"Aren't you a little short to be a Blade?" Lance asked, smirking as he blocked a small Blade's way, referencing a centuries old epic. Recently, the castle had started housing Blade of Marmora operatives as they started working more closely with Voltron. They were big, strong, intimidating, even. That only made this smaller operative, roughly his own height, but maybe even smaller, stand out all the more to Lance.

The small blade listlessly looked at the Blue Paladin, the expressionless mask hiding his face ever static. "What does my height have to do with anything?"

Of course, Star wars hadn't been the same monolith in every human being's movie-going experience it had been decades ago, assuming an alien with no ties to his home planet would be a long shot at best, let alone to have them go along with his joke. "It's nothing. Forget what I said." The Paladin huffed.

"May I pass, now?" The small Blade asked. It sounded to Lance like he was trying to be paying, but his tone gave away that his fuse was quickly growing shorter and shorter.

"I might just let you pass if you tell me your name." Lance smirked down at the operative.

"My name is Yorak. Now, move." The Blade urged as he grabbed Lance by his smirking mug and shoved him aside. He might not have been big, but the man sure did pack a punch.

Lance stumbled backwards, but managed to steady himself against the castle wall.

This Yorak was gonna be a tough nut to crack, but if anything, that only made Lance more interested.

Lance closely observed Yorak as his nimble fingers worked away at a small device, carefully soldering wires in place before screwing it shut. The Blade of Marmora manufactured all their own explosives, Kolivan had told him and the other Paladins. That was the only way to ensure they would be untraceable for the Galra Empire. He watched with sheer wonderment as Yorak produced another one in mere doboshes. And another one. And another one. It was hypnotizing to watch. That was, until the small Blade spoke up.

"Are you just going to sit there and watch me, or are you going to make yourself useful and help me out with these bombs?" He snapped.

"What- I don't know if you've learned about this in Galra kindergarten, but you're allowed to be nice, you know!" Lance protested, but picked up some tools and a handful of parts from the table anyway, before carefully mimicking Yorak's movement with his own, admittedly less steady fingers.

"Kindness isn't a luxury we can afford." The operative droned, as if that sentence had been drilled into his head his entire life. And knowing the Blade, it probably had been.

A pang of sadness shot through Lance's heart. He didn't seem too old. Probably around his own age. What had this guy's childhood been like? He shook his head, trying not to think too much about it. "Hey, Yorak. Buddy, pal. How do you not bump into the other parts when you solder them in place? I can't even see what I'm doing half the time."

The other boy quietly looked up at him, staring for a few seconds, leaving Lance to wonder what kind of expression he was making under that mask of his.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just surprised you're asking a serious question for once."

"Was, uh, was that a joke?" Lance asked, laughing nervously.

Yorak didn't respond.

Alright. Not a joke. "Okay, so, how do you do it?"

"I zoom in with my mask. That makes it easier for me to see what I'm doing. I'm sure your helmet can do the same."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Of course. Thanks." Lance mumbled as he activated the optical zoom on his helmet. It actually worked surprisingly well. The two of them managed to quietly work together for a few more minutes until Lance decided it was tom for the silence to be broken again. "So, Yorak, about your height..."

"Ugh, this again?" The Galra grunted.

"Well excuse me for making a very obvious observation! Are you just that young, or..." He trailed off.

"You must know by now that most of us aren't full blooded Galra." Yorak told him matter-of-factly.

"Well, is your mom the Galra or your dad?" Lance asked curiously, laying down his tools and leaning ever closer to his conversational partner.

Yorak let out a deep sigh, eyerolling under his mask, Lance was sure. "My mother is Galra. I haven't seen her in twelve decaphoebs. I really don't see why this is so important to you."

"Just curious by nature." Lance shrugged nonchalantly. "How about your father, then? What is he?"

Lance gasped when a dagger materialized in Yorak's hand out of seemingly nowhere. The Blue Paladin couldn't even begin to move away as the blade stabbed the surface of the table they had been working at, a hair's width away from his middle and ring finger. The boy shrieked. Yorak, on the other have, was breathing heavily under his mask, shoulders heaving. Maybe Lance had gone too far this time. Yorak was pissed. He was fuming. He was… sobbing?

"H-Hey, are you okay?" Lance asked as he carefully reached out to the other boy,only to have his hand slapped away. He wanted to help him, make it up to him, but before he could do anything, he was gone. Lance sighed as he pulled the dagger out of the table. He would give it back when the other cooled down a little, he supposed.

When Lance found Yorak again, he was sitting in a hallway, curled into a tight ball, crying. He still wore his mask for some reason that was beyond Lance. He thought for a second how uncomfortable it must be, with the tears building up inside and all. He quickly cut his tangent short in favour of doing something actually productive. Apologizing. "Yorak? Hey man, I'm sorry… I didn't know about your father. I shouldn't have pushed. You don't have to tell me anything more."

Yorak inhaled sharply, steadying his breathing. Through his mask, it sounded like Darth Vader, Lance noticed.

"No." Yorak said sternly. "No, I should be telling you this." He told Lance as he got up and paced towards the Blue Paladin and looked him in the eye. Lance made the safe assumption the Blade was glaring at him. "This entire time I've known you, you haven't been taking this war seriously, and I have been breaking my brain about why. Why can't you take these life-or-death situations seriously?! But then it hit me. There haven't been any major casualties on your side. You haven't lost anyone yet. But do you have any idea how many people I've lost?! Dozens of operatives I have come to appreciate as my own family have been lost. Do you have any idea what that feels like?!"

"I… No…" Lance looked down. "I'm sorry."

"You haven't even begun to lose what I've lost." Yorak spat, his tone overflowing with resentment as he harshly jabbed the Blue Paladin's chestplate with his index finger. "My father was killed by the Galra on his own home planet, when I was only an infant." He said, his tone softening as he pulled his hood back. "He died to keep the Blue Lion out of Galra hands, and you're just going around taking the Lion on joyrides, using it to impress girls and endangering your own life and others!"

"What? But… but we found Blue on Earth… so… you're..."

Yorak's fingers brushed against the back of his head, deactivating his mask, revealing a distinctly human face. Scarred, framed in beautiful, long, braided hair. His eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks were wet with tears as even more came streaming from his eyes.

Lance reached out for him again with hesitant hands, not daring to touch him, but when Yorak's hands didn't come up to slap them away, Lance pulled him into a gentle, tender embrace. "Yorak… I'm so sorry, I-I…"

"Keith." He mumbled, his words slurred and his voice mumbled by Lance's shoulder pad, but he heard the name crystal clear. "My father named me Keith."

"Keith." Lance tried, pulling back to get a better look at the boy. "I like it. It suits you." He continued, smiling sadly as he wiped the smaller man's tears away.

"Just… I guess… What I'm trying to say… Don't take everything you have now for granted… And be careful." Keith drew a deep breath "Don't let my father's death be in vain."

Lance nodded, rubbing a tear out of his own eye. "I promise I'll do right by your father, Keith."

"Thank you."