Oh boy, here we go! So, I mentioned in my last update of cosmic dust that I had a new fic in the works, and here it is! The first chapter, freshly finished! This time, I'm doing something a bit different- this is actually canon based! It is set in the gap between seasons four and five. It's going to revolve around Allura and Keith- and a helping heaping of eldritch space terrors with a side dish of brainwashing and mental manipulation. You know, fun stuff. Hopefully everyone enjoys, because I'm super looking forward to writing this!

That said, until next time!

long live the queen

chapter one

the city of puppets

His ears wouldn't stop ringing.

Groaning, Keith rolled over on his side, air forcibly expelling itself from his lungs. Everything hurt, but he couldn't recall why. His head refused to clear itself, stinging with pain just like the rest of him.

Catching the faint smell of smoke, he clung to it like a thread. Smoke. Fire. Crash. That was right- he had crashed. He had been on a mission for Kolivan when his ship had suddenly lost power. Pushing himself up, his head swam, black spots forming in his vision but he shook them off. He had been thrown from the ship, which was now a smoldering pile of metal in the distance.

Coughing, he forced himself all the way upright. He didn't try to stand, not just yet. The ringing in his ears had died a little, but his head still ached. Grunting, he fished for his transponder, but it hadn't survived the crash.

Not good.

Groaning, he laid back down on the ground. He knew he should move, but he didn't have it in him right now. He tried to clear his head, recall what he was supposed to do in this situation. Staring blankly at his gauntlet, he knew it had something to do with that, but he just couldn't...

...oh, right. There was an emergency transponder built into his Blade armor. He didn't like the idea of sending a distress signal, but if any situation called for it, this one probably did. Weakly, he activated it, heaving a sigh of relief when it flashed purple.

Letting his arm fall to the ground, he stared up at the sky, wondering if the air was even safe to breathe. He hadn't died yet, so probably. He tried to recall where he was exactly, but all he knew was that his ship had been pulled to some kind of small moon.

Maybe he'd crashed on it. Probably.

Closing his eyes, he drew in a breath. He knew he had to move. There were a million things he had to do- assess and treat his wounds, find shelter, not to mention food and water. But his body ached, and he couldn't bring himself to move.

He'd just... he'd just rest for a short while. That would be fine, right?

Gritting his teeth, he knew it wouldn't. Forcing himself upright again, he groaned, pressing a hand to his side. Thankfully he didn't seem to be bleeding, but judging from how much his right arm protested whenever he tried to move it, he was guessing it was broken. He'd never been more grateful to be ambidextrous.

Stumbling to his feet, he blinked the remaining black spots out of his vision. The terrain was barren and rocky, and frankly, didn't look promising. Forcing his feet to move, he put some distance between himself and the wreckage of his ship, only allowing himself to relax once he felt he was safe.

Drawing in a long breath, he was relieved to find it brought him no pain. Hopefully that meant his ribs weren't broken, even though his side ached. Everything ached, but that ached in particular.

Closing his eyes, he weighed his options. His first priority should be to splint his arm, but there was nothing around here that he could use to splint it. At best, he could increase the pressure in suit around that area, and hope that would hold until he found something better. Next move decided, he carried it out without hesitation, gritting his teeth a bit at the increased pressure.

He didn't increase it too much. Didn't want to cut off his circulation. Prosthetics were a thing, but he'd rather keep his arm, thanks.

With that taken care of, Keith let himself breathe again. First he had to figure out where here was. Testing out his armor's computer, he was relieved that it appeared to still be functioning. He couldn't use it to send any outbound communications, but maybe he could at least figure out where he had crashed. His right arm groaned in protest, but he ignored the pain, trying to pinpoint exactly where he was.

According to the star map, he'd landed on a small moon that orbited the planet of Veritas. It had a breathable atmosphere, and its terrain was considered mountainous. Unfortunately, that was all it told him- nothing about there being any lifeforms or any kind of civilization to speak of.

Just his luck- he crashed on an unexplored pocket of space.

Lowering his arm, he tested his legs. They stung a bit, but seemed to otherwise be fine. Probably just a bit sore. He wasn't getting any warnings about internal bleeding, so hopefully that was accurate, and not just another thing that had been damaged in the crash.

Reaching behind him, his hands brushed against a familiar hilt. Good. The only thing worse about crash landing on an unfamiliar planet- or well, moon, in this case- was doing so unarmed. Having a weapon brought him a sense of ease.

Snorting, he wondered if that was his Galra blood. Learning that he was half-Galra had been a shock, but at the same time, it had brought a certain degree of clarity to his life. So many things made sense in hindsight knowing that.

Guess that was why he had never fit in on Earth. Why it felt like space was always calling to him.

Heaving a sigh, he shook those thoughts off. Right now, he needed to concentrate. Food, water, shelter- those were only some of the things he needed to find, but they were the most important. Maybe with any luck, there was someone other than him on this moon- he just hoped they were friendly.

Though with his luck? Well, he'd just be lucky if they didn't want to eat him.

He heard the town before he actually spotted it.

At first, he thought it might be birds. But as he drew closer, he realized it was the sound of voices. Biting back a sigh of relief, Keith let his shoulders slump. It felt like he had been following this mountain path for hours, until he couldn't remember if he was ascending or descending.

The answer turned out to be the latter- as he closed in on the foot of the mountain, the town drew closer and closer into view. Town probably wasn't the right word- it was big enough to justify calling it a city, with a grand palace that almost seemed to be carved out of the mountain itself. Whatever it was, he just hoped they had a way he could contact the Blades. The faster he got back to base, the better.

Towards the base of the mountain, the path grew a bit easier. His aching body was grateful for it- calling what he had used to get down the mountain a path was pretty generous. He was just grateful that it was his arm that was broken, and not his leg- one wrong step could have cost him his life.

He shut his eyes at that thought, an involuntary shudder running down his spine. He knew he shouldn't keep thinking about Naxzela. It was over. Done with.

Sometimes though... sometimes he couldn't help it. He'd nearly died.

But he hadn't. He hadn't, and he tried to tell himself that was all that mattered. Sometimes it worked. Other times it didn't. Fortunately, today was one of the former.

Making his way into the city, he knew he had to look like a mess. Banged up and bruised, wearing dark armor that clashed horribly with the white buildings. White seemed to be the design choice here- everything was white, from the buildings, to the clothes the townsfolk wore. It was almost eerie.

No, Keith quickly decided. What was eerie was the fact that nobody actually seemed to be paying attention to him. He should have attracted some kind of attention by now, but so far, nobody had even so much as raised a brow at him.

All at once, his instincts kicked into full gear. Something was clearly wrong here. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, taking note of the glassy look in the eyes of the gathered aliens, of which there seemed to be no shortage of. He hadn't seen this kind of diversity since the last time he'd visited Olkarion.

Slowly taking a step back, Keith sensed that what he needed to do now was to get out of here. This wasn't the ray of hope that he thought it would be. It was something else entirely.

He wasn't about to stick around and find out what.

The people here might not have noticed him, but he got the dreadful feeling that something else had. Hand straying towards his Blade, he took another step back, only to bump into something- or someone- that definitely hadn't been there before. Drawing his knife in one quick motion, he put some distance between himself and the other person- a towering hulk of what had to be some kind of guard, dressed in armor that for a change actually looked the part, but at the same time, seemed to be almost uselessly ornate.

It gleamed silver and blue in the sun, looking almost as if it had been molded to the guard's body. The snug fit reminded him of Altean armor, but he shook the thought away- the Blade's armor had the same capability, there was no point in drawing a connection where there didn't need to be one.

He didn't fail to notice how none of the townsfolk even flinched. He'd just drawn a weapon. Someone should have reacted to that.

Yeah. Something was definitely wrong here.

"Halt."

The guard's words were spoken without any inflection, bordering on being in monotone. They definitely didn't make him feel like halting.

Gripping his knife tighter, he shifted his weight onto his right foot. There was no way he would be able to put up much of a fight right now, so his best strategy was to run. Bolting forward, he ducked past the guard, dashing ahead. They might be large, but he was going to bet that they weren't fast.

Except... they weren't chasing to him. Skidding to a halt, Keith quickly realized why- his path was being obstructed by another pair of guards, both dressed in identical armor. Gaze darting behind him, he grit his teeth. Another guard had joined the previous one, cutting off both potential routes of escape.

And the townsfolk didn't even bat an eye.

"Halt," the guard repeated, and even though he still spoke with no inflection, he swore there was more menace to it, "-by order of the Queen."

The queen? Biting down on his lip, Keith assessed his options. He had to get out of here somehow. He didn't want to stick around to find out who this queen was. The last time anyone had done that, Lance and Hunk had wound up brainwashed and nearly eaten.

Ugh. He was just joking about that.

Well... if he couldn't go forward, and he couldn't go back, then maybe he could go up. Smirking, he dashed to the side, sheathing his knife at the same time he jumped, using his left hand to grab the edge of the roof and haul himself up.

This time, the guards were being a little more proactive. But he was already on the move, jumping from the roof he was on to another. Once he cleared the guards, he jumped back down to the ground, drawing his knife again, even as he wasted no time in rushing forward, away from the city, and its people who stubbornly refused to react to anything.

He suspected it was because they couldn't.

Maybe there was a reason this section of space hadn't been explored yet. His distress signal had been sent- he just had to sit tight and wait until someone picked it up.

At this point? He wouldn't even care if it was the Galra Empire. Better them than... whatever was going on here.

He didn't know what. He didn't want to find out.

The first moment he felt safe, he stopped to rest. Leaning back against a rock, he caught his breath, sweat clinging to his brow and making his armor uncomfortable. Sheathing his knife, he carefully tested his right arm, which only groaned in pain at the slightest sensation. All this running around hadn't helped it in the least.

Not to mention that the pain in his side was worse than ever. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, it stung, just as sensitive to the touch as his arm. Keith closed his eyes, just trying to get a grip on himself, before trying to decide what to do next.

He didn't want to go back to the city, but he might not have a choice. He didn't know how far he could get in his condition, especially without food and water. As far as he could tell, that city seemed to be the only place that had both of those things- which meant if he wanted to survive until someone came to pick him up, he'd have to steal it.

Somehow he didn't think asking nicely would work.

Heaving a sigh, he opened his eyes. Glancing at his gauntlet, his blood ran cold. As long as the distress signal was being sent, there should be a tiny purple light indicating at such. He was certain it had lit up when he'd first sent the signal, but sometime between now and then, the light had gone dark.

Something was blocking the signal.

Swallowing, Keith pushed himself to his feet. That wasn't good.

Trying his armor's computer again didn't get him very far either. All he could dig up was the same information he'd found before- but maybe he wasn't looking in the right place. All he had been doing was checking the star maps.

Switching to the Blade archive instead, he frowned. He'd been learning Galran, but his understanding was still spotty at best. Still, he managed to find what looked to be a relevant log.

At once, his blood ran cold.

He didn't understand Galran that well, so maybe he was wrong, but he was pretty sure that this moon was listed as somewhere that should be avoided at all costs. Glancing down towards the city that he could just faintly make out in the distance, he was starting to understand why. The longer he stayed here, the more aware he became that something was off. He wasn't sure how he had failed to notice it before, but he guessed his head was still jumbled from the crash.

He was starting to suspect that his ship losing power hadn't been an accident. Something had drawn it- and him- here. Which meant whatever this queen was, not only did she know he was here, but she probably had no intention of letting him leave.

He'd thought taking this route would have gotten him to his destination faster. He'd never stopped to consider that maybe there was a reason Kolivan had given him a different one.

He tried to look through the rest of the information, but the archive log was old and hard to decipher. He'd never heard of the Blade who had filed the report, but he was pretty sure he remembered seeing their name etched into the Wall of Remembrance, back at the main base.

He grimaced. Not only did that mean they were dead, it also meant their blade had never been recovered. He got the feeling it was because they had maybe never left this place.

And now he was stuck here, unless he found some way out. Injured, without any rations.

He couldn't stay here. He knew that much. For now, he would retreat deeper into the mountain and hide. Once night fell, he would try to sneak back into the city. With any luck, maybe he could find a ship- or at least a working transponder.

All he knew was that he had to get out of here- and fast.

By the third day, it became clear to him that getting off this moon was not going to be easy.

He had spent the previous two nights scoping out the city after dark, but thus far, he'd found no trace of any kind of spacecraft, or even a simple transponder. There seemed to be no communications devices of any kind anywhere within the confines of the city- at least, not the parts of it that he chose to explore.

He was still staying well away from the palace. That was where the Queen was. He wasn't about to risk going there if he didn't have to.

Unfortunately, it was starting to look like he'd have to.

There seemed to be some kind of strict curfew in place, which made moving about at night a lot easier- even if the empty city only managed to feel even more ominous after dark. He never stayed long- just long enough to secure food and water. He had managed to find some medical supplies on the first night, and had used them to splint his arm. It was a rough fix, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

He moved his base every time he slept, taking care to mask his presence as well as possible. Even then, he never slept for longer than an hour or two. He couldn't risk it. So far there had been no signs of the guards- or anyone else for that matter- coming this far up the mountain, but he didn't know how long the Queen would indulge in this game of cat and mouse before they got tired of it.

He definitely didn't care for being the mouse.

He wasn't wild about the idea, but his best way off this moon was probably in the palace. There had to be a spacecraft of some kind in there- or at the very least, some type of communications equipment. If he could just get a signal out-

He grit his teeth. He hoped someone would come for him. If this were just the matter of a downed ship, the Blade of Marmora wouldn't hesitate to send a transport to pick him up. But this place was... the longer he stayed here, the more he understood how dangerous it was. He didn't know if Kolivan would risk it- and frankly? He wouldn't blame him.

It wasn't a matter of if he would be caught. It was just a matter of when.

He thought about sending a distress signal to the paladins, but immediately dismissed the idea. Kolivan would know the risks. The paladins might not. He couldn't put the universe's best chance of freedom at risk just because he didn't want to end up a brainwashed puppet. Which, if he was understanding the log correctly, was exactly what would happen to him if he were caught.

(Knowledge or death. He suspected the Blade that had filed the report had chosen death.)

Maybe the rebel coalition would be willing to risk it. Matt. He could contact Matt. Maybe he could help. Wasn't N-7 some kind of robot or something? That might work.

Ideally, he would wait until his arm had healed, but that probably wasn't an option. He healed quickly, just not that quickly. If he had some quintessence he could probably manage, but the idea of using the stuff to heal himself put him on edge. He had seen what it had done to Zarkon, and he didn't want to put himself at risk of that.

He would wait another day. If no one came for him, then he would take his chances with the palace. He was going to get off this moon- or die trying.

There would be no other options.

The fourth day came and went, with no sign of rescue.

That evening, he resolved himself to approach the palace. He tried to rest as much as he could- he needed to be at his best. Since joining the Blade full time, his stealth had improved, but he still wasn't counting on totally being able to avoid conflict. He'd been lucky so far, but that luck had to wear off at some point.

It always did. He just hoped that he had enough to get him off this moon.

With that thought in mind, he began to make his way down from the mountain. Night would fall soon, and he wanted to be prepared. Once he found a safe hiding place from which to observe the city, he tried to relax. Too much tension would only slow his reaction time- with his right arm in the condition it was in, he needed his reflexes to be at their best.

He suddenly wished he'd let Shiro teach him how to meditate, back at the Garrison. He bit his lip- thinking about Shiro still stung, in a way it hadn't since the Kerberos mission had failed. He had changed. Sometimes he was still the Shiro he knew, but other times...

Keith shook his head. If he didn't get out of here, that wouldn't matter.

He watched as the sky steadily grew darker. From here, he could see some of the townsfolk slowly begin to return to their homes. He had peered inside a few- each were decorated in the exact same way, without anything to define who actually lived there.

He knew he was a fine one to talk- but then again, he was too used to having to pack up everything he owned and move at a moment's notice. The less belongings he had, the easier it was. But these people... it was like they didn't have a choice. Like any individuality they had between them was only skin deep.

The logs had mentioned something about a hive mind, that they were all linked to each other- and to the Queen. Watching the townsfolk, he was willing to believe it.

They must have come from all over. He wasn't sure how they had arrived here, but there were dozens of different alien races- some he recognized, and others he didn't. That first time he had entered town, he had seen a handful of Olkari and Puigans- even a few Balmerans. Over the course of the next few days, he had spotted others- Taujeerians, Unilu, and countless others he recognized, but didn't know the name of- even a few Galra.

No humans- or Alteans. He didn't expect there to be, but he still kept an eye out.

He wondered how long they had all been here, living like this. If you could even call this living. It all felt like some kind of horrible farce.

He waited an hour from the time the last person entered their home. Then slowly, he got to his feet. Fixing his mask in place, he began his approach.

The closer he drew to the palace, the worse the feeling that something was off got- and at the same time, the more it tried to draw him. But he was prepared for this. He was getting off this damn moon, and if his best chance to do that was in the palace, then he was just going to have to bite the bullet and pray that he was right.

If he was wrong, if there was no ship... he bit down on his lip. He didn't want to think about that. There had to be a way off this moon. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life focused purely on survival- he had only been here a few days, and it was already making the rest of his life look like a walk in the park.

Nobody else could understand just how much of a statement that was.

But he'd rather struggle and fight than succumb to whatever it was that this Queen was doing to all these people- all these aliens. Maybe once the war with the Galra Empire was over, they could come back, figure out a way to free them- but right now, he couldn't worry about them. He had to worry about himself.

With the palace right in front of him, Keith drew in a long breath. He had never come this far before, so he hadn't had a chance to scout things out beforehand. His original assessment was correct- the palace itself was carved into the mountain, as much a part of it as it was its own structure. He wondered how long something like that had taken to create.

Didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that it was still being guarded. There was only a pair of guards at the front gate- even in his condition, with the element of surprise on his side, he could probably take them down. He quickly dismissed the option- he didn't feel comfortable with the idea of killing literally brainwashed soldiers, and besides, he was trying to be sneaky. If he killed the guards, there was no way the Queen wouldn't know he was here.

He just hoped she didn't already.

He'd have to find another way in. Scanning the structure, he spotted something that looked promising- a window on the upper levels, complete with a balcony. Glancing down towards the guards, then back up at the balcony, he mentally calculated the distance. He could probably get that far with his armor's jetpack.

He waited until he was sure the guards weren't looking his way, before he made his attempt. He took a running leap, using his jetpack to propel him the rest of the way. Landing quietly on the balcony, he glanced back down towards the guards, only to let out a faint sigh of relief. They hadn't moved. Good.

Peering into the window, Keith frowned. The room itself was devoid of people, but not of furnishings, all of which were rather grand. It kind of reminded him of Allura's room back on the Castle, with a vast canopy bed, huge dresser, and a grand mirror. Ducking inside, he traced a hand over one of the tables, rubbing his fingers together. Dust. This room likely hadn't been used in years- if ever.

He didn't like it. It almost felt like it was waiting for someone.

The whole mood inside the palace made him sick. Now that he was actually inside, he didn't feel the pull any longer- which should have been a good thing, if it weren't for the fact that it was replaced with nausea. He wondered if this was how Hunk felt sometimes.

The faster he found a ship and got out, the better.

A spot of luck- the door seemed to be an actual door. No need to worry about tripping an alarm by opening it. Cracking it open, he peered out into the hallway, finding it completely empty. The thought should have brought him comfort, but it just sent a chill down his spine instead. A palace this big had to have servants, so where was everyone?

He seriously doubted some kind of alien monster queen with brainwashing powers would just opt to do her own laundry. Not a chance.

Maybe they were asleep. Maybe they had the same curfew as everyone else did, save the guards. That... made sense, actually. Controlling such a massive number of people had to be difficult- the more they could be kept on the same basic schedule, the easier it would be.

At least, that sounded right. He didn't have creepy brainwashing powers, so he couldn't exactly know for sure.

Stepping out into the hall, he closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. The worst of the crawling sensation was coming from above him, and he automatically decided not to go in that direction. He was willing to bet anything that was where the Queen was.

In that case, he'd go down. Right now he seemed to be in some kind of residential area- but he wasn't about to stop and check if any of the other rooms on this floor were occupied. Instead, he found the stairs, cautiously making his way down them, left hand resting on the hilt of his knife. He didn't exactly want to be caught in an ambush.

He almost kind of wished he were more Galra right now. He'd kill for either their sense of smell or their hearing- sure, his were better than a normal humans, but they still weren't anywhere close to that of a full Galra's.

At least his night vision was almost as good. What he lacked, his mask more than made up for.

Making his way down to the next level, he peeked through the doors. Another residential area, and still no sign of any guards. Maybe there weren't enough to post them on every floor of the palace.

No sign of any servants, either. Maybe the Queen did like to do her own laundry.

Descending the staircase, he kept his breathing steady, but it wasn't easy. After this, infiltrating Galra ships would be a piece of cake. This was the single most nerve-racking experience of his life, and he'd been there when Shiro had proposed to Adam. The secondhand anxiety he had gotten from Shiro alone was more than enough to last a lifetime.

The thought brought with it a twinge of loneliness. At this rate, he didn't even know if he'd get back to the Blade, much less Earth.

Not that there would be anything waiting for him when he did. Maybe he was better off staying in space.

He shook the thought off. Focus, Kogane. He couldn't afford to get distracted.

It didn't help that every level of the palace looked almost the same. Ugh. It definitely reminded him of the Castle. But maybe that was just how they were built- after all, what would he know? He'd spent most of his life either in the desert or being shuffled around in the foster system, he didn't have any experience with castles, at least, not before becoming a paladin.

Then again, if this palace was anything like the Castle...

Keith frowned, chewing on his lip. Maybe he should take the gamble. Using what he knew of the Castle to guide him, he headed to where the main hangar would be. He just hoped he was right- the eerie atmosphere of this place was starting to get to him.

Coming out on one of the lower levels, he took a moment to gauge his surroundings. Still no guards, and still no servants. Well, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Making his way down the hall, Keith stopped at a pair of grand doors. Narrowing his eyes, he took in a long breath, resting a hand against one of them. He couldn't sense anything weird coming from inside, so it was probably safe to open them. If Lance were here, he'd probably make fun of him for letting something as vague as feelings guide his way, but it had worked with the lions, so he wasn't about to question it.

Opening his eyes, he pushed the door open. He felt himself grin- so there was a ship. Bingo.

He wasn't familiar with the make- but it didn't matter. A ship was a ship. He'd be able to fly it, no matter what kind of controls it had. Heading into the hangar, he did a quick study of his surroundings- so far, the coast was clear.

Brushing a hand against the ship, he searched for a way to get into the cockpit. Finding it, he slipped in, studying the interior of the ship. Everything looked in working order- he'd have to check for any trackers, but he could definitely use this. Deactivating his mask, Keith drew in a long breath.

In hindsight, that was probably where he'd made his first mistake.

Sinking into the pilot's seat, he studied the controls. It would be a bit difficult with just one arm, but he'd manage. He just needed to put some distance between himself and this godforsaken moon. He already had established a number of nearby inhabited planets that he could set a course for, and from there, he could contact Kolivan and the Blade.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a moment to relax.

That was his second mistake.

His eyes snapped open, catching wind of some kind of strange scent. There was a faint hiss, just at the edge of his hearing, and with a panic, he realized that the cockpit was filling up with some kind of gas. He switched his mask on, but it was too little, too late- he'd already breathed in enough.

Stumbling to his feet, he reached for his knife- but just as his fingers brushed its hilt, the world started to spin. He barely even registered the impact as he hit the ground, exhaustion coming over him like a wave. Guess it was sleeping gas.

Shit.

He jolted awake.

He quickly became aware of two things- his knife was gone, and he was being restrained. A quick glance behind his back proved that his wrists had been bound. He was being forced to kneel, one of the guards using their hand to keep him in that position. He was flanked on either side by them, and was in what appeared to be a throne room.

With his returning awareness came his returning senses. He had to actively bite down on his tongue to keep himself from vomiting, the feeling he picked up on was so bad. Slowly turning his head, he braced himself, finally coming face to face with the Queen.

She was massive. If he had to guess, he would probably only come up to her thigh, and that was being generous. Her skin was a dark gray, almost garishly clashing with the ornate gown she wore, in hues of deep green. He guessed her collection of brainwashed servants included one hell of a tailor.

She had four arms- he was pretty sure that even one of her hands would be enough to crush his head. She had one of them resting on the shoulder of a veiled servant of some kind- a Puigan, maybe. They were dressed to match, wearing deep green clothes made of light fabric, vibrant green jewels hanging from their wrists, ankles, and ears.

He turned his attention back to the Queen. She also had no eyes, and a jaw that he was pretty sure would unhinge all the way if she chose to open it. A massive tail hung down over the edge of her throne- which was just as ornate as the rest of the throne room. Guess she was really dedicated to this Queen role.

She also reminded him of something- or someone.

"Welcome, weary traveler," it was the servant who spoke, but something told him they weren't her words, "-to the city of Veritas. You have the privilege to be in the presence of its great Queen, ruler of all."

He wanted to snort. He did snort. Short of biting off his tongue and bleeding to death, he didn't see any way out of this. Might as well protest while he still could.

"You make it sound like I want to be here." Keith hissed, narrowing his eyes. His mask was still up, but he left it like that. He didn't know what protection, if any, it would afford him, but it was better to have it than to not.

The Queen's tail flicked. He couldn't tell if it was in annoyance or amusement.

"You have come from a harsh war," the servant spoke, again with what were probably the Queen's own words, "-here there is only peace."

"I wouldn't call this peace." Keith argued. "More like hell."

"I am not familiar with this hell," the servant conveyed, "-but I gather it is unpleasant. Fear not, young Galra. Soon you will understand, as others have before you."

"How about no thanks?" Keith said. "Is that an option?"

The Queen merely lifted one of her massive hands. The servant holding him down yanked him to his feet, and he stumbled a bit before he regained balance. With their free hand, they yanked down his hood, and he grit his teeth, feeling his mask fade away, leaving his face exposed.

The Queen's tail arched with interest. Guess she had never seen a human before.

"Bring him to me."

Keith grunted. He had to keep a quick pace not to be dragged along. The guard that had been holding him roughly shoved him forward, so that he stood at the foot of the Queen's throne. The veiled servant had dutifully stepped aside, allowing the Queen unimpeded access to him.

She leaned forward, close enough that he could smell her breath. He felt a shiver run down the length of his spine, but held his ground. This close, he could make out the line of purple that split the center of her face, dipping down to her nose, which was flat against her face. It kind of reminded him of...

It hit him like a bolt of lightning. Narti. Lotor's general. That's who she reminded him of.

The Queen's tail wrapped around his waist, dragging him forward with a surprising amount of gentleness, like she was afraid of breaking him. Which... yeah, she probably could. Her tail was thicker than his legs- both of them, combined. She could snap his spine in half in an instant.

But it wasn't that knowledge that made him shudder. Rather, it was the sensation physical contact brought. Just from that slight touch, he felt something in his mind buckle, and he had to fight to keep himself from going limp. He somehow sensed that this surprised the Queen, and he realized without a doubt that she was in his head already.

You resist, the Queen's word reverberated through his head, -fascinating.

"I'm not," Keith grit his teeth, having to force the words to come out, "-I'm not a big fan of being brainwashed."

The Queen was amused. Reaching forward, she placed a hand against his face, and he felt himself shudder again, something else buckling. He had to bite down on his lip, tasting iron as a faint trickle of blood split it. He had no illusions that he'd cave, but he wasn't going down without a fight.

Do not do that, the Queen almost seemed to scold him, and he'd laugh at the concern in her voice if it weren't also terrifying, -you were already bruised enough as it is. I would have told the guards to be more gentle with you had I known.

He didn't even have to ask what she meant. He just knew. Eyes darting over towards the veiled servant, he felt a shudder run up his spine that had nothing to do with the Queen's touch. Biting his own tongue off and bleeding to death had never sounded more appealing.

No. No, no. Out of all the possible fates, that-

-that did not sound so bad.

He shivered, violently. That wasn't his own thought. It had been in his voice, but it hadn't been his. Gaze darting back to the Queen, Keith felt a cold bolt of fear, dread clawing at him. It was instantly squashed, a serene feeling washing over him, and it took everything in him not to give into it.

You have nothing to be afraid of, the Queen assured him.

The increasingly smaller part of himself that still was himself recognized that as a lie. He had every reason to be afraid. Maybe being able to resist wasn't such a good thing- not when it meant he could feel himself gradually slipping, able to recognize which thoughts weren't his, but belonged to whoever the Queen was trying to make him become.

She was rewriting him.

His last lucid thought was a silent prayer that nobody came for him. That his distress signal went unnoticed. Even if that meant he would spend the rest of his life as a brainwashed servant, a set piece in a royal farce. It would still be better than giving something like this absolute access to Voltron.

Because the only thing worse than an Emperor was a Queen.