wow i'm so organised when it comes to publishing new chapters

i mean

such dedication -w-

- coel

•••

"No way."

"What?!"

"We're not going down there."

"What the fuck. Of course we are!"

"No, we're not."

"The hell are we supposed to do then?! Sit here and let the others be murdered?!"

The roles had utterly flipped. Lance, who had been trying to calm down the bloodthirsty Keith mere minutes ago, was now having to be physically held back from throwing himself into the heat of battle, his eyes shimmering with something that looks wrong and strangely like excitement. On the other hand, Keith seemed to of forgotten his bitter feelings entirely, and is already figuring out a plan that would save both him and Lance, and the other Paladins, and Allura and Coran in the Castle of Lions.

However, Lance has other ideas, and complicated thinking while having him kicking and punching at you in frustration is proving to be very difficult.

"Lance, calm down, you're going to get us noticed," Keith says, his voice on the brink of a snarl. He tightens his grip on Lance's arm, desperately holding him back.

Lance scoffs. "Exactly. Now let go!"

"Are you blind? There's an entire Galran army out there! Do you want to get yourself killed?" Keith asks furiously, still tightly gripping Lance's arm despite the Paladin shaking and tugging it in all directions.

"What I want is to make sure the others are alright!" Lance suddenly yells, his voice surprisingly unstable.

Keith doesn't know what to do. If he lets go and follows Lance out to meet the Galran army they are seeing marching ever closer to them, they will die, and there is no point denying it because there are only two of them, versus two thousand Galras. Even if by some miracle they manage to survive the front line, by the time they call over Blue and Red it will be far too late. They can't risk giving up two of Voltron's Lions to Zarkon. They just can't.

Keith takes a deep breath and spins Lance around so he is facing him, holding him so tightly that his hands shiver. "Okay. Okay, I get it. I really do. I'm worried about them as well. But you need to calm down. If we split up, we're goners," he speaks in what he hopes is a consoling voice, but the sad truth is that Keith has never been the consoling type, and Lance still tries to wrestle himself out of his grip, looking over his shoulder, his breathing ragged. Keith shakes him in frustration. "Hey! Lance!"

Lance glares over at him with such intensity and anger that Keith almost steps back. "Fuck off, Keith! Just let me go already! If you're too much of a coward to fight, then fine, stay here for all I care!"

At those words Keith finally lets go. He stumbles backwards, his mouth slightly open in disbelief, as if Lance had just punched him.

Coward.

That's what Keith had called Lance and the rest while on his solitary hilltop.

He didn't know it hurt this much.

In normal circumstances, Keith would of shot back a sharp comment by now that would then make Lance blush and stutter and pout like a baby while trying to figure out a comeback.

But these aren't normal circumstances, and this time it's Keith's turn to run out of things to say.

He watches motionlessly as Lance arms himself with his bayard and gets ready to jump over the rocky debris that had fallen from the cliff behind them as a result of their previous Galra attack. Keith had dragged Lance behind it the second the approaching Galran army registered in his terror-stricken brain.

Before Keith can so much as blink, Lance is gone.

A choked cry forces itself out of his throat. It's so sudden that Keith feels his chest tighten with more to come, and he panics because this isn't like him. Where's his stone face? Where's his emotionless attitude that's kept him alive for so long?

"Lance! Lance, come back!"

Keith rushes forward to gaze out above the debris, but falls down with the rain of bullets cascading around him. Somewhere in the midst, he hears Lance screaming.

Keith can't breathe. He can't think. He can't do anything. He sits on his knees in the sand, bent over so his forehead almost touches the ground, his head throbbing from the noise of the Galran machine guns, the yells, the shattering of rocks--

-- Lance. His teammate. The only person who ever bothered with him at the Galaxy Garrison when so many others grew tired of the cruel eyes and annoying comments and denials of teamwork. The only person who ever got close to being Keith's friend.

His friend.

Another cry. It sounds pathetic, drowning among the din of the battle, broken on the edges like shattered glass. There aren't even any words in it. It is simply a noise of horror and agony, the sharp reaction to the lack of Lance's voice in the background.

Vrepit sa.

Triumph or death.

Keith seriously doubts the Galra would abandon the opportunity of killing a Paladin.

And just like that, he's back.

His scream of fear morphing into a battle-cry like Lance's, Keith throws himself over the debris and onto the exposed war front on the other side. Chaos blasts in his face, and yet it doesn't stop him, instead powering his bloodlust so that anyone, Galra or human, friend or foe who gets in his way, will die. His bayard slices through body after body like water, the stench of the smoke and blood and bodily fluids in the air not making a single impression on him.

Yellow Galran eyes flash in his face, burning with hatred then terror, hatred then terror, over and over again. And still Keith pushes on. It's the same species we saw on the sand hill, he thinks calmly while decapitating one. Thin and wrinkly-skinned and tall and wide-mouthed and pale.

It doesn't matter. I'll kill them all.

Blasters explode around his head, showering him in bullets that bore dents into his armour. Somewhere at the back of his mind, the human part of Keith shrieks out in pain at the feeling of his ribs giving way to the metal barrel, snapping like twigs, dark purple bruises blossoming across his hidden chest. The living Galra Keith keeps fighting. The thought of Lance dead triggered a drastic change to his body, his limbs flying out as if on autopilot, centuries of Galran fighting genes passed down to him in his blood, pumping his heart like an overpowered machine. At this point, even if Shiro himself were to appear before Keith, he would still kill him. Such is his rage.

"Keith!"

More Galran soldiers fall dead at his feet, faces twisted and hands still desperately gripping onto their weapons. His helmet and visor are sprayed in thick, darkly coloured fluids, and the black fabric on his palms is soaked, the purple and blue dying the white armour on the knuckles. His body swings him around and his sword catches on a Galra's throat. Blood spurts across his chest as the creature slides to the floor, retching on saliva and sick.

"Keith!"

More soldiers. More blood. More death. Keith has lost count now. The mass of the Garlan army seems eternal, yet so does his andrenaline. He wastes no time catching his breath or running away or doing anything but murdering everything within a 5 feet radius. Lance's furious eyes and agonized scream sit rawly in his head. If I had gone with him, he would he alive, Keith thinks.

Another two Galra go down.

It's my fault Lance is dead.

"KEITH!"

The outburst ends as abruptly as it began. Keith reacts to the voice, to the high pitched, familiar tone that he thought he would never hear again until death. Finally able to breath again, he gasps in several divided lungfuls of rotten, ashy air, before falling to his knees, his bayard slipping between his hands and onto the soft, muddy ground. Doubling over, his hands reach up to his stomach, pressing down in caution as a rather dumb response to the throbbing resonating through his entire body from there.

Nothing but loose muscles and fragments of bones.

Keith shivers in panic, his indigo eyes growing wider. It doesn't hurt. But it will. He knows that for sure. It will hurt and the pain will kill him. That is how he will go. Not swiftly like his victims, but slowly and gradually, as if his body is taking its sweet time in disintergrating within itself.

All the bile he is keeping in his throat by continuously swallowing is going to have to come up some time, but not yet. He has to see something first. Has to make sure he wasn't imagining it.

As Keith carefully rises his head, a flash of blue appears in the corner of his left eye. Even turning his neck is a challenge, but when he manages it, Keith squints through tears and sweat at the approaching figure. There are still explosions going off, but his ears don't pick up on the shouting anymore. He can see the figure's mouth moving though.

And then it clicks together.

Keith's lips flicker with a hint of a smile. "... Lance?" He tries to say, but only ends up coughing. Can't hear his own voice either. He tries again. "Lance?"

One more time. "Lance!"

He can see him clearly now, sprinting towards him, parts of his armour missing, his mouth constantly moving in desperate silence. Lance seems quite unharmed despite being the first one to leave the debris.

But he probably didn't go crazy, his brain helpfully says.

Lance is getting closer. The desperation in Keith skyrockets, and he reaches out feebly with a blood soaked hand. "La--"

A dull stab to his back.

Warm liquid gushing out.

His energy finally leaving him as he falls to the side.

And Lance's horrifying howl of grief as everything goes black.

•••

oh dear

oh my

((((；ﾟДﾟ)))))))

- coel