no previous knowledge required. Others are able to adapt to the cold of space faster. Many can consume comets, asteroids, rocks, and use them for sustenance. Rarely, a few have been able to regulate their own oxygen within their body to be able to breath in the vacuum of space.”
Oh, could your eyes get any more wider with wonder? He could see gears in your mind turning with questions, unanswered mysteries about how was that even possible? To you, this may all seem absurd, impossible even, and you half debated if the man across from you was simply yanking your chain. Judging by the seriousness in his voice, everything he said was true.
“It’s a genetic code, then? The star-faring race. It gets passed down by generations? Or does it rely on the purity of the offspring's blood? Are - this seems illogical. There is no oxygen in space. What chemical breaks down rocks?” you stopped when he let out a low chuckle.
“Good doctor, it is magic.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You do not believe in magic?” Lotor’s grin grew wider in mild surprise.
“No, I believe in magic, but I don't believe there is not a scientific way to explain those gifts from the star-faring race. It has to be within your DNA,” you clarified, food completely gone by now, “I would rather learn all I can before relying on magic.”
His cosmic eyes spotted a leftover bit of grub on your lower lip, but he did well to reply back despite his distraction, “Allura has harnessed the ability to use Altean magic. Is it such a bad thing to rely on a gift?”
“Of course not. By all means, use magic when you can, when you want. But once that magic is gone, once you lose that ability, the only thing left to fall back on is your knowledge in other aspects,” you motioned to the archives with a wave of your hand, “Through understanding science.”
To you, magic was a shortcut. You did not take shortcuts. Not in life, not in learning. Lotor respected that and, well, he completely agreed. While it was useful to have magic as an ace up one's sleeve, keeping it as a main source of power was not smart nor wise. It was tactical to have open options available in any circumstance, even during times of peace. Always be prepared and you will never have to worry about handling a bad decision again.
“Good doctor, would you perhaps indulge me in this science you learned,” his ears twitched when you let out an inquisitive hum, “I believe we can have a mutual benefit from teaching each other, no? I have not yet been to Earth, but I find myself fascinated with what you tell me. You can poke and prod my body to discover the exact answer you seek in regards to your star-faring questions. All I ask in return is the same opportunity to learn about your history in the medical field.”
Pure silence. Up until now, you knew the two of you were simply tip-toeing around each other cautiously, trying to dance around what the others true intentions were. Perhaps you were just as sickeningly curious as he was? Perhaps the good doctor was primarily seen by your skill, not who you are as a person? Perhaps Lotor wanted to peel away that layer and see what was underneath.
His thirst for knowledge, yearning to explore, was almost an unhealthy addiction at this point.
The corner of your lip quirked up in challenge, baiting him, “I will put it under consideration.”
Emperor Lotor released a rumble of a chuckle deep from within his armored chest. How amusing, for both of you. He stood up and walked around to your side, one hand picking up the empty plate while you watched his every movement. His sharp eyes peered down at you and the Galtean may have had a small power thrill surge through his veins at seeing you beneath him like this.
A hand cautiously raised up to your chin, just like before, and you granted him this soft touch. You let him hold you.
Lotor then swiped his thumb over that dastardly bit of food smeared on the bottom of your lip. He released you, stuck his tongue out, and licked the small taste you offered him so willingly. You could not help but bite your lip again after seeing his violet, wet tongue peek past his sharp teeth. The bastard was doing this on purpose. You wish to challenge me? Very well, good doctor. That itch in the back of his head cheered in victory over the small battle he won.
“Emperor Lotor?” before he walked away, you cleared your throat, “Thank you. For dinner.”
He placed a hand over his chest and gave a respectful bow, more than happy to show you he gladly accepted your gratitude. Especially now that he has you right where he wants. His tongue still tingled at the small sample he stole from you, but stars, it was not nearly enough. Lotor found a thrill toying with you at this close of a proximity and the fact that you no longer flinched away at his touch spoke volumes.
Emperor Lotor was getting to you. Or were you getting to him?
“Until next time, dear doctor.”
The group was tense, arguing and fretting enough that you could cut the tension with a plastic knife. Emperor Lotor could not tamper the heated words being slung to and fro, most aiming at how his empire, his fractured empire, was at fault here. He knew that was wrong, knew this blame was not on his shoulders but rather an emotional reaction from Lance. It wasn’t until you stepped through the doors did the team fall deathly silent, eyes washed with guilt and worry and mounting frustration.
You scanned over the group, analyzing the air of stress, and noticed one thing that made cold dread trickle down your spine.
“Where is Hunk?”
Shiro was the first to step up to you.
“Shiro, where is Hunk?”
“We don’t know,” the Black Paladin’s hands clenched at his side, “His lion returned without him. He was on his way to Balmera with some of the Empire’s escorts to restock necessities with our allies.”
“This is Lotor’s fault! Why didn’t you order some fighter jets to go along with him?”
“I assigned 20 fighters for his protection as well as the convoys travelling with him. There has to be something we are missing here. The Yellow Paladin may have been ambushed by another fleet.”
And thus, the arguing continued. Too much what-ifs, what could have been done. It was Shiro who suggested that he be escorted with protection, but it was not enough. Your old friend watched you stay silent in growing disbelief. Hunk was gone? No, that could not be. He was too strong to simply die like that. You snapped your attention to Shiro, full of determination and thinly concealed revulsion at the bickering group.
It was...haunting.
“Shiro, take me to the Yellow Lion.”