Timeline Notes: Set during season three prior to the Lion switch and thus finding Shiro. So… episode one?

Warning Notes: Surprisingly nothing I can really think of to put here. Gosh. Yay?

xxx

Measure of a Man

xxx

"You are certain?" Allura asked, although she had already confirmed the report twice now and based upon Kolivan's lengthening scowl he was growing impatient with her line of questioning. But this had been their best lead in locating Lance and for it to not have panned out…

The despair must have shown on her face for Kolivan's expression softened ever so. "Yes, Princess Allura," he intoned. "My Blades have debriefed the subject multiple times and he was confident that the subject he saw was not Paladin Lance."

"I understand," Allura murmured. "Thank you, Kolivan, for your fierce efforts. Please know I did not mean to imply—"

"Princess," Kolivan interrupted, "no offense was taken. We too wish to see your Paladin return home safely. I will keep you posted with any developments."

Allura inclined her head. "Thank you." The screen went blank a moment later and she leaned forward with a deep sigh unbecoming a princess but needing some outlet for her pent up frustration and grief.

Shiro had scarcely been missing for two weeks and now Lance? It was too much, too fast. Worst yet, it was Allura's fault. She had been the one to send Lance on a supply run to a nearby planet and had insisted on stealth over power. He had gone down in one of the non-offensive supply pods in one of Coran's tacky – but effective – disguises and was to return within five varga.

He never came back.

Keith and Allura had flown down in the Red Lion and discovered what had once been the peaceful farming planet of Biscota was a smoldering ruin with its remaining occupants scared and it had taken nearly three varga to convince them to come out of hiding after Pidge had located them beneath the surface. They'd found Lance's supply pod rent full of holes by blaster fire but no Paladin to be seen. At least, Keith had comforted in his own way, there hadn't been blood or a body. Allura supposed that was a good thing.

But they had no idea where Lance had gone. The Galra had been responsible but there had been no word of Zarkon since their battle and despite both the Paladins and Blades combing over Biscota there was no hint as to where they would have gone. Forced labor, Kolivan had suspected, and Allura agreed. The Biscotii were known for their agricultural abilities and the Galra Empire was massive; they needed food from somewhere.

And she had sent Lance right into it.

That was nearly seven quintants ago. They had put out word to their allies to be on the lookout for anyone matching Lance's description (or the Biscotii, who were humanoid in shape with golden-brown skin and dark brown attachments on their heads that functioned as both hair and ears) and someone had reported seeing Lance, but it had turned out to be a false lead.

They were running on the last of their fumes, both literally and figuratively. Allura was loathe to leave the quadrant as it was where Lance last was and should he escape would be where he would likely return, but the castle was not going to be able to remain for much longer in its current state.

"Coran?" she turned to her advisor, who was muttering to himself as he flipped through the latest communication log on Galra sightings that the Blade had sent over that morning, but at her summons he glanced up, eyes glassy with mirrored exhaustion. "How much longer can we remain?"

Coran hummed and pulled up the schematics of the castle on his tablet, shoulders drooping. "Three varga, Princess. Any more and we will all begin to suffer the effects of lowered oxygen levels and humans have shown to be especially susceptible. We must land planet side and replenish our stores."

"And the nearest planet to do so?"

"In this quadrant? Only Biscota has a breathable atmosphere. Otherwise Spumona in the next quadrant should suffice and by wormhole is only about twenty dobashes. Although," Coran twisted his moustache about his finger, although it was more habit than any type of actual joy, "it will take at least six varga for the castle to absorb the needed oxygen."

That was six varga too many. What if Lance returned to them then but they had left? He would not know where to go. Previously Allura would have suggested one of the Paladins remain behind in a Lion to act as a relay point, but she would admit she was terrified at the idea of any more of the team disappearing. She would insist on leaving all three to watch one another, but even then three Lions driven by beyond exhausted Paladins would not be a match should the Galra also come to this location if they were to discover who Lance was and obtain their last heading from him, not to mention the Lions would be running on a limited oxygen supply at this point as well.

It is not that Allura thought Lance would easily do so. No; for his joking and blasé manner he was someone she had come to firmly rely on in the weeks of Shiro's absence to hold them together and she knew, more than anything, Lance would never put them into harm's way even at the cost to himself. The thought filled her with both pride and terror. Even so, the Galra were ruthless and the Druids more so. Her fist clenched at the thought of Haggar – an Altean, aligning herself with the Empire and all it stood for – getting her hands on Lance.

"One more varga," she declared, stomach twisting at her own words. "Then we must make haste to resupply."

Coran bowed his head. "Yes, Princess."

Allura swallowed thickly at the idea of telling Hunk that they were leaving the quadrant. The Yellow Paladin had at first been a terrified, shaking mess upon seeing the pod but had steeled himself together in a way that had surprised Allura to dedicate all of his efforts into building some type of signal finder to locate Lance based on some human concept called "Dee En Ay." Pidge had been assisting him but to Allura's knowledge they had yet to find success in it.

Keith meanwhile had been chomping at the bit as Allura had forbidden any more solo missions until she had relented and allowed him to work with Blade of Marmora members and he had just arrived back a varga ago from another false hope and last she had seen via the cameras he had made it to his chambers and not yet emerged. She would bet her entire secret candy stash that he was sleeping as the bags under his eyes were so large the mice could have near ridden in them.

She knew none of them would want to leave, but Hunk especially. Still, she could not endanger their lives any more than she already had. They would have to take the time to secure oxygen and—

"Princess, an incoming transmission," Coran called out. His voice lowered. "I do not recognize the sequence."

Allura felt her breath catch. It could be Galra. It could be Lance. It could just be a random ship that had reached out to another being in the vast universe.

"Secure shields," she ordered, "and then accept it."

There was a wavering of color about the ship – shields engaged – and at her nod Coran approved the signal and a live feed popped up.

Allura very nearly collapsed at the sight, only her already tight grip on the console holding her up as she nearly exhaled his name.

"Lance…"

He was there. He was here.

He…

He did not look good.

He was being held in the arms of a large Biscotii while a good deal more clustered about. His head was tilted back and his hands hung limp at his sides, mocha skin paler than it should be even under the bright transmission lights.

They were all wearing the same uniform; not quite the prison ones that Allura was accustomed to seeing but close enough; black pants and a purple, threadbare tunic that showed off the muscled arms of the Biscottii but only made Lance look even smaller with his slender form.

"Princess Allura?" hedged a female Biscotii and Allura tore her gaze from Lance's slack face. "That is you… yes?"

"Yes," Allura almost stumbled over the word. "Yes, I am she. Please, is Lance…?" She knew it was incredibly rude of someone of her station and decorum to not inquire about the entire party, but she could not bring herself to care at this very moment.

The Biscotii did not take offense though and most looked as worried as she, some even more so. "He has been poisoned," the female spoke again, her hand tightening where she had interlaced large fingers with Lance's limp hand and lifted the limb, showing a small bandage on his wrist, but the skin had darkened in black streaks all along it."By gelati venom."

Behind her Coran let out a small curse and there was a flurry of footsteps with an order of "meet me in the infirmary!" that Allura would of course adhere to. Based on the fact it sounded like this was something that could be treated Allura willed her heart not to leap out of her throat and to remain calm.

"Is anyone else suffering the same poison?" she asked, tracking jeweled eyes over golden forms.

"No, Princess, but many, including Paladin Lance, do have a number of abrasions and cuts," rumbled the large figure holding Lance. "Nothing life-threatening, I assure you. Please, Paladin Lance, our savior, is our main concern."

Savior? Allura ran the word over in her head even as her hands moved across the console. "I am sending docking instructions to your ship now and will meet you along with the other Paladins of Voltron in just a dobash."

"Thank you, Princess," murmured the female alien.

"See?" Allura heard a young voice say just as she was about to shut off the feed. "She does look like an angel."

Allura felt her face turn bright pink and pressed hands to her cheeks to will the blush away as she caught agreement about the Biscotii before the screen went dark. It did, she took a deep breath, calm her somewhat though. If Lance had apparently been waxing on about her then at some point he had been all right. She would take comfort in that and the fact the Biscotii seemed very worried for him.

"Savior," she whispered the word aloud. What in the universe had her Blue Paladin been up to?

She pressed the intercom button, knowing that all of the Paladins (Keith in his room, Pidge and Hunk in the Green Lion's hangar) should hear it easily. "Paladins," she announced. "Report to the main hall immediately." And despite the danger Lance may be in she could not help but smile. "Lance has returned."

Allura was first on scene, just as the inner hall doors were closing and the ship – a Galra transport one – was descending. As soon as the ship's hatch had opened the Biscotii were hurrying down, the one carrying Lance in the lead.

Allura hurried to them, stomach clenching as she could see closer now what the limited scope of the monitor had been hiding. Lance's feet, dangling limp, were bloodied and there was a definite tremble to him, lips parted as though he could not get enough air although his head had been propped more firmly against the alien's shoulder.

"He does not have much time," the female Biscotii who had spoken previously said, appearing next to Lance, large hands worried in one another.

There was a pattering of heavy and light steps intermingled entering the room and Allura knew without turning that Hunk and Pidge had arrived. "Hunk," she called, pivoting slightly so that Lance was visible to the room at large and heard Hunk's deep inhale, "escort Lance and…"

"Politan," the large male rumbled and the female, not much smaller though, put forth "Nea."

"Nea and Politan to the infirmary; Coran is already waiting."

To his credit Hunk did not waste any time asking questions nor ask for Lance to be handed to him, although Allura saw his hands twitching at his sides before he lifted one heavy hand and placed it against Lance's forehead, the other boy immediately turning his head into it. "He's burning up," Hunk muttered, following with a "this way," and nearly jogging from the room, the larger aliens easily keeping pace.

"Pidge," Allura addressed, "start a triage based on injury and physical state. When Keith arrives have him assist you and then retrieve food goo and water from the kitchens."

Pidge nodded but her eyes were not on the prisoners still disembarking from the ship but on the shrinking forms exiting the rooms. "Is Lance…?" her voice was small and Allura immediately put a comforting hand on her shoulder and drew her into a hug.

"He will be all right," she assured, praying it was so. "We will go to him once our other guests are settled."

Pidge nodded, and unlike Keith would, Allura knew she would not treat it as a challenge to get through as fast as possible. She had a very compassionate heart, even if it was hidden behind layers of brashness and at times vulgarities that Shiro had—Allura paused the thought there with a shake of her head. Not now.

While Pidge did that Allura moved much more slowly behind her, datapad out and taking down names and dates of birth to complete a roster for the ship log. Biscota was not advanced enough to have technology to accept transmissions for Allura to send over the list ahead of time, but it was useful to have it for the brief time they would be on the ship before they returned to Biscota.

Keith came in less than a dobash later, jacket on inside out, but neither Allura nor Pidge commented on it and Pidge waved him over before he could start demanding answers. He left shortly after to retrieve the requested food and water.

There were a total of twenty-four Biscotii in age range of fifty-three to one-hundred- and-four(their lifespan ranged upwards into the low two hundreds) and one youngling of thirty-two that had refused to leave his mother's side and had been swept up in the transport.

They were, as Kolivan had predicted, been brought in by the Galra to farm their artificial fields. They likely would have died there from the hard labor, conditions and the trigger-happy guards had it not been for Lance, of whom every Biscotii reverently called their savior and despite their hurts and pain would smile wide when he was mentioned.

Allura had tried to ask for more details but they had been surprisingly tight-lipped about their ordeal and Lance's role in it. One Biscotii had finally disclosed that as part of their culture they spoke on events when they involved others only when said other was present so as to avoid gossip and rumors. It was a good policy to be sure for keeping order, but Allura had no idea how long it would be until Lance awoke and they would require answers.

Nea and Politan had come back to the room then, escorted by Hunk, who looked a mixture of relieved and anxious.

"Coran said they got to the poison in time," Hunk blurted out and the wave of relief that swept through the entire room was nearly overwhelming. Allura reached out and put a steadying hand on his shoulder and Hunk shot her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, for she could tell it was not all good news.

"He's in a lot of pain," Hunk murmured back. "Coran sedated him, but…" His shoulder shook with a silent sob. "It's going to last until the anti-venom destroys all of it and Coran said it could take a few varga."

The pods would be of no assistance against venom and other toxins, Allura knew. Lance's body would have to fight the foreign substance first before any additional healing could be done.

"He is strong," she responded, squeezing his shoulder. "And we shall go and sit beside him in support." Hunk looked grateful for that bit and she could tell it had taken a lot to likely get him from Lance's side, but it was a mandated rule that all visitors be escorted and one that even in such circumstances Hunk knew not to break it.

"Princess," spoke up Nea then, "would we also be permitted to visit Paladin Lance?" Her dark caramel eyes looked about the room and the other Biscotii nodded in some approval that Allura did not yet follow. "As you know we cannot speak without the presence of the one being spoken of, but Paladin Lance spoke highly of you and we would allow you to be his voice if you were so willing."

"She's willing," Keith cut in before Allura could speak for herself although she backed up his claim with a small, regal nod.

"Keith, the infirmary can't fit that many," Pidge said. "But, I mean, some could sit in the hall and we could leave the door open?" She herself looked half a step away to bolting from the room to Lance's side and Allura could see that Hunk was already inching in that direction.

It was not ideal to have that many in the infirmary, but at the same time perhaps it would prove useful as many of the Biscotii looked from Pidge's notes and their own appearances that they could use bandages and some pain relievers.

"Very well," Allura inclined her head. "I shall meet you all there after I set our course for Biscota. We should be there within the varga."

She hurried off to do so, setting the castle on an autopilot course that fortunately would be a smooth trip and linking it to her own tablet so that she could monitor any issues from the infirmary. She also took a moment to reach out to the Blades and while Kolivan was not present she left notice with the communication officer that Lance had been found, was safe, and she would provide further details at a later time.

Allura's steps were quick as she made her way to the infirmary. Several Biscotii had taken up residence in the hallway surrounding the door, but they parted to allow her through with soft smiles and quiet thanks that Allura did not feel was directed entirely at her. They had called her Lance's "voice" and she had no doubt they were relaying their own feelings in such a way to him as he was unable to hear them right now himself.

And while she had already braced herself to expect it, seeing Lance lying so still on one of the infirmary cots still made her suck in a harsh breath as she approached. He had been changed out of the prisoner garb and into a pair of the teal hospital pants Coran had unearthed just a few weeks prior, while his chest remained bare save for a series of bandages and compresses wrapped about it.

A vein valve had been inserted into his right hand where the dark marks had slithered up his arm, but they did look slightly less stark than Allura remembered and a hint of color had returned to Lance's face. Bandages were wound all up and down his feet and a cooling cloth had been placed across his forehead, dampening already sweat-soaked bangs from what Allura could only imagine was the fever Hunk had briefly mentioned.

But above all that, he did appear to be in pain. His jaw was clenched even in unconsciousness and his brow furrowed, highlighting the sheen of sweat. His lips trembled as though even asleep he wanted to speak. Pidge had seated herself in some careful fashion on the narrow bed just past Lance's head and was running her hands through his hair, looking suddenly so young. Hunk had commandeered Lance's left hand, sitting in a chair on the side of the bed, and in the brief time Allura had been present had alternated between holding it to his cheek and lowering it and rubbing his thumb across the knuckles.

Keith had taken a chair next to Hunk and while not actively holding onto Lance he had clutched the blanket that Lance was lying atop of in his hands and his gaze was fixed on the pained face. Coran was standing at attention, fiddling with a screen that Allura could see displayed several of Lance's vitals.

The Biscotii were clustered close but remained in a polite circle around the small family although their eyes too were fully drawn to Lance although they shifted when Allura walked in. Many of them also had bandages peppered over them and a few jars of salve were being passed around along with refills of water.

"Princess," Coran greeted, turning and offering her the remaining chair opposite Hunk. He looked just as haggard as their fruitless search had left him, but his tone was cheerful and there was a new light to his eyes. It was only then that Allura found herself able to relax for if Coran sounded like that then things would be all right.

She had scarcely taken her seat when Keith spoke, impatience having reached its peak and Allura was impressed it had taken that long. For while Hunk was content enough to have his best friend safely back and Pidge for the moment was focused on Lance's comfort rather than her natural inquisitiveness as to the how, Keith did best when he was capable of doing something and all of the waiting Allura knew had been its own brand of torture for him. "So? What happened to him? Why is Lance poisoned? What-"

Allura raised a hand and to her surprise he clamped his mouth shut although a vein pulsed at his temple. "Before we go any further I would first like to say thank you to all of you." Her jeweled eyes went about the room, meeting each dark honey gaze. "Thank you for bringing Lance home."

"It is we who should be giving thanks, Princess," Nea spoke, bowing her head. "If it had not been for Paladin Lance we would not even have entertained the idea of going home ourselves. It is due to him that we are all here."

Allura could feel the pride bursting from within at the words directed to Lance and she wished dearly he was awake to hear the words of praise. She made a promise to remember every single one so she might repeat it back in full once he was on the mend.

"That sounds like a place to start," Allura put forth. "Please, tell us what happened. How Lance…" Her gaze drifted back to his face and she found her hands moving on their own accord to settle over the poison-streaked limb, hot to the touch, but she kept it there and brushed her fingers over it in whatever measure of comfort she could provide.

"It began with me," spoke up a female Biscotii, who followed it up with an introduction as Rigatona. "Paladin Lance, although we did know so at the time, had just arrived…"

xxx

Rigatona smiled at the strange looking alien who had arrived on their planet. Biscota was not accustomed to many visitors outside of the few trade ships they worked with to sustain themselves, and while many of her fellows had hidden at the sight of this uninvited alien who had landed on the outskirts of the main village and was strolling up the streets making the oddest but somehow soothing noise, she could not find it in her to be afraid.

He looked harmless enough, she thought, and given the fact that while he was indeed as tall as their children he was of nearly no width and should it come down to it she had no doubt they could overpower him should he pose a threat. But he carried many bags and was making that cheerful sound and she was drawn to him.

He smiled, a wide white thing that for reasons she could not explain made her heart thump, and waved a hand in a shade slightly more brown than her own. "Hello!" he greeted, holding his ground and Rigatona was a bit disappointed the noise had stopped when he had spoken.

She inquired of it and he laughed, another bright sound that made her own smile grow. "Whistling," he explained. "Watch." His lips pursed ever so and a few more notes of song burst forth. Rigatona crept closer, enchanted. He showed her again although she could only make sputters and he laughed once more. She loved the sound; like the bells they used to mark a successful harvest.

"I came here to resupply for my team," he told her and beneath the strange glasses on his face eyes of dark blue smiled up at her. "I was told your food is pretty safe for human consumption."

"Hoo-man?" she sounded out, unfamiliar with the term.

"Ah, my species," he rubbed the back of his head, covered in a soft fur. "Last planet we stopped on they ate rocks and it's not quite an edible diet for us. But I was told by a well informed mustachioed source that your lasagnis" - and his accent on the foreign word only made her smile grow - "are absolutely delicious."

"We have many more foods than just those," Rigatona said. "Come, let me show you…"

"Lance," he supplied and she offered up her own name. She had only just begun to lead him to their main market when a shriek unlike the graceful landing of his ship wrenched the air and it was followed immediately by a dull sounding explosion further up as one of the fields burst into flames.

"Galra!" Lance yelped, reaching out and grabbing her hand and tugging her under the awning of one residence. Despite the volume of his cry he did not look panicked, not as she felt as another explosion rippled the ground and her people ran to and fro in confusion and fear. He looked calm and with practiced ease pulled a large blaster from one of his bags done up in teals and whites.

"Get to safety," he told her. "Bring as many with you as you can. I'll draw their fire and hold them off."

"But-"

"Go!"

She looked over this strange hoo-man, wondering what exactly he was. Biscota was a peaceful planet and had remained outside of the war's influence for while they were bountiful in their own harvest they were not large enough to pose a target and had up until now been removed enough from the Galra controlled quadrants that such an attack was never even thought of. Her blood ran cold at their naivety that they could ever remain free of such a universal war.

They were not fighters. They were decently strong due to their make up and size, but against weapons? No. They were farmers. Even now Rigatona could see soldiers disembarking from the ship as it flew over in another pass of fire and sound, guns firing and her people screaming as they tried to outrun the blasts.

Lance was already moving past her, towards the danger, with such purpose and bravery that she remained rooted to the spot for a moment in a state of shock before another blast struck closer, a home nearby bursting into flames, and she was spurred to move, shouting for her people to retreat.

They had an underground bunker used to weather Biscota's rain of boulders and it was the safest place she could think of. She had just finished helping one of their elderly descend into the tunnel and turned back to go for more when she saw the glint of metal of one of the robotic creatures that had descended.

Something cold struck her in the head and she knew no more.

xxx

"It was thanks to Paladin Lance's actions that we were able to get so many to safety," Rigatona said softly. "I did not see his actions in battle personally, but he stalled them long enough for most of our people to escape."

"I saw him fight," piped up one of the younger of the company, a male who introduced himself as Tomatu. "He was awesome."

xxx

Tomatu had been coming in from the fields for lunch when the Galra had attacked. He had been upended by the blast that took out the pathway right next to him and by the time the ringing in his ears had died down he had found himself being hauled to his feet and manacles being clapped on his hands by a faceless robot bearing the Galra Empire symbol that he had never thought he would see in his lifetime.

The symbol was shattered a moment later by a burst of teal light and he tracked it back with wide eyes to a stranger charging at him, orange cloak flapping in the wind and a blaster already sweeping to the right to take out another one of the robots without pause.

"Run!" the tanned stranger yelled at him as Tomatu stared, taking down yet another one of the robots that had been reaching for a Biscotii that had also been caught up in the blast. Nea, he recognized. His aunt.

Tomatu intended to do just that. After he rescued his aunt of course. He only had one hand in the cuffs and the clanking metal did not deter him at all from beelining to his aunt's side. While he settled her unconscious form over his shoulder he couldn't help but look back at his rescuer, who was kneeling now behind a raised mound from the blast and expertly taking out the robots.

He was amazing. Every shot hit with stunning accuracy into the blank faces and each one went down with a clatter of metal parts.

Tomatu felt his breath catch. A minute ago he was convinced he was about to be a prisoner of Galra and now he was certain they were going to somehow be okay. This stranger would-

Tomatu felt the heat of the blasts from the flying ship before he saw them. A warning, a scream, was on the tip of his tongue, but it was already too late. The beams uprooted the ground all about the slender alien and one bolt caught him, sending him flying with a loud cry. Tomatu fell down stunned by the blast himself, his aunt falling by his side.

The alien somehow held onto his blaster.

Tomatu could only watch as he struggled, clearly hurt from the hit, to lift his gun and still managed to fire off several shots. But there were real Galra there now and they raised shields and blocked like the robots had not. They were on him in seconds and a moment later were lifting the limp form into the air by the strange fur atop his head.

"It's not a Biscotii," he heard one of the Galra rumble over the ringing in his ears. "Doesn't look like it'll last long in the fields."

"Take it," commanded another. "He'll work until he's dead. Just like the rest of them."

Hands were on Tomatu then, dragging him to his feet and the manacles fully secured and dread pooling in his stomach. He was herded forward and lost sight of his would-be-rescuer minutes later.

xxx

"I'm sorry I was so useless," Tomatu said quietly as he finished his tale. "Paladin Lance was so brave and I… I…"

"Lance would not wish you to think like that and neither do I," Allura said gently, sending a soft smile to the troubled looking Biscotii. "The fact you tried to rescue your aunt was brave indeed."

Her smile fell a moment later though as Lance let out a weak sounding cough, head rolling on the flat pillow before falling silent again.

"Those of us who had been mainly in the fields or caught in the blasts were rounded up and forced to board the Galra vessel," Politan cut into the ensuing silence, voice grave. "It is there we were taken to what was to be our new home… and grave."

xxx

The Biscotii had been gathered together and forced to sit on the floor of a cargo hold with a group of armed robots - called sentries, he learned - on guard duty. They had been left alone after the Galra officer in charge had informed them of their fate; to serve as slaves at a Galran created field until they died. It was a beyond distressing thought and many of his people had been in tears.

A temporary distraction had come in the form of the stranger in their midst, a hoo-man Rigatona had explained, and one who had bought them time to sequester most of their people in the tunnels where the Galra would not follow due to its labyrinth of turns. She along with a few others who had witnessed this hoo-man named Lance actually fight the Galra spoke in hushed whispers and Politan would not deny he'd had stirrings of hope.

Whoever this Lance was he was skilled, more so than any of them. He hated that a stranger had fallen victim when he was not the intended target, but it was perhaps a blessing for them.

If the alien lived.

He had taken a shot to his back and while he breathed he did not wake. The guards, despite quiet pleading from Rigatona and his own wife, Nea, who had suffered a head wound but awoken and insisted she was all right, would not uncuff any of them to tend to the injury.

It was not until they had landed hours later and were being escorted off the ship that the guards finally uncuffed them so they could walk and move and Politan had taken it upon himself to lift up the slender alien.

He had awoken while they were disembarking and being directed to a low building, females and males separated from one another. Politan had focused on the hoo-man and his nephew so he didn't give into the fear as Nea was lost to his sight.

"Did anyone get the license plate?" came the groggy sounding voice of the hoo-man and Politan frowned at the odd expression.

He was unable to answer as one of the Galrans was shouting out commands to undress and garb themselves in the provided outfits.

"Get him dressed and moving," the guard ordered Politan as he stood in the center of the room. "Or I'll take care of it myself."

To Politan's surprise the hoo-man was smiling at the threat, however wane. "Some people have no manners," he mumbled and blue eyes blinked open to meet Politan's own and he wondered how long he had been awake for, more aware of the situation than someone should he was just that calm and Politan felt strangely comforted by it. "Thanks for the lift, big guy." He reached out one brown hand and patted Politan's arm. "I'm good, I think."

"You were shot," and Politan could not hide his disbelief.

"My underarmor took most of it." Politan carefully lowered the hoo-man to his feet, but reached out a moment later as he stumbled with a hiss and a sheepish sounding laugh. "Ah, okay, emphasis on most of it."

"Five dobashes," the guard called out, voice tinged with a cruelty that made Politan shiver, "and then I start doing things my way."

"So hasty," the hoo-man muttered. Dark eyes looked up. "I hate to be a bother, but-"

"You saved many of my people," Politan interrupted. "I am happy to assist."

A smile brightened his face. "Appreciate it. Name's Lance, by the way."

"Politan."

Politan dressed quickly on his own first, exchanging his comfortable breeches and tunic for the more threadbare Galra make, but at least they fit. He could already tell that they were going to be much too large on Lance.

It was a bit of an effort to remove Lance's clothes, as while the apparent underarmor had taken much of the damage there was a large blaster burn on his lower back that had made Lance hiss quietly and would have fallen over had Tomatu not arrived to help and the others gathered around.

They had nothing to use as bandages but Politan ripped up part of Lance's cloak from before and made a compress as best he could and secured it with another strip. It was not ideal and needed proper attention, but it would have to do for now. He helped Lance to pull on the pants which, as he'd thought, were much too wide in the waist and the shirt came nearly to his knees.

"Not the most fashionable outfit I've worn," Lance grumbled and Politan was again amazed at the calm demeanor despite the pain and the situation he had awoken to. "Hey, you think you can tear a strip off this? I can make a belt or something."

"Belt?"

A belt as they all learned was a device to secure pants and after bunching the excess material in the back Lance secured it so the pants remained somewhat secured around his hips and another strip tightened the tunic across his waist so it was not a shapeless sack.

He had a strange sort of object on his feet - shoes, Lance told them - but the guard demanded he remove them. Lance did so with another muttered complaint and Politan had been fascinated by what was revealed. Hoo-mans apparently had fingers on their feet as well, although they were shorter than the ones on their hands.

They were shepherded outside, Lance walking with only the barest of winces on his own power, and Politan had been relieved to see Nea already outside and no worse for the wear save she too was dressed in the prisoner garb.

There were multiple guards now as well as sentries standing about them. The one Galra from the changing room pointed to a large field a few hundred yards away. "You will be cultivating that field until we say to stop," he said. "Thanks to him," and he pointed his blaster at Lance who had the gall to give a cheeky wave, "what should have been the labor of one hundred is limited to twenty-five. You are still expected to complete the work and punishment awaits those that do not."

Politan was relieved when the guard's attempt to draw ire from his people towards Lance failed. He allowed himself a small smile. FAmily was incredibly important to them and while they had been captured it was due to Lance's actions that so many had not been. There would be no blame or extra burden put on his shoulders from them.

The sudden harsh crack of a whip jolted a few of the younger Biscotii. "Get to work," snapped another guard. "Or you'll taste this on your backs."

"Oh goodie," Lance rubbed his hands together as he took a step towards the field. "I love gardening."

And Politan could only blink, a strange feeling of both protectiveness and pride rising up at this brave hoo-man and he knew, without a doubt, that if anyone could save them from this fate it would be him.

xxx

It was nearly ten varga later that they were allowed to retire for the evening. Politan's back ached from the constant digging of holes and he could tell that many felt the same exhaustion and pain.

But they had nothing on the hoo-man, who was only upright thanks to two Biscotii who had draped his arms about their shoulders. His feet were bleeding, Politan observed, as the ground was rocky and brittle in many places. It had no effect on their own hardened feet, but hoo-man's wore that protective footwear called "shoes" for a reason. He remembered Tomatu's quiet words about the guard's decision for Lance and felt a chill race through him.

Still, despite the pain, Lance was still smiling and thanking the two for their assistance as they lowered him to the ground in the large communal room that was to serve as their living quarters. It was a giant space with a dirt floor and a single partition that served as the bathroom. There was no bedding to speak of but plates of some substance that must constitute as food had been placed on the ground and a few pitchers of water and cups as well.

It was barely enough food for a full belly, let alone one that had been laboring all day. Politan wondered how long they were going to honestly survive here.

He was drawn from his darkening thoughts as a burst of laughter - light as bells - sounded about the room and he was not the only one who turned towards it. Lance was sitting on the floor and one of Nea's best friends, Pizzella, was lifting Lance's shirt to get a better look at his wound from earlier with a pitcher at the ready.

She looked just as surprised at the laughter. Her hands stretched around Lance's side once more and he did it again, although it sounded slightly more choked that time and he weakly pushed her hands away although mirth filled his face.

"Am I hurting you?" she inquired, worried.

"No, no," he gasped. "I'm just ticklish there."

Twenty-four heads cocked slightly in confusion.

"Ticklish?" the hoo-man repeated. "You know, haha, tickle spots?"

"We do not follow," admitted another Biscotii, Basim. "Does this "ticklish" hurt?"

"I mean, it can," and Pizella dropped her hands with a gasp of an apology, "but it's mostly for fun," he continued. "I'm just a little sensitive there. It's fine."

"Are all hoo-mans ticklish?" Nea sounded out the word.

"Not all of them," Lance said, holding still as Pizella more carefully lifted his tunic up and Nea held it so she could unwind the bandages from before. "I mean, Hunk is…" he trailed off, a shadow passing over his face and his eyes dimming.

"We are sorry," Rigatona said softly, seeing the change. "That you were caught up in this. Your family… they must be so worried."

A smile, but a sad one, reformed on Lance's face and he gave a small nod. "Anyways, I think this is actually all meant to be. We haven't helped anyone really in the last week," his smile dimmed again, "and well, nothing like getting back into the swing of things by diving in head first."

Like the strange "license plate" mentioned earlier many of the words went over Politan's head, but he like the others focused on the first part.

"Helped anyone?" Nea repeated.

Lance straightened. "I'm a Paladin of Voltron," he declared.

Politan felt his heart stutter.

This… this hoo-man boy, for he was young, he could tell, was a Paladin of Voltron? They were real? They had heard stories of course, but it was all legend. The Lions, the Alteans who were more myth than real, the giant fighting robot…

"Voltron?" echoed Rigatona, her voice laced with the same hope Politan could feel.

"Yeah, I'm the Blue Paladin. There's Hunk, he's Yellow, and Pidge is our Green Paladin and Keith is Red and Shi—" Lance cut himself off again. "Shiro is our black Paladin," he continued although there was an odd hitch to his voice. "And Princess Allura of Altea drives our castle and then Coran is her advisor and sort of our go-to for everything."

"Did you say Altea?" Tomatu sputtered. "Alteans are real?"

"You betcha," Lance grinned. "Allura is the most beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful Altean princess this universe could ask for." There was a bit of a dopey grin on his face and several of the Biscotii chuckled. Politan wondered how much of the expression was real and how much was exaggerated for their own comfort and he found himself admiring this hoo-man anew. "Don't let her beauty fool you though," Lance wagged a finger. "She's as beautiful as an angel but she's one fierce, kick-butt princess too."

"Are they going to rescue us?" asked Oregani, the youngling who had been caught up in all of this and looked as exhausted as the hoo-man.

At that Lance frowned and shook his head. "Sorry, man. They… I don't think they know where we are. But," he brightened, "I know I'm not the greatest Paladin but I'll do my best to get you all out of here. Promise."

Politan frowned himself at the slight made. He did not agree with it whatsoever as he had yet to witness anything other than remarkable strength and bravery, not to mention the ease to which Lance made them feel a semblance of peace and hope and those were not something to trivialize.

He was not so good with words but his wife was right there with him and she was. "Paladin Lance," she addressed, "you are more than we could have ever hoped for. We would not wish for any other." The hoo-man's skin turned an interesting shade of dark pink, prompting calls of alarm and Politan watched, torn between amusement and concern, as those around him forced Lance to lie down on his side and water was brought to him.

The pink color only darkened, causing more alarm, and Lance had moaned then, but not out of pain but embarrassment. "I suppose," he mumbled into his arm thrown across his face, "I need to explain what a "blush" is."

xxx

Politan paused his account there, voice hoarse and Allura pushed a cup of water into his hands. She was grateful for the interlude as her thoughts were tripping over themselves with all that was coming to light.

Hunk spoke before she could gather her words into some sort of sentence, a quiet "thank you," issuing from his lips and he met Nea's gaze head on. She appeared confused and he elaborated, "For saying that to him. About how much you valued him. He…" his eyes cut back to Lance's face, still drawn with pain. "He doesn't hear it enough."

Hunk was right, Allura realized with a pang of guilt. For as much as she had come to lean on Lance since Shiro had vanished, she had never once given voice to those thoughts. She had seen the way Lance perked up whenever someone paid him an actual compliment, but honestly, those were few and far between. His skill set – his compassion and love and cheerfulness – was not one that had a value that could be so easily numbered and counted, unlike Pidge or Hunk's projects or Keith's skill with piloting and the sword. Lance was an amazing sharpshooter but it was not a talent he got to use often in battle as he normally laid down cover fire while Shiro and Keith had been the primary offense.

She could see, based on the almost guilty looks on Keith and Pidge's faces as well, that she was not the only one who did not show Lance how much he was truly appreciated. This last week without him had been nearly unbearable and for as horrible as Shiro's absence was, losing Lance had been like ripping the rug out from beneath them and they had floundered. It was honestly amazing they castle was standing as well as it was and Allura credited it to the fact that it was because they were spending all of their efforts in searching for both Lance and Shiro they had not had any other option to turn upon one another without their mediator to soothe ruffled feathers.

"Perhaps you would like to hear some other accounts then?" Nea asked, "of all of the assistance and hope Paladin Lance brought us?"

"We would love to," Allura smiled, and she discreetly hit the "record" button on her datapad. This was something she wished for Lance to hear himself.

The Biscotii took turns talking about how Lance had helped them get through the Galra imprisonment. He taught them hoo-man songs (none of them had corrected the pronunciation out of sheer amusement) to sing while they worked the fields and they in turn had taught Lance one of their own work songs that he had picked up with surprising ease. He had a lovely voice, Rigatona had said with a soft smile.

He talked often about the Paladins and the Alteans, sharing stories of their adventures and in turn wanting to hear about the Biscotti's own families and friends. He had a passion to learn of their culture and talking about it and then his own hoo-man culture and mannerisms had brought smiles and laughter to a group that was exhausted and starving and hurting in a way nothing else could. He was their hope, Nea said quietly, in both his actions and his bright laugh and smile.

He also took the brunt of the Galra's anger. Here they had sobered, exchanging solemn glances with one another. The Galra were cruel taskmasters and despite the vigorous pace it was not enough. Lance was often their target as he would attract their attention when they moved in on an exhausted Biscotii and had suffered the taste of their whip numerous times. Even when it was not his place to be punished he would either offer himself up, or even more cruelly, they would turn on him themselves. The Galra did not like the loud hoo-man, Nea shared. And despite their begging of him to stop drawing their attention that they could take a whipping when the Galran's sights were set on them he had refused. The universe had sent him to protect them, right? He wanted to protect them.

Coran had confirmed that fact with a grimness, having applied a poultice to a number of lash marks and welts that had criss-crossed his shoulders and back. Nothing scarring, he'd reported, so long as Lance got into a pod in the near future.

But even more than giving them smiles and laughter as their sole source of hope, Lance gave them tasks to help them escape. He had them count guard rotations, make note of when the transport ship was left alone. They created makeshift weapons out of smuggled pieces of tools and Lance showed them how to accurately lob a stone from an improvised slingshot.

They were farmers, not warriors, but Lance made them believe that they could fight and they could win. It had taken a few days and careful eavesdropping on the growing lax guards, as after nearly a week without any real protest they had become accustomed to the submissive demeanor, but they had a plan of action. It wouldn't take effect until next week as Lance wanted them to be further trained and prepared. He told them they couldn't be reckless, like Keith, but had to be patient, like Shiro.

They had tried to dissuade him as patience was good and all, because Lance… Lance was not doing very good. The meager rations and short sleep combined with the workload were hard on them all, but the hoo-man especially who was not built for such labor. By the fifth quintant it had taken extra effort to rouse him and he had been moving more slowly. Still, he smiled and laughed and called for patience.

It yielded focus, he told them, and they needed still to prepare. He was fine and everything was all right and they had had to believe him because they could not do this without him. Ten quinants, they'd decided on. On that day they would make their move and escape.

But it had all fallen apart just that morning.

xxx

They had been on the fields for just about two varga when Lance collapsed.

It wasn't that he was trying to draw the Galras' attention from another either. He was standing one moment, digging a shovel into the dirt with his foot, no matter how much they wrapped them in shreds of cloth, already bleeding when he had tilted sideways without a sound.

Rigatona had been at his side within a few seconds, kneeling next to him as the hoo-man struggled to his hands and knees, breath coming in short pants and a sheen of what he had told them was called sweat dripping down the side of his much too pale face.

"Lance," she murmured, and sensing the two flesh guards coming their way, she repeated his name more urgently, tugging on his arm. "Get up."

He was doing so, shaky long legs nearly beneath him when the Galra were upon them and one struck out with his blaster end, smashing it against his shoulder and sending Lance back into the dirt. Rigatona knelt immediately by his side, putting her body between them and gazing up with as much ferocity as she could manage although she was trembling herself. But Lance was hurt, exhausted, and she would not let them hurt him.

"Out of the way," snarled the guard that had struck him, leveling the blaster at Rigatona while the other hit his whip handle against his hand in anticipation.

"Please," she pleaded, "give me his punishment." Behind her she heard Lance make a moan of protest but she ignored it. She could see her people straightening up as they became aware of the commotion from about the field, but they were held in check by the sentries' many guns trained upon them.

"Tch," spat the blaster guard. "I have something even better in mind." He turned to look at his companion who gave him a sharp grin and a nod. Rigatona's blood ran cold. That could mean nothing good. "Move, girl," he ordered.

"No."

She was not a brave person, not really, but she was imbued with a sudden strength. She knew, without a doubt, if they reached Lance right now then this was going to more than a simple whipping. She had to stop it.

"Then you will receive the same," smirked the second guard and he was holding something in his hand now, a dark vial that made her shiver. A poison? A new torture?

"'Tona," murmured Lance behind her, "move."

She peeked her head over her shoulder, spotting those dark blue eyes looking up at her with exhaustion but behind them she could see the fierceness, the fight and his desire to protect her. Protect all of them with his own life.

"Save them," he whispered, for there was a resignation there too and her breath caught. "Follow the plan." He smiled then, soft and sincere and sad all at once. "I know you can do it."

She did not know the universe made people as selfless as this near stupidly brave hoo-man.

The moment of distraction as all the Galra needed and Rigatona was wrenched away with a shriek from Lance's side and thrown a few yards away. The metallic sound of a blaster being trained on her from one of the sentries forced her to stay down as the guards moved in on Lance. He had managed to get back to his knees but was helpless to move further as one of the Galrans grabbed his arms and twisted them behind him with a grunt and forced his knees further into the soft dirt.

"Let this be a lesson to you all," spoke the guard carrying the strange vial. He held it aloft, the artificial sunlight not piercing its thick gloom. "Should you fail to complete your work, should you show insubordination of any kind you will meet your end by gelata venom." His smirk widened. "It is not a pleasant way to go. Hours of agony as your body shuts down and your organs are laid to waste." His yellow gaze turned to Lance. "I look forward to hearing your screams."

Lance did not say anything as Rigatona had expected. No witty comeback, no struggle despite how futile it was. There was something though in his eyes, a sharp glint that made the despair creeping into her heart pause even as she screamed out his name as the guard attached a needle to the vial.

He had a plan. She did not know what or how but she knew that. Or, she hoped that was what her gut was telling her. Because she could not bear for any other outcome. She may have only known this hoo-man for shy of a movement, but he was already very dear to her and the other Biscotii.

She could see the shared looks of horror from her people, saw Politan grip his shovel and take a step forward only for a gun to whir and press to Nea's head and he halted his advance with a heavy sob.

Lance met her gaze as the Galran leaned down, vial angled to go into his wrist the other one had dragged forward. He held it as they emptied the venom into his veins, cruel laughter sounding above the muted sobs of the Biscotii.

She held it until his eyes rolled back into his head and without any warning he slumped completely in the Galran's hold. They dropped him to the dirt where he didn't even so much as twitch.

Rigatona's breath caught. Had he… had he just died?

"That was quick," said the guard with the empty vial, toeing Lance with his boot. "His species must be especially susceptible."

All around them the sentries were standing down, going back to at ready positions while the shocked and horrified Biscotii stood frozen. That could not have just happened.

He could not be dead.

"Pathetic," muttered the other Galran, crouching down next to Lance and gun back in his hands. "I had hoped for more of a show."

A tanned hand shot out from Lance's side, latching about the blaster and shoving its head up. "Then how's this?" came a low growl, darker in tone than Rigatona had ever heard from Lance although the sheer relief at hearing anything from him again overrode the chill. The Galran did not even have a chance to scream as Lance's finger descended on the trigger and the purple face was blown apart in a macabre arc of flesh and blood.

The other Galran yelled, fumbling for his own blaster hooked on his belt, but Lance was already rolling over and fired his commandeered gun upside down over his head, blocking his own vision with his arms.

The shot connected dead center in the Galran's forehead and he collapsed without a sound.

The sentries were whirring to attention but the Biscotii were already moving. Shovels were swinging and Lance was breathlessly on one knee now, picking them off and not flinching as a few shots came his way and slammed into the dirt all about him.

It was over in under a minute; the sentries smashed or shot piles of metal and the two immediate guards dead.

Lance pulled himself to his feet and took a stumbling step forward, caught around the waist by Politan. That bright smile beamed up at him. "How about another lift, big guy? I…" he coughed and paled in the same instance and Politan swept him into his arms without another word.

"Our timetable has moved up," Politan intoned. "But I think now it is time to make our escape?"

"My thoughts exactly," Lance grinned. He shifted in Politan's arms and readied his stolen blaster, expression becoming more grim. "It's not over yet. Hurry and stay alert. More guards will be coming."

They were deviating from their plan of leaving from the living chamber, but they were actually even closer now to the parked Galran transport ship. Alarms had begun to ring by the time they reached the tarmac but, Politan had a sharp grin of his own, it was already too late for the Galra.

As Lance had outlined and they had practiced, several Biscotii set about using shovels and sheer brute strength to pry open one of the smaller cargo doors and slip inside. Lance, despite weak protests, was handed off to Tomatu inside as the original plan had bene for him to cover them while they boarded. Nea had taken the gun from him with narrowed eyes and confirmed all she had to do was pull the trigger. Lance had given her a pleased grin and reminded her to aim.

Rigatona had accompanied Tomatu and Lance to the cockpit of the ship. Lance had admitted to them he had no idea how to actually read Galran to figure out the controls, but he felt that he should be able to figure it out.

He was shaking as he reached out to the console and there was a sick black stain on his wrist. The venom.

"Have a few hours, right?" he mustered up a smile as he pushed another button at Rigatona's low exclamation of horror. "Just gotta get us to my team before then."

The engines whirred to life about them and cheering went up in the cargo hold. Politan entered the cockpit a moment later with a breathless, "Go!" and Lance almost cheerfully flipped a control over and they were airborne.

There was the sound of blaster fire striking the ship but a few guns had nothing on the plated hulking cargo transport. And, Lance exclaimed with a dark delight, the Galra had apparently equipped even their transport ships with weapons.

Tomatu and Politan had taken to the guns with a gusto. By the time they exited the artificial base planet there was only a wreathing of flames and burning buildings behind them.

"You did it," Rigatona murmured, sinking down in the cockpit next to the pilot's chair as Lance navigated them into the welcoming star-speckled universe.

"We did it," he corrected with a soft smile. It morphed a second later to a pained grimace and he hunched over with a small cry.

"I inputted the c-coordinates," he choked out, slumping sideways in the chair. "They sh-should go to… to Voltron's last location." He shuddered again, face screwed up in agony.

Politan gently lifted the slender form out of the chair and cradled him close, Lance sinking into the embrace with a low murmur of thanks.

"How long?" Rigatona asked.

"F-four varga," Lance whispered, and his face was an odd mixture of pale along with the pink blush, although this she did not think was from embarrassment. He was sick.

He was dying.

"Just hold on," she whispered to him, pressing one of her large hands atop his fur-covered head. "Please. Hold on."

xxx

"And now here we are," Rigatona said quietly, having moved over the course of the story to the side of Lance's bed, one hand resting on his shoulder. His face had evened out in the last few minutes and Coran had quietly announced while the venom was still being treated the worst of the pain should be gone. "He went unconscious about a varga before we found you and we feared…"

"Lance is strong," Allura said softly but with strong conviction. "He is not the type to ever give up."

"No," Nea agreed, her eyes meeting Allura's, "he is not. He is our savior, Princess Allura. He did not let us give into despair, to give up hope. He is a beacon of light in this dark world." Her smile turned sad. "We shall miss him dearly."

"We will not be leaving Biscota quite so soon," Allura smiled. "We are just about to land now, actually, but we will remain here for a few quintants to make certain you are well prepared should the Galra return. And, I daresay Lance will not so easily wish to leave without proper good-byes."

"And his good-byes take a day or two, seriously," Hunk chimed in with a fond chuckle.

"We are delighted to hear this," Nea's smile turned back up. "Please, let us host Paladin Lance's treasured hoo-man and Altean companions. It would be our great honor."

"It is ours," Allura said with a dip of her head.

Her jeweled eyes traced Lance's face, at peace now with a hint of a smile as though even unconscious he was hearing their conversation.

She knew it was not over. Lance would need time to heal. Shiro was still missing. The Galra were still out there, preying upon peaceful planets.

But the Biscotii were right. There was hope out there. Light. And she could follow that beacon all the way back to the human boy who no matter what the circumstances could inspire such hope and strength wherever he went.

Lance was a savior indeed.

xxx

Author's Notes:

Commissioned fic (10k, haha) for Blue_Eyed_Dreamer with the prompt of Lance coming back with a bunch of prisoners after having gone missing, unconscious, and the prisoners take turns telling Allura all about Lance and how much he saved them (and not just in terms of escaping), all from Allura's perspective.

This was definitely something different as I knew going in there were going to be a number of original characters and given the fact Lance was unconscious I was going to have to write quite a bit from their perspectives. I hope you enjoyed all of them and this different take; I don't often write from original characters so this was a nice change of pace. Seeing their love and admiration of Lance and in turn Allura's was so fun to do. I love when our Blue Boy gets the recognition he deserves. Also, haha, my Italian is showing. I changed the last letter for each name/word and Nea and Politan obviously go together, but yeah. Hehe.

As always, please leave a comment if you enjoyed the story. Authors really, really really appreciate them and I would love to hear what you thought of the story! Thanks very much!

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