Muted by The Storm

Misunderstanding Are Had

The nightmares were not uncommon for him nor was that he was heavy sleeper every so often. What was uncommon was that Lance McClain was the first to be woken up by the sounds of an intruder in the castle. Out of everyone else, he always thought that Shiro would be alert to the first sign of danger.

So it was with great terror that Lance got up from his torn and battered bed with a soft baby blue blanket wrapped around his lean frame as though it were an unclasped cloak. Peeking out from his bedroom door, Lance could see ten to fourteen different Galra soldiers lurking in the hallways debating on their next move - none too quietly discreetly.

With his sleep addled mind, Lance was obviously unable to properly process the information of the enemy lurking in his hall/chambers section of the castle. The only part of it was that some unwanted guests were there and he needed to know why. Even though it should've been obvious, he'll think soon after he's more aware and understanding of reality.

"¿Por qué estás aquí?"

All the Galra heads might as well had whiplash from how fast they turned to face him in union. All had the expression of wary curiosity. The apparent leader of the large number of unwanted guests approached him with none too little caution, considering that he's a McClain not that the Galra know that. The galra leader's ears flickered back and forward like that of a kitten that doesn't know what it wants. Eventually, the ears had evened out to settle on neutral as the leader's stance became more confident.

The smug 'I-am-better-than-all-you-peasants' air was apparent in his features when he stood in front of Lance's doorway. Lance frowned at him.

"Who are you? Some form of deceptive defense for your masters - the Paladins of Voltron?" The leader had gruffly poked at him, or tried to since Lance backed away from the galra slightly.

"¿De qué estás hablando?" The human questioned meekly, watching the others behind the head galra anxiously waited for their leader to return to the group as they stood there trying to be menacing. Might've worked if he wasn't so tired from the recurring nightmares - spacemare - yes, spacemares would be the correct word for that wouldn't it?

The leader pinched his forehead, grumbling about at how bad their luck was to find what could only be the only foreigner in the whole ship. His ears were pinned back in agitation as he walked back to the group, speaking in low tones to the others.

Lance had decided then it was high time to go back to his nest of blankets that loyally faithfully rested on top of his torn mattress, ranging from bright powered blue to the shading of deep seas. Only one solemn pillow laid there though it did move quite often enough for his liking, he was still quite glad to spare some time with sleep.

¨

A plain knock was what woke him this time.

Strike that, two plain knocks.

He was exhausted even more than he was before on the first night. Might've well had taken down a whole garrison of warriors from how he felt. The weariness in his bones made it more difficult to move as freely as he was used to. Slowly yet surely, Lance made his way to the door.

Upon opening it, he was greeted with another galra standing in front his door. This one was more regal looking than the first but no less dangerous was his aura. The galra glared at him as if a mere human, who only wanted to have a peaceful sleep, was the root of all his burdens in life.

"Speak," the galra commanded as if he had been given the right to order a McClain around like a common thug. Well, think again.

Lance slammed the door in that galra's face and made his way back to bed. The knocking came back, insisting on being answered rather than left well enough alone like a decent door is to be.