A Sacrifice for Understanding.

Chapter 5

After the Galra ships had been defeated, the paladins retreated to the castle's lounge. Exhausted from the battle, they slumped onto the couches, their adrenaline slowly fading into bone-deep fatigue. Lance, to Keith's surprise, sat closer to him than usual, his shoulder brushing lightly against Keith's.

Keith found himself revisiting their recent exchange. Despite everything—despite knowing Keith's temper and tendency to make rash decisions—Lance had stood by him. He had supported him as the new Black Paladin without hesitation, even offering words of encouragement that still echoed in Keith's mind: "There's no one better to lead Voltron. I trust you."

What haunted Keith most wasn't the words, but the touch. Lance's hand on his shoulder had been firm, grounding, yet warm in a way Keith couldn't quite describe. At the time, the shiver that ran up his spine had felt like disgust—or so he'd thought. But now, sitting next to Lance again, with his heart racing and heat creeping up his neck, Keith wasn't so sure. The guilt that followed only deepened the knot in his chest.

Across the room, Lance noticed Allura staring at him. Her gaze was sharp, almost accusatory, and it made him shift uncomfortably. He hastily stood, stretching as he spoke. "I'm tired, so I'm going to go take a nap. Wake me if you need anything."

Before anyone could respond, he was gone.

Allura let out a frustrated sigh, her voice cutting through the silence. "Must he really take a nap? Or is he just trying to avoid doing anything useful?"

The others exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing. Keith opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, the words dying in his throat.

And so, it continued. Battle after battle, the same pattern repeated. Allura—sometimes joined by Keith or the others—would criticize Lance, questioning his commitment, his skill, or his motives. Each time, Lance would either bite his tongue or respond with a sharp, sarcastic remark before retreating to his room. No one defended him, and over time, the tension between him and the team grew heavier.

But what haunted Keith most was a memory: Lance's quiet confession not long after they'd reunited. "I can't stand to stay in the castle for longer than I have to."

As the day of their final battle with Zarkon approached, Keith found himself unable to shake the thought. Would this truly be the end of the war—and the end of Lance's time with them? The idea gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

The day of reckoning came, and while the others were filled with determination, Keith could only feel the weight of what might follow. He sat in the cockpit of the Black Lion, gripping the controls tightly, his thoughts a storm of doubt and fear. He couldn't bring himself to feel excited.

When Lance's voice came over the comms, calm and confident, Keith snapped out of his thoughts. "Hey, Keith. Focus up. If this really is the end of Zarkon, we've got no room for mistakes."

There was a lightness to Lance's tone, but Keith could hear the strain underneath. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to push the doubts aside. Whatever came after, he had to trust that they would face it together—no matter how impossible it seemed.

And so, the battle began. A clash that would decide the fate of the universe.