Archive of Our Own ^beta

The air in the common room was thin — tense, heavy with things no one wanted to say. Keith stood near the far wall, back half-turned, arms crossed so tight it looked painful. He’d been quiet since the meeting started — quieter than usual, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the castle wall like if he just stared hard enough, he could disappear into space itself. The faint purple of his Galra heritage seemed to cling to him even when his skin looked perfectly human.

Allura’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“You can’t expect me to trust him now. Galra blood runs in his veins — how do we know he won’t betray us too?”

The words hung there, sharp and ugly. No one moved for a long time. Shiro looked like someone had gut-punched him. Pidge’s jaw clenched, Hunk flinched, and even Coran blinked rapidly as if trying to decide whether to intervene. Keith just stared at the floor, face blank, the set of his jaw trembling ever so slightly.

Lance took a slow breath and leaned back in his chair, “So what if he’s part Galra?” his tone was calm, even, almost curious.

Allura blinked, startled. “Lance—”

He kept going, unfazed. “Keith is half human. Born and raised on Earth as a human. Had a human father, was raised with human values and social norms, went to human schools to earn a human education, was adopted by Shiro — who is human — and continued to raise Keith as human.” He tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable. “Up until we met the Blade, Keith fought, argued, and saved all of our lives with the very human mindset you seem to think he doesn’t have.”

Keith’s head snapped up. His eyes flickered briefly to Lance, but Lance didn’t look at him — his gaze was fixed on Allura, steady and serious in a way that made even Coran take a step back.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in thought.

“No part of his past or present,” Lance continued evenly, “shows that he was raised a genocidal purple maniac. He’s not decaphoebs old, nor has he been indoctrinated with whatever crap the Empire’s been spewing out for ten thousand years.” He cocked his head, tone almost curious. “Are you going to hate the rest of us because we’re not Altean too?”

Allura’s breath caught. “That’s not what I—”

Lance’s unimpressed stare shut her down cold. “Voltron — which, by the way, was designed by Alteans — chose Keith to fly a lion. Voltron decided he’s worthy. Not half-worthy. Not provisionally human. Worthy. To fly a lion, to fight for peace, to stand next to all of us.”

He kept his gaze on her eyes, firm but not cruel, voice softening but never losing its edge.

“I get it. You want someone to blame. You lost your planet, your people, everything. That pain? I can’t even imagine it. But Keith wasn’t there, Allura. He didn’t decide their fate. He didn’t pull that trigger. If you need to blame someone, then place it where it belongs — at Zarkon’s feet. Not Keith’s.”

Silence pressed down again. Only the faint hum of Castle-ship machinery filled the void.

“Because this?” Lance leaned forward and gestured between them all. “This judgmental crap you’re throwing around — it’s hurting us more than it’s helping you. Keith is a valued, vital part of this team. And if your prejudice is what tears Voltron apart…”

He straightened up, gaze steady.

“Then don’t blame me when I follow him out of here.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t empty this time — it was shaken. The words hit like a meteor impact.

Silence again — heavier, but different this time. Allura’s mouth parted, but no sound came out, her eyes warring between guilt and confusion. Shiro’s eyes were shining full of pride, Pidge looked ready to cheer and cry simultaneously, and Hunk had gone absolutely still, gaze flicking between Lance and Keith like he couldn’t decide which one to hug first.

Keith’s throat worked. His hands were clenched at his sides, nails digging half-moons into his palms, yet he still hadn’t moved. And when Lance glanced his way, he caught the faintest flicker of something raw in Keith’s eyes — shock, gratitude, something that hurt to look at too long.

“Lance…” Keith’s voice was rough, barely above a whisper. He didn’t finish the thought, didn’t need to.

Lance just gave him a small smile and shrug, softer than before.

“Told you before, man. You’re one of us.”

For the first time in days, Keith’s shoulders loosened, and he didn’t feel like he was standing on the wrong side of an invisible line.

The meeting ended soon after. The others filtered out quietly, Coran ushering Allura away to “cool her temper and collect her thoughts.” Shiro lingered by the door, gave Keith a long look, and mouthed thank you to Lance before leaving.

As Lance moved toward the door, Keith stopped him with a quiet, “Hey.”

Lance turned. “Yeah?”

Keith hesitated, then said, “Thanks.”

Lance smiled, soft and genuine this time. “Anytime.”

He turned to go, but Keith found himself blurting out, “Lance.”

Lance paused at the doorway, half-turning. “Yeah?”

Keith hesitated. The words he wanted to say tangled somewhere between his chest and throat — don’t go, thank you again, why did you do that? But all that came out was, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Lance’s grin tilted, faintly teasing but not sharp like it used to be. “Yeah, well. Guess I wanted to.”

He started down the hall, hands shoved into his pockets. The sound of his footsteps faded into the low hum of the castle, replaced by a quiet laughter echoing distantly — Hunk and Pidge, maybe. The tension that had sat thick and unmoving for days finally began to ease, just a little.

Keith stood there for a long moment, eyes on the doorway. The ache in his chest hadn’t vanished, but it felt different now — steadier somehow. He didn’t know what this thing between them was yet, but for the first time in a long time, he believed it might turn into something good.

And maybe, if he was lucky, the team would too.