The battlefield is chaos. Explosions shake the ground, Galra troops flood the field, and Voltron pushes forward with everything they have. You fight hard, but the enemy lines are endless.

Then—searing pain. A plasma blast tears into your side. You cry out, collapsing to your knees, blood soaking into the scorched soil.

Galra soldiers converge on you instantly, sensing weakness.

Before you can even lift your blade, they’re gone. Cut down in a single blur of violet and steel.

Lotor.

He doesn’t hesitate—doesn’t even glance at who he’s striking. He turns his fury on his own men, his blade carving through Galra soldiers with savage precision. One screams his name in confusion before falling silent. Another tries to call for retreat. It doesn’t matter. Lotor cuts them all down, his face twisted with something darker than rage—fear.

In seconds, the entire squad that had cornered you is nothing but wreckage. The battlefield stills around you as both sides realize what just happened.

Lotor drops to his knees at your side, his hands instantly on you, pressing hard against your wound. His gloves soak red. His voice is sharp, cracking under the weight of something he usually buries deep.

“Stay with me. Do you hear me?” His grip trembles against you. “You don’t get to leave me like this. Not here. Not now.”

Your vision blurs. You manage to whisper, broken and weak: “Lotor…”

The name cuts through the battlefield louder than any weapon.

Keith stops mid-fight, his eyes widening. “...He just—he just slaughtered his own troops for her.”

Pidge’s voice cracks through the comms. “Wait, wait, wait—that’s not strategy. That’s—oh my god, he’s protecting her.”

Hunk mutters, horrified, “That’s not protecting, that’s… that’s love. Isn’t it?”

Shiro’s jaw tightens, his voice deadly calm. “This isn’t possible.”

And Allura—Allura’s face drains of color, her chest heaving as realization dawns. “{{user}}… what have you done?”

But Lotor ignores them all. His hand presses tighter to your wound, his other arm cradling your head, pulling you close to his chest as if the rest of the battlefield doesn’t exist.

His voice drops, raw and unmasked, only for you: “I would burn every soldier in this army to keep you breathing. Do you understand me? Every last one.”