The Rise of Voltron: Season 1: Chapter 13 - The Monster Bash

“On your left!”

“They’re all over me!”

“Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air!”

“Tally, tally, tally! Ten new bandits below, closing fast!”

“Where’s my wingman?!”

In the fog of battle, it was hard to see the next step; the next punch; the next life it’s suddenly your job to protect. It was a constant dance with death on a razor’s edge. And it was there Keith thrived.

Heart thumping, instincts sharp and mind clear, he wove around streams of plasma from a dozen battlecruisers and hundreds of fighter ships alike, returning fire and leading the latter into one another whenever he could. Red’s exhilaration pumped loudly across their bond, making his cockpit vibrate, and leaving it to Keith to keep him from becoming a loose cannon. When a teammate was in trouble, they were the first to respond; when a cruiser’s shield went down, they made sure it stayed down.

Jawblade ready, Red put on a burst of speed, deftly slicing through any fighters that tried to get in his way, and then threw it. It spun like a mini tornado, scoring a line down the ship’s side, destroying its guns. At the same time, he mirrored the blade with his mouth cannon on a second cruiser opposite the first, and when both were done, he caught his weapon, dismissed it, and blasted the targets’ engines in a pair of spectacular fireballs.

Just then, Shiro called over comms, “Are the transports away?”

“Not yet.” An explosion and a growl punctuated Lance’s reply. “These guys just don’t learn, do they?”

“Need help?” asked Keith.

“Puh-lease, do I ever need he—Ow!”

“I’ve got him,” said Hunk tiredly.

“They’re almost at the jump point,” said Pidge, who’d been sticking the closest to the small pack of civilian ships they were escorting, her camouflage working wonders at confusing the enemy and protecting them, “but three cruisers are in the way!”

“Alright, Vanguard, it’s the final push. You know what that means.” The four teens grinned. From disparate parts of the battlefield, they converged on Shiro. “Form Voltron!”

Keith wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to this rush; to the sensation of five becoming one, united down to the very core of their beings in a way no words could properly describe. Opening his mind still disconcerted him a little, but in a fight, only surface thoughts and emotions were really communicated, and for that, he was grateful.

The first order was given without words. Voltron zoomed in front of the transports just as the cruisers came into firing range, raising his shield against the hail of lasers. The refugees within gaped at the sight of the legendary robot.

“Form Titan Buster!”

With the split beam, they took out the fighter ships, and against the cannon’s full force, the three cruisers’ shields didn’t stand a chance. In under a minute, burning scrap was all that was left of them. It was almost too easy, though none of the Paladins were complaining.

“Voltron to Transport One,” said Shiro. “Everyone okay?”

“Thanks to you,” the orange, three-eyed alien replied.

“Hey, it’s what we do,” said Lance.

Keith’s smile vanished at the warning from his radar: another battle cruiser was nearing, its ion cannon charging. He immediately slammed his bayard into its slot, forming the Blazing Sword, and twisted as far back as he could (being only an arm), blocking the laser with the broad side of the blade. Pidge was quick to brace it, the others adding support in their own ways. The beam reflected, destroying its point of origin — a trick Keith had picked up on Planet Kebb.

“Okay, the transports are in position,” said Hunk.

Shiro pointed Voltron in their direction, deftly avoiding the retaliating fire from the rest of the enemy’s forces. “Then let’s get going.”

Upon reaching the necessary coordinates, Voltron and the convoy jumped into slip-space side-by-side. The field created by each vessel’s generator melded into one, allowing them to fly together even when bending the spacetime continuum.

“Hoo-hoo, yeah, baby!” said Lance with multiple fist-pumps, his and the others’ images appearing on Red’s dash. “Another perfect mission under the belt!”

“Almost perfect,” said Keith, eyeing the damage to a couple ships.

An alert had reached them via the Den — a job request, so to speak — from a small contingent of refugees, requesting armed escort through Imperial territory. Some of their ships were oblong and bulky, others small and thin (Lance insisted one of them looked like an old-school ice cream scooper), their paint scorched, faded, and peeling. All of them were ramshackle and mismatched from whatever parts these poor people could afford, and none able to adequately defend themselves. Heck, a few had hull panels missing, the exposed systems underneath sparking on occasion.

The Lions of Voltron were a bit more than they’d expected for such a small payment. The five had protected them to the best of their abilities, and to their credit, there were no casualties, but many civilians had been injured when Galran reinforcements arrived. One of the transports was limping along, its solar sail nearly shredded. It was too close for Keith’s comfort.

“Are you incapable of just taking the win?” Lance went on. “We saved a whole bunch of people, no-diffed an entire fleet, and now we get to head back to a high-tech castle where a beautiful princess is waiting for me. How is that not perfect?”

“Well, I for one could do with fewer snap-shot maneuvers,” said Pidge, stretching her shoulder, strained from how fast she’d needed to react to brace the sword.

“Agreed,” said Shiro. “It was a great catch, Keith, but next time, even a tiny heads-up would be good, alright?”

He resisted the urge to point out how a heads-up of any length would take too long and instead replied, “Got it.”

“I’m just glad it’s over,” said Hunk. “I was plowing through so many of those guys, I almost started calling myself ‘Barrel Boy.’”

Everyone got a laugh out of that.

Lance suddenly perked up. “Ooh, that reminds me, I’ve been thinking—”

“You can do that?” Pidge cut in, making Hunk snicker.

Glowering but undeterred, Lance continued, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I can, and what I’ve been thinking about is how we should totally be using our callsigns.”

Shiro considered for a moment. “I mean, I guess we could, but why—”

“Su-weet! Then from now on, everyone has to call me Sharpshooter!”

“Ah.”

“Sharpshooter?” Pidge repeated, unimpressed.

“I’ll also accept The Tailor.”

“Neither of those were ever your nicknames.”

“Well it is now, so HA!” Lance crossed his arms with a self-satisfied smile.

“Honestly, I’m good with making up new ones,” said Hunk. “‘Blowfish’ isn’t exactly something I want to live with.”

“Aw, come on, the embarrassment’s part of the fun,” Shiro replied.

Keith smirked. “Well, you’d be an expert, wouldn’t you, Chopper?”

The man’s face went stricken, as if only now remembering his own dreadful moniker. Behind her fist, Pidge unconvincingly hid a snort while Hunk gave the highly esteemed Black Paladin a bemused look.

He let out a deflated sigh. “You nearly cut your finger off one time…”

“Don’t sugar-coat it. You got banned from the Garrison’s kitchens for life.”

“Wait, for real?”

“Now this, I gotta hear.”

“Nope, I think we can drop it right there, actually.”

Keith’s smile grew as he listened to them carry on. A few weeks ago, if someone had told him this would be his life, he would’ve checked them into a mental hospital. Having friends…it was still so new for him, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

———————————

“Unbelievable!” Haxus roared, smashing a console. “We were so close!”

“And yet, so far,” said Sendak, “as usual.”

He gawked at his commander’s nonchalant tone. “How can you possibly be so calm about this?!”

“Not even the High Priestess’s Robeasts have been able to stop them. Are you truly surprised mere ships couldn’t?”

Biting down a growl, Haxus glared at the back of Sendak’s head for a moment, then stalked off the bridge so he wouldn’t say something he’d regret. Defeat after defeat, over a phoeb of chasing them around, yet unable to attack their base due to its defenses, reduced to errand boys, and still all the renowned Hand of the Emperor had to say was “What did you expect?” How were they meant to regain respect when every assignment only dragged their names deeper into the mud? And so what if the witch’s monsters failed? They were expendable, warriors weren’t—

His strides slowed to a halt. The monsters.

A plan began shaping in Haxus’ mind, and he acted on it without hesitation. Should it fail, the consequences would be dire, but if they were losing anyway, he’d rather do so on his terms. Upon reaching a secondary communications room, he ordered the sentry on duty out and opened a secure, hidden channel to Central Command; he was in no mood to debate Sendak on risk or ethics, or whatever argument he might make.

“State your business,” said the answering lieutenant.

“This is Colonel Haxus of the First Fleet,” he replied. “Is there a Robeast ready for deployment?”

The younger Galra looked disconcerted at the mention of such creatures. “Uh, I believe so, sir.”

“Good. Have it sent to the trade city of Banlam.”

“But, sir, my records show—”

“The record,” Haxus snarled, his day’s allowance of patience long gone, “will show you disobeyed a direct order from His Eminence, Lieutenant, if you delay this mission any further.”

That shut him up. He cleared his throat and said, “Right away, sir. Vrepit Sa.”

“Vrepit Sa.”

The line shut off unceremoniously, leaving Haxus to map out the rest of his plan. Though lying on his lord’s authority was tantamount to heresy, he would more than make up for it by hand delivering Voltron. For when the “noble heroes” inevitably swooped in to save the day, he would be waiting for them.

———————————

Shiro hummed to himself as he entered the living room, a datapad in one hand and a mug of tea in the other (at least, Hunk had told him it was tea, and it smelled close enough, so…), hoping to relax after the hectic morning.

“No, it’s supposed to be this way!”

Apparently, that was asking too much.

A menagerie of peculiar items, most either black, orange, or purple, or some combination of the three, were scattered about, making the room look like a goth store had thrown up all over it. Near the door, Hunk was sorting through a box of supplies with Allura and the mice, glancing over at Pidge and Lance every once in a while to make sure they didn’t break something — namely, each other. They stood side-by-side on their hoverboards, high off the ground; the perfect height for squabbling, obviously.

“It’s more accurate like this,” said Pidge, taking the paper bat Rover held with his levitation beam and flipping it.

“Literally when have you ever seen a bat decoration upside-down?” said Lance. “No, seriously, name me one single time.”

“It’s a piece of paper. Who cares which way it hangs?”

“People who don’t want their parties looking completely stupid.”

“You mean like you?”

“Uh, party?” Shiro spoke up. “Did I miss a memo?”

“Oh, Shiro, perfect!” Lance pointed at Pidge and turned his nose up dramatically. “Please tell this cretin that right-way-up is the only true way to hang bat decorations.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Shiro replied, “You’re asking the wrong guy. I’ve never really been the decorating type, sorry.” While the two of them launched back into their debate, he set his mug and pad on one of the small hover-tables they’d brought in and picked up what appeared to be a streamer, though the material felt closer to a papery fabric. “So, this is all for…?”

“Halloween,” said Hunk, large rolls of supplies tucked under each arm. “Pidge’s laptop is still synched up to Earth’s calendar. She flipped when she saw the notification.”

“Pray tell, what is the significance of such a holiday?” asked Allura, who had pulled out a daisy chain of cartoon ghosts and was eyeing it uncertainly.

“Not to mention these infernal things.” Coran wriggled every which way, trying to detangle the fake spider web, but ended up twisting himself into an Altean pretzel and tripping over his own feet.

“Well, at first it was All Hallows Eve,” Hunk replied, “a day meant to ward off evil spirits and stuff, but after a while, it kinda just became an excuse to dress up and party.”

“And to prank people,” Lance added, a flashlight suddenly shining beneath his chin and a mischievous grin curling devilishly in the harsh light.

“And that. But we’re not gonna go overboard with it this year, right?”

“Muahaha…”

While Hunk grumbled under his breath, Shiro let out a low whistle. “Is it really that time of year already? Wow…” Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Wait a minute, that means Keith’s birthday is soon!”

“You serious?” said Pidge.

“Awesome!” said Hunk. “What day?”

“The twenty-third, so” — He counted on his hands — “last week.”

Everyone’s stares turned blank, including Shiro’s.

He dropped to his hands and knees. “I’m a horrible big brother!”

Lance turned to Pidge. “Debate postponed for emergency situation.”

“Agreed,” she replied, and the two zipped over to the others, who were gathering around their grieving comrade.

“Okay,” Lance went on, “day’s not over, we can fix this. We’re already throwing a party, so all we have to do is mix in some birthday stuff, and viola! It’ll be the biggest, spookiest Halloween-Birthday Bash ever!”

Allura quirked a brow, saying, “I thought you declared yourself Keith’s rival. Why are you so enthusiastic about celebrating him all of a sudden?”

“He wants to make it so big, Keith will have to match it for his birthday,” Hunk answered.

“I can neither confirm nor deny anything without the presence of my lawyer.”

“I am your lawyer.”

As Coran, still covered in webbing, helped him to his feet, Shiro cast a surprised gaze around. “You’re all on board with this?”

“Why would we not be?” said Allura with a smile.

“Just say the word, Cap,” said Pidge, “and we’ll get it done.”

Gratitude beyond belief swelled within him. ‘You’re one lucky kid, you know that?’ “Alright, the first thing we need is—”

“Hey, I’ve got the last—” Keith froze in the doorway at the sight of the others staring at him, huddled together as if they were a flock of penguins in deep conversation. “…What’s going on?”

“Oh, hey, bud. We were just talking—”

“About needing more stuff!” Lance cut in, sliding in front of Shiro. “Y’know, for the Halloween thing, obviously. Yeah, we need, uh…”

Catching on, Coran stepped forward, tossing off the last of the webs and smoothly saying, “Costumes. Hunk brought them up earlier, and we thought they sounded like an excellent idea, so I’ll require a second set of hands to see what we have in storage.”

Keith gave him a slightly skeptical look. “Um, okay, but any of the others—”

“Are all busy with other preparations, so come on, pip pip.” He snagged the box out of the young man’s hands and tossed it in a single movement it to Hunk, who just barely caught it, then swiftly ushered Keith from the room. “Have I ever told you about my time as a cadet?”

The door shut; a tense silence hung in the air for several long seconds before Shiro whispered in a strained voice, “You want to make it a surprise party?”

“Well, duh,” said Lance in a similar tone. “It’s the best kind.”

“Why are we whispering?” asked Pidge. “He’s down the hallway by now.”

“Force of habit.” Shiro cleared his throat, returning to normal volume. “But that’s part of my point: Keith’s a bloodhound when it comes to lying.”

“No kidding,” said Hunk. “Did you see that look on his face? That was one of the smoothest lies I think I’ve ever seen, and he barely bought it.”

“So we throw him off the scent. Since he already knows we’re throwing a party, if we stick to the script, we should be able to pull this off,” Lance replied, and for once, he sounded convincing.

Allura, however, had other concerns. “Shiro, you mentioned Keith’s…blood-hound-ness was only part of your point. Are there other parts we should be aware of?”

His expression grew funny. “Well, see, he doesn’t really do surprises.”

“What? Daredevil Keith has a fear of jump-scares?” Pidge couldn’t help a snort, Lance sniggering with her.

“Let’s just say, the last time I threw a surprise party for him, there ended up being a knife in the wall…next to my head.”

The color drained from Hunk’s face.

Pidge was in a similar boat. “…Oh.”

“Eh, we can worry about that later,” said Lance with a dismissive wave. “Either way, we need a game plan.”

Shiro sighed. This could definitely come back to bite them, but the enthusiastic teen wasn't wrong. “Alright. Princess, can you use your magic to help Pidge finish the decorations?”

She levitated some streamers around herself in flourished patterns. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Perfect. Hunk—”

“Way ahead of you,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “Just need his favorite flavors and I’ll be set.”

“I’ll get them to you in five. Lance, you and I are on games and the evening schedule.”

“Hoo-yeah!”

“Wait, what about keeping him distracted?” asked Pidge.

Shiro cast a pitying glance at the door. “I think Coran’s got it covered for now.”

He could only imagine the lengthy, rambling stories the old Altean was probably telling Keith right now as they rummaged through countless stores of ancient, dusty clothes, undoubtedly forcing him to exercise every ounce of patience in his body. He would not be a happy camper when they saw him again. Hopefully, their party favors would make up for it.

“Okay, team, you have your assignments. Operation Breakneck Birthday is a-go. Let’s move out!”

“Wait, ‘breakneck’ as in speed, or he’s gonna break our necks when we surprise him?” Hunk asked.

“The first one.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

It was a very long, very painful hour later when Keith finally managed to get away from Coran and his extensive stories through a combination of sneaking and pointing out how Altean clothes altered to accommodate the wearer’s preferences, so any piece would do, and they didn’t need to waste time pulling out trunks of mothballs. He was a great guy, but no one should have the ability to turn a simple recounting of a grocery run into The Odyssey. At least it was over, and he was free to return to helping the others set up for their party. Speaking of which…

The clattering of pots and pans had Keith sticking his head into the kitchen. Bowls, whisks, batter, and more were strewn about, a savory-sweet aroma in the air, while Hunk wrestled with some freaky spotted plant, trying to break it down so he could find what part was good to eat and cook it.

“Hey,” he said, knocking on the doorframe. “Want some help?”

Hunk whipped around, accidentally knocking a stack of dishes over with an ear-splitting clamor, though he didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, hey! W-What are you doing here? I thought you were with Coran, you know, and not here.”

“I was,” Keith replied slowly, raising a dubious eyebrow. “Is all this for the party?”

“Oh, w—I mean, y-yeah, it is, kinda. Just, uh, trying to get the flavors right, y’know? Alien food and all that.” His strained laugh made the brow go a touch higher.

‘Nerves or just startled? Knowing Hunk, it could be both.’

“Anyway, thanks for the offer, but I’ve got everything completely under control—” He paused in ringing the vegetable to see Keith reaching for a bowl of batter on the island, and instantly lunged over it, shrieking, “NO, DON’T EAT THAT!”

Keith, startled, leaned away, his arms raised haphazardly, as if not knowing whether to defend or attack. Was it toxic? They’d had that problem before. The Arusians had once forgotten to warn them to leech the toxins out of a fruit to make it edible; their bathrooms hadn’t been the same since.

“Uhhhh, sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to shout,” said Hunk with an apologetic grin, the bowl now secured in his arms. “Just, uh… Bad batch, super gross, bleh. Besides, you don’t want to ruin your appetite, right?”

The brow was back, albeit confused. “It’s two-thirty.”

“…Well, dinner comes sooner or later so, yeah, no, all good here, thanks for coming—bye!”

For the second time that day, Keith found himself forcibly ushered out of a room, only now he was left standing around without direction. He glanced back at the door, suspicion creeping in. Hunk could be protective about his kitchen, sure, but they’d already cooked together a couple times, and even in the few instances he’d turned down help, it had always been cordial.

‘There were a lot of discarded batches in there… Maybe having to do it over so much is stressing him out.’ It sounded like a decent explanation, so Keith shook off his uncertainty and started walking.

Meanwhile, after waiting a minute to make sure he was gone, Hunk pulled out his gendopic and opened the hidden party-planning channel Pidge had whipped up.

“Chefzilla to Big Daddy,” he whispered. “Come in, Big Daddy.”

“Okay, first, never agreed to that name. Second, I read you,” Shiro replied.

“The Eagle is loose in the coop — I repeat, the Eagle is loose, and I don’t know which way he went.”

“Seriously, bro?” said Lance. “I thought we agreed that if any of us saw him, we’d watch his—”

“I panicked, okay!?”

“Surprise of the century.”

“Titania, you copy that?” asked Shiro

“Indeed,” said Allura.

“Am I the only one still trying to figure out why Lance knows the name of Shakespeare’s fairy queen off the top of his head?” said Pidge.

“It was for English class,” he replied, “and you’re supposed to use my code name, if you don’t mind.”

“As a matter of fact, I very much do mind calling you ‘Lil’ Shade’, you weirdo.”

 “Enough, both of you. Tinker, track him,” said Shiro. “We can’t afford any more run-ins.”

Next, Keith headed to the living room in search of the others, hoping one of them could explain Hunk’s strange behavior. What he found instead was Allura, practically leaping into the hallway, the door snapping closed behind her, preventing even a glimpse of what was inside.

“My, my, quite the coincidence bumping into you here,” she said in a honeyed voice, hooking her arm around his and pulling him past the room without missing a step.

‘Not really, since I was just here earlier.’ He jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “I wanted to check on—”

“Oh, no need, the others have it well in hand. While I have you here, there is something I think you should see. Come!”

“Um, okay?”

Keith didn’t have much choice, it seemed; she kept a firm hold of him as she guided him around the corner, preventing him from seeing Pidge and Rover peeking out after them.

They sighed in relief. “So glad I gave you that perception upgrade.”

The little drone nodded and the two hurried in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile, Keith was coming to the conclusion all Alteans were chronic gabbers. Attempting to prevent the awkwardness of quiet, Allura had started talking nearly the instant they set off and did not stop for the next agonizingly long twenty-five minutes; if they’d been in a snail race, he was certain they’d be in last by a mile. To his credit, he did his best to listen as she regaled him with trivia about the castle’s construction, Altean architecture in general, and how it tied back into Alchemy, but there was only so much a guy could take before it began sounding like she was repeating the same thing, just in different ways — which was probably because she was.

‘You had better use this time well, Pidge,’ she thought, wracking her brain for any possible reason to keep their pace slow, a difficult feat when discussing her least favorite academic subject.

Fortunately for both of them, they had arrived at their destination, and Allura welcomed him onto an impressive balcony with a resounding, “Ta-da!”

The gold and green plains of Arus stretched out before them under a sapphire sky; scattered trees, tall grass, and vibrant flowers rippling like the waves of an emerald ocean in the breeze. Animals of every kind frolicked and swooped, racing and playing, and nestled near the base of the nearby mountain range, Gazrel Village could just be made out.

Keith couldn’t help frowning. “You brought me halfway across the castle…for a view you could’ve showed me on a monitor?”

Allura’s smile went tight, her eyes widening a touch.

“Do you not like it?” she asked, quickly correcting her expression to be more innocent.

“I mean, it’s beautiful,” he replied, “but what’s so important about it?”

“Does something need to be important to deserve admiration?” With her face tilted into the wind, she strode past him and breathed deep the scents of nature, secretly hoping he’d follow her example.

He instead checked his ‘pic and said, “When it cuts into a training session, yes.”

She blanched. A crick in her smile, she rapidly waved her hand, as if to fan herself from some heat, saying, “Oh, I, um, cancelled this afternoon’s session, actually. It is a holiday, after all.”

“How come no one told me?”

“A-Ah, well, I suppose that’s what we get for trusting Lance to ensure everyone is informed, eh-heh.”

Now Allura understood what Shiro meant when he called Keith a “bloodhound.” This performance was far from her best, and it was clear he could smell the blood in the water. If he stared at her any harder, in fact, she feared she would keel over on the spot! She had to force her lips to remain tilted with every ounce of determination she possessed.

For his part, Keith was growing increasingly perplexed. ‘The princess, of all people, called off training? Decorating doesn’t take that long, and all our stuff’s planned for after dinner. And since when does she take people by the arm to show them a nice view?’

Although she’d changed a bit since Lycaenia — more relaxed, willing to laugh and even play along sometimes — she was still very much her high-brow, driven self. This felt oddly…fake.

‘Or maybe she’s just trying to be nice, you jerk.’ The thought hit him in a gut-punch of guilt, yet didn’t knock out the funky feeling taking root there.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat and turning to leave, “thanks for that, and the fresh air, but I think I’m gonna get some rounds in anyway.”

“Dutiful as always,” said Allura. Then she remembered: the route to the training deck crossed with the route to the common room! Without thinking, her hand shot out, aiming for his, and missing. “Wait, no!”

“Wha—Hey!”

Keith twisted out of her hold, but in doing so, snapped open the pouch she’d accidentally grabbed instead. An array of items scattered to the balcony floor, including a lighter, a multitool, a couple granola bars, a hair tie, and a small spiral-bound notebook with a mechanical pencil attached to it.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry,” she said, and truly meant it.

He growled a little, but it was more in annoyance than anger.

As they gathered the disparate items, her eyes were drawn to the little book, which had been knocked open from the fall. Drawings littered the pages. Intrigued, she picked up the notebook and flipped through it. The sketches depicted a variety of scenes, objects, and people he’d encountered; some tucked in the corner because there wasn’t enough room, others taking up two back-to-back pages; each made with a level of care and attention to detail that was surprising from someone as blunt as he. There were even a few of her and the team.

“Keith, what are these?” she asked.

He sucked in a tiny breath and snatched the notebook away, hurriedly stowing it in his pouch. “Nothing.”

“They did not look like nothing.”

“Well, they are, so drop it.”

Allura flinched slightly at his harsh tone. For a while, the only sound to be heard was the wind while she wrung her pinkie finger, mentally reprimanding herself for going though someone’s property without permission.

“Sorry,” he eventually said, his voice just above an ashamed mutter. “I’m gonna go.”

“For what it is worth,” she called after him, “they are lovely.”

His steps faltered, and though it was difficult to tell at a distance, she could swear his ears grew a shade redder. “…Thanks.”

Then he was gone, walking a tad faster than normal. A tiny smile twitched on her lips at the sight — before remembering why she’d so painstakingly dragged him out there in the first place and scrambling for her ‘pic.

Not long after, while Keith replayed what just happened in his head, another of his friends appeared. Pidge and Rover entered the four-way intersection ahead, carrying several undeterminable parcels of various sizes between them, some of which she seemed to be struggling to balance.

“Hey,” he called, “need any help with—” One look at him and the pair bolted. “Whoa—Hey, wait!”

He rushed after them, but by the time he reached the intersection, they were nearly at the end of the hall, and showed no signs of stopping. It would’ve been impressive (the fastest she’d ever run, in fact) had it not left Keith staring after, bewildered and somewhat disheartened.

‘Okay, what is going on? First, Coran pulls me for a job that doesn’t even need to be done, then Hunk boots me from the kitchen, Allura’s acting weirdly nice, and now Pidge’s running away from me like I’m the freaking undertaker? Are they all…hiding something from me?’

The idea hurt in a way he hadn’t known it could. Keith didn’t want to believe it, and at least for now he chose not to. Whatever the case, something was wonky in the castle, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

First, he needed to conduct a test, and so he took out his ‘pic. “Shiro, you there?”

Several seconds passed before a response came through, a touch distant, as though he couldn’t quite get the mic to his mouth. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. Why did he sound like he was stuck on the toilet?

Dismissing the image before it could properly take shape, he said, “I’m heading to the training deck. You want to go a few rounds?”

“Ah, sorry, bud, I’m a little busy right noww—” The word extended in a warble. “Would you stop moving around so much?” Shiro hissed, his strained voice becoming fainter for a second, then finished in a hurry. “Maybe some other time, kiddo. I just can’t.”

The line shut off before Keith could reply. That clenched it; it really was everyone. But why? Did Coran put something in their water at breakfast by accident? Was this a Pidge experiment gone wrong, hence her seemingly not wanting to face him, and Shiro’s pained tone?

‘Or maybe they all have different reasons and none of them are your business?’ said the snide part of him.

No matter how hard he’d tried to get rid of it over the years, the voice always came back sooner or later, and no matter how much he didn’t want to, he had to admit, it might have a point. There could be — and likely were — a thousand variables contributing to the others’ behavior. Who was he to demand answers? Then again, as parts of Voltron, shouldn’t they be honest with one another? Or was that not necessary since their bond was already established? Still, if another emergency call came in and they needed to unite while all this was happening—

Keith thumped a fist on each side of his temple, ending the train of thought. ‘You’re doing it again. Just go do your training. Things will work themselves out.’

It was as good a plan as any. His mind always became clearer when he sparred, anyway.

———————————

“Think he bought it?” asked Lance.

“I think,” said Shiro through clenched teeth, “you should stop talking and keep looking.”

His shoulders again protested at being kept in the same awkward angle for so long. The two had journeyed into a storage room, looking for a decent basin for bobbing for apples, and had finally found one — perched precariously atop a large pile of boxes that must’ve gotten knocked around in the castle’s last battle. Knowing Coran would be furious if they tipped the basin off and it damaged something in the fall, they had climbed up to retrieve it. Shiro was steadying it from below while Lance stood on a higher point and scoured its sides for any sign of controls.

“I’ve checked the dang thing from top to bottom,” Lance said, running his hands over every seam. “I’m telling you, this thing doesn’t have a hover switch.”

“Did you check inside the bowl?”

“Pfft, why would it be… Who the heck thought this was a good design?”

Shiro groaned. It was going to be a long day.

———————————

Today just kept getting better. A full hour running drills and smashing bots, and still Keith’s head was a beehive of questions. There was just no logic, none at all, to the team’s actions, no matter how he looked at it or what excuses he invented. Thus, he resigned to roam the halls yet again, which he now felt were unbearably empty, despite nothing about them having changed since the morning — a week ago, it now seemed, and it would become even more distant the longer this squeezing in his stomach lasted.

Enough was enough. Keith would talk to the others; no more speculation on motives, no more aggravating uncertainty about inconsistencies, just a simple conversation and he could put this headache of a situation behind him. And his chance soon appeared in the form of Lance, who was stretching his back with a grimace as he walked.

“Lance,” he called — a bit too forcefully, it turned out.

The younger teen jumped, going wide-eyed at the sight of Keith marching toward him, his pent-up frustration curling his hands into loose fists and furrowing his brows into something adjacent to a scowl.

“Oh, hey, man,” said Lance, inching down the hallway. “Y’know, I’d love to chat with you, always, but I’ve got somewhere to be, so laters!”

He sped up, only for Keith to materialize alongside him, easily keeping pace. “Why are y’all acting so weird today?”

“You’re acting weird today,” Lance fired back without much thought.

“I’m serious.”

“You always are.”

“Then just give me a straight answer.”

“Answer to what?”

Keith growled, running his hands through his hair, nearly tearing some of it out. He stepped in front of Lance, stopping him, and said, “Do I look like I’m in the mood for games? Just tell me what you’re hiding! I’ll understand!”

To Lance’s eyes, standing there, radiating desperation and confusion with his claw-esque hands and twisted expression, Keith looked like a half-Neanderthal being denied meat. A snort slipped out.

“Holy crow,” he said, each word laced with a chuckle, “you’re more dramatic than me.”

Keith’s breathing hitched a little. “What?”

“Ay caramba, and after playing it so cool this morning, too.”

‘This morning…?’

“But, hey, if you need something to do, why not check on the village? I bet that Klaizap guy’s been missing you lately.”

“Shiro and I stopped by on our jog,” Keith replied in a blunted tone. “They’re fine.”

“Well, why don’t you go be fine with them for a while? Might be good,” said Lance, slipping around and continuing on his way, a carefree smile on his face. “See ya.”

From over his shoulder, Keith watched him shrink into the distance of the long hall, a pinprick of hollowness forming in his chest. He turned and headed to his room. Only once he was there did he allow his mind to sift through the conversation, his feet carrying him back and forth across the small space. This morning…the mission, where he’d technically broken rank and acted without consulting his teammates. Was that what this was all about? He hadn’t thought—

‘You never do, do you?’

He pressed his lips together, stomach twisting unpleasantly. ‘But why? I’ve done similar things before, and they’ve never—’

‘One too many times. Guess they’re finally sick of your stunts.’

“Shut up,” he growled.

Yet, once again, the bleak voice had a point. Shiro had even reprimanded him, if lightly — though looking back on it now, was there a sharper undertone in it he hadn’t heard before? No, there was no way. His brother, of all people, was used to Keith’s instincts taking hold. Besides, if the team was so upset with him, why would Coran and Allura actively spend time with him? It made no sense!

…Unless that was its purpose; to throw him off, make him stew in his questions and get him to think, to realize what he’d done on his own. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d encountered such a tactic.

‘They wouldn’t do that, though…would they?’

The answering silence was almost worse than the snide reprimands. His steps slowed, and he let his back fall against the wall, tipping his head into it with a soft thunk. Was having friends supposed to be this stressful? Or was he just being overdramatic, like Lance said? More importantly, what was Keith meant to do about it?

“You ran away?”

Pidge grumbled and sank deeper into her seat. “You’re the one who told us to avoid him instead of lying.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you to freak out about it,” said Shiro. He ran a hand down his face. So much for being discreet.

“Not like Hunk did much better,” said Lance with a snicker, much to his friend’s annoyance.

Everyone was gathered in a small conference room off the main thoroughfare of corridors for additional secrecy — a secrecy Allura was beginning to question.

“Is everything prepared?” she asked, the memory of Keith’s agitation leaving a sour taste in her mouth. “I fear we are pushing our luck in regards to establishing belief.”

“Well, food’s prepped and ready to cook,” Hunk replied.

“The common room is thoroughly ‘spookified,’” said Coran, using air quotes.

Lance grinned at the use of his made-up word. “And the games are all set up, so except for costumes, I think we’re good to go.”

“Not quite,” said Shiro, and his expression grew deadly serious. “Presents.”

Five pairs of eyes widened.

Hunk smacked himself and cried, “Aw, man! I knew I was forgetting something!”

“What’re you freaking out about? The food’s basically your present,” said Lance.

“I cook for him every day. It’s gotta be more special than that!”

“Gift giving? How wondrous!” exclaimed Allura, all guilt forgotten. “Then we must get to Banlam City immediately — and do not even try to tell me I cannot go.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Shiro replied. “You might wanna change outfits, though, so you’re less recognizable.”

She smiled and headed for the door. “I shall meet you at the Lions in ten doboshes.” Her steps faltered before she got too close. “Ah, Pidge, is the coastline clear?”

“It’s just ‘coast,’ and…yeah, looks like it.” The girl’s brow furrowed at the dot on her screen; the signal from Keith’s gendopic, which she was using as a tracking device. “Actually, it looks like he hasn’t moved from his room for a while.”

Warning bells went off in Shiro’s head. “What?”

“It’s what the data history says.”

Bad feeling growing, he pulled out his ‘pic, saying, “I’m gonna call him. … … … Hey, bud, just checking in. What are you up to?”

A long beat passed. Then… “Nothing.”

It was almost a mumble, clipped and emotionless, and thus concerning. “You alright?”

  “I’m fine. Did you want to see me?”

“Uh, no, not right now,” said Shiro, contrary to his big brother instincts screaming at him to go to him this instant. “How about in a little bit, okay?”

“…Okay.”

The millisecond the line shut off, he threw himself to the floor. “Nooo, this is bad!”

“What?” asked the others.

“He knows. He knows we forgot and is ticked at us!” Fear swept over the group as he sprang upright again. “We need to get to that moon yesterday!”

“Right!” said the teens, and they raced out.

“I’ll stay here and see if I can’t cheer him up a smidge,” said Coran.

“You’re a lifesaver, Coran,” Shiro called back.

A hop, skip, and a jump later, they were on the bustling streets of Banlam, swinging their gazes round and round, searching any shop that might be of use to them. Unfortunately, while there were plenty of unique and frankly freaky items, very few, if any, would make even halfway decent gifts. After a while, they gathered in a side square, disheartened.

“Ugh, we don’t even know what we’re looking for,” Pidge groaned. “What would someone like Keith want, anyway?”

“I’ve been looking for a knife shop, personally,” said Lance, seeming quite proud for having come up with the idea.

“Aw, come on,” said Shiro, “you guys know him enough to think of something.”

The others glanced at each other uncertainly.

“Not really,” replied Hunk. “I mean, he’s a great guy, but…”

“He’s so quiet,” Lance finished. “You ask him a question, all you get is ‘Yes,’ ‘No,’ or just plain grunting.”

Shiro sighed. “Okay, yeah, he’s not the easiest to talk to, but think. There’s gotta be something, some comment, some time, that maybe stood out to you, told you something about him.”

Even Allura shuffled awkwardly, smoothing the tri-corner skirt of her simple (by her standards) dress — though it only lasted a moment before her eyes lit up. “His sketchbook.”

“You’ve seen it?” asked Shiro, shocked. “He hasn’t even shown it to me.”

“Ah, well, it was an accident,” she admitted abashedly, “and he was none too pleased about it, to tell the truth.”

“Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait,” said Lance, waving his hands as he attempted to comprehend what he’d just heard, “sketchbook? Keith…draws?”

“Yes, and he is quite good at it, actually. I cannot imagine why he seemed so embarrassed about it.”

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk shared wry smiles, saying in sing-song voices, “Softie.”

Shiro smirked but otherwise ignored them. “So, you want to go with that?”

Allura nodded. “Indeed. Though it will likely be tricky to find traditional art materials.”

“Still, that’s good. We’ll start there.” He pulled out his ‘pic. “And I have an idea of how to find them.”

The comline connected, revealing Manset lounging at his desk, talking to someone off-screen as he scratched his rotund stomach apathetically. Upon seeing his active monitor, he hastily sat up straighter, fixed his shirt, and said, “Ah, friends! This is quite the surprise. What can I do for you?”

“We need a favor,” said Shiro. “We’re in town right now, looking for traditional art supplies — paper, pens, those kinds of things.”

Manset hummed, intrigued. “Highly unusual…but doable. I believe there’s store down on Ischvalin Street, in the Creatives’ District, that still carries such things. I must ask, though, what do need with them?”

“They’re a birthday present for Keith,” Hunk replied, leaning into frame.

Scotch lodged in Manset’s throat, sending him into a fit and nearly off his chair, while two other voices — the ones he’d been speaking with before — exclaimed, “What?!”

Nyma, Rolo, and Beezer crowded into the picture, wearing the same gape as their boss, now recovered after forcing his drink down and hacking his lungs out.

“It’s Keith’s birthday?” said Nyma.

“Last week, actually,” said Lance.

“Shiro forgot to tell us,” Pidge added, her head and pointed finger popping over the man’s shoulder, making him glare a little.

Slamming a fist on his desk, Manset declared, “This oversight must be corrected at once! I can’t get away — blasted meetings — but we shall assist you in finding whatever you require, and send you off with gifts of our own!”

“That would be most appreciated,” said Allura, “thank you.”

“It is our pleasure, my lady.”

With his guidance, the team was swift to collect both Allura and Lance’s presents. She was fascinated by the variety of tools; the use of wood and other such organic components was something of a novelty, her only previous exposure to them being the odd coloring pen and pad from her grandmother. Seeing the “grown-up versions” was quite eye-opening, and she took great pains to select the exact right ones. Lance just grabbed the pack of knives that looked the coolest. Shiro picked up a couple items along the way, but for some reason, hid them in his ‘pic before the others could tell what they were.

Pidge groaned as they passed an appliance shop, saying, “I wish I had time to invent something. I guess I could pull one of the smaller projects I’m already working on, but…”

“Yeah…” said Hunk, lost in his own musings for ideas. Then he stopped. “Yeah. Hey, yeah, that’s perfect!”

“Uh, how? I literally just said—”

“Not for you, for me. Still, you’re right, I can’t do it in one day, so it’ll be more like an IOU…but actually, that could be part of the fun.”

“Well, goody-goody for you, now what am I supposed to do!?” She threw her hands up in frustration as he disappeared inside a store for ship parts. With a grumbling sigh and a sympathetic pat on her back from Shiro, she muttered, “Smaller project it is.”

Just then, Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer came hurrying down the street, their leader calling, “Hey! We’ve got the stuff.”

“Didn’t know if you wrapped presents on your planet,” said Nyma as they showed the colorful boxes, one flat, the other tall, “so we went ahead and did it.”

“Perfect, thank you. I’m sure he’ll love them,” Shiro replied. At Hunk’s emergence from the store, now with a small hover crate of parts, he went on, “Alright, looks like that’s everything, and just in time.”

CRACK-BOOOM

“…to crash and burn.”

Across their bond, the Lions snarled in a way that could only mean one thing. They turned to the sky; a ball of fire streaked through the atmosphere, and in a matter of seconds, crashed into the moon, sending tremors throughout the city and activating hundreds of alarms. The populous screamed and ran for cover, flying cars and ships careening off course above, the streets descending into pandemonium.

Shiro looked to his team, who nodded grimly. “Princess, go with them and find some place safe.”

“We’ll watch out for her,” said Rolo.

Allura wanted to argue at first, but knowing she wouldn’t be much use, she replied, “May the Ancients be with you, my friends.”

“Fear not, fair lady,” said Lance, his theater kid showing as they handed over their gifts. “I shall return.”

“Come on, Romeo,” said Pidge, grabbing the back of his jacket and dragging him along while Allura and the smugglers ran in the opposite direction.

———————————

Sendak entered the bridge as his cruiser dropped out of slip-space, ready to resume monitor duty until orders for their next move came. He stopped short. Haxus was standing at the helm — where he wasn’t supposed to be — and instead of the monitor showing Planet Arus, where they should’ve been, it showed the moon of Banlam City. The computer then zoomed in on the smoking crater a few miles out from the trading metropolis. Next to the feed, vital statistics flickered; statistics from a creature the computer didn’t fully understand.

“What have you done?” said Sendak, his voice low, a snarl barely contained.

Haxus turned and gave him a cold stare. “Getting results.”

Glower turning hostile, Sendak was about to cross the distance and throttle him when the radar picked up four targets heading to the crash site.

“And there they are now.”

He chuckled quietly while his commander growled. He’d known Haxus could be foolish, but to undermine him so brazenly? Had he gone mad? He knew the consequences for insubordination. Clearly, he was betting on the Robeast’s victory and any prizes it brought to offset his lapse in sense. Sendak was ready to throw him out an airlock regardless.

But then he remembered the briefing regarding this latest beast. Though his fury remained, he stayed his hand and stood back. Perhaps opportunity could come from this blunder.

———————————

The Paladins’ hoverboards proved invaluable, allowing them to fly over the panic and straight to the Lions, suiting up via their gendopics along the way. They were off in seconds, and arrived at the impact site even sooner, yet it wasn’t what they’d expected. Instead of the coffin sticking up out of the ground, there was a massive hole; a dark, gaping pit they couldn’t see the bottom of.

“I’m sorry, what?” said Lance.

Pidge ran a scan, which revealed a thick but not impenetrable surface of stone, and nothing beneath. “Must be a cave system.”

A beeping caught their attention moments before a video feed opened, showing Manset, his crew, and Allura crowded around his desk in his apartment. “Paladins, what is happening?”

“Got a bit of a situation here,” Shiro replied. “You wouldn’t know anything about caves on this moon, would you?”

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of going down there!” His face had turned panicked in an instant, Nyma, Rolo, and Beezer glancing at each other in a similar fashion. “That place is unstable! Not to mention haunted!”

“Haunted!?” Lance, Hunk, and Allura cried. Pidge just rolled her eyes.

“No one who explores those caverns ever comes back. They’re said to be guarded by a monster, ancient and slithering.”

“Well,” said Shiro, ignoring the tiny shiver riding up his spine, “there’s definitely a monster down there now. Come on.”

Down they descended, through smoke and dust. The Lions’ eyes doubled as powerful flashlights, yet not even they could cut through the oppressive gloom until a stirring breeze dispersed the cloud. Stalactites and stalagmites lined the bleak space like teeth, some connecting to form gnarled, off-kilter pillars, lifting the ceiling so high that Voltron could stand up comfortably if he were formed. Blue took a few cautious steps forward. The tink of metal met her paw. A slab of the dark material lay on the ground, and as the dust fully settled, they found more, all leading to an empty coffin. The beast was already loosed.

Hunk crossed his fingers and chanted under his breath, “Please be a dud, please be a dud, please be a dud…”

“Movement on radar,” said Pidge.

“Nooo…”

“It’s coming from over there,” she went on, pointing Green’s snout toward a branching tunnel. The blip vanished. “Huh?”

“Uh, your computer malfunctioning? It’s this way.” Blue jutted her head at a different path. Then hers glitched, too. “Que—?”

Black turned almost entirely around. “And mine says that way. Either this thing’s wicked fast…or there’s more than one.”

Hunk whimpered.

“Or the mineral composition down here is messing with our instruments,” said Pidge, tapping a fritzy holo-screen. “Could affect comms, too. We’d better stick close.”

Yellow magnetized to Blue’s side, practically hugging her. “Way ahead of you.”

“Alright. Let’s get hunting,” Shiro said, his breath coming out stiff and slow.

In diamond formation, the four padded down a random tunnel. Given the Robeast’s (or several Robeasts’) movements, they were likely all connected someway, so it didn’t really matter. It wound in a long, meandering route. Secondary passages broke off, and a few times, they were tempted to explore them, but without a trail to follow, only their failing sensors, taking unknown turns became out of the question until they had a better idea of the caverns’ layout. The random clatter of stone or swipe of wind didn’t help their apprehension.

Every shadow seemed to hide a threat; every bouncing, echoing sound made them jolt. Even Pidge, who still held belief in science over superstition, had to admit, these caves unnerved her, making her feel as though a malicious force was curling about her ankles, waiting to snatch her up if she strayed too far. There was a presence in these ageless corridors, both everywhere and nowhere. Eyes were upon them.

“Pikaw!”

Everyone shrieked and whirled around — at Lance, laughing away.

“Seriously!?” said Pidge shrilly.

“Not. Cool,” Hunk panted, clutching his chest, his heart about to beat clear out of it.

“Aw, c’mon, we’re hunting a monster through a spooky cave on Halloween, I had to,” Lance replied.

“You really didn’t,” the two shot back.

After a long breath to unclench her gut, Pidge turned away. “Just get your butt mov—” whoosh “—ing… Uh, hey, guys? Where’s Shiro?”

They froze and looked around. The Black Lion was gone.

“Can I start panicking now?” asked Hunk in a warbling voice, his own Lion trembling.

A peculiar clicking noise reached their ears, clearly made by a mouth.

“Lance, knock it off,” snapped Pidge, “or so help me I’ll knock you out!”

“Hey, that was not me, okay?” he replied, sounding almost offended. “It was the thing behind us.”

Eyes went wide. Slowly, they turned, and saw a single, giant claw reaching down.

Screams filled the comms. They fired, but it had already disappeared into the darkness. Radars, lights — nothing they had could locate the thing, no matter how fast they swung their heads around. The tunnel groaned unhappily, smatterings of debris raining down.

Shakily, Lance said, “Um, didn’t Manset say something about this place being unstable?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The ceiling cracked.

“Run!”

It gave way with a thunderous roar, stone nipping at the Lions’ tails, the three not caring where they turned so long as it got them away. At last, it slowed and then stopped, leaving them with stuttering lungs, their lights the only things visible through the new wave of dust now clogging the air.

“Everyone alright?” asked Lance.

“Physically, sure,” answered Hunk, “but you’re paying for my therapy.”

“Okay… Okay, okay, okay,” said Pidge, willing her brain to slow down enough for her to comprehend her own thoughts. “This thing — working on the basis of there being just one because of previous monster encounters — is fast, probably agile, and smart. It knew to take out Shiro first, making us flounder without our leader, thus turning us into easier prey, and since it clearly favors stealth tactics, it’ll most likely pick us off one-by-one until—”

“Are you trying to make me freak out more!?” Hunk wailed.

“I’m a verbal processor!”

“Well, process it to yourself because I’m about to have a heart atta—AAAAHHHHHHH!!!”

Yellow’s light zipped backwards, swallowed by the fog before anyone could blink.

“Hunk!” Lance cried, he and Pidge racing after him.

They exited the dust; Yellow clung to the lip of a pit just ahead. Blue scrambled for his paw, but then he was dragged down, and his screams went silent. They stared into the endless dark, minds reeling, hands shaking.

“H-He’s… He’s not…?” Lance’s throat closed around the word.

“No, no,” Pidge replied, her tongue turning to lead. “I-It’s probably just the…the minerals messing with our comms. Yeah, it… That’s gotta be it.”

“Then we’ve gotta go after him.”

Blue moved to jump, but Green bit her tail, dragging her back. “Are you crazy?!”

“Half our team’s been taken by a monster,” said Lance, rounding on her, “and you want to sit here and do nothing?!”

“It’s called planning, which is exactly what the monster’s doing! It’s what I was saying before: first it took out our head, and now our heavy-hitter/shield. This thing knows what we can do, and if we keep running around like skittish rats, we’ll be playing into its hands. Claws. Whatever.”

His heaving breaths filled the comlink. She didn’t blame him for his anger; she felt the same. But they couldn’t save anyone if they got captured, too.

crrrick-skuttle-shuffle

The two flinched and cast their gazes every which way. Pinpricks studded the walls; tiny plumes of dust and rock fell from random places on the ceiling; yet there was no sign of the creature.

Lance wracked his brain for anything they could do. “Entwine our tails.”

“What?” said Pidge, knocked from her own thoughts.

“Wrap our tails around each other. It can’t grab one of us if we’re tied together, right?”

She quickly went over the numbers, then nodded. “Okay.”

Drawing close, the Lions did so, pulling them taut. Still scanning the pocket of cave they found themselves in, they waited, eyes snapping to every shifting sound.

“We’ve got this.” Lance pushed a confident chuckle out of his tight chest. “Yeah, we’ve totally—”

Pidge gave a clipped scream. The tails slipped from their hold easily, sending Blue off-balance. Once she steadied herself, she turned in circles, searching for her counterpart — and didn’t find her. Heart hammering and mind unable to think anymore, Lance did the only thing he could and slammed his fist into the emergency beacon.

A flashing light drew his attention to his radar, where a red dot was jumping around. Then it froze, the signal suddenly stronger…

He looked up. There, high above, was the Green Lion, her eyes dark, tangled in pale ropes and dark spears, and from around her neck, pincers detached. A head lolled back, sharp and wicked and vile.

Its screech tore the air. Blue answered with ice.

———————————

Back and forth, back and forth — not Keith’s steps but his train of thought, crafting a maze he couldn’t find a way out of. Over and over he tried to find a different explanation for his teammates’ actions, but each time he replayed the aftermath of the morning’s battle, the sharper their words sounded.

“Are you incapable of just taking the win?” Annoyed, scoffing — far beyond Lance’s typical teasing.

“Well, I for one could do with fewer snap-shot maneuvers.” Harsh, critical in a way only Pidge could be, enhanced by pain. His fault.

“Next time, even a tiny heads-up would be good, alright?” Criticism wrapped in fake kindness; condescension hidden in plain sight. Shiro had never spoken that way before.

‘You’ve never screwed up like that before either.’

Keith pressed his brow further into his clenched hands, the tapping of his foot growing louder. ‘It wasn’t a screw-up. We saved those people.’

The second half was fact; the first, he didn’t know whether to believe. If he was being honest, the majority of his career as a Paladin was beginning to feel like little more than a string of mistakes that happened to turn out well. Some Defender he was turning out to be.

A knock at the door gave him a start.

“To trick or entreat,” said Coran as it opened automatically. The mice were at his feet and Rover at his shoulder, all of them chirping happily.

Keith let out a small breath and relaxed his shoulders, feeling silly, and turned back toward the floor.

“…I said it wrongly, didn’t I? Ah, well.” Coran entered the room properly, stopping a few feet away and pulling a tray from behind his back. “Tart?”

The young man’s stomach tightened. Was this a suggestion or an order? He cursed his inability to tell.

After a moment, tentatively, he shook his head. “Thank you.”

His gloomy tone had Coran pressing his lips together, though only momentarily before shrugging and saying, “Just as well, I suppose. Their preservation is…dubious.”

He popped one of the jelly-filled confections into his mouth, and immediately grimaced at the staleness and bitter flavor. Keith wanted to laugh at the face he made, yet not even a smile came to him.

Setting the tray to hover, Coran gestured to his bed. “May I?” He scooted over. As his newfound companion sat, the mice scurried up to his lap, Rover hanging close on his other side. “Now, I hear you’re feeling rather down. May I ask why?”

‘You may ask.’ Keith smothered the thought, instead replying, “I’m fine.”

Coran nodded in understanding and set a hand on his shoulder. “The day’s not over. Who knows? Perhaps by the end of it, we’ll be laughing ourselves silly about the whole thing.”

‘Yeah, sure.’ He wished he meant it, but even with Rover nodding confidently and the mice chirping their reassurance, his spirits remained hard pressed.

WOOP WOOP WOOP

Keith’s spine went rigid. He knew that alarm.

“Or we’ll be screaming hysterically,” said Coran, pulling up a holo-screen. “It’s the Blue Lion, she’s—” The SOS cut off mid-beep. “What in the Nine Galaxies?”

Keith was down the hallway before he could finish, the mice scattered in his wake. There was no time to wonder where everyone else was or why the teludav was left open; there was only to suit up, jump in his Lion, and fly.

Into the portal he dove, barreling through the atmosphere and quickly spotting the hole next to Banlam City when he received a call.

“Oh, Keith, thank the Ancients,” said Allura, a hand over her heart. “A Robeast landed in a cave system within the moon. The others went after it, but we lost contact.”

“Understood,” he replied.

Red’s landing reverberated through the countless shadowed, cobwebbed tunnels, the echos returning warped and dulled, as if something was intentionally silencing it. Unfortunately, stone didn’t allow for tracks; the lack of signals likewise left him without a starting point, but knowing which direction they were in wouldn’t help in navigating a network of labyrinthian caverns anyway. No option remained except to start. With a roar that was equally a war cry and a call to his brethren, Red set off.

Deep into the caves it rumbled, and even from so far away, Black recognized it. Shiro’s lungs finally unclenched as his Lion flickered to life.

“Good to have you back,” he said.

Though his systems were online, albeit shakily and with a few disconcerting sparks of green electricity, Black still did not move when his pilot tugged the controls. Once visuals returned, Shiro saw why: a thick white substance made up of dozens, if not hundreds, of spiraling ropes was strangling his maw shut and tying it to a patchy blanket made of the same strange substance, stretched between the ceiling, floor, and walls. His stomach plunged into his shoes. A web. He was trapped in a web of unholy size like the universe’s largest fly. He yanked the controls harder, mentally encouraging Black to struggle in whatever way he could, and while he did move this time, it was in swaying bounces and jerks. Not a single thread (if they could even be called that at such a size) so much as frayed, let alone broke.

Cursing under his breath, Shiro activated comms. “Black to team, do you read? I repeat, Black Lion to team, does anyone copy?”

Static.

‘Could be the minerals, like Pidge said. Radio could be damaged. Maybe…’

He shook his head, banishing the line of thought. The others were fine. They weren’t dumb enough to charge after him blindly, and they’d watch one another’s backs.

“—iro? Tha—ou? Hello?”

Hope igniting in his chest, he lifted Black’s head the best he could, trying to look around — and then the hope died. Up in the corner of the ceiling was Yellow, tangled in webbing, the same as him, eyes flickering on.

“Hunk, I’m here,” said Shiro, bringing up the video feed. “Can you hear me?”

The image twitched and flickered for a few seconds, then stabilized into the face of a very nervous teenager. “Oh, thank goodness! I-I-I got dragged away, and I couldn’t see, an-and then there was this screeching, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, deep breaths. Do it with me. In…and out.”

Shiro had to lead him through the exercise several times for it to stick, though only just. By then, another voice was crackling over the comm.

“Hunk? Shiro?” Pidge called.

“You’re alive!” Hunk cheered.

“You okay?” asked Shiro.

“I think so,” she replied; while the latter couldn’t see her from his angle, the former could, secured in a field of stalactites and stalagmites, “but I can’t move.”

“None of us can.”

“Hey, at least you have both eyes. Jerk only left me with one,” Lance cut in, shaking Blue’s head around, which sported a makeshift eyepatch.

“Oh no!” said Hunk. “Which eye is it?”

“Literally, what difference does that make?”

“I don’t know.” He glanced around. “Wait, why am I the only one upside-down?”

“Bro, you have artificial gravity.”

“Yeah, I know, but I still have to look at it and it’s making my brain unhappy.”

“Valid.”

Despite the situation, it did Shiro’s heart good to hear his teammates bantering like it was no more than an average Tuesday. At this point, though, it practically was.

Grunts and straining hydraulics drew his focus back to Blue, who was trying to stand, only for her half-cocoon to snap her back into the ground. “Holy snart, what is this stuff?”

Pidge looked like she didn’t want to say it. “Well, if I had to guess…”

Hunk’s breathing picked up again.

Shiro quickly said, “What matters is how we’re going to get out of it. Any ideas?”

“Jawblades?” said Lance.

“Wouldn’t do us any good,” Pidge replied. “We can’t turn our heads, so we’d just punch holes, and it wouldn’t do enough damage where we’re at anyway.”

“Alright, what about tail cannons?” Shiro suggested.

“Looks about the same, Cap,” said Hunk, who had a clear view from his vantage point. “Dang, Pidge was right, this thing is smart.”

Pring, pwong

Blood turned to ice at the sound; almost metallic, like the metal cables of a suspension bridge, yet still just thin enough to retain the pluck of a cord. It warbled down the lines of web straying into the holes dotting most every surface of this alcove the Robeast had turned into its lair. A distant scuttling noise followed it.

“Uh, smart enough to know when its dinner’s plotting to escape?”

“D-D-D-D-Dinner?” Hunk squeaked.

Shiro shot Lance a glare, making him grin unevenly.

There was no time for reprimands, though, not when the sounds were growing louder by the second — getting closer. Sharper and faster it came; sometimes from the left, sometimes from the right, even several directions at once. Then they went quiet. Long, horrible seconds passed. Everyone glanced at each other, as if someone else would know what to do.

None of them could’ve anticipated part of the wall glowing with molten light and exploding, or for the Red Lion to be standing in the smoking debris, having rammed through the softened stone. Cheers rang from the group.

“Oh man, you’re the best!” said Hunk.

“Well, let’s not get carried away,” said Lance.

“Is anyone hurt?” asked Keith.

“No,” Pidge replied, “but the Robeast has some way to instantly knock out the Lions.”

“It’s some kind of venom.” Everyone turned to Lance in surprise. “What?”

“Wait, you’ve seen it?” Shiro said.

Pidge had a different concern. “That’s ridiculous. How could venom work on machines?”

The Lions let out a collective grumble, as if offended by the word.

“Ask the fangs it had in your throat before it came for me,” said Lance. “Thing’s real nasty-lookin’, too, from what I saw.”

Keith replied, “Noted.”

Red went to Blue first and bit into the webbing. Lance fumbled to warn him about the stickiness, though it turned out to not be necessary; a second later it ignited and snapped — cold comfort for him since he was now covered in flames.

He screamed, flailed, and rolled about until they were out. “You just love setting me on fire, don’t you?”

“Sorry.” The sullen reply caught him off-guard, killing the rest of his snark even as Red then removed the muzzle, his plasma ray glowing faintly. “Your ice can help.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Lance, offering a smile and a thumbs-up.

Keith turned and got to work freeing Black. Smile fading, his companion began doing the same for Green.

“Aw, man, how come I’m last? Because I’m on the cei—ling…?” Hunk’s voice hitched and petered out. In the corner of Yellow’s vision, where the light of his eyes couldn’t reach, a dark shape was slithering out of a hole next to him and coiling down several clustered stalactites. His mouth went dry. “Uhh, guys?”

“Just a sec, dude,” Lance said.

“I-I really think you should—”

“Bro, chill, we’re coming, just—”

“It’s on top of you!”

The creature sprang from its perch.

Keith leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding being skewered, and fired his plasma beam. It scrambled out of the way with impossible speed for its size, and as the floor turned to magma, they all finally saw how.

A hundred spider legs lining a winding, snake-like body; a humanoid torso, hands replaced with scythes on spindly arms; a mantis head, long mandibles clicking, antennae twitching, fused to overly-tall shoulders sculpted into the vague visage of a crown. Vile greens colored the Robeast, down to the acidic glow of its six bulbous, multifaceted eyes, which were locked on the pool of molten rock between it and its prey, hissing and spitting at it.

“Heh, too hot for ya, huh?” said Lance around the disturbed lump in his throat. “Nasty” had been putting it mildly.

The monster turned, as if it had heard him, then raised its tail. Writhing pincers stitched crackling energy between them and shot it. Lance yelped and dove out of the way, the projectile splattering against a pile of boulders where it cooled into webbing. More volleys followed, forcing the freed Lions to avoid both them and the lava. Red had no such problem. When the Robeast made to fire again, he loosed a laser bolt at its tail, causing the energy to explode and tangle its crafting mechanism. Outraged and pained, it detached its jaw, splitting it into a small horde of mandibles dripping spittles of venom, and roared; a splitting, grating, screeching sound that had the Paladins covering their ears.

It sought to take advantage of their weakness and forced its tail to work, the power more chaotic than ever, only to pause. Walking through the magma, flames licking his paws, yet entirely unharmed, the Red Lion’s vengeful eyes burned brighter than the noonday sun, and with every step, the heat increased, turning the air itself into a blistering weapon. The Robeast hissed, covering its face and scrunching its body. It abruptly turned and fled, scuttling back into its tunnels. Red gave chase.

The alcove still burned behind him, growing so hot Yellow’s prison ignited on its own, nearly casting him into the molten pool had he not reacted in time. His fellow Lions fared little better, backing into corners for protection, yet finding none.

Lance charged his freeze ray, but Pidge jumped in front, shouting, “Don’t!”

“Again with the ‘don’t,’” he said, rolling Blue’s head alongside his eyes. “Why ‘don’t?’”

“Because it’ll only freeze the top, creating massive amounts of pressure that will burst through the obsidian crust, releasing massive amounts of toxic gasses and steam, causing categoric wind, and not helping with the temperature in here at all!”

“…What?”

“We’ll be blown up and blind,” said Hunk.

“Ooooh. Okay, fair.”

“This way.” Shiro launched into an opening above, the others on his tail.

Throughout the caverns, the Robeast raced, taking the most twisting, dizzying path it could; the Red Lion never once went astray, the webs meant to ensnare and slow him instead bursting into flames at his presence. It wasn’t by his rage alone, though. Every pent-up emotion, every word left unsaid, burned in Keith’s chest. He knew he couldn’t control it, so he channeled it, pouring it into his fury at this monster for hurting those he cared about. In desperation, feeling the heat on its back, it began slicing into the walls and ceiling, sending boulders into his path; he practically danced around them, growing faster leap by leap. He roared with his Lion, and they pounced, catching the beast in the chest with claws and teeth and pushing it through layers of stone, all the way to the surface, where he threw it to the ground in a twisted heap.

It wriggled to its feet and looked up to see him shooting down, jawblade flashing into existence. Just before it connected, the Robeast swung its tail around, smacking him away. The instant he stopped tumbling and regained his footing, it was on him again, stabbing and slicing with its blades. Red bounced and zipped backward, perpetually out of range. A slip afforded him an opening, and he took it, darting around to snare the whipping tail in his mouth. Fire erupted, spreading over the beast, making it writhe and shriek. But it wasn’t without tricks of its own; it coiled its burning body around the Lion, pinning him in place with his pincer-like legs and squeezing. Red groaned, the pain radiating over the bond. The Robeast reared up, scythes at the ready.

At that moment, the other Lions arrived, Yellow barreling through the final stretch to get them topside. Once they got their bearings and saw the battle, they wanted to join, but the tides quickly turned.

Keith activated the particle barrier, flaring it outward with all the force he could muster. It, too, carried his searing wrath. The monster’s cries gained new volume as it released him, several legs now little more than bubbling, blackened stumps. Jawblade returned, Red shot past it, carving a line across its torso. Speed climbing, he turned and made another run, and another, over and over and over. His adversary couldn’t touch him. At last, with the Robeast unable to move from its injuries, he tackled and pinned it. There was fear in that empty gaze. There was no pity in his. He locked his jaws around its throat and wrenched its head off.

Atop its flaming body, covered in the blood of his enemy, in the blazing light of the sinking sun, the Red Lion roared his victory for his team, the city, and even the smugglers and Allura to hear from their balcony where they’d watched the battle. A thick silence followed. No one knew what could be said after such a display. Lance in particular was vividly reminded of when Keith slayed that tiger-wolf mech with nothing more than a dagger. He really was built different, wasn’t he?

Cautiously, the four approached, Pidge being the first to speak, albeit stunned. “That was…”

“Insane? Unreal? Terrifying?” said Lance. “Yeah, those all pretty much sum up Mullet.”

Hunk slowly padded over to the Robeast’s corpse, the flames reducing to a smolder as Red hopped off of it. He raised a shaky paw and smacked one of the legs, flinching away at the same time. Nothing happened. He let himself breathe — and it twitched. The second he screamed, Red whipped his head around and shot the body, coating Yellow’s head with its goopy blood in the resulting explosion.

While Pidge and Lance laughed at him, Shiro walked over to Keith, who was still glaring at the corpse, his Lion growling low, and asked, “Buddy? You okay?”

“…I’m fine,” was the terse reply.

Clearly, he wasn’t, but Shiro didn’t press.

While a great cheer arose in Banlam, the Lions lifted the Robeast’s corpse on their backs and flew it into the sun, in case some scrappers got any ideas and opened a giant can of trouble for everyone. Afterward, they picked up Allura and headed home, though a sense of foreboding followed them, and at its center was Red.

———————————

Keith’s eyes blinked back at him lethargically. Once they’d returned to the castle, he’d gone straight to his room and flopped onto his bed, his jacket on its hanger by the door. His energy was spent, and frankly, he didn’t have any desire to get it back. The darker thoughts were creeping in again, fueled rather than fatigued by the day’s events.

He’d gone off-book a second time, racing off, not waiting for the others— not protecting them. If there hadn’t been so many caverns branching from the alcove, they could’ve died from the heat he’d created. Losing his temper, endangering his team, potentially compromising the integrity of a populated moon’s surface just so he could win a fight; although they’d seemed grateful at first, he’d be getting an earful before the day was done, he knew. All he could do now was wait.

Tack-tack-tack

Speak of the devil.

He sat up and sheathed his knife at once. A “Yeah?” nearly slipped out, but he caught and corrected himself, instead saying, “It’s open.”

Strangely, it was Rover at the door, not Shiro or Allura like he’d expected, and he played a recorded message from Pidge: “Hey, could you come to the living room? We’re all here.” Then he zipped off.

Keith’s hands clutched the edge of his mattress ever so slightly tighter before letting go. He grabbed his jacket on the way out. The whole walk, he went over what he should say. After the reprimand — which he would endure, no matter how harsh — he’d apologize for everything; after that, it was a matter of hoping his work dispatching the Robeast had earned him a pardon.

The door to the living room loomed before him. He swallowed, and shut his eyes. ‘Time to face the music.’

Two more steps and he was inside. The door shut harshly. He opened his eyes — to pitch darkness. What was—

The lights flicked on.

“Surprise!”

His arm moved with rigid instinct. A moment later, his knife was lodged in a holo-target on the far wall, having cut a rope along the way, releasing a host of balloons, confetti, and a large banner.

“Pay up,” Hunk muttered. Pidge grinned proudly beside him.

“It was rigged,” Lance grumbled, handing over the GAC.

It took several seconds for Keith’s brain to catch up to his eyes and ears. Streamers, bats, and spiders hung all over, with more decorations filling every corner; a snack and drink bar sat on one side of the room, while an assortment of games waited on the other; everyone was in costume for a Halloween party…like they’d been planning all day. So, what did they mean by “surprise?” The heck was going—

Then he actually read the banner: ‘Happy Birthday.’

His mind reeled. “…Oh, right…October.”

The atmosphere drooped, Lance blinking owlishly. “Wai-wai-wai-wait…you didn’t remember either?!”

“You’re kidding,” said Pidge

“Well, I suppose we have been rather busy lately,” said Allura.

“But how do you forget something like that?!”

“Says the guy who forgets important assignments on the regular.”

“Accentuating circumstances!”

“It’s ‘extenuating.’”

An echo of a laugh bubbled from Keith’s throat. “So…you’re not angry with me?”

Shiro froze mid-temple rub, his expression becoming a concerned kind of confusion. “Why would we be angry?”

“I…its—” Before his voice could fail completely, Keith hurriedly said, “I acted without permission twice, I nearly hurt you guys, and then you were avoiding me all day, so I thought…I thought you wanted an apology.”

Understanding bloomed on Shiro’s face, swiftly joined by shame and regret. He slammed his palms into his face. “I am such a moron. That’s not—no, we were never upset or guilt-tripping or anything, I swear.”

“We just didn’t know any other way to set this up without you knowing,” said Hunk. “I mean, you almost found out a couple times anyway.”

“Yeah, like with Insane Bolt over here,” Lance added, jutting a thumb at Pidge.

“Rover, zap him,” she said; his taser crackled eagerly.

The scene of burgeoning chaos played out in slow motion for Keith. As he looked around at the decorations once more, the coil that had been strangling his insides for endless hours loosed and fell away. ‘They… They did this…for me?’

He swallowed, trying to lessen the tightness in his throat and lungs. There was no sniffling or tears (they’d run out a long time ago) but his face still pinched in the same way.

“Are you alright, my boy?” asked Coran, suddenly by his side and laying a hand on his shoulder, quieting the others.

“Yeah.” He coughed and tried to rub the expression away. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just, um…eyelash.”

“Aw, c’mere,” said Hunk, scooping Keith up in the biggest bear hug he’d ever received. It was tight and smelled like dusty bandages, but it was also nice.

With a final squeeze, Hunk let go, only for Shiro to catch him in a side hug. Before he knew it, the whole team was around him, whether with a pat on the back or a simple smile.

“You are the king of softies,” said Lance, ruffling his hair, “you know that?”

Keith batted him away. “Shut up.”

“Could’ve told you,” said Pidge with a light punch to his arm.

They stayed there, together, for another minute before Shiro pulled back, saying, “Alright, that’s enough mush for one day. Now, are we having a party or what?”

At Keith’s nod, the group whooped and set to work with the final touches — aka his costume. The theme of the night, it seemed, was classic monsters. However, since six of them had already been chosen, his options were a bit limited. (For obvious reasons, ‘witch’ was decidedly not among them.)

“You could go with the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” said Pidge, flipping to the movie poster on her laptop.

He did his best not to grimace too much at the sight of the water monster. “Pass.”

“I still say mummy is the laziest option,” said Lance from the side, tugging on the bandages covering Hunk from head to toe.

“Hey, it’s more complicated than Rover’s,” he replied. The drone, ever-hovering about his owner, wore the childhood standard of a ghostly sheet. He pulled it off far better, however, thanks to his single optic glowing eerily through the fabric. “Besides, it’s not like werewolf’s any more creative.”

“Maybe not, but the ladies love it.” Lance smoothed his hair and fake ears back with a falsely furred-and-clawed hand, and flashed a wolfish grin at Allura, who merely rolled her eyes.

“Vampire, huh?” said Keith, wondering how she’d landed on it.

Seeing her twirl her silky black dress with all its jewelry, though, he started to get an idea. “Vampire Queen, if you please. And do not forget her winged minions!”

She flung her hands forward, and from her drooping sleeves soared the mice, whirling about the room, bat wings strapped to their backs and tiny fangs sticking out of their mouths. Thanks to Allura’s magic, they really could fly, and were eager to, if the way they bounced impatiently when she returned them to her shoulders was any indication.

“Huzzah!” Coran cried in a musical voice, popping up from behind a stack of pumpkins and flaring his cape into Shiro’s face. “Bewaaare the queen of niiight! For it is she who rrrules dark lands of frrrriiiiiiiight!”

Shiro plucked the offending fabric from his head. “In hindsight, introducing you to the Phantom of the Opera was a mistake.”

He and Pidge had gone for a duo costume: him as Frankenstein’s Monster, green skin, shabby clothes, and all, and her as the not-so-good doctor in classic mad scientist attire, her glasses exchanged for giant goggles that magnified her eyes ten times over. Frankly, it was difficult to take her seriously in them. She scrolled through her scary movie library again, and a memory sprang to Keith’s mind.

“Hang on,” he said, making her pause, then gestured to the laptop. “May I?”

“Sure,” she replied.

A quick search later, he found what he was looking for and put it into the program she and Coran had devised to make dressing-up seamless (pun intended). It signaled the computer to take pieces of clothing corresponding to the selected outfit from storage, alter their shape and color to match, and once the person stepped onto the changing pad, their old persona was whisked away to make room for the new. Thus, it was with great surprise that the team watched Keith’s bright, cropped jacket and simple day clothes be replaced with a dark trench coat over a steampunk ensemble of leather and belts, with a black bandanna covering the lower half of his face and a wide-brimmed hat obscuring the rest. He posed as much as he dared, tipping the hat lower.

Lance blinked for a long moment “…Okay, so when I quote Qui-Gon Jin, you stare at me like I’m speaking Arabic, but you just know who Van Helsing is off the cuff?”

“Blame his taste in movies.” Keith jutted a thumb at Shiro, who shrugged unapologetically.

“Quite the intriguing ensemble,” said Allura as he pulled down the bandanna and rejoined the group. “What kind of monster is this Van Helsing?”

“He’s a monster hunter, actually,” Keith replied.

“He does turn into a werewolf to kill the king of vampires in the finale, though,” added Shiro.

Allura hummed and fiddled with her bat necklace. “Interesting.”

“Alrighty, ladies and gents,” Lance announced, clapping his furred hands, “the preparations are finally complete! Let’s get this Halloween-Birthday Bash started!”

Deep into the evening, they ate everything from gummy brains to spicy meat tarts (per the birthday boy’s preferences) and beyond; they bobbed for alien apples (Lance and Shiro were very proud of themselves after all the trouble just to get the basin), played Blind Man’s Bluff, and a form of Russian Roulette with hot sauce and punch. And when the triple-layered citrus cake came out, Keith made the only wish he never dared to speak for fear of jinxing it. Laughter rose like a melody above the music, and a warmth, deep and peaceful, settled within him, filling him with a happiness he hadn’t known could exist.

Slowly, things wound down. With cake slices and other discarded treats scattered over the hover-table set in the couch pit, it was time for presents; another shock. First came Shiro’s, which turned out to be a brain teaser board game.

Lance scoffed. “Laaame.”

“We’re all playing it after,” Keith said quick as a whip.

“Dang it. Okay, fine, but you have to open mine next.”

The knife set was surprisingly high-quality, if confusing in design; for some reason, they were caught between throwing and cooking. Lance, at least, was very proud of his find.

Then it was Pidge’s turn, who looked a bit bashful about the somewhat rushed quality of the invention. “It’s not my best work. You can bring it to me if it has any problems.

“Thanks,” said Keith, having no clue what the baseball bat-like device was supposed to do.

Hunk was downright giddy when Keith unboxed his: a holo-projector containing familiar schematics. “Wait, is this…?”

“These are just a rough first draft,” said Hunk, tripping over his words a little while he scrolled through the hoverbike blueprints, “but I’ve already got some parts that might work, so I was thinking, if you want, this could be like a birthday project type deal.”

“You mean, we build it together?”

“Yeah! I mean, obviously, you know way more about it than me, so…”

Keith almost didn’t know how to reply. “That would be awesome. Thank you.”

Allura’s gift had him hiding his face beneath the brim of his hat.

“Thanks,” he said swiftly, stowing the art pads, pencils, and charcoals.

“Honestly, you should be more proud of your work,” she said. “Very few are blessed with such skill in the arts. I certainly was not.”

“She really wasn’t,” said Coran with a laugh. “Once, she tried to draw her Nan-Nan, but what she ended up with, I must say, looked more like a flan-bil-diplor.”

Allura buried her face in her hands. “She insisted on hanging it in her study for years. I had to stare at it every time I came to visit.”

Chuckles, both amused and nostalgic (in the most embarrassing way), rippled through the group. The mice, it turned out, had their own gift: a pouch of assorted cheeses and dried berries — their favorites, no less. Scratching each in turn, Keith promised to enjoy them.

The photo album from Coran made his throat tighten again. So many moments, from their triumphs to their mishaps, big and small, chaotic and simple, all mixed into a perfect reflection of their month together. A single month… It felt like a lifetime.

“Wait, who was taking these?” Hunk suddenly asked.

Lance grinned with fake fangs and brandished his phone like a shuriken, saying, “Never underestimate a ninja’s photographer skills.”

“Plus, Rover’s always recording,” said Pidge, a devious look in her eye. “Always.”

“Welp, good luck sleeping, everybody.”

“I guess that’s all of them, right?” said Keith, the album finishing playing.

“Not quite,” replied Shiro, pulling out two more parcels. “These are from your smuggler pals.”

“Did you tell everybody it was my birthday?”

He shrugged. “We needed help finding stuff.”

Although he rolled his eyes, Keith smiled — until he saw the short-sleeved shirt in the first box, bright red with an orange flower pattern, making it look vaguely Hawaiian. At least it was a bit more tasteful than Manset’s usual fashion choices. If he was being honest, though, he’d been expecting something a little more ridiculous from the eccentric smuggler. Then he saw the note.

“‘P.S. The astro-yacht Blazing Sol is outside. Enjoy, my boy! -Manset’ I—What?!”

Keith pulled up an external security feed. Sure enough, a large, ornate, sliver-plated ship waited in the air above the castle, a ridiculously huge gold ribbon on its bow. He stared at it, slack-jawed.

“Oooh,” the others chorused, leaning close.

“I call dibs on the first ride!” said Lance.

“Hey, no fair!” said Hunk and Pidge.

Allura looked like she was already fantasizing about the thousand-and-one luxuries onboard. “We can take it out for sunset soirées!”

‘And there it is.’ Keith ran a hand down his face, a headache already forming behind his eyes.

“Well,” said Shiro playfully, “at least now we know what the Hawaiian shirt’s for.”

“Shiro, please.”

Shooting the yacht one last exasperated glance, he opened the taller package, and… The bottle was in Shiro’s hands before Keith even read what kind of booze it was.

“Coran, you and I are the only ones who can enjoy this,” he said, giving it a spin.

“Oh? Are you not an adult yet, my boy?” asked Coran. “You seem old enough.”

“Nope, he’s only eighteen.”

“Nineteen,” Keith corrected.

Shiro blinked and took a second to think, then his expression grew dim. “Oh, right. That was last year.”

The pair shared a melancholy look, a thousand regrets passing between them without a word; their friends didn’t need to hear a single one to understand what they were saying.

“Woop, woop, woop! Sadness detected! Getting too sad!” Lance said abruptly, standing in his seat. “Activate dance-off protocol!”

Rover quickly obliged. He remotely dimmed the lights and signaled appropriately-seasonal-music to start pumping. The team filed onto the main area of the living room, preparing to “get down.” Noticing Keith remaining on the sidelines, Allura joined him.

“Will you not be participating?” she asked.

“Not much of a dancer,” he replied with a shrug. “Don’t let me stop you, though.”

While she highly doubted someone so dexterous as he would be challenged by it, another matter came to mind. “On a different note, have you seen my father today? I could have sworn he was at breakfast, but after that…”

“Alright, esses, here comes the drop. And three, two, one—”

The lights went out; the music died.

“Okay,” said Lance, “ha ha, very funny, Pidge. Revenge for the cave thing, right? Super mature.”

“This isn’t me,” she replied slowly, genuinely concerned.

A chill ran down their spines as a dark laugh echoed through the room. From luminous mists rising out of the grave came Alfor, the Headless Horseman, to reap vengeance upon their souls.

Everyone screamed.

———————————

“Of all the insubordinate, pig-headed, foolish things you could’ve done, using our lord’s authority to reroute a blasted Robeast is beyond a doubt the absolute worst!”

Haxus internally flinched at every word. None of them came close to matching the raw dread watching the Red Lion tear the creature apart on its own, though; the mere memory made his stomach drop. He half-expected to be executed for his actions, and part of him would consider it a mercy over facing that thing in battle again.

“Fortunately for you,” Sendak went on, and his voice smoothed, “this may yet work to our favor.”

Haxus blinked. Sendak was…smiling? What could possibly rectify such a blunder?

———————————

Deep within the bowels of the Castle of Lions, where light had not reached in three thousand years, a great many somethings were scurrying in the walls…