another quick entry! this time for klanceweek prompt #2: sacrifice
still debating whether or not to cross-post these entries on ao3 so let me know what you think. again, you can also find these short ficlets on twitter!
This is the last thing Keith expected to happen when they landed on Gordania.
When they respond to a distress beacon, it’s usually to free people from Galran control. Occasionally, the aliens invite the team for a party or celebration, seizing any opportunity they can to boast their connections with the legendary Voltron. There have been, of course, times when the aliens try to deceive them.
But this is a whole new level of deceit.
Keith sighs and glances down at the thick coils of rope wrapped around his torso. His eyes flick up to the circle of aliens surrounding him, a race of towering people with beady black eyes and physical features similar to that of a frog. They smile at Keith, bearing rows of glimmering fangs. Currently, Keith is tied to the trunk of a tree. A tree, which is soon to be set on fire.
That’s right— Keith Kogane is about to become a human sacrifice.
“Your death will not be in vain,” the nearest alien urges. Gordanorns, that’s what they’re called. “The gods are pleased that we have chosen you.”
What does he even say to that? Keith tries to wriggle his wrists free of their restraints and winces at the pinching pain. “Are you sure the, uh, gods want someone like me?”
“Of course.” The Gordanorn holds a long stick. A tiny flame flickers at the end. “You should be honored.”
“Right, right,” Keith mutters. Another experimental tug and, nope, there’s no way he’s getting out of this. Keith is well and truly fucked.
Just as the Gordanorn lifts the “ritualistic flame,” a shout rings out over the murmurs of the crowd. “Stop!”
Surprisingly enough, the Gordanorn does as it’s told. It halts and adjusts its hold, brandishing the stick like a weapon. Inky black eyes scan the area in search of the speaker. “Who dares to interrupt this ritual? Show yourself!”
From his place on the platform, Keith can’t quite make out the identity of his rescuer. They gradually push their way to the front of the group and— seriously? There’s no mistaking the familiar suit, accented with blue plates. Even Lance’s gait is distinct enough to recognize.
“I refuse to let you sacrifice my—” Indecision flickers across Lance’s features. Keith can decipher it even from this distance. Lance sets his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. “My husband!”
Keith wonders, for a second, if the Gordanorn already lit the fire and he’s dead.
“This man is simply a fellow paladin.” The alien assumes its full height, leering down at Lance. “I will not be tricked.”
Keith tenses, unintentionally straining against the ropes. He won’t make it out of this alive. But Lance isn’t panicking and carries on as if he hasn’t just been called out.
“Oh no, we’re married alright.” Lance cups his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “Isn’t that right, babe?”
Warmth floods Keith’s face. When he escapes from here, he’s totally kicking Lance’s ass. Regardless of whether he saved him.
“Uh, yeah,” Keith answers awkwardly. “I knew my… husband would come for me.”
“Oh, I’ll come for y—”
“Why don’t you tell these nice Gordanorns why they can’t burn me at the stake,” Keith interjects through gritted teeth. “Babe.”
“I was getting to that.” Lance walks over to the platform Keith is on and hoists himself up. His long legs and arms make the task look effortless. He sidles up next to the alien holding Keith’s life in its webbed hands. “You see… if you kill him, we won’t be able to form Voltron anymore.”
The Gordanorn blinks. “And?”
“Oh. Well, alright. That’s not the only reason,” Lance continues, undeterred. “He’s also part-Galran.”
Gasps and outraged mutterings fill the air. The Gordanorn on the platform snarls at Keith like a rabid dog. They lift the stick, flame inches away from Keith’s face, and he squeezes his eyes shut. This isn’t exactly how he planned to die, but oh well.
Keith waits for the crippling pain of being stabbed but— it never comes.
Cautiously, Keith opens his eyes. He’s met with a tousled head of chocolate brown hair. Lance is furiously slicing through the rope with what appears to be a rock, sharpened to a dangerous point. A few seconds of frantic cutting and the rope falls. Keith immediately works his way free and allows Lance to tug him off the stage.
As Keith scans the crowd, he notes the unconscious Gordanorn on the ground in front of the platform. The others stand around their fallen warrior, flailing and panicking amongst themselves. Meanwhile, Keith and Lance dive into the cover of the forest. They jump over roots and silently navigate through the trees. Lance takes the time to say, “I know, I know, we’ll talk about it when we get to Blue,” and leaves it at that.
Thankfully, the blue lion isn’t far from the village. The moment they step into the clearing, Blue crouches down, lowering their jaw to let the two crawl inside. Lance, for some reason, has yet to let go of Keith’s hand. He doesn’t until he climbs into the pilot’s seat.
Lance quickly takes control and helps Blue swerve through the branches overhead. Once they reach the treetops and effectively put enough space between themselves and the Gordanorns, Lance heaves a loud sigh of relief.
“Good riddance,” he mumbles and glances over his shoulder, shooting Keith a wobbly grin. “Sorry about the husband thing.”
“It’s alright.” Then, realization strikes Keith. “Wait, what did forming Voltron or being half-Galran have to do with us being married?”
“Well, you know, I was hoping they had at least some semblance of a heart. But that didn’t work so I had to go with the other excuses. The marriage was a failsafe, you know?”
Lance rambles away, and Keith edges closer, shaking his head. “Still not seeing a connection.”
“Just… ugh! I reacted, okay, I have no other— oh.” Lance freezes. He lifts a shaky hand to his cheek. The place Keith had just gently pressed a kiss to. “Keith…?”
“Thanks for saving me, husband.” Keith pats him on the shoulder, laughing at the way Lance startles at the touch. “I guess I can forgive you this one time.”
Never one to be outdone, Lance snorts and turns to Keith. “Whatever you say,” he answers cheekily, punctuating the sentence with an exaggerated wink, “babe.”
Oh, I’m definitely kicking his ass once we get back to the ship.