all the thinnest places - a voltron fanfiction

Chapter One

A/N:

been a while since I wrote actual plot, ahahahah-

I've changed Narti's form of communication a little, but damn are we going to yeet canon out the metaphorical window (*distant screaming: AND PHYSICAL- defenestrates tv*). Also Lotor has a tail because that's not entirely implausible (see: Antok and other assorted Blades) but it IS entirely adorable.

Not proofread, not beta read, the product of many shitposts, shower thoughts and playlists on repeat, I present to you: my Voltron brainrot collated in coherent (ish) thought.

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"I can't believe you just built a ship based on the design of your cat's fur."

"I can definitely still believe that you are complaining about it, given your tendencies to whine." Lotor mumbled, half-inside said ship's engine. A stray bolt sped towards his head in response, only for him to snatch it out of the air and flick it back where it came from.

"Oooh, that's gotta hurt, Zethrid,"

"Shut up, Ezor,"

"At least we don't have to wear matching armor, imagine that!" Zethrid's booming laugh echoed throughout the hangar, making several of the sentries jump stiffly (the new, 'life-like' additions to their automated workers were so unnecessarily odd).

"I'd like to see you in Kova-themed armor," Ezor cackled, sidling up to her and booping her nose. "Meow."

Before Zethrid could swipe back at her, the main doors opened with a loud clanging, two figures striding in through a space that could have fit the whole of Voltron through without even clipping the two strange little yellow horns that resided on the gargantuan robot's head.

A clear trill whistled through the air. Lotor's head jerked up, only to see Axca standing in front of him, Narti just behind. Kova purred proudly on her shoulder, as if she knew that she had been the topic of discussion for the past few doboshes.

"Axca, Narti. You- today?" Lotor extracted himself from the engine and shoved the hatch closed.

"Couldn't have used the smaller door, either?" chimed in Ezor.

Acxa nodded, flicking a finger in Ezor's direction. "We make no mistake, sir. Empress Honerva is about to leave, we are sure. She entered hanger 11 about... half a varga ago, I'd say." Another chirp sounded, this one sharp and short. "Make it two-thirds."

"Remind us again, why are we stalking your mother?" Zethrid asked. "I mean, she's creepy and all, but doesn't that make us want to avoid her? Stalking's not my style, anyway."

Lotor flicked his tail against the ship door. "She's up to something, and I want to find out what - and why."

He remembered. He always remembered. Before he installed the lock on his door (and after, but only once), he'd sometimes find her in his chambers in the middle of the night, yellow pinpricks and red slashes down her face like a looming totem, patterns of a foreign world, foreign culture.

She'd thought he was asleep. "Do you feel it? Stay away, stay away, do not enter the light... that's for me to do, not you..."

That was precisely 7 deca-phoebs ago, and the next morning, she was nowhere to be found. Alarms were raised, search parties sent out, old frantic grief from his father no she couldn't be gone again, he couldn't lose her again, and Lotor thought this was silly because she was always there, uncalled for, so why miss her? But by the end of the day, when Daibezaal's sun was sinking below the horizon, her ship was found in it's hangar and the Empress pacing her quarters as if nothing had happened.